The battlefield had quieted for only a heartbeat after Aamir's overwhelming aura forced even the vampire lords to bow their heads. Dust still drifted in the air. From the shadows, nine tall figures stepped forward, their crimson eyes glowing like embers. Each wore armor black as night, lined with runes that pulsed faintly with blood magic. They moved in unison and stood behind their king—Zalmic.
Aamir's gaze swept across them, then stopped on the imposing figure standing at Zalmic's side. His presence was darker, heavier—something about him felt older, ancient even.
Aamir tilted his head, his voice calm but edged with curiosity.
"So, Zalmic… who's this guy standing with you?"
Zalmic's jaw tightened. His expression, usually unreadable, flickered with discomfort.
"He is… the Vampire God."
Aamir raised a brow and gave a short, sharp laugh.
