Greywick was restless that night, the air thick with whispers of raids and rumors of a crusade forming beyond the border. The Church's declaration had traveled faster than caravans, and now the very name "Nameless Vampire Lord" sent tremors through taverns, guildhalls, and temples alike.
Blaze sat on his throne of stone and blood, listening to the murmurs of his lieutenants fade into silence as they left his hall. His court had grown bold, but his mind was elsewhere. He could feel it—the presence of those he once knew. His classmates. They had crossed the border, guided by the Church's banners and emboldened by divine blessings.
Seren entered quietly, bowing low before him. "My lord," she said, her voice as soft as silk but carrying the weight of careful intelligence. "A squad of Heroes has broken off from the main force. They camp to the south, three nights from here. Their leader…" She hesitated, watching his eyes sharpen. "Their leader is named Elias Veylan."
The name struck him like an old scar reopening. Blaze leaned back in his throne, a wry smile twisting across his lips. Elias.
The boy who once sat beside him in a cramped classroom back on Earth. The one who shared snacks during boring lectures, who whispered jokes about the teachers when the lessons dragged on. Elias, steady and dependable. Elias, who always seemed so kind.
And Elias, who stood with the others in the throne room of this cursed empire, pointing his accusing finger when the summoning declared Blaze "useless."
"Dead weight," Elias had called him. Not with malice in his eyes, but with the casual cruelty of someone trying to fit in with the crowd. That was the betrayal that stung most—not rage, not hatred, but indifference.
Blaze rose from his throne, a cloak of shadows billowing around him. "Elias," he whispered, testing the name on his tongue as if it were an incantation. "So the loyal dog strays from his pack."
Seren tilted her head. "Shall I gather the court, my lord? Or will you hunt him yourself?"
Blaze's grin widened. "No. This one is mine. Only mine."
The southern woods were alive with faint torchlight by the time Blaze arrived. His shadows slipped between the trees like wolves on the prowl, circling the small camp. From his vantage point, he could see them—half a dozen adventurers, all freshly blessed, their armor still gleaming with divine sheen. They laughed, ate, and sharpened their weapons around the fire.
And there he was. Elias Veylan.
He hadn't changed much. Still broad-shouldered, with a square jaw that radiated reliability. He wore chainmail polished to a sheen, and across his back rested the same shield he'd trained with back in the empire's barracks. A round, steel wall inscribed with faint holy runes that glowed against the firelight.
Elias sat close to his squad, speaking calmly, offering reassurances like an older brother guiding his kin.
"We'll move at dawn," Elias said, his voice steady. "Greywick's full of dangers, but don't be afraid. The gods chose us, and so long as we stand together, no monster will break us."
The others nodded, some with nervous smiles, others with blind trust. Elias had always been that way—a pillar. A man people leaned on. The irony burned Blaze's chest like acid.
"You play the leader well, old friend," Blaze murmured under his breath. His crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dark. "But I know what's beneath the mask."
Memories clawed their way back. The old classroom on Earth, fluorescent lights buzzing above. Elias sharing half of his sandwich when Blaze forgot lunch. Elias clapping him on the back when test scores came out. Elias saying, "Don't worry, you'll find your place too."
Those words twisted now. Patronizing. Empty. Lies wrapped in comfort.
And then, the summoning chamber. The blinding light. The proclamation of Heroes. Blaze left behind, stripped of worth. Elias not raising his voice in protest, not standing at his side, but standing with the others. Laughing.
"He's just dead weight," Elias had said then, a smirk tugging at his lips. Not cruel, not mocking—simply joining in.
That was worse than cruelty. That was abandonment.
Blaze closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. The shadows around him thickened, curling with restrained hunger. "I won't simply kill you, Elias. Death is too kind. I'll peel away that false loyalty, strip the mask, and make you mine. Only then will you understand what betrayal truly feels like."
The night wind shifted, carrying with it the faint murmur of prayer as Elias clasped his shield, bowing his head. Blaze listened to the words, whispered devotion to gods that Blaze despised. His lips curled into a sneer.
The gods had chosen Elias as a Hero. Blaze would make him into something far better—a servant of the darkness he once mocked.
The decision was made. The hunt would begin tonight.
The campfire burned low, its embers crackling in the cold night air. Elias's squad had begun to drift into an uneasy sleep, though two remained awake on watch. They whispered quietly, their hands resting on their weapons. Neither noticed the shadows thickening beyond the treeline.
Blaze moved like mist, his steps soundless, his crimson gaze locked on the figure at the fire's edge—Elias.
The man was polishing his shield, tracing the holy runes etched into its surface with a kind of reverent care. The faint glow reflected in his steady brown eyes. He muttered a prayer under his breath, the kind Blaze had heard countless times before in this world: a plea for strength, for light, for guidance.
Blaze stepped into the clearing.
The nearest watchman jolted upright, his hand flying to his sword. "Who—"
A single glance silenced him. Blaze's eyes flared red, and the man's body locked stiff, his breath caught in his throat. He collapsed moments later, unconscious, twitching in nightmare visions. The second guard tried to shout, but shadows lashed around his mouth, gagging him. He too slumped to the ground, consumed by fear.
The rest stirred, their hands fumbling for weapons. But Elias was already on his feet, his shield raised, his eyes narrowed.
"…Blaze," he said. His voice was not the mocking tone of a boy in a crowd but the tempered steel of a man who had seen battle. "So it's true. You survived."
Blaze smiled faintly. "Survived? No, Elias. I transcended. What stands before you is no longer the boy you abandoned. You look at me and see a monster because your gods fear what I've become."
Elias's expression flickered—shock, recognition, guilt buried beneath a soldier's mask. "We thought you died that night. When the summoning ended, you—"
"Don't lie to me." Blaze's voice cut sharp, dripping with venom. "You didn't think I died. You knew what you said. You and the others called me dead weight, useless, a burden. You cast me aside before the gods did. That's the truth."
The camp was awake now, weapons drawn, but none dared to charge. Something about the aura around Blaze, thick and suffocating like drowning in ink, froze them where they stood. Their instincts screamed predator.
Elias held his ground. His shield glowed brighter, holy runes burning faintly. "Maybe we were harsh. Maybe… I was harsh." His jaw tightened. "But that doesn't justify what you've done. Vampires. Bloodshed. You're the reason the church hunts this land. You're the reason innocents suffer."
Blaze laughed, a cold, humorless sound. "Innocents? Elias, open your eyes. This world has no innocents. Every church you kneel to enslaves beastfolk. Every noble that praises your 'heroism' fattens themselves on peasant blood. And yet you serve them gladly. You call me a monster? At least I wear the name honestly."
The words struck, Blaze could see it. Elias's eyes wavered, just slightly. That was enough.
He stepped closer, shadows curling like vipers around his feet. "Tell me, old friend… Did it ever bother you? Betraying me? Or did you laugh with the others, telling yourself it was for the greater good? Did you convince yourself it was mercy, to throw me aside before I dragged you down?"
Elias's shield trembled for a heartbeat before he steadied it again. "You don't understand, Blaze. I… I couldn't protect you. None of us could. If we fought for you, the empire would have turned against us. We—"
"You chose survival over loyalty." Blaze's voice dropped to a whisper, deadly soft. "And you dare dress it up as necessity."
The silence stretched, broken only by the crackling fire and the ragged breaths of Elias's companions. They watched, transfixed, caught between horror and awe.
Elias took a slow step forward, his shield raised. "If you're here for vengeance, then so be it. I won't run from what I did. But I won't let you keep hurting people."
Blaze tilted his head, studying him. For the first time in years, the face of his old friend was only a few steps away. The boy who once gave him half a sandwich now stood as a soldier of gods. And yet, beneath the shield, Blaze could see it—the doubt. The regret.
"I don't want your death, Elias," Blaze said softly, his tone shifting, almost tender. "Death would free you. I want you to understand. To kneel. To see the truth of this world and join me in tearing it down."
Elias's eyes widened. "You want me… to join you?"
Blaze's grin revealed sharp fangs. "I want to show you the power that gods denied us. I want to make you my brother again. But not as a man of light. As one of mine."
The fire sputtered in the wind. The camp seemed to hold its breath.
For the first time, Elias faltered. His shield lowered by an inch, uncertainty flashing in his gaze. He looked at Blaze not as an enemy but as the boy he once knew.
"…Blaze," he whispered, his voice cracking. "What have you become?"
Blaze stepped forward, shadows stretching like spider legs toward Elias's boots. His voice was velvet, dangerous and inviting. "What I was always meant to be. Not a pawn. Not a burden. A king. And I offer you a place at my side."
The fire's glow flickered across Elias's face, throwing shadows beneath his eyes. For the first time in his life, the man who once stood as unshakable, as dependable as stone, wavered. His shield arm quivered ever so slightly, a tremor that Blaze seized upon like a hawk diving for prey.
"Look at you," Blaze murmured, his voice smooth as silk and venom all at once. "Still clutching a shield, still hiding behind prayers and borrowed light. You've convinced yourself that makes you righteous. But deep down, you know it's fear. Fear of standing alone. Fear of carrying weight without the gods' crutch."
Elias's jaw clenched. "That's not—"
"Not true?" Blaze's grin widened, his fangs glinting in the firelight. He took another slow step, shadows stretching to curl around Elias's boots like affectionate snakes. "Tell me, Elias, when the priests gave you this shield, did you feel strong… or safe? Did you tell yourself it was power, when all it gave you was a leash?"
Elias's breathing quickened. His companions shifted nervously, their blades drawn but useless—something in the air rooted them to the ground, a choking weight pressing on their hearts. Blaze wasn't even looking at them, yet their wills bent like reeds in a storm.
Blaze leaned closer, his voice dropping low, intimate. "You were always stronger than them. Braver. You spoke up when others laughed. You saw me, Elias. You defended me once. Do you remember?"
A flicker of memory softened Elias's face—the cramped classroom back in their old world, where Blaze sat alone while others mocked his quietness. Elias, the one who had muttered, "Cut it out, he's just trying to get by." A small kindness, forgotten by the rest but etched into Blaze's memory like a scar.
Elias swallowed hard. His shield wavered. "I… I remember."
"That's why I came to you," Blaze pressed, his tone a velvet trap. "Not the others. Not the cowards who jeered the loudest. You. Because even then, you weren't theirs. You were mine. You just didn't know it yet."
The fire popped, throwing sparks into the air. Elias's eyes flickered between Blaze's crimson gaze and the trembling flame, caught in the pull of memory, guilt, and a terrible temptation.
Blaze raised his hand, slow and deliberate, his palm open as if inviting. "Put down the shield, Elias. It's not yours. It never was. They branded you with light because they fear what you could be in the dark. They fear what you could be with me."
The weight of silence crushed the camp. Elias's companions stared, their eyes wide, unable to break the spell. Their leader stood caught between two worlds—the shining, brittle certainty of the gods, and the shadowed, dangerous promise in Blaze's voice.
For a heartbeat, Blaze saw the boy he remembered, torn and unsure. Then Elias's lips parted, and in a hoarse whisper, he asked, "If I… follow you… what happens to me?"
Blaze's smile was both triumphant and terrifying. He closed the distance until they stood a breath apart, his shadow engulfing Elias entirely. "You'll be free. Free of guilt. Free of gods. Free of the leash that keeps you crawling on your knees. You'll rise, Elias. You'll rise as my brother… eternal, unbreakable, untouchable."
The shield slipped from Elias's hand and hit the dirt with a dull thud. The runes flickered once, sputtered, and went dark.
The camp erupted—his companions shouted, some rushing forward, others crying in disbelief. But Blaze's gaze snapped toward them, and the shadows surged like a living tide. Three collapsed instantly, clutching their chests as terror visions clawed at their minds. The others staggered back, screaming. None dared cross the line of firelight.
Elias stood trembling, unarmed now, staring at his empty hand. His lips trembled. "Blaze… I—"
"Shhh," Blaze whispered, stepping closer, his breath brushing Elias's ear. "No more words. Just choice."
Elias lifted his chin. His eyes, though wet with tears, no longer held resistance. Only surrender.
Blaze's fangs sank into his neck.
The sound was obscene—the tearing of flesh, the sharp intake of Elias's breath, the strangled gasp of his companions. Holy light sputtered weakly against the bite, then fizzled as blood spilled over Blaze's tongue. It was rich, potent, tainted by prayers but sweetened with Elias's breaking will.
Elias shuddered violently, caught between pain and an almost ecstatic release. His hands clutched at Blaze's arms, not to push away but to hold tighter, as if afraid to fall without him.
Blaze drank deep, shadows writhing around them like a coronation. He could feel it—the old bond reforging, not as fragile boys clinging to each other in the dark, but as predator and kin. His cursed ring pulsed, whispering approval, a chorus of triumphant hunger.
When Blaze pulled back, blood stained his lips, and Elias sagged against him, pale but alive. Blaze pressed his wrist to Elias's mouth, forcing crimson into him. "Drink," he commanded.
Elias resisted for a heartbeat. Then, trembling, he obeyed. His lips latched to Blaze's wrist, drinking greedily, desperately. His eyes rolled back, his body convulsed, his veins blackening as the corruption spread.
The companions screamed in horror. One tried to rush forward, only for Garrick's hulking frame to materialize from the treeline, intercepting the charge with a brutal backhand that cracked ribs. The others fled into the forest, their cries trailing into the night. None would forget what they saw.
Blaze tilted Elias's chin, watching as the last of the holy glow faded from his eyes, replaced by a dull crimson sheen. The transformation ended with a ragged breath—Elias, reborn, collapsed to his knees before Blaze.
"I… I can feel it," Elias rasped, his voice trembling, a mix of awe and fear. "The strength… the shadows… Blaze, what have you done to me?"
Blaze looked down at him, a smile both cruel and strangely tender curling his lips. "I've given you back what the gods stole from us. You're mine now, Elias. Not as a hero. Not as a servant of light. But as my blood, my will, my spawn."
Elias bowed his head, his breath shuddering. He did not protest. He did not flee. He knelt, his crimson eyes glowing faintly.
Blaze turned his gaze outward, toward the dark forest beyond, where the church's chosen and his classmates thought themselves untouchable. He licked the blood from his lips, his smile sharp and terrible.
"Let them come," he murmured. "The world will see soon enough. Even the heroes kneel."
The fire crackled weakly, casting long shadows over the camp where the once-bright symbol of the gods lay discarded in the dirt.