The hollow behind Serana's chamber wall held him in silence. Noctis opened his eyes, and the Blood Grid lit in his vision. Six branches burned there now: sword, spear, shield, ranger, tempo, vector.
The captains obeyed his every command. The guards patrolled without suspicion. The civilians of the city dreamed in peace.
Noctis smiled. He had three nights before the bishop arrived. Three nights to decide what this city would become.
Day 1
He spent the first night in the hollow, shaping shadows against stone. The Grid's new doctrines begged to be tested together.
Sword + Vector. A strike began as a simple slash; Angle Breaker corrected it mid-motion. The wall split along a seam no shield could have covered.
Spear + Tempo. Piercing Lunge extended; Rhythm Breaker shifted the thrust onto the half-beat. The blow landed with perfect inevitability.
Shield + Vector. Wallbind Step caught an imaginary press. Vectorsurge turned the surface into a slamming edge that cracked outward.
Ranger + Vector. A Shadow Volley split into three, each curving onto the same Apex Line. Three angles, one inevitable conclusion.
Tempo + Vector. He slowed his breath with Pace Lock, then crashed forward on the off-beat. Even stone seemed to stumble under the strike.
The hollow bore gouges and lines. Noctis stood calm in the center. For the first time, the Grid felt complete.
He whispered, "This city has already lost."
Day 2
He slipped out of the barracks and into the city's streets. The moon hung above the rooftops; lamps guttered along narrow lanes.
In a shrine district, two priests tended a brazier of incense. Noctis dropped from the roof into their path. A glance of violet froze them. He bit each in turn, draining sanctified trace.
[+2 Faith Essence]
Farther on, in a reliquary hall, a soulbound acolyte guarded a vessel of spirit fragments. Noctis caught him by the throat, silenced him with the Stare, and fed until both flesh and relic went cold.
[+1 Soul Essence]
He wiped his mouth and smiled.
It was then, in the empty hall, that the thought came. Three days until the bishop arrives. Should I leave this city?
The answer came as a grin. "Yes. I will leave… but not until I have my fill."
The plan formed sharp and simple: devour the entire city. Leave nothing for the bishop but silence.
The Command
Noctis returned to the barracks and summoned the four captains. They arrived quickly, eyes blank with obedience, standing in rows.
"You will assemble the guards," he said. "Bring them to me."
"Yes, master," they answered together.
Soon the courtyard filled with soldiers. Torches shone off helmets. Rows of boots clicked into formation.
Noctis's gaze swept across them. One by one, he pressed the violet ring into their eyes. One by one, they broke and obeyed.
"Obey me," he commanded.
"Yes, master," the guards chorused.
"You are my swords now."
They bowed.
"Tomorrow, you will gather the civilians. Drive them to the central plaza. There you will slaughter them, and I will feast. When they are gone, you will come to me and offer yourselves as sacrifices. Captains and guards alike. Even the adventurers. None will remain."
"Yes, master," they said in unison, voices flat and unshaken.
Noctis's smile widened. He could already see the plaza drowning in blood, shadows swollen with essence, the Grid blazing with more power than ever.
Day 3
The final night passed quietly on the surface. In the streets, lamps burned as always. Merchants closed their stalls. Children slept in upper floors of crooked homes. Nothing stirred out of rhythm.
But in the barracks courtyard, guards drilled under the captains' orders. Civilians would be gathered soon. The plaza would become a pit.
Noctis stood in the hollow, watching shadows flicker.
Three days gone. Tomorrow the bishop would arrive.
But the city would already be gone.
He closed his eyes and laughed softly in his mind. A sharp, echoing sound.
When the bishop marched through the gates, he would find nothing but silence.
A ghost city.
Noctis's ghost city.
The central plaza groaned with the weight of the crowd. Guards had dragged civilians from their homes, ordered merchants to abandon their stalls, forced nobles from their estates. Families huddled in clumps, clutching one another. Adventurers stood scattered, weapons half-drawn, eyes darting between confused townsfolk and the soldiers hemming them in.
Steel glinted at every exit. The guards stood shoulder-to-shoulder, shields locked, spears leveled. The entire square was a cage.
A hush spread through the crowd. Murmurs thickened into fearful questions.
"Why have they gathered us here?"
"Where is the bishop?"
"Where are the magistrates?"
And then a new voice silenced them all.
From the steps of the fountain at the plaza's center, Noctis appeared. His draconic armor caught the torchlight in sharp edges of silver-black. On his right arm clung Serana; on his left, Irelda. Both leaned against him, heads bowed, their eyes distant with obedience.
Noctis smiled.
The crowd shivered under it. Adventurers drew their blades fully now, forming loose circles around families. Merchants raised ledgers and fists alike, demanding answers from the captains.
But the captains stood impassive, eyes dull with Binding Stare's command. They offered no answer.
Only Noctis did.
"Kill them all."
The Slaughter
The guards moved as one.
Spears lowered. Swords came free of scabbards. Shields surged forward. The crowd screamed.
The first wave of civilians went down in a crush of iron. Blood sprayed the cobblestones. Children shrieked. Nobles tripped over robes as they tried to flee, only to find steel closing every escape.
Adventurers answered with steel of their own. A ranger fired into the press of guards, arrows striking true—but three soldiers fell forward on the shafts without pause, their bodies collapsing like shields of flesh. More surged behind them, heedless of wounds.
A swordsman bellowed and carved a path, scattering guards with sheer strength. He raised his blade high—until Shield-Captain Varkos stepped into him. A tower shield met the strike. Varkos drove forward like a wall come alive. The adventurer's ribs cracked under the weight. His blade fell, then his body.
Across the plaza, a cleric raised a prayer, summoning light to shield civilians. An arrow tore through her throat before the words finished. Archer-Captain Halven stood beyond, bow drawn, eyes blank, loosing shafts in merciless rhythm.
When a veteran spearman rallied a knot of adventurers to counterattack, Lance-Captain Roen swept through them with a charge. His lance punched through one, twisted to strike the second, and drove the third into the ground. Each movement was geometry, precise and unstoppable.
Quartermaster-Captain Irelda should have been among them, but she stood instead at Noctis's side, her body pressed against him, her voice lost in soft moans.
Noctis Observes
Noctis did not move to fight. He did not need to.
He stood on the fountain steps, arms held by Serana and Irelda, watching. His eyes glowed faintly as guards butchered men, women, and children in waves. Screams filled the air, tangled with the clash of steel and the crack of bones.
Beside him, Serana leaned closer, whispering broken words of obedience. Irelda clung to his other arm, her breath hot and uneven.
Noctis turned to them, lips curling. "Serve me."
They obeyed.
Shadows on the walls of the plaza flickered in the firelight: two women bent close to their master, their movements soft against the harsh backdrop of slaughter. Their moans, muffled and rising, tangled with the cries of the dying until the two sounds became indistinguishable in rhythm.
Noctis closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Screams, steel, blood, and moans blended into music. The Tempo Ledger ticked inside him, measuring it all. Every cry was a beat. Every death was a note.
This was his orchestra.
Resistance Broken
Adventurers fought hard but scattered. They lacked unity. A mage unleashed fire into a knot of soldiers; five burned, but the rest surged through flame to cut him down.
When a champion in heavy mail tried to rally the survivors, Spear-Captain Roen skewered him from the flank. The man's body folded around the lance before sliding lifeless to the ground.
Those who survived longer fell to the vice-captains, who fought with the same merciless obedience as their superiors. They did not defend themselves, did not dodge, did not care if struck. They only killed.
By the time the plaza ran with blood, the adventurers lay among the civilians, cut down where they stood.
The Feast
Noctis kissed Serana's hair. Irelda pressed against his chest, whispering "Master" between broken moans. He let them continue their service, savoring it as background to the death that unfolded below.
When the screams began to thin, he raised his hand.
"Enough."
The captains stopped mid-motion. Guards lowered their weapons. The square was a slaughter ground, bodies sprawled across cobblestones in crimson rivers.
Noctis inhaled. The smell of blood filled the air, thick and iron-rich. His Grid pulsed behind his eyes, hungry, ready to absorb the harvest.
Tomorrow the bishop would arrive. But tomorrow he would find nothing.
The city had no voice anymore.
The central plaza—once filled with hawkers and laughter, nobles in silks, adventurers in armor—was drowned in silence. Torches guttered in the breeze, their smoke drifting over cobblestones blackened by blood.
The massacre was over. The corpses lay stacked against fountains, piled at the feet of statues, sprawled in pools that ran like rivers through the drains. Thousands, maybe more, turned to meat and memory.
Noctis stood in the center. His crimson eyes reflected every torch.
He exhaled. "Now… it begins."
He crouched by the first corpse. A merchant, still clutching a ledger in one hand, jaw slack with terror. Noctis bit. Warm iron hit his tongue, rich with fear, spiced with desperation.
The Blood Grid stirred. Blood Essence ticked upward. A small swell.
He fed again, moving from body to body. Civilians were thin nourishment, but they filled the Grid with raw fuel. Nobles added discipline from fencing lessons, scraps of etiquette that the Grid twisted into rhythm nodes. Even children gave faint traces—life cut early but still counted by the predator.
He rose. His body thrummed. And he wasn't done.
The priests were next.
They lay where they had fallen, clutching shattered censers, lips stained with prayers that had died unfinished. Noctis leaned down and sank his fangs into the first.
Faith Essence burned his throat like fire, bitter and sharp. The Grid pulsed violet.
[New Node Acquired: Faithbreaker Aura — weakens divine defenses within radius.]
Another priest. His blood hummed with light. Noctis devoured it, and the Grid spat out corruption.
[New Node Acquired: False Benediction — corrupts healing into draining curses.]
Another. His blood was old, steeped in sanctified years.
[New Node Acquired: Sanctuary Leech — absorb sanctified ground instead of being harmed.]
Noctis smiled against cooling flesh. "Even holiness bends."
Then came the adventurers.
Their bodies were stronger, their blood brighter. The Grid vibrated before he even touched them. He bent down, and when the first drop of seasoned warrior's blood touched his tongue, the entire lattice blazed.
Skills screamed awake. Doctrines unfurled. His body shuddered with the flood.
This was no simple harvest. This was an evolution.
The adventurers' blood hit like fire.
Where civilians had been sustenance, and priests had been bitter sanctity, the warriors and mages who had lived on battlefields carried essence thick with doctrine. Their bodies were tomes; their blood was ink. Every swallow turned a page.
The Blood Grid ignited. Branches grew faster than he could track, screaming with light.
Fighters & Warriors
He drank from a veteran in plate, still clutching a shattered longsword. His blood was iron itself—measured, trained, heavy.
[New Skill Acquired: Crimson Onslaught — continuous chaining of melee strikes with reduced stamina drain.]
Another warrior, axe-wielding, broken jaw from a captain's strike. Blood thick with rage.
[New Skill Acquired: Titan Breaker — amplifies damage against armored or fortified targets.]
A duelist with leather armor, thin scar across his cheek. His blood tasted of discipline, parry, and pressure.
[New Skill Acquired: Bloodguard Discipline — converts part of incoming damage into Blood Essence instead of HP loss.]
The Grid's sword-branch shimmered.
[Upgrade: Silent Execution II — strike efficiency increased, doubled kill precision.][Upgrade: Blade Reversal II — counters now flow into chained offense.]
Noctis exhaled slowly, savoring the weight. "Warriors feed me steel."
Barbarians & Berserkers
He dragged a hulking corpse closer—bare chest scarred, mouth open in a roar frozen by death. He bit.
Rage poured down his throat.
[New Skill Acquired: Feral Rampage — Strength and Agility increase after every kill.]
Another: tattoos inked with beast runes. His blood seared like fire.
[New Skill Acquired: Sanguine Frenzy — attack speed grows as HP falls.]
A final barbarian, giant maul still resting against his arm. Noctis cracked the artery and drank.
[New Skill Acquired: Bone Shatterer — strikes fracture skeletal structure, weakening defense.]
The Grid pulsed again.
[Upgrade: Impaler's Grasp II — spear branch now adds bone-crack resonance.]
Rangers & Archers
He moved to the bodies of the archers. One still clutched a recurve, bowstring cut. Noctis tasted the blood of vision.
[New Skill Acquired: Shadow Split Arrow — single projectile duplicates into shadow copies mid-flight.]
Another, a hunter with eagle feathers bound into his armor. His blood opened his sight wider.
[New Skill Acquired: Eagle Vein — extends perception and targeting range.]
Another, a scout with daggers on his belt, bow at his side. His blood whispered of pursuit.
[New Skill Acquired: Predator's Mark — locks onto a target, guiding strikes toward them.]
The Grid's ranged branch shuddered.
[Upgrade: Shadow Volley II — more phantoms, longer delay window.][Upgrade: Kill Order II — faster auto-sequencing, now prioritizes maximum morale collapse.]
Rogues & Assassins
A rogue's corpse lay half-hidden in a civilian pile. Noctis pulled him free, bit, and drank shadows themselves.
[New Skill Acquired: Assassin's Veil — suppresses sound and scent during stealth.]
Another rogue, blades coated with dried venom.
[New Skill Acquired: Venom Lash — strikes inflict essence-based poison.]
A third, twin daggers still buried in a guard's ribs. His blood was fleet and sharp.
[New Skill Acquired: Death Step — short-range blink leaving an afterimage to disorient foes.]
The Grid's tempo branch flickered.
[Upgrade: Pace Lock II — sharper rhythm control, tighter movement freeze.]
Mages & Sorcerers
The mages were brightest. Their blood was a mix of iron and ozone.
The first tasted of ash.
[New Skill Acquired: Ember Bolt — basic fire projectile.]
The second was icy cold.
[New Skill Acquired: Glacier Shard — ice spike projectile.]
The third sparked his tongue.
[New Skill Acquired: Storm Jolt — low-tier lightning discharge.]
The fourth gave the taste of stone and roots.
[New Skill Acquired: Stone Bind — hurl rock fragments to pin a target.]
The fifth was a whisper, fog rolling behind the teeth.
[New Skill Acquired: Mist Veil — minor fog conjuration for cover.]
Noctis staggered, shivering with arcane power. The Grid didn't stop.
[New Skill Acquired: Shardfire Surge — condensed blood shards exploding with arcane burn.][New Skill Acquired: Umbral Grasp — shadow tendrils immobilize prey.][New Skill Acquired: Essence Transmute — convert one essence into another at reduced efficiency.]
The Grid mutated elemental basics.
Ember Bolt + Shardfire Surge → [New Predator Skill: Crimson Fireburst — explosive bloodfire projectile.]
Glacier Shard + Apex Line → [New Predator Skill: Apex Frost Line — geometry-perfect piercing ice shards.]
Storm Jolt + Tempo Ledger → [New Predator Skill: Rhythmic Shock — lightning bolts timed to enemy motion.]
Mist Veil + Assassin's Veil → [New Predator Skill: Umbral Fog Cloak — stealth under veil of shadowed mist.]
Noctis's lips curved. "Even the elements bow to me."
Beastmasters & Druids
The beast-tamers bled differently—feral, primal. Noctis drank their echoes of fur and fang.
[New Skill Acquired: Beastcraft: Lupine Fang — feral dash and bite strike.][New Skill Acquired: Chimera Instincts — enhanced senses: smell, hearing, reflex.][New Skill Acquired: Alpha Roar — aura of intimidation, breaking weak wills.]
[Upgrade: Dragon Fang Guard II — spear defense infused with predator aura.]
Bards & Supporters
He tasted the blood of a bard whose lute lay shattered nearby. Notes, even in death.
[New Skill Acquired: Battle Hymn II — aura amplifies allies, saps enemies further.]
Another, lips cracked from shouting chants.
[New Skill Acquired: Dissonant Cry — sonic vibration breaks concentration.]
A third, blood humming in cadence.
[New Skill Acquired: Rhythmic Resonance — syncs attacks to external sound.]
The Grid pulsed into the tempo branch, thickening the rhythm.
[Upgrade: Cadence Step II — tighter alignment to beat, increased efficiency.]
Clerics & Paladins
Their blood carried faith. Noctis twisted it.
[Upgrade: False Benediction II — healing becomes heavier drain.][Upgrade: Faithbreaker Aura II — divine defense shattered faster.][Upgrade: Sanctuary Leech II — sanctified zones now feed heavily.]
The Overlap
The Grid finished its bloom. Every doctrine shone brighter.
Soldier's Edge II — blade mastery refined to perfection.
Spearwarden's Path II — thrusts now fracture defenses.
Bulwark Dominion II — walls slam with more force, collapses deadlier.
Ranger's Ledger II — volleys become storms.
Tempo Ledger II — rhythms chain seamlessly.
Vector Cavalier II — angles correct themselves even mid-trajectory.
Ironclad Form II — defense hardened into counter-killing blows.
At the center of it all, the Grid pulsed once more.
[Evolution Tree Advanced: Predator Sovereign — Stage 1 Complete]Effect: All doctrines merge seamlessly in real time. Predator instinct overrides conflict between branches.
Noctis dropped to one knee, not from weakness but from sheer weight of new power. His veins glowed crimson-gold.
When he stood again, he was not what he had been.
Not swordsman. Not spearman. Not mage. Not predator.
He was all of them.
The plaza reeked of iron and silence. The blood of civilians and adventurers had long since soaked into the cobblestones, leaving only the soldiers who had done the killing.
Hundreds of them. Captains. Vice-captains. Guards. Their formation stretched across the square, rank after rank, helmets glinting in torchlight. They stood without fear, their wills broken by Binding Stare, waiting for his word.
Noctis walked to the fountain at the center. Serana and Irelda followed, each clutching one of his arms. When he reached the middle, he stopped. His eyes glowed faint violet.
"Come," he said.
The soldiers moved at once. Their boots struck the blood-slick stone in perfect rhythm, closing in until they formed a wide ring around him. Ten meters out, they halted. The captains and their lieutenants stepped into the front row, shields, lances, bows, and swords in hand.
Noctis looked around the circle. Serana's head rested on his arm. Irelda clung close on the other side. All others were his prey.
"You have given me obedience," Noctis said softly. "Now give me your lives."
The Devouring Storm
He drew a slow breath. Then the Grid lit inside him like a furnace.
First came the sword-branch.
Formation Breaker II. His katana cut through the air, and a phantom blade erupted in every direction. Dozens of guards folded, their lines splitting as though carved apart by invisible steel.
Then the spear.
Sweeping Arc II. Shadows swirled, lengthening into a circle of thrusting spears that lashed outward from his body. The nearest soldiers were impaled mid-step, their bodies hurled backward in sprays of crimson.
Then the shield.
Tortoise Collapse II. A crushing force pulsed outward. The guards' own ranks turned against them, colliding, crushing one another as if the weight of their formation itself betrayed them.
Then the ranger.
Shadow Volley II. Arrows of shadow split from his outstretched hand, multiplying mid-flight until the air was a storm of fletching. Each found a skull, a throat, a heart. Bodies fell like wheat.
Then the tempo.
Rhythm Breaker II. The plaza itself seemed to stumble, time staggering on a half-beat. Soldiers tripped, captains faltered, vice-captains misstepped into the path of killing arcs.
Then the vector.
Apex Line II. Invisible geometry snapped into place, every thrust, every phantom strike correcting into perfect killing vectors. No block held. No dodge succeeded.
Predator Sovereign Integration
The doctrines fused.
Sword strikes folded into spear thrusts.
Shield crush merged with vector geometry.
Ranger volleys multiplied inside rhythmic distortion.
The result was slaughter without resistance.
Blood erupted in a perfect ring, spraying inward and outward. The guards collapsed in heaps. Captains tried to brace, but their disciplines had already been consumed by the Grid — their counters predicted, their shields crushed, their charges redirected.
Within seconds, the entire 10-meter circle was a storm of collapsing armor, screaming steel, and arterial spray.
Noctis did not stop. He devoured as he killed. Every strike pulled essence into him. Every drop of blood became his. The Grid roared with overlapping doctrines, refining, upgrading, mutating.
By the time silence returned, nothing remained standing. The plaza floor was littered with broken armor and torn banners, but the bodies dissolved into crimson vapor and sank into Noctis's veins.
Serana and Irelda still clung to his arms, untouched.
Noctis exhaled, crimson aura radiating in waves. His voice was low, but it shook the empty square.
"Now… the city is mine alone."
The plaza was silent but for the sound of boots.
Hundreds of guards stepped forward in lockstep, captains and vice-captains at their head. They obeyed without hesitation, forming a perfect ring ten meters from Noctis. Torches guttered as the circle tightened.
Serana and Irelda remained at his side, arms looped through his, eyes dim with Binding Stare.
Noctis looked slowly around the ring. His lips curved.
"You have served as my swords," he said. His voice carried across the stone. "Now you will serve as my feast."
He raised his hand. The air itself turned red.
First came the foundation.
[Skill: Blood Flood]
Crimson essence erupted outward in a tidal surge, soaking the cobblestones in a glowing tide. The entire ten-meter ring became a scarlet domain, every guard's boots sinking into liquid blood that was not their own. Wounds split open on their flesh as the domain demanded tribute.
The first screams broke the silence.
Noctis's other hand clenched.
[Skill: Blood Chains]
Tendrils erupted from the flood, snapping upward to bind arms, legs, torsos. Captains tried to raise shields, vice-captains drew swords, but the chains wound them in crimson coils, pinning them mid-stance.
Their discipline was nothing before the command of the Grid.
Noctis whispered one word. "Fall."
[Skill: Bloodstorm]
The sky above the plaza cracked red. Lightning of blood lanced downward, spiraling in jagged arcs. Every strike tore open armor, melted flesh, and hurled bodies backward. The square shook as rank after rank of soldiers collapsed, sizzling, the chains dragging their corpses back upright like puppets for slaughter.
Serana and Irelda pressed tighter against him as thunder rolled.
Noctis spread his arms wide.
[Skill: Exsanguinate II]
The field turned violent. Blood ripped itself out of bodies, spraying upward in crimson geysers. Guards convulsed as their veins emptied. Captains arched their backs as iron discipline shattered under the pull. Every drop streamed into the air, swirling toward Noctis in rivers of red light.
Armor clattered empty to the cobblestones.
[Skill: Soul Spire II]
A crimson pillar erupted beneath his feet, stabbing skyward. All his arts grew sharper, faster, deeper. The flood boiled hotter. The chains thickened. The storm doubled its strikes. The drain tore even the marrow out of bone.
The entire guard force—hundreds of soldiers, captains, and vice-captains—was annihilated in seconds.
As the last essence streamed into him, the plaza fell silent once more. Not a soldier remained standing. Not even a body was left intact—only armor husks, empty weapons, and blood vapor drifting toward Noctis.
The last echoes of the storm faded. Armor husks lay in heaps. Blood vapor curled inward, absorbed into Noctis's veins.
The Blood Grid roared. It didn't just fill — it reshaped. Discipline, drilling, and iron obedience carried their own flavor of power. The grid branched into new nodes, soldier-born techniques that layered seamlessly onto what he had taken from adventurers.
New Soldier Doctrines
Linebinder Aura — a passive field that slows enemy formations, locking their rhythm into predictable cadence.
Shockfront Surge — charges gain doubled momentum, breaking defensive lines like brittle glass.
Iron Rally — presence alone stiffens allies' stances; in Noctis, it inverts, sapping enemy resolve.
Bulwark Press — defensive pushes absorb impact and return it in amplified waves.
Volley Sync — ranged strikes chained into mass timing; in Noctis's Grid, shadow volleys multiply in harmony.
Tier II Reinforcements
The overlap forced his existing doctrines higher:
Formation Breaker II expanded into Formation Breaker III — sword sweeps now fracture entire squads with a single cut.
Dragon Fang Guard II → Dragon Fang Guard III — spear defense anchors into immovable phalanx geometry.
Tortoise Collapse II → Tortoise Collapse III — shield crush folds entire armies inward on themselves.
Rally Shroud II → Rally Shroud III — aura pressure cripples timing, forcing hesitation in even elite enemies.
Predator Sovereign Bloom
The doctrines didn't stand apart. They fused.
Linebinder Aura + Tempo Ledger → Cadence Lockfield — battlefield rhythm collapses entirely, locking foes into his timing.
Shockfront Surge + Vector Cavalier → Vector Crash — charges align to perfect geometry, unavoidable and bone-shattering.
Volley Sync + Ranger's Ledger II → Shadow Swarm Volley — projectiles multiply into storms that blanket entire zones.
The plaza itself felt alive with his presence, as though the stone had bent into his hunting ground.
Noctis inhaled. Crimson light bled from his pores.
The guards' sacrifice had not been wasted. They had become more than corpses. They had become the structure of his evolution.
Serana and Irelda pressed tighter to his arms, shivering though they were bound by hypnosis. His aura now radiated like a collapsing star.
Noctis whispered, "Perfect."
The city had no more soldiers. No more captains. No more lines to oppose him.
Only him.
The barracks halls were silent. The soldiers, captains, and guards had already been reduced to essence. Only two remained—Serana and Irelda—obedient, trembling, yet filled with awe at what their master had become.
Inside Serana's chamber, the women pressed themselves against him one last time. Shadows writhed along the walls. Their voices rose, moans threaded with cries of "Master", weaving into the silence of the dead city.
Hours passed in muffled devotion. By dawn, both women were exhausted, yet their eyes still burned with the desire to serve.
Noctis looked down at them. His smile was faint. "You have served me well. Now serve me completely."
They both nodded. Obedience absolute.
The Bite
He turned to Irelda first. His hand cupped her cheek, steadying her trembling frame. His tongue traced the warmth at her throat. She gasped softly, shivering at the touch. Then his fangs sank in.
Irelda moaned aloud, her voice breaking with both pain and surrender. Her blood poured into him, rich with tempo and command, the very rhythm of battle she once embodied. Her arms clung to him, then slackened. Her heartbeat faltered, then stopped.
Noctis laid her gently aside, lips stained crimson.
Then he turned to Serana.
She tilted her head willingly, eyes heavy, lips parted in whispered devotion. Noctis leaned close, licking her neck once, savoring the heat of life beneath her skin. Then his fangs pierced.
Serana gasped, a soft, desperate sound. Her fingers gripped his shoulders as he drank, her body arching before collapsing into stillness. Her essence was sharp with wit, tempered with devotion. It flowed into him until her pulse was gone.
Devour
When both women lay still, pale as statues, Noctis straightened. His aura pulsed.
He extended his hand. Crimson tendrils crawled from his palm.
[Skill: Devour]
The bodies dissolved into streams of essence, flesh and bone unraveling into vapor that sank into his veins. Their faces faded last, their eyes still fixed on him in final service. When the light vanished, there was no trace left—no body, no blood, no memory in stone.
Only strength. Only silence.
Departure
Noctis stood alone. He belted the Blood Katana, sealed the Blood Armor across his chest, and swept the Crimson Trench Coat over his shoulders. His crimson aura bled into the room, casting the walls in shadow.
The barracks were empty now. The city was empty.
Tomorrow, the bishop would arrive. He would find gates open, torches burning, and a city without a single living soul.
A ghost city.
Noctis's ghost city.