Chapter 38: The First Vampire Falls (Part 1 of 2)
Lucius
The dungeons were perfect.
Low ceilings. Narrow corridors. Stone walls that confined movement and denied Marcus his aerial advantage. His wings folded against his back, forced into ground combat by architecture that hadn't been designed to contain something like him.
Michael had landed hard—hybrid durability absorbing impact that would have killed a human, but clearly dazed. Marcus stood over him, claws raised for a killing strike.
I hit the first vampire from behind.
Viktor's sword carved through the space between his shoulder blades, seeking the spine. Marcus twisted, impossibly fast, and the blade gouged his side instead of severing his vertebrae.
We separated. Three combatants in a space designed for two.
"Another hybrid," Marcus observed, studying Michael with new interest. "You've been busy, little usurper."
"He's the template," I said. "The proof that hybrids can exist outside your bloodline."
"Fascinating." Marcus's wounds were healing, slower than before but still visible. "I'll dissect him after I kill you."
Selene appeared at the corridor entrance, Rigel beside her. Both carried weapons—silver rounds loaded, sightlines established.
"Aim for the joints," I called. "Slow him down."
They opened fire.
Marcus moved through the bullets with the grace of something that had survived a thousand ambushes. But the confined space limited his evasion options, and silver rounds began finding their marks—shoulder, knee, hip.
Each impact slowed him slightly. Each wound drained resources from his regeneration.
Michael recovered, hybrid form stabilizing, claws extending with renewed purpose.
"Together," I said.
We attacked simultaneously.
Marcus was a master of combat—fifteen centuries of experience expressed in perfect technique and preternatural reflexes. He parried my sword strike while dodging Michael's claw swipe, countered with a backhanded blow that sent Michael crashing into the wall, then redirected my follow-up thrust into a stone pillar.
But numbers mattered. Every time he focused on one threat, the other attacked. Every time he committed to defense, Selene and Rigel's silver rounds found new targets.
The fight became a war of attrition.
My shoulder wound healed. Michael's cracked ribs knitted together. Marcus's accumulated damage grew faster than his hybrid healing could address.
"You're persistent," Marcus growled, blocking a combination that would have killed lesser opponents. "I'll grant you that."
"I'm patient." I pressed the attack, Viktor's memories guiding strikes that exploited openings a thousand years of combat had taught me to recognize. "You're ancient and powerful. But you're also tired. Hungry. Waking from two centuries of sleep without proper feeding."
The observation hit something. Marcus's expression flickered—weakness acknowledged, pride demanding denial.
"I've killed armies while starving."
"You've never fought something like me while starving."
He attacked with renewed fury, desperate to prove my assessment wrong. His speed increased—drawing on reserves that wouldn't last—and for thirty seconds, the dungeon became a blur of violence.
Michael took a claw strike to the chest that should have killed him. Hybrid healing kept him alive, but barely.
I caught a wing strike that cracked three ribs. Regeneration Lv.5 handled it, but the pain was distracting.
Selene's ammunition ran dry. Rigel took a glancing blow that shattered his left arm.
But Marcus was bleeding from fourteen wounds now. Fifteen. Sixteen.
"Selene," I gasped between exchanges. "His eye. When he overextends."
She understood. Six centuries of marksmanship, waiting for the perfect moment.
Marcus lunged for my throat. I parried, deflected, created the opening I'd been building toward.
0.3 seconds. His right eye exposed.
Selene fired.
The silver round entered Marcus's skull through his eye socket, penetrated brain tissue, lodged somewhere in the ancient meat of his consciousness.
Marcus screamed—a sound that carried grief and rage and fifteen centuries of frustrated love for a brother he'd never free.
I didn't waste the opportunity.
Viktor's sword drove through his heart. Silver blade piercing vampire flesh, pinning him to the dungeon wall like an insect in a collector's display.
[ CRITICAL HIT: BRAIN + HEART ]
[ MARCUS CORVINUS: DYING ]
[ ESTIMATED TIME TO DEATH: 3-5 MINUTES ]
[ ESTIMATED BP IF DRAINED: 1,247 ]
He hung there, impaled, still conscious despite damage that would have killed anything else. His remaining eye found mine, burning with hatred that transcended physical pain.
"You'll never find William," he whispered through blood-flecked lips. "The prison location dies with Viktor."
"Viktor's memories are in my blood." I approached slowly, savoring the moment. "Everything he knew, I know. Including the location of your brother's prison."
Marcus's expression shifted. Horror replacing defiance.
"You'll never free him."
"I'll never need to." I leaned close, letting him see the truth in my hybrid eyes. "William stays buried. You die here. And everything you worked for—fifteen centuries of planning, scheming, hoping—ends in a dungeon beneath the house your brother helped build."
"Monster," Marcus breathed.
"I prefer 'pragmatist.'" I bit into his throat.
MORE POWER STONES And REVIEWS== MORE CHAPTERS
To supporting Me in Pateron .
with exclusive access to more chapters (based on tiers more chapters for each tiers) on my Patreon, you get more chapters if you ask for more (in few days), plus new fanfic every week! Your support starting at just $6/month helps me keep crafting the stories you love across epic universes like [ In The Witcher With Avatar Powers,In The Vikings With Deja Vu System,Stranger Things Demogorgon Tamer ...].
By joining, you're not just getting more chapters—you're helping me bring new worlds, twists, and adventures to life. Every pledge makes a huge difference!
👉 Join now at patreon.com/TheFinex5 and start reading today!