Corrupted blood lord

Tepesh and Dallion reached Lupos before dawn.

They did not use the main road, though. Tepesh guided them through old hunting paths and abandoned farm trails that had not seen proper use in years.

Neither of them spoke much.

Dallion was barely conscious anyway. His burns had blackened further, and every few minutes, his body trembled as if the holy fire was still eating him from the inside.

Tepesh looked better. He was mostly healed now, as he had managed to expel most of the holy mana from his body.

By the time the sun began to stain the horizon, they passed through one of the hidden entrances beneath Lupos.

Luther Vael’thorr was waiting.

He stood in the center of a private chamber beneath the estate, dressed as perfectly as always. Not a single strand of silver hair was out of place. His expression was calm, his hands folded behind his back, but the air in the room was heavy, cold, and dangerous.

Tepesh dropped to one knee at once.

Dallion tried to do the same, but he was slower and could barely keep the posture.

Luther’s eyes moved from one to the other.

"Where is Teclos?"

Tepesh lowered his head. "Captured by the Church, Master."

The torches along the walls flickered blue.

Dallion swallowed.

Luther walked closer, each step slow and measured. "Captured."

"Yes, Master."

"And the research?"

"Most of it was recovered," Tepesh said. "The relic was secured, but some documents were stored in Teclos’s dark dimension before the pursuit intensified."

Luther stopped and looked up, a twitch appearing on his face. He was mad.

The silence that followed, as he gathered himself so he would not behead them right then and there, was almost unbearable.

Dallion finally forced himself to speak. "We judged him the safest piece to lose, Master. The Church cannot open his dark dimension unless he willingly cooperates. If they kill him, the contents will be destroyed. They won’t be able to get anything."

Luther’s gaze shifted to Dallion.

"And did you make that decision before or after failing to retrieve everything?"

Dallion froze.

Tepesh answered for him. "After, Master. The pursuit was too heavy. That man, Regulus himself, was there. If we stayed, all three of us would have been captured or destroyed."

At the mention of Regulus, Luther’s eyes narrowed slightly. His anger subsided for a bit.

"Regulus?" he murmured, questioning. "How inconvenient."

He turned away and walked toward the table, where maps, reports, and sealed letters waited in neat stacks. He rummaged through them until he found a letter and read it. For a few moments, he looked lost in thought.

Then, without warning, his fist struck the table, splintering the whole thing and sending all of the papers flying.

Dallion flinched, and Tepesh tightened his jaw.

"Teclos was a valuable asset too," Luther said, his voice calm and frightening. "Unstable, disobedient, and irritating, but valuable. His affinity was rare, his progress unusually quick, and his usefulness had not yet been exhausted." He looked up and growled. "Most of all, he was a card I could have used to infiltrate the House of Corvayne."

Neither of the thralls answered, and Luther slowly exhaled.

"But what is done is done."

He looked toward the door. "Call the others."

A servant bowed and vanished.

Several minutes later, four thralls entered the chamber. Two men and two women, each carrying the same empty devotion in their eyes. They knelt without being asked.

Luther looked down at them.

"If Teclos is brought back to Lupos in chains, he dies before reaching the castle," he said. "There will be no rescue attempt. You will execute him."

The four thralls stood up and bowed.

"Yes, Master."

Luther’s gaze returned to Tepesh and Dallion. "You two go to the torture chamber. Once I am done with you there, you can recover."

Tepesh bowed his head. "Yes, Master."

Dallion’s voice was weaker. "As you command."

Luther looked toward the city with fury in his eyes.

—

Far from Lupos, Alta was not prepared for a holy battalion.

The village was small, quiet, and used to problems that involved broken fences, sick goats, bad harvests, and the occasional rude traveler.

It was not used to sixty armed warriors marching from the forest with burned armor, drawn weapons, and a chained vampire between them.

By the time Regulus reached the village square, half of Alta was already in a panic.

Doors were closed shut, and children were dragged inside by frightened mothers.

The village chief arrived wearing a coat thrown over his nightclothes.

He was a thin man with gray hair, and he bowed so quickly he nearly tripped.

"Esteemed guests," he said, voice shaking. "This humble village welcomes the servants of the Dawn."

Regulus did not waste time.

"We have a highly dangerous prisoner in custody," he said. "The church grounds will be sealed for two days. No one enters. No one leaves without permission. After that, your people may return to prayer as usual."

The chief nodded immediately. "Yes. Of course. Absolutely."

"We will need food, water, and fresh horses."

"Yes."

"No villagers are to approach the temple or leave the village in the meantime."

The chief swallowed. "Yes."

Teclos, standing several steps behind them, tilted his head slightly.

The poor man looked like he would agree to anything Regulus asked.

The temple of Alta stood on a low hill at the village’s edge. It was simple compared to the grand church of Lupos, built from gray stone and wood, with a modest bell tower and a small graveyard behind it. Within minutes, the entire area was locked down.

Paladins blocked every path leading to the temple.

Inquisitors searched the nearby houses and trees.

Priests inspected the holding chamber beneath the building and reinforced every rune they could find.

Teclos was dragged down a narrow stairway beneath the temple, through a corridor that smelled of dust. At the end waited a holding cell with iron bars carved in holy script and saturated with runes. The runes also covered the walls, floor, and ceiling, overlapping so tightly that even standing near them made his skin crawl.

They threw him inside.

He looked down, and it seemed like the cuffs would stay on too.

Teclos looked at the three guards taking position outside his cell and scoffed.

"Even when I am being cooperative and friendly, you people still lack basic courtesy."

They still ignored him.

He rattled the chain around his wrist. "A cup of water would be nice... or an apology for the terrible hospitality."

Still nothing.

"Assholes."

The heavy cell door shut with a resounding sound.

Above ground, Regulus gathered his officers in the prayer hall.

The mood had changed since the forest.

No one said it openly at first, but all of them were thinking the same thing.

What if the vampire was right?

What if Count Aweq was colluding with vampires?

What if Luther Vael’thorr, the beloved foreign noble who smiled in their churches and bowed before their priests, was a vampire?

Regulus looked at the paladin standing closest to him.

"Remove your armor," he ordered.

The man blinked. "Captain?"

"You will ride to Lupos without Church insignia and in plain clothes. You will avoid the main gate if possible and deliver my message to the archbishop through the old contact route."

The paladin understood at once.

If the count was compromised, then they could not rely on the guards.

"Yes, Captain."

Regulus handed him a sealed letter. "Remember, this goes to the archbishop first. And no one else."

The paladin bowed and left, and two days passed by slowly.

For Teclos, they were extremely boring.

He remained in the holding cell under constant guard. He considered trying something dramatic once or twice, but with his mana sealed and half the temple breathing down his neck, it would have been less of an escape attempt and more of a public suicide.

So he waited, trying to pass time with jokes, complaints, food, and annoying the guards.

He was slowly getting mad from boredom.

—

On the second night, far away beneath Lupos, Luther was looking out of the window with a glass full of blood, overlooking the city.

He felt that something was wrong.

The link to Teclos still existed, so he was alive, too distant to kill remotely with the pact though. He had yet to return. Two days had passed since those incompetent thralls returned. With Regulus at the helm of the Church force, they should have reached Lupos by now.

His expression hardened as he swirled the blood around in his glass.

—

Back in Alta, the Cross of Truth arrived before dawn without any trouble.

Two bishops and one paladin entered the village in plain traveling clothes. To anyone watching from a window, they might have looked like merchants or pilgrims. Only Regulus and his officers knew what they carried wrapped beneath layers of cloth and seals.

The archbishop had quickly responded to Regulus’s request.

The letter he sent had described everything the captured vampire had talked about.

The archbishop sensed the danger, but it seemed that he had also seen an opportunity.

If the vampire lied, they would burn him and bury the matter quietly. If the vampire spoke the truth, however, then exposing a count, a hidden vampire conspiracy, and a secret dungeon could bring him wealth, influence, and perhaps even a promotion.

Holy duty and personal ambition were in sync for once.

Teclos was taken from his cell shortly after sunrise.

The guards did not remove his cuffs.

They added two more chains instead.

"Wonderful," Teclos muttered as they dragged him up the stairs. "I was starting to feel underdressed."

They brought him into a side room meant for clergy prayers. It had plain stone walls, a long wooden table, and narrow windows. Regulus stood at one end of the room, where two bishops waited at the table.

Several paladins lined the walls with spears aimed at Teclos.

There really was no escape. Teclos was then forced into a chair as he looked around at the hostile faces and smiled.

"What a warm welcome. I feel honored."

One of the bishops slammed his hand on the table. "Shut your mouth, filth. You vile creature!"

Teclos tilted his head. "How can you ask me questions if I have to be silent, you dumbass?"

The bishop looked genuinely appalled.

Regulus closed his eyes for a moment and massaged his temples.

"Stop bickering," he said. "Begin."

The bishops exchanged a look, then carefully unwrapped the relic.

The Cross of Truth was smaller than Teclos expected.

It was made of gold, though the shine it gave off was strangely dull, as if the metal had been stained from within. Red thorny vines wrapped around it tightly, digging into the arms of the cross like living veins. It gave off a blessed aura, but beneath that blessing, something almost cursed resided.

Teclos stared at it, as he did not like the feeling at all.

When the bishops released it, the cross floated a few centimeters above the table.

The two bishops stood opposite one another. Each clasped one hand with the other, while their free hands rested against the cross. Together with the relic, they formed a circle.

Then they began chanting.

The words were ancient and mythic, spoken in a language Teclos did not understand but still felt deep in his bones. Golden light flowed from the cross and spread across the room, tracing radiant lines over the floor.

An array formed beneath them, beautiful enough to be holy and terrifying enough to feel cursed.

The paladins watched in awe.

And Teclos watched in horror.

That aura was not simply testing lies. It was reaching deeper, into his soul.

When the chanting ended, the bishops released the cross. It continued floating, turning slowly in the air.

One bishop gestured toward Teclos.

"Take it, now."

Teclos stared at him. "I would rather not touch the holy thorn nightmare, thank you."

Several spears shifted closer to his throat.

Teclos sighed.

"Fine. You can be very persuasive sometimes..."

He reached out and wrapped both hands around the cross.

The moment his fingers closed around it, the thorns shot through his palms and pierced out the other side. They locked his hands to the cross, holding him there no matter how hard he tried to pull away.

Teclos hissed as pain exploded up his arms. It was not normal pain. It was like his soul burned.

The bishop watched him with cold satisfaction.

"All right," he said, turning toward Regulus. "We can begin now."

Regulus stepped closer, and the room went silent.

His eyes locked onto Teclos’s.

"Who is your master?"

Teclos clenched his teeth around the pain and forced himself to answer.

"Like I said," he hissed, "it is that bastard Luther. Luther Vael’thorr."

The Cross of Truth shone faintly.

The golden light spread across the thorns, pulsed once, and then settled.

No sign of falsehood.

The two bishops stared at the relic, then they looked at each other, wide-eyed.

One of them whispered, "It is true."

Regulus turned toward him sharply. "What?"

The bishop’s face had gone pale.

"By the gods," he said, voice trembling. "It is true."

The room erupted.