Corrupted blood lord

The first clash did not begin at Count Aweq’s castle.

It began on the walls of Lupos.

Dawn paladins stood beside the city garrison at every gate, their golden armor reflecting the light of hundreds of torches. For nearly an hour, neither side had drawn a weapon. They simply watched one another, waiting to see who would make the first move.

Below them, the streets were filled with confusion.

Civilians were driven away from the castle district while merchants hurried to close their shops. Families crowded the roads leading toward the outer quarters, carrying whatever belongings they could hold.

Above them, Church bells continued to ring.

At the northern gate, the garrison commander stared at the sealed decree in his hands.

Count Aweq’s name stood clearly beneath the mark of heresy.

Any soldier who continued serving him would be judged an accomplice. Any officer who raised a weapon in his defense would be condemned alongside him.

The commander slowly looked toward the distant castle once more.

Smoke rose from one of its upper towers.

"Is this true?" he asked.

The Dawn paladin standing before him did not hesitate.

"The Church has evidence of Count Aweq’s cooperation with a Noble vampire. Prisoners were taken beneath his castle. Forbidden experiments were conducted under his protection, and servants of the vampire have already drunk more than their fair share of innocent blood."

Murmurs spread among the soldiers.

Many had served the count for years, but few were willing to die for him after hearing those words.

"The count is the lawful ruler of Lupos," one officer argued.

"He was," the paladin replied. "Until he betrayed the kingdom."

The commander looked at the men around him.

Some appeared uncertain. Others were openly afraid.

None looked eager to fight the Church.

He folded the decree and lowered his head.

"The northern garrison will obey the archbishop’s order."

Relief spread across the wall.

The same decision soon followed at the other gates.

One by one, the soldiers stationed throughout Lupos lowered Count Aweq’s banners. Some even condemned him for those atrocious acts then and there. Everyone understood the situation.

The garrison at the walls had abandoned its ruler.

However, the castle was a different matter.

—

The first Church formation advanced shortly before midnight.

Rows of paladins marched through the empty streets with shields raised, followed by priests, inquisitors, and soldiers from the garrison. Their footsteps echoed across the paved road in a single rhythm.

Count Aweq’s men waited behind the castle walls.

Unlike the soldiers stationed at the city gates, those inside the castle served directly under the count. Many were members of noble families whose wealth and influence depended on him.

Others knew that surrender would not save them.

They guarded the lower chambers and the castle walls.

Some of them had escorted prisoners through the hidden corridors, and they knew too much.

When the Church reached the outer courtyard, an officer raised his sword from the battlements.

"Loose!"

Arrows wrapped in mana descended upon the Dawn warriors.

Golden barriers flared above the advancing formation as priests lifted their staffs. Most of the arrows shattered against the light, but several slipped through and struck the men below.

They did not stop, continuing their assault at the same pace.

A second wave followed shortly after.

Amid the barrage of spells and arrows, strange clay vessels burst against the barriers, spreading burning oil across the stone. Flames rolled through the courtyard and climbed along the shields, forcing the front ranks to slow.

"Advance!" a paladin captain shouted.

Light gathered around his weapon, and he swung it once.

A golden arc crossed the courtyard and struck the castle gate. The reinforced wood splintered, but the iron supports held.

The garrison brought forward a battering ram.

Count Aweq’s soldiers continued firing from above while the Church hammered against the entrance. Each impact shook the walls.

On the fifth strike, the central support cracked, and the gate began collapsing inward.

The Dawn Church entered the castle, and the defenders met them inside the gatehouse.

Spears thrust between overlapping shields while archers fired from the upper walkways. Fire mages filled the narrow entrance with waves of heat, turning the broken gate into a furnace.

For several minutes, the Church could not advance.

Then the inquisitors moved forward.

Silver chains flew through the flames, wrapping around the defenders’ limbs and dragging them from formation. Paladins surged through the opening before the line could recover.

Steel struck steel.

The gatehouse became a slaughter.

Count Aweq’s men fought fiercely, but they were outnumbered and surrounded by enemies who knew retreat was impossible. The garrison soldiers who had once served beside them now entered through the broken gate beneath the Church’s banners.

The sight broke something within the defenders.

Some threw down their weapons; others screamed insults and charged.

Neither choice stopped the advance.

The Church pushed deeper into the castle, taking one hall after another.

—

Count Aweq paced through the throne room while distant impacts shook dust from the ceiling.

The sounds of battle had grown closer.

At first, he had stood proudly before his commanders, insisting that the walls would hold. He had spoken of counterattacks, hidden formations, and the reinforcements that would arrive from the city garrison.

None had come.

Instead, each report brought worse news.

The northern gate had sided with the Church.

Then the western gate.

Then all of them.

The city soldiers had joined the assault.

Aweq stopped beside the long table and stared at the markers scattered across it.

Most of his officers were dead or missing. The outer courtyard had fallen. The gatehouse had been breached, and the Church was fighting through the inner halls.

Only fifty loyal soldiers remained between the throne room and the advancing paladins.

They had barricaded the final corridor with overturned tables, broken furniture, and anything else they could find.

Axel stood several steps away from the count, leaning against the wall.

"My lord, pacing about will not solve this situation. We can still escape if we make a push for it and sacrifice the last soldiers we have," he said.

Aweq turned toward him.

"You seem remarkably calm."

"Panic has never solved anything."

"They were supposed to hold the walls."

"I understand, my lord, but since they didn’t, we must make a decision."

"My soldiers betrayed me, do you understand? I fed and clothed them, and gave them money."

A crash echoed from somewhere beyond the throne room.

Aweq flinched.

"Calm down, my lord," he said. "You need to think about the next move."

"I am thinking!" The count’s expression hardened.

Axel looked toward the closed doors as more and more noise came from outside.

"Perhaps now would be a good time to act, my lord... We are running out of time."

Aweq suddenly froze.

For the first time since the gate had fallen, a trace of confidence returned to his face.

"Yes," he whispered, and Axel narrowed his eyes.

Aweq stepped away from the table and straightened his robes.

The fear disappeared behind a triumphant smile.

"They believe they have cornered me."

Another impact shook the room.

The final corridor had become a battlefield.

The remaining fifty soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder behind the barricade, holding back waves of Dawn warriors. Bodies covered the floor on both sides, and blood ran between the stones.

Aweq lifted his hand.

"Let them come," he said. "This is exactly what I wanted."

Axel somehow doubted that.

Aweq waited until the sounds drew even closer.

Then he shouted toward one of the side doors.

"Now!"

But nothing happened. His smile remained for several seconds, and he tried repeating the command. "Now, Luther!"

But no one answered him.

The doors leading to the lower chambers remained closed. It was their escape route in an emergency.

And thralls should have been swarming that place by now.

Aweq’s smile slowly faded.

He rushed toward the door and pulled it open.

The chamber beyond was empty.

Only abandoned crates and bare shelves remained. The weapons, documents, and space rings had disappeared.

Even the servants were gone.

The corpse of a guard Aweq had stationed there lay near the entrance to the hidden passage, his throat torn wide open.

Aweq stared at it in disbelief. Had the proud vampires actually fled?

"No..."

He stepped inside and looked toward the stone wall at the far end.

The hidden passage stood open, and only darkness stretched beyond it.

Luther had left him to die.

"That bastard abandoned me," Aweq whispered.

Axel appeared behind him and looked toward the empty passage.

They both understood that there was likely no escape left for them now, even if they rushed through the passage.

Panic returned to the count’s expression as he feared for his life.

"Do something."

Axel looked at him quietly. If even the vampires had fled, what could he do against the Church?

"We need to retreat slowly through the passage, my lord."

"Slowly? They will execute me!"

The final fifty men continued to die outside, buying seconds for a fallen ruler.

—

Far beneath Lupos, Luther moved through the eastern passage without looking back.

Several thralls and servants followed him, carrying the last of his possessions. Space rings held decades of research, relics, blood samples, and documents.

Everything else had been left to burn.

The tunnel eventually climbed through the earth before opening among the hills beyond the city walls.

Cold night air greeted them immediately.

Luther stepped outside first.

Then he stopped.

Golden light illuminated the trees ahead.

Regulus stood in the center of the road with his claymore resting against his shoulder. The Dawn warriors who had survived Alta stood behind him, exhausted but ready.

"So," Regulus said. "The rat finally crawled out of the tunnel."

Luther glanced at the wounded paladins and priests.

"You should have remained in Alta."

Regulus lowered his claymore.

"And you should die, heathen."

The Dawn warriors spread out.

Luther’s thralls placed their luggage down and prepared to fight.

For a brief moment, the hills fell silent.

Then Regulus attacked.

He crossed the distance in a burst of golden light and brought his claymore down toward Luther’s neck.

Luther caught the blade with one hand.

The impact shattered the ground beneath his feet.

Regulus’s eyes widened.

Crimson lightning exploded from Luther’s body.

The blast hurled him through several trees.

The Dawn warriors charged before Luther could follow.

Spells filled the road.

Spears of light, burning chains, and golden blades descended upon him from every direction.

Luther walked through them.

His lightning tore apart the first formation and reduced three paladins to smoking corpses. He seized another by the throat and threw him through a priest before either could react.

A wave of holy fire struck him from behind.

Luther turned and extended one finger.

Crimson light pierced the caster’s chest.

The remaining warriors tried to surround him.

They lasted less than a minute.

Bodies fell across the road.

Some were burned beyond recognition. Others had been torn apart by the force of Luther’s attacks. The servants and thralls behind him never needed to intervene.

Regulus rose from the shattered trees, blood running down his armor.

Golden light gathered around him, and he charged again.

Their second clash split the road apart.

Regulus tried to cut across Luther’s chest with his claymore, but he failed to leave even a shallow wound.

Luther looked down at Regulus and smiled. In the next moment, his fist struck him in the stomach, and his armor folded inward.

Regulus flew backward and struck the ground hard enough to create a crater.

Before he could rise, Luther appeared above him and drove his heel into his chest.

The strike broke his bones and made him spatter blood across the inside of his helmet.

Luther raised his hand, crimson lightning gathering around his fingers.

He pierced Regulus’s chest with it, and a massive pillar of lightning erupted. Regulus was left on the brink of death. A second later, Luther turned around and walked away.

He stopped again and looked back as horns sounded in the distance and hundreds of lights appeared across the hills.

Reinforcements bearing the royal banner marched toward them from the capital, accompanied by high-ranking priests and royal knights.

Luther glanced toward them and ordered his thralls to retreat.

"I’ll play with you another time, Church dogs."

By the time the first royal knights reached the battlefield, Luther was gone.

They found Regulus alone among the dead.

He took shallow, rasping breaths and constantly coughed up blood.

Priests surrounded him immediately and poured golden light into his body.

He would survive.

Barely.