Corrupted blood lord

The mercenaries left the border road shortly after sunrise.

Count Veyron’s territory stretched west beneath them, a wide expanse of dark forests, rocky hills, and scattered farmland protected by distant watchtowers. Somewhere beyond the trees stood the count’s fortress, but the road leading there wound through land that had not been cleared in years.

The mercenary captain warned them before they entered the forest.

"Stay close," he said. "The patrols stopped coming this far east after the werewolf attacks."

Teclos walked near the rear of the group, one hand loosely wrapped around Axel’s dark chain.

Axel’s gag had been removed, though a thin strand of darkness remained around his mouth as a warning.

The three slaves walked ahead of them, chained together beneath the watch of two wounded mercenaries. Their steps were slow, and the youngest man among them limped badly.

Axel watched them for a while.

"You could free them."

Teclos did not look at him.

"I could."

"But you will not."

"I have more important things to worry about."

Axel gave a quiet, bitter laugh.

"You always do."

The chain around his neck tightened enough to make him stumble.

Teclos continued walking.

The road narrowed between the trees.

Broken wagon wheels lay half-buried beneath moss, and old bones rested among the roots. Some belonged to animals.

Others did not.

The mercenaries grew quieter the deeper they traveled.

Their captain kept glancing toward the forest, one hand resting on the chipped sword at his side. The others did the same whenever branches shifted or leaves rustled.

Teclos seemed almost bored.

He had already sensed the creatures following them.

There were more than a dozen.

Small bodies.

Weak mana.

Nothing worth worrying about.

A stone struck the side of the road.

One of the mercenaries flinched and turned toward the trees.

"What was that?"

The answer came in the form of a spear.

It flew from the undergrowth and struck his shoulder, punching through the damaged armor. The man screamed and fell against the wagon.

"Kobolds!" the captain shouted.

The forest erupted.

Small reptilian creatures poured from the trees, their scaled bodies covered in scraps of leather and stolen metal. Some carried short spears, while others held crude bows made from twisted branches.

The wounded mercenaries formed a loose circle around the slaves.

Arrows descended.

Teclos raised one finger.

Darkness spread above the road like an open wing.

The arrows disappeared into it.

For a moment, the kobolds froze.

Then Teclos lowered his hand.

The darkness fell.

Black tendrils struck the ground around the road and surged between the trees. Kobolds were seized around their throats, arms, and legs before they could react.

Several were lifted into the air.

Others were dragged screaming from the undergrowth.

The mercenaries stared as the entire ambush collapsed in seconds.

One kobold broke free and charged Teclos with a rusted blade.

Teclos did not even turn toward it.

A thin spike of darkness rose from the ground and passed through its chest.

The creature stopped beside him.

Its weapon slipped from its claws.

Teclos continued walking as the body collapsed behind him.

The tendrils tightened.

The remaining kobolds went silent one after another.

When it was over, more than twenty bodies hung among the trees or lay scattered across the road.

Not one had reached the mercenary formation.

The captain slowly lowered his sword.

"You knew they were there."

"Yes."

"And you said nothing?"

Teclos glanced back at him.

"You are still alive."

The captain opened his mouth, but no answer came.

Axel watched pale streams of mana rise from the corpses.

The energy moved through the forest and entered Teclos’s body. The increase was small, barely noticeable compared to what the firebear and griffon had given him, but Axel still felt it.

Teclos’s aura swelled for an instant.

Then it vanished beneath his skin.

The captain saw none of it.

Axel did.

"Hah," he muttered. "Even these scraps are useful to you."

Teclos pulled the chain.

"Keep moving."

—

The next attack came before midday.

This time, goblins blocked the road ahead.

They had overturned a cart between two trees and piled stones around it to form a crude barricade. Nearly thirty waited behind the cover, armed with clubs, axes, and scavenged shields.

One wore a cracked iron helmet several sizes too large.

He stepped onto the road and raised a notched sword.

"Coin!" he shouted. "Weapons! Food!"

The mercenaries stopped.

Their captain looked exhausted before the fight had even begun.

"We do not have enough men for this."

Teclos stepped past him.

The goblin leader pointed the sword toward him.

"You deaf?"

Teclos looked at the barricade.

Then at the goblins.

"You built all of this for us?"

The creature bared its teeth.

Teclos raised his hand.

"How thoughtful."

The shadows beneath the barricade shifted.

The overturned cart vanished into darkness.

A heartbeat later, it dropped from above.

The goblins looked up too late.

Wood, stone, and iron crashed into their formation.

The road disappeared beneath dust and screams.

Teclos walked through the cloud.

A goblin lunged at him from the side.

He caught the creature by the face and slammed it into the ground without breaking stride.

Another swung an axe toward his back.

A tendril wrapped around its wrist and pulled.

The arm separated at the shoulder.

Teclos did not look around.

He simply continued forward while darkness moved with him.

Spikes rose beneath fleeing goblins.

Blades passed silently through those who tried to surround him.

One creature climbed a tree and drew a bow.

Teclos glanced upward.

The shadow beneath the branch opened.

The goblin fell into it and emerged several meters above the road.

It struck the earth headfirst.

By the time the dust settled, Teclos had reached the other side of the barricade.

Every goblin behind him was dead.

He brushed a splinter from his sleeve.

The mercenaries stared.

One of them whispered something under his breath.

The captain heard him.

"So did I," he said quietly.

Teclos turned.

"Are we going?"

The captain nodded quickly.

The group moved again.

No one complained about the bodies left across the road.

No one questioned Axel’s chain.

No one asked Teclos where he came from.

—

They encountered bandits that afternoon.

Five men stood beside a narrow bridge crossing a shallow ravine. Their armor was cleaner than the mercenaries’, and each carried a proper weapon.

A sixth watched from the ridge above with a crossbow.

The leader stepped forward.

"Road toll."

The mercenary captain stopped.

"This road belongs to Count Veyron."

The bandit smiled.

"Then he can come collect it."

His gaze moved across the battered group and settled on the slaves.

"We will take those three."

The young woman lowered her eyes.

One of the chained men clenched his hands.

The captain looked toward Teclos.

It was the first time he had done so before reaching for his own weapon.

Teclos noticed.

"So now you want my help?"

"We are injured."

"That did not answer me."

The captain’s jaw tightened.

"Yes."

Teclos looked toward the bandits.

Their mana was stronger than the kobolds’ or goblins’, but only slightly.

Disappointing.

The crossbowman fired.

Teclos caught the bolt between two fingers.

The bandits froze.

He looked at the metal tip.

Then he flicked it back.

The bolt crossed the bridge faster than it had arrived.

It pierced the crossbowman’s eye.

His body dropped from the ridge.

The leader turned toward the sound.

Teclos appeared in front of him.

The man barely had time to inhale.

Teclos seized him by the throat and lifted him from the ground.

The remaining bandits drew their weapons.

Darkness spread beneath their boots.

All four sank to their knees as black hands wrapped around their legs and pulled them downward.

One tried to scream.

A tendril covered his mouth.

Teclos tightened his grip around the leader’s throat.

"You should choose weaker victims."

The man clawed at his wrist.

Teclos crushed his neck and let the body fall.

The others died before it touched the ground.

The entire encounter lasted less than ten seconds.

Teclos absorbed what mana remained and crossed the bridge.

The mercenaries followed in silence.

Axel looked at the bodies.

"You did not even give them a chance."

"They had one."

"When?"

"Before they spoke."

Axel shook his head.

"You are becoming insufferable."

Teclos pulled the chain hard enough to drag him across the bridge.

—

Count Veyron’s fortress came into view before sunset.

It stood on a stone hill overlooking the surrounding territory, protected by two walls and a wide trench filled with wooden stakes. A town had grown around the outer fortifications, crowded with blacksmiths, traders, hunters, and mercenary halls.

The banners above the walls carried the image of a silver wolf beneath a black crown.

The mercenary captain released a tired breath.

"We made it."

His men showed little relief.

They knew what waited inside.

They had returned without completing the contract.

Worse, they had returned with fewer than a quarter of their company.

The guards at the gate recognized them.

One frowned.

"Where are the others?"

"Dead."

The guard looked at the nine survivors.

"All of them?"

The captain nodded.

The gate opened.

They crossed the town beneath curious stares. People moved aside when they saw the blood, damaged armor, and empty saddles.

Teclos kept his hood raised.

Axel followed beside him, the dark chain hidden beneath his cloak.

The three slaves were taken toward a holding yard near the barracks.

Axel watched them disappear.

Teclos noticed but said nothing.

The surviving mercenaries were escorted directly into the fortress.

Teclos followed without being invited.

No one stopped him.

After what they had witnessed on the road, none of the mercenaries wanted to be the one who told him to leave.

They entered a long stone hall lined with guards.

Count Veyron sat at the far end beneath the banner of the silver wolf.

He was a broad man with graying hair, dressed in dark armor rather than noble robes. A sword rested against the side of his chair, and several advisors stood around him.

His expression soured the moment he saw the mercenaries.

"You failed."

The captain lowered his head.

"My lord—"

"I sent thirty-seven men into those woods."

"There were more werewolves than the report claimed."

"How many?"

"At least thirty."

Murmurs spread among the advisors.

Veyron leaned back.

"You were hired to clear a nest."

"We found a den large enough to threaten every village east of the river."

"And you ran."

The captain’s face tightened.

"We survived."

"Barely."

One of the wounded mercenaries stepped forward.

"My lord, we could not fight them. They had an alpha with them. Something larger than any werewolf I have seen."

Veyron stared at the survivors.

"Then the contract remains unfinished."

Silence followed.

No one volunteered.

The count’s gaze shifted toward the rear of the group.

He noticed Teclos.

Then Axel.

His expression hardened.

"Who the fuck are they?"

The captain looked back.

Teclos stood with his hands inside his cloak, seemingly unconcerned by the guards surrounding him.

"We encountered them on the eastern road," the captain said.

"You brought strangers into my fortress?"

"He killed a firebear, a griffon, more than twenty kobolds, a goblin band, and five armed men."

The hall became quiet.

Veyron studied Teclos more carefully.

"You did all that?"

Teclos shrugged.

"They were in the way."

The count’s gaze moved toward Axel.

"And him?"

"My servant."

Axel slowly closed his eyes.

Veyron noticed the chain beneath his cloak.

He decided not to ask.

The mercenary captain stepped forward again.

"My lord, he could complete the mission."

Teclos looked at him.

The captain avoided his eyes.

Count Veyron leaned forward.

"You heard what happened to the last company."

"I did."

"Thirty werewolves. Possibly more. And an alpha strong enough to slaughter trained mercenaries."

Teclos’s red eyes brightened beneath his hood.

"How much is the contract?"

Veyron named a sum.

Teclos did not react.

The count mistook his silence for hesitation.

"You will receive proof of payment once the alpha is dead and the den is destroyed."

Teclos smiled.

Mana from thirty werewolves would be worth more than any amount of gold.

The alpha might be worth more than all of them combined.

"I accept."

The advisors exchanged doubtful looks.

Count Veyron stared at him for several seconds.

"You do not even know where the den is."

Teclos glanced toward the surviving mercenaries.

"They do."

The captain went pale.

Teclos’s smile widened.

"They can show me the way."