The ruins did not welcome them back.
The air had thickened, the scent of rust and rot clinging like a second skin. The sky above was no longer bruised twilight—it bled, crimson streaks weeping from unseen wounds in the clouds. The ground beneath Lucian's boots was soft, yielding, as if the earth itself was rotting from the inside out.
And the whispers—
They were no longer just in his head.
They slithered from the cracks in the pavement, coiled around the skeletal remains of streetlamps, murmured from the hollowed-out corpses of buildings.
Run, little king.
Run, run, run.
But you cannot outrun what you are.
Lucian snarled, his shadowform flickering violently. The Corruption in his veins pulsed like a living thing, tendrils of darkness spiderwebbing beneath his skin. The System's warnings flashed like a dying neon sign:
[Blood Corruption Progress: 19%]
[Shadowform Integrity: 71%]
[Warning: Instability Detected – Emotional Surge May Trigger Uncontrolled Manifestation]
He clenched his fists, forcing the shadows to obey. They writhed in protest, hissing like scalded cats.
The vampire—Vaelros—watched him with those unreadable crimson eyes. The name had come to Lucian the moment they stepped free of the Gate, as if the Hollow King's rejection had carved it into his skull alongside the whispers.
Vaelros.
A name that tasted of old blood and older power.
"You're holding it together," Vaelros mused, tilting his head. "Barely."
Lucian bared his fangs. "I don't need your commentary."
Vaelros smirked. "You do. Because without me, you'd already be a drooling puppet for the Crown." He stepped closer, the scent of frost and graves clinging to him. "But by all means, keep snarling. It's adorable."
Lucian's shadow-claws twitched. "Why did you help me?"
The smirk didn't waver. "Why does the sun set? Why do mortals pray? Some questions have no answers, little king."
A lie.
Lucian could taste it in the air, thick as the blood-rain beginning to fall.
But before he could press, the ground shuddered.
A sound echoed through the ruins—not the Herald's funeral-bell resonance, but something worse.
Something hungry.
Vaelros went still, his amusement evaporating. "Ah."
Lucian didn't need to ask. The System's text burned crimson:
[Bloodbound Warden Detected]
[Threat Level: High]
[Note: Former Aspirant to the Hollow Throne – Executed for Defiance]
From the shadows between two collapsed towers, it emerged.
A thing of tattered flesh and jagged bone, its body stitched together with chains of rusted iron. Its face was a ruin—half-melted, half-eaten, one eye a hollow pit, the other a burning ember. A crown of broken blades sat askew on its skull, fused to the bone.
It moved wrong. Not like the Herald's unnatural grace, but like a corpse puppeteered by vengeful strings.
The Bloodbound Warden's remaining eye fixed on Lucian.
Its voice was the sound of a grave being unearthed.
You… were offered… the Crown.
Lucian's shadows rippled, responding to the threat before he could.
Vaelros sighed. "And here I thought we'd have at least an hour before the first executioner showed up."
The Warden's chains rattled.
You refused.
Lucian rolled his shoulders, the pain in his veins crystallizing into something sharp, something ready. "Yeah. Got a problem with that?"
The Warden's ember-eye flared.
The Hollow King… does.
Then it moved.
Chains lashed out like serpents, rusted links screeching through the air. Lucian barely dodged, the metal grazing his arm—and where it touched, his shadowform sizzled, Corruption spreading like infection.
[Blood Corruption Progress: 22%]
Fuck.
Vaelros was already behind the Warden, his form a blur of pale flesh and darker intent. His fingers plunged into the creature's back, ripping free a handful of spine. The Warden didn't scream—it laughed, the sound wet and broken.
Vaelros… the Traitor… the Coward…
Vaelros' smile turned vicious. "Flattery won't save you."
The Warden's chains reversed, wrapping around Vaelros' throat—but the vampire twisted, his body dissolving into mist just before the links could crush his windpipe. He reappeared beside Lucian, his expression unreadable.
"We can't kill it," he murmured. "Not permanently. It's bound to the Crown."
Lucian's claws flexed. "Then what?"
Vaelros' gaze slid to him. "You run. I distract."
"Bullshit."
"Oh?" Vaelros arched a brow. "Got a better plan, little king?"
Lucian didn't.
But he also wasn't leaving.
The Warden lunged again. Lucian met it halfway, his shadow-claws slashing through chains, through flesh, through bone. It didn't matter. The wounds sealed instantly, the Corruption in his veins flaring with every strike.
[Blood Corruption Progress: 25%]
The whispers in his skull cheered.
Yes.
Fight.
Let the rage take you.
Let the Crown in.
Lucian roared, slamming a fist into the Warden's chest—and this time, his shadows pierced, not just flesh, but something deeper. Something essential.
The Warden froze.
Its ember-eye dimmed.
For the first time, it looked afraid.
You… are not… just another Aspirant.
Lucian didn't answer. He twisted his hand, and the shadows surged.
The Warden screamed—a sound that shook the ruins, that sent blood-rain scattering in every direction. Its body convulsed, chains snapping, flesh blackening.
Then—
Silence.
The Warden collapsed into ash.
The System's alert burned like a brand:
[Bloodbound Warden – Temporarily Dismissed]
[Blood Corruption Progress: 30%]
[Warning: Unauthorized Hollow Power Usage Detected]
[Penalty: Increased System Hostility]
Lucian panted, his vision swimming. The shadows around him were darker now, hungrier. They licked at his skin like adoring dogs.
Vaelros stared at him.
For the first time, the vampire looked truly unsettled.
"Well," he said softly. "That's new."
Lucian didn't respond. His attention was locked on the space behind Vaelros—where the shadows had begun to coalesce, forming a shape too tall, too thin, too wrong.
The Herald.
It didn't move. It didn't speak.
It simply watched.
Then, as silently as it appeared, it dissolved.
But the message was clear.
This wasn't over.
Vaelros exhaled, long and slow. "We need to move. Now."
Lucian didn't argue.
As they fled the crumbling ruins, the blood-rain soaking into their skin, the whispers followed.
But now, they weren't just in Lucian's head.
Now, they were in Vaelros' too.
And the vampire's expression?
For the first time in centuries—
It was fear.