Harry didn’t move. His thoughts were quiet, settled. He hadn’t felt so at peace since waking up locked inside his crypt.
The man pointed to the stone floor beneath Harry’s feet. “You. Stand right there.”
Harry gave a slow nod. Sounds good. I like this spot.
Behind the man, the two guards had sheathed their swords. The one who’d dropped the box lifted it again and carried it to the far table without a word. The other lingered by the spilled barrel, shifting his weight, and took a step back. Clearly unsure if moving would make things better or worse.
“You! Idiot!”
The nervous guard jumped. “I… I’m sorry, Lord Korven…”
“SILENCE!”
Lord Korven’s voice cracked across the room like a whip. He spun and strode past Harry, to the shelves built into the far wall, stopping in front of one of the bodies.
Harry slowly turned in place to follow the motion, keeping Korven in view.
What an interesting man.
The corpse on the shelf was dressed in chainmail. No weapons.
The rod lifted. A few low words. It flared dimly. “Rise.”
With a brittle groan, the corpse sat up. Its joints cracked. The chainmail rasped as it moved. It slid off the ledge, boots hitting the floor with a dull scrape.
At the next one, another figure in chainmail lay waiting, arms crossed over its chest. Again, the rod lifted. Again, the command. "Rise."
The undead climbed down stiffly, landing flat-footed.
Korven held the rod close to his mouth and whispered something. The glow vanished. The rod lowered to his side.
“Follow.”
The two undead moved in unison and stepped forward, falling into position at his flanks.
He turned and stalked to the nervous guard. The undead following close behind.
The guard hadn’t moved from the spill. He stood frozen, face pale, eyes wide.
“Lord Korven… I was just trying…”
“SILENCE!” The shout echoed through the room. Korven crouched, picked up the broken pieces of the small barrel, gave it a quick glance, and whipped it at the guard’s head.
The man ducked. The barrel flew past and smashed against the wall in a spray of wood and iron hoops.
Harry glanced toward the second guard. He was still at the far table, back stiff, eyes fixed on nothing.
“I’m sorry, Lord Korven. I’ll do whatever you need of me.”
“Oh you will.”
He didn’t look back when he gave the next order. “Hold him.”
The two undead moved in without a sound, each grabbing an arm just below the shoulder.
The guard started thrashing. “No! Please, Lord Korven!” His boots scraped and skidded on the stone.
Korven closed the distance and backhanded the nervous guard hard enough to split his lip and send up a spray of blood. “A month I’ve lost! Your family will pay for what you’ve cost me.”
Harry took a long, deep breath, savoring the scent of the blood and the beat of the man’s thundering heart.
Korven drew a long black dagger from his belt.
The guard screamed.
He lifted the blade and pressed it to the man’s throat. The guard tried to back away, trapped in the grip of the undead. Korven drew the blade back, ready to strike, then stopped. He lowered the dagger partway and looked at Harry, a pleased smile spreading across his face.
Korven slid the dagger back into its sheath, eyes narrowing as he studied Harry. The room had gone quiet except for the guard’s ragged breathing.
“Are your companions also vampires?”
Harry shook his head. “No, Lord Korven.”
:: System: Use skill [Frenzy]? (Y/N)
Harry let out a soft chuckle.
You know I don’t want to use that around people.
Korven’s mouth twitched. “Pity… what are they then?”
“Jojo is a hunter. Cedric is a nobleman. Stan is a laborer, and Toby is a farm boy.”
Korven frowned. “What kind of classes are those?”
“They don’t have classes,” Harry said. “Only I do.”
:: System: These people aren’t your friends Harry. They’re dangerous.
Strangers are just friends you haven’t gotten to know yet.
Korven jerked back a step. “You have a class?”
Harry smiled, realizing just now how special that really was. “Yes, Lord Korven. Vampire.”
Korven’s eyes flicked over him. “Your class is vampire? Who made you?”
“I don’t know. I appeared as I am.”
:: System: Harry, You should use [Frenzy] right now. Martha would want you to.
That’s silly. Martha would never want me to hurt anyone.
Korven tilted his head. “Fascinating. I had no idea… oh, and don’t use any class ability without my permission. Understood?”
“Yes, Lord Korven.”
“And for now, ignore anything your User Interface tells you.”
“Yes, Lord Korven.”
Korven shifted his weight, studying Harry from where he stood. “Legend says victims of vampires return as vampires themselves.”
Harry didn’t move or respond.
Never cared for vampire stories. Martha liked the movies though. Especially that one with Leslie Nielsen. That was good.
A faint buzz nagged at the back of Harry’s mind. He was forgetting something. He shrugged.
If it’s important I’ll think of it later.
Korven barked at him. “Well?”
“Yeah, I heard that in a lot of stories too.”
Korven took a half step forward, started to raise the rod, but seemed to think better of it and stepped back. “Is it true?”
I wonder if I’m supposed to talk about this… oh well, I’m sure it’s fine or he wouldn’t ask.
“I was told there’s a subclass that can create lesser vampires.”
Korven’s eyes narrowed. “Did you already pick a subclass?”
“No, I just made level one.”
Korven growled, “Lord Korven.”
Talking to himself? Ha, you’re one to talk, Harry.
Harry watched Korven’s face turn red.
Korven snapped, “You will address me as Lord Korven when you speak to me. Is that understood?”
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“Yes, Lord Korven.”
“So you could level up, take this subclass, and make an army of vampires?”
“Actually, I don’t know. I suspect there are limits on the number of lesser vampires. Lord Korven.”
Korven waved that off. “Ah well, that’s something for another day. Right now… you said your name is Harry?”
“Yes, Lord Korven.”
“Ridiculous name for a vampire.” He waved a dismissing hand. “Doesn’t matter, something else we can take care of later.”
Korven backed a few more steps away from the held guard.
“Are you hungry, Harry?”
Am I?
“I think I’m always hungry, Lord Korven.”
“Oh… I like that.” Korven lifted the rod and pointed it at the guard pinned between the undead. “Feed for me, Harry.”
The guard started thrashing harder, begging Korven to spare him, shouting to the other guard for help.
Harry looked at the man, then back at Korven, confused but unmoving.
“I said feed.” Korven’s voice cracked sharp. “YOU WILL OBEY!”
If we weren’t already friends I think I’d worry about this guy.
“But I can’t, Lord Korven.”
“What do you mean you can’t? You will obey!”
“You ordered me not to use any skills.”
Korven spun away, marched to the nearest body, and started beating it with the rod, striking again and again while muttering low grunts and sharp snarls.
That’s not right. And it’s definitely against the law.
After about a minute he stopped, adjusted his robes, and turned back. He spoke slowly, carefully pronouncing every word. “What skill do you need for feeding?”
“Drain, Lord Korven.”
Korven drew a long, steady breath. He lifted the rod, pointed it at the held man, and spoke with forced calm. “Harry, drain this cretin.”
The man sagged between the undead, worn down, then jerked weakly as fear pushed him upright again.
Harry stepped in front of him. His fangs slid free. Saliva gathered in his mouth.
He stopped cold.
This isn’t right.
He met the man’s pleading eyes.
Harry tried to turn back toward Korven, tried to speak, tried to refuse.
:: [Willpower Check] failed.
It’s alright I guess. This is all make believe.
Harry looked into the man’s eyes again, but this time felt only hunger. The guard’s mouth hung open in a silent scream. Sheer terror twisted his face. Eyes bulging, chest heaving. His body locked, straining to lean back against the grip of the undead.
Harry lunged forward, fangs coming down low on the neck, biting deep. The sweet, smooth sensation of the skin being pierced, the thrill of the first mouthful of blood. The exhilaration as he began to feed. His heart syncing with the prey’s frantic thundering pulse.
He slid one hand behind the prey’s head, the other arm curling around his torso, pulling him into a tight embrace.
Warmth poured through him, rich and full, pleasure blooming in his chest and spine. But it felt off. Different. It was distant and muted. Like he was behind glass, watching himself enjoy it. Still, he held on, drinking as the heartbeat slowed, stuttered, came to a stop. The body had long since stopped struggling, hanging limp in the grip of the two undead.
He stepped back. The guard sagged between the undead, head lolling, eyes glassy.
Messages scrolled across Harry’s vision. He brushed them aside without bothering to read.
He took a moment to glance at the meters floating in the corner of his vision. They left him with a quiet sense of contentment. Almost happiness, except he felt a pang of regret watching the numbers tick down.
H: 160 .. 159 .. 158 .. | V: 152 .. 151 .. 150 .. | TM: 0%
He knew they’d stop soon. But it felt good to have extra. Maybe Lord Korven would let him feed again.
A low laugh rumbled behind him, rich with satisfaction.
Lord Korven stepped into view. “You are going to be so much fun." He glanced down at Harry. "I see you enjoyed it too. Now move out of the way.”
Harry stepped aside, and Korven addressed the undead holding the body.
He pointed toward the empty shelves where they had been earlier. “Put him down.”
The undead obeyed at once, carrying the body across the room and shoving it into one of the vacant ledges.
Korven’s gaze swept the chamber and settled on the remaining guard.
“You. Get over here.”
The man hurried across the floor. “Yes, Lord Korven?”
“Go to the camp. Tell Captain Walls to send some men with crossbows. We have intruders.”
“Yes, Lord Korven.” He spun, rushed to the door, fumbled with the latch, then yanked it open and fled through, slamming it behind him.
Korven turned back to Harry. “Where are your companions?”
“When I left them, they were sorting through the hidden cache.”
“What? They dare!” Korven raised a fist, glared at Harry, and shook it in the air.
He began pacing. Harry was perfectly content to stand and wait.
Who built this place way underground? It must have been a lot of work to do it by hand.
After a while, the guard returned with four men, two of them carrying crossbows.
They stepped into the room and formed a line.
Korven watched the doorway. When it became clear no one else was coming, he turned to the guards.
“Where are the rest?”
The first guard looked like he might bolt, but forced out an answer. “Th… this is all the Captain sent, Lord Korven.”
“Idiots.” Korven snapped his attention back to Harry. “Come with me.”
Korven’s hand clamped onto Harry’s elbow, firm and possessive, and turned him toward the wooden door Harry had originally come through.
He spoke to the two undead. “Guard me.” They moved into position behind him. He barked at the soldiers next. “You know what to do. Don’t fail.”
He led Harry to the door and paused. Harry stepped forward and opened it without thinking. They started up the narrow stairs together. The two undead followed close behind, chainmail whispering with each step. The guards crowded up at the back.
At the top, they passed through the high arch and stepped into the vaulted chamber.
Korven stopped cold.
Harry stopped beside him. His companions were still sorting through the armor and weapons. They hadn’t noticed their arrival.
The torches lit the floor, scattered with charred bone, greasy burn marks, and the black ash that had once been the Rot Puppets.
Korven released Harry’s elbow. His hand drifted to the dagger at his waist. His voice hissed out, barely audible. “What did you do?”
We did make a mess, didn’t we? No wonder Lord Korven is mad.
Korven stood breathing hard. His shoulders lifted once, then settled. He spoke quietly to Harry. “Walk to your friends, don’t say anything.”
Harry strode forward, eager to introduce everyone.
Cedric spotted him first, rising from where he had been checking a set of axes. “Sir Harold?”
Behind him, Harry heard Korven whisper for him to stop and he halted in place.
Stan, Jo, and Toby were all standing now, turning toward him.
Jo’s voice sharpened. “Harry, what’s wrong?”
Cedric drew his sword. Stan reached for a spear resting against the sarcophagus.
Behind Harry, Korven’s guards fanned out. The two crossbows came up, aimed at Cedric and Stan. The others stepped forward with swords drawn.
Hold on. What’s happening?
Korven stepped out from behind Harry, face red, veins standing out across his forehead as he looked around the chamber. “How dare you! All my work! Ruined… by common trash!”
Toby took a step toward them. “Harry, what’s happening?”
Harry tried to answer, to tell him everything was fine. Nothing came out.
Cedric crouched with his sword held in front, uncertainty written across his face. “Sir Harold?”
Korven turned toward him. “Put your toys down.”
Cedric didn’t move. Korven rounded on the nearest guard with a crossbow. “If they don’t drop their weapons, shoot the girl.”
No, no, no, no, no. This isn’t how it was supposed to go.
Toby gasped and searched Harry’s face for reassurance. When Harry gave none, Toby’s shoulders slumped and he stepped back, staring at the floor.
Toby? It’s going to be alright.
Harry watched as Cedric and Stan dropped their weapons. The first guard moved in quickly, collecting everything, Jo’s bow, Toby’s sword, even the daggers at their belts. The other guard scooped up the burning torch where it lay next to the sarcophagus. When everyone had been disarmed, they were ordered away from the armor and weapons they’d been sorting.
They were lined up on the far side of the room with the guards positioned between Harry and his companions, Korven began screaming. His arms flailed, fingers clawing at his hair, spittle flying. “You think you can come in here and loot and ransack everything you please!”
He stopped suddenly and jabbed a finger at Cedric. “You. Move away from the rest.”
Harry fought to say something, to do something.
Jo stepped forward. “No, don’t…”
One of the guards snapped his crossbow up and leveled it at her.
Cedric waved her back. “Hold, Jomila. Do not be foolish.”
Stan grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
Korven took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter. Having a vampire is worth more than everything you’ve burned.”
Cedric stepped forward half a pace, jaw tight. “Whatever you’ve done to Sir Harold, it won’t hold. He will bring you down.”
Korven broke into a wild, delighted laugh. “I love when heroes stay defiant right to the end.” He seized Harry by the elbow again. “Harry, is your young friend dangerous? Should I be afraid?”
Harry didn’t answer.
Korven spun and struck Harry in the chest with the rod. “Answer when I speak to you.”
Harry barely felt the impact, the rod bouncing harmlessly off him. “Lord Korven, you told me 'don’t say anything'.”
Korven froze, eyes darting around, then stormed away and kicked a helmet lying among the piles of equipment.
He came back, took a deep breath, and pointed the rod at Cedric. “Harry, could you drain that one for me, if it’s not too much trouble?”
“Yes.” Harry stepped past the guards until he stood directly in front of Cedric. Cedric met his eyes, lifted his chin, jaw clenched tight. He said nothing.
“Lord Korven, may I use a skill?”
Korven moved in close behind him. “What skill?”
“He’s dangerous, Lord Korven. A trained fighter.”
“And?”
“May I use frenzy, Lord Korven?”
Toby collapsed where he stood, dropping to the stone floor and curling in on himself.
“No, Harry!” Jo’s voice cracked through the room.
Korven giggled behind him. “That sounds exciting.” He nudged Harry in the back. “Yes. By all means, go ahead.”
He concentrated. Willed himself to use it. Frenzy.
His vision sharpened in an instant, the edges burning red and clear. Every sound split into detail, the scrape of boots, the pull of breath, the thump of every heart in the room. His muscles tightened, eager and ready. Hunger surged up from his spine and swallowed everything else.
And there right in front of him. Unarmed. Exposed. Not even trying to resist.
Prey.
***
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