++It is unknown what limits a vampire’s reproductive abilities, but it appears that the ability to create yet more is far from infinite. This is, in all likelihood, the only reason they have not yet crushed elves and humans alike. ++

  Book 2: Chapter 9

  Reggie had a seizure, or at least he thought he did. He’d never had one or seen one, but he’d read about them and it was hard to describe what he did next as anything else. Dropping to the ground, thrashing around, foaming bloody at the mouth as his eyes rolled into the backs of his head. An odd sensation, that, because his superhuman vision actually let him make out the texture of his own sockets. If nothing else, that was a neat little distraction from his whole body convulsing like he was on the rack.

  And it didn’t last as long as it could have.

  Reggie slowly sat up, his head pounding, his mouth tasting of sweet blood. His own blood. Different than before, though. Everything felt that little bit different.

  Evolution complete.

  Name: Reginald Smith

  Age: 21

  Race: Vital Arcanist [Inheritor Race, Tier 3]

  Class: None

  Attributes:

  (S)Strength 49(+12)/56

  (P)Speed 49(+12)/62

  (P)Celerity 49(+12)/62

  (S)Toughness 49(+12)/56

  (P)Charisma 25(-12)/62

  Abilities:

  Blood Magic II

  Form of the Beast II

  Royal Presence I

  Necromancy I

  Traits:

  Enhanced Senses I

  Regeneration II

  Addictive Ichor

  Enhanced Magick I

  A lot of information. Too much for right now, so Reggie ignored it and turned to Ludvich.

  The Witchfinder was dead. No surprise there, Reggie had steeled himself for that already. The question was; was Ludvich too dead, or dead too long, to be brought back? Reggie’s sire had implied she was waiting near his shack before turning him. So how long had she waited?

  And how long had his Evolution taken?

  “Sycily, how do I…you know.”

  You must first dig a grave for him, a hole in the earth anywhere will do, and then bury him after draining whatever is left of his blood. Once that is done and he’s covered by soil, you drip your own blood onto it like you were watering a plant.

  Watering a plant. Like watering a plant. Right. Giving life to something, right? Right. Reggie was spiraling. Worse, he was delaying. Every moment’s delay was another chunk out of Ludvich’s chances of survival, so he hurried up and started digging.

  Even without a spade, Reggie didn’t take long to have a big enough hole. It needed to be six feet deep for some reason, the magic just wouldn’t work otherwise, but with every scoop of his transformed hands tearing away a good few pints of material Reggie made quick work of the task and soon had the ditch he needed.

  The hard part wasn’t his labour, it was dropping Ludvich into the hole and making himself start piling dirt and whatever material the ants made their nest from onto him. Onto his face.

  You won’t be seeing him for the last time, Reggie told himself, he’s going to wake up.

  He kept telling himself that until he’d finished burying the old man. Then the time came for Reggie’s final stage, and he bit open a wrist to drop the ichor down.

  “How long will he take to rise, if he is…you know.”

  I do not know, and the time itself varies. It won’t be as long as you, if that’s what you’re worried about.

  It had been, partly.

  “I want to know how long it’ll take until I…know that he’s dead for good.”

  I’m sorry.

  Reggie didn’t know how to answer that, nor what to do. If he stuck around he might be waiting for a very long time indeed. Long enough that his body would empty itself of ichor and show him whatever it was that happened to a vampire with no stolen life left in their body.

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  But if he headed away now, and Ludvich came to with nobody there for him…Reggie remembered his own first night in death, the terror of clawing free of his own grave and the confusion of finding a face as apathetic as his own sire’s awaiting for him beyond it. He’d sooner keep Ludvich from knowing that, too.

  In the end, though, it wasn’t his own wants or desires that decided how things went at all. Reggie had raised his Tier, and he was growing hungry fast.

  The tunnels didn’t hold any fear for Reggie now, not after his hours spent prowling them. Even if they had, he was past caring about something as petty as that. He stalked on deeper, transformed all the way and with claws sharp and ready.

  It wasn’t a choice to go for praetorians if he wanted power anymore, at Tier 3 the soldier ants would do nothing for him, but it wasn’t power he was after. Just enough blood to wait out while Ludvich rose. Reggie entertained himself as he searched by peering at the changes to his sheet. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do all of a sudden.

  The Tier was different, obviously, 3 instead of 2, but he’d expected that. No Attribute improvements, but he’d have been surprised if there were any. He took note of his new Attribute limits, too. Took a bit of satisfaction in them. All in the mid 50s, some as high as the 60s. There might’ve been something a bit disheartening about seeing it so clearly demonstrated that he had such a vast amount of growing to still go…But then, 7 or 10 points wasn’t that vast, was it? Reggie had already added about that much onto every Attribute he had.

  Granted, it’d been at the cost of several near-death experiences and more than a day spent inside one of the most hostile locations he’d ever seen, but still. It was doable. Why didn’t more vampires hit their Tier’s limits?

  They do, remember how great the disparity in power between yourself and Walyn was. Most vampires are limited by their permanent Tier. That, and mastery over their existing Abilities.

  He recalled Sycily telling him something similar to that already. Stupid Reggie, getting confused as usual. He looked through his sheet a bit more.

  Necromancy. Necromancy I. That was new, and the name of his new Race didn’t escape Reggie’s notice either.

  “Vital Arcanist,” he murmured, “what’s that? And how did I get it?”

  Sycily hadn’t given him a choice this time, which was dimly disturbing. She took a moment to answer him, sounding almost nervous.

  I selected a Race that I thought would suit you best, since you were so desperate for time. Did I…should I not have done that?

  “You were trying to help,” Reggie assured her. “Thank you If anything it was my fault for hurrying on and not even asking for my options. Okay. Vital Arcanist, sounds…uh, evil? What does it do?”

  Sycily paused again, longer this time.

  “Oh, it’s actually evil isn’t it?”

  Not exactly, it’s hard to explain.

  He waited, and after a few more moments Sycily gave Reggie his answer.

  Vital Arcanists are the first, true blood mages among vampires, beings able to channel and manipulate the energies that reanimate their own bodies. The magic of a vampire’s consciousness is subtly different from that of other undead, closer to life, and so blood mages are able to influence life to an extent other undead are not. They are also powerful necromancers.

  Reggie was slow, given his obvious distractions, but the important question finally sunk into his head.

  “Wait, necromancy, control over the dead?”

  Yes. Are you concerned about the ethical—

  —”no, fuck that, you’re telling me I can actually command the peelers better?” He froze, then half-turned back. “Wait, can I reanimate things?!” The thought of having his own kill-squad of zombified praetorian ants was…well. If that was on the table Reggie was gonna fuck off out of this stupid nest and go wolf spider hunting.

  There are limits. Please let me explain.

  Reggie paused, then did so.

  You cannot control any undead that is of your own Tier or higher, temporary Tier that is. Additionally, you can also not reanimate any undead that are of a higher Tier than your current Necromancy rating.

  “Wait, higher Tier for reanimating but lower Tier for commanding. So I can reanimate something I can’t control?”

  Necromancers die often.

  Ah. Best be careful, then.

  For the first time in a while, Reggie was actively hoping he’d run into a mere drone or two. Not just to replenish his ichor, though that was certainly dwindling, but because he was eager to try this reanimation power of his. Of course life was a nasty, horrible and evil thing that enjoyed punching puppies and telling children the tooth fairy wasn’t real, so he ran into a praetorian instead.

  A praetorian while he was starving for blood, and this time Reggie didn’t get the chance to ambush it. The thing lunged for him, foam frothing at its mouth and a deep shriek like an animal getting its limbs torn off ringing out from its mouth. It was monstrous, it was bloodthirsty, it was…slow. So damned slow that Reggie barely even needed to exert himself to sidestep its lunge.

  The praetorian looked like it was moving through treacle instead of air, and before it could round on Reggie again he’d already dragged his claws along its flank. Carapace surrendered, surprisingly enough, and blood squirted free. He wasted no more time, grappling the thing and bending its limbs back, feeling its fearsome strength in contest against his own.

  Not a close contest, not at all.

  It struggled and writhed, desperation fuelling its thrashes as it vied for freedom, but Reggie just held it tight and bit down. This close, there was no acid. The creature couldn’t spit any without the risk of drenching itself, and with the angle he was holding it the praetorian’s mandibles couldn’t reach him.

  But Reggie’s teeth could reach it.

  He drained the ant like he was sucking the juice out of a particularly ripe fruit, squeezing its body to force the last few dregs out for good measure. Something was wrong, though. The taste not what it was. Still delicious, still enough to make any human food like dirt by comparison, but…diminished.

  Progress to next Tier, 1/250 creatures drained, 0/10 years passed.

  +1 Charisma.

  +1. Right, Reggie wasn’t eating above his Tier anymore. If anything he should’ve been grateful, he may not have maxed out his Attributes but he was already man-handling creatures that ought to have had parity with him. Form of The Beast, his favourite cheat so far it had to be said.

  It wasn’t even that that most concerned him now, though.

  “What’s this about…years passed?”

  You will be unable to Evolve for another ten years. From hereon out, time passed as a vampire is a requirement to your advancing in Tier.

  Reggie took that bad news with all the rest, headed deeper into the tunnels and kept scrounging around, but found no new drones. Eventually he just gave up.

  There was more to this place, he knew it. That thing Ludvich had hinted at, the supposedly smart thing controlling the ants, Reggie would have to investigate that further. For now, though, he had better things to do.

  Granted, those better things were mostly just sitting around and waiting. But Reggie couldn’t bring himself to do much else. He checked on Ludvich’s grave, found it still, and headed out to the opening of the tunnels. Still night out, good. He wasn’t sure how bad his weakness to the sun had grown, but he wasn’t eager to find out by having leagues of daylight between him and his home.

  Home.

  Funny. It was a half-collapsed castle full of undead that might, at any moment, be swarmed by the elves’ kill-squads. Then again, Reggie had never actually lived anywhere that wasn’t surrounded by hazards to his life. Home. Sure, why not?

  Reggie heard it, then. A tearing, a grinding. The sound of something shifting dirt and soil and digging for what lay beneath it. Instantly he was running, bounding down the tunnel to where he’d buried Ludvich, cursing his stupidity in leaving him.

  And desperately hoping he was fast enough to keep the man from being dug up and eaten.