++’Monster wars’ are an under-studied phenomena that humanity and elfkind both likely owe a lot to. Were the creatures of the night all perfectly cooperative, they would be a far worse blight than they are in truth.++

  Book 2: Chapter 11

  There were probably worse things to have behind his back than the sunlight. A giant granite wall, perhaps, or an endless pool of magma. Reggie was finding it hard to look on the bright side of things right now, though, and not just because daylight had started stinging his eyes since he Evolved.

  “We’re cornered,” Ludvich growled.

  “I’m cornered,” Reggie corrected him. “You can still run away.”

  The Witchfinder glared at him. “We’ll pretend you didn’t say that,” he shot back. “What’s the plan? I left my gun and traps back in the tunnels. Stupid.”

  Reggie was finding it hard to disagree right then. A few traps, even mangled ones, would’ve been really, really nice.

  He was low on blood, too. That worried him. Worried him a lot, until he saw what was at the front of his enemy’s charge. Drones. A swarm of them, more than he’d ever seen in one place. Maybe more than he’d ever seen combined. They were like a chitinous carpet unrolling across the tunnel. At their backs were the soldiers, the larger beasts as big as Reggie himself. Behind them, still, at least a dozen praetorians.

  It was one hell of a way to die.

  “You can gain Attribute points by completely draining a drone,” Reggie told Ludvich. “And you can accelerate your body’s healing processes by focusing on the image of repairing yourself. Doing that will burn your blood reserves, so make sure to keep topped up. Right now you’re useless to me. Eat as many enemies as you can until you’re strong enough to help. I’ll try and leave a few wounded drones to get you started. Suddenly transforming into a monstrous form will make you stronger, and probably happen instinctively.”

  There was no time to say more or hear Ludvich’s response, the ants were on them.

  A row of drones leapt at Reggie all at once, coordinated into a single unified attack that would’ve bowled over and killed a Witchfinder. Reggie was not a Witchfinder. With one swipe he cut two clean in half and mauled another, sending its corpse to spin through the air and flick blood in all directions like a twirling paintbrush coated in red.

  Reggie of six months ago would’ve been mighty impressed, but unfortunately there were a lot more than three drones present now. Another three lunged just as the first had, and this time Reggie’s counter came slower and clumsier, killing the first two but only wounding the third. More drones leapt, succeeding in slamming into his body and sending him back a step with their combined strength. Reggie shook them off like a dog throwing water from shaggy fur.

  More attacked him, then more still. Soon there were too many and too close for Reggie to even swing his arms around in claw slashes.

  But they were drones. He didn’t need all the speed and momentum of a full swing, it was enough for Reggie to grab them and squeeze. The strength of his hands alone was driving taloned tips through carapace and perforating the organs beneath, practically squeezing blood out in jets and spurts. He didn’t know how many he was killing, there was such a mass of them that even seeing had become difficult. He just felt their mandibles bite and their claws scratch and killed whatever he could get his hands around.

  If Ludvich was still behind Reggie, and hadn’t been killed, then the man was hopefully enjoying a very large feast. Reggie certainly was. Every time he bit down on a drone—his jaw and teeth now strong enough to just cleave whole chunks out of their bodies almost without resistance—he was getting another mouthful of blood to replenish his limits.

  Attempting to wear him down, if that was what the enemy was now doing, would not avail them. His stamina was endless and his wounds were closing up faster than these little piss-ants could make them. Apparently the controlling intellect of this swarm realised before long.

  Because it changed strategy.

  Reggie went down with two praetorians on top of him at once. They were slower than he was, now, and weaker, but numbers won out and they were free to bite chunks out of his torso all they wanted. He cried out for the first time in a while, tried his squeezing technique. Nothing. He could’ve sliced through their armour like it wasn’t even there, but he just didn’t have the room to build up enough speed.

  With the praetorian’s mouth latched onto Reggie’s shoulder, and making steady progress in chewing through the tough skin and flesh of his transformed state, other ants were growing bolder and biting at other places. Wounds were opening too fast for his Regeneration to keep up with, now, and in too many places for him to combat them by concentrating it.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Perfect time to try something desperate.

  Around Reggie were corpses. He could feel them, some of them physically, as weights pressing against him, but all of them instinctually. In the same way he could feel the ichor in his veins or the sun shining over the dirt above him. He stretched his thoughts across that bridge of feeling and set them pressing into the still carcasses.

  Everything about vampirism was easy, or else Reggie was just good at it. The corpses answered him all at once. He could feel their movements without sight or hearing, knowing that they twitched into animacy and, a moment later, knowing precisely when and how they moved into thrashing violence against their living counterparts.

  Granted, Reggie had mostly killed drones so far. They didn’t seem to be doing much damage, but sheer numbers and enthusiasm meant that he had a few precious moments to squirm his way out from under the murder-pile and scramble back for a better look at how things were going.

  They were going messily. It looked less like a fight and more like some giant had filled a sack with raw meat and repeatedly smashed it against the tunnel’s walls. There were bits of ant everywhere, and Reggie realised only then that he was utterly drenched in their blood.

  Which gave him an idea.

  Turning, Reggie saw that Ludvich was still alive. Better than that, the Witchfinder looked like a horrible, terrifying monster. He’d gained at least an inch or two, and his wrinkled skin had turned grey and hard. His eyes were slightly smaller, Reggie thought, and all his teeth had turned into ivory bodkin points, save his fangs. Those were daggers. His nails had sharpened into two-inch talons just like Reggie had once boasted. A fearsome sight, that. Form of The Beast I was still a formidable power.

  But Ludvich was far too young and weak a vampire to help in this fight, even with that Ability. He was fortunate, then, to have a sire who was so much more cowardly than most suicidal idiots who got a taste of power.

  “Run!” Reggie yelled, sprinting right out into the daylight as he felt more and more of his new undead servitors torn apart.

  Ludvich, to his credit, wasted no more time now than he had in any other life-or-death struggle he’d shared with Reggie. The old man—the young vampire—sprinted right along beside him.

  Sprinted a lot slower, though. Dangerously slow. Reggie let his pace drop to pull up alongside him, cursing.

  “Don’t pace yourself,” he advised, “you can run forever now, the ants can’t. Those big ones are a lot faster than you are but if you sprint flat-out then your head start might last long enough for them to get tired giving chase. I need to pull ahead because—”

  —”sun,” Ludvich cut in. “Right, yes, got it, go you stupid bastard!”

  Reggie went.

  After a few minutes of sprinting at full speed, he’d covered a ridiculous amount of ground. Easily a dozen miles, probably more. Reggie wasn’t just flying like an arrow, he was flying like an arrow that didn’t slow down in the air. Fast enough that every time he clipped a tree branch the wood shattered into splinters, fast enough that he felt certain the wind would flay him were it not for his Toughness.

  That had been his big miscalculation. The wind in question tore away most of the dirt and blood covering him, which meant that after a few minutes Reggie’s skin was already raw from sun exposure. Sure enough, his weakness had gotten worse.

  Reggie had felt the pain flaring up over him before, but it was worse now. Coming fast and growing faster. Another minute and he’d be losing skin outright, and he doubted the softer flesh beneath would last as long as its protective covering. He had to get out of the light. If it weren’t for the grimwood’s constant gloom, he’d likely be dead already.

  But there was nowhere to shelter now. The trees had no leaves, which meant additional shade beyond that which was provided by the area’s natural fogs was nowhere to be seen. At best Reggie had another league for the castle, another minute of exposure. At worst he’d run slightly off-angle and might have as many as two or three more. He needed cover and he needed it a minute ago.

  In the end, his solution was pretty simple. It worked though.

  Reggie halted instantly and, without bothering to check if he was being chased, started digging. He was faster now than in life, by more than just a few times, and it didn’t take him long to have a nice ditch. It wasn’t grave-deep, but it didn’t need to be. Reggie settled himself down in it and started dragging soil back over himself, twisting and clawing at the earth under him to get more and more of the stuff between his body and the sun’s rays.

  For the second time since dying, Reggie became one with the dirt. He’d expected to panic, as he had upon his siring, but there was none of the old fear this time. Reggie had known what to expect, going into the ground now, and with his lungs not burning for air and mind too fearful of the sun for any claustrophobia, he was settled calmly and coolly.

  Just waiting for the night to fall.

  Waiting was something Reggie had gotten very good at, now.

  Okay, so he didn’t manage to wait until he’d gotten all his Attributes up to the very pinnacle of a Tier 2 limit, but that was because of extenuating circumstances. He’d been making steady progress on that account until Ludvich went and got himself killed.

  Helping Reggie…in a nest that ended up throwing an army of ants he’d have died fighting anyway.

  The good thing about Reggie’s brain was that it always kept him with things to think about, no matter his circumstances. The bad thing about Reggie’s brain was that it always kept him with things to think about, no matter his circumstances. His earthen coffin did nothing to dispel the pain of regret and considered failure now.

  You could have escaped more easily by running into the daylight before, Sycily soothed him. It’s okay Reggie, things are going well for you. You’re growing more powerful, and you protected Ludvich. You don’t have to worry about him dying of old age now.

  That, Reggie had to admit, had been a concern. Not a present one, not an urgent one. It’d been nested at the back of his mind and chewing away at it. Now it wasn’t a problem. Time, vanquished. Just like that.

  Except, was it? He’d met other vampires. They were dicks. Would Ludvich become like that one day?

  Would Reggie?

  The sun remained marginally less pleasant than being alone with his thoughts for another few hours, at least. Reggie couldn’t sense its location quite as well as he’d have liked. Certainly, since going up a Tier his instinctive feeling for it had gotten better. He still found himself clawing free of the dirt to be a good hour later than he needed to.

  Better late than never, though. And certainly better late than early in his circumstances. He headed for the castle.