“This place stinks…” I muttered under my breath.

  The area where the vampires had been discovered was a network of abandoned underground railways. We had been split into three groups, each assigned a different pathway, and sent down a few hours after sunset to wait for as many vampires as possible to leave.

  “Keep your eyes focused on the objective, number thirty-eight,” the captain said sternly.

  I shrank slightly under his intense stare.

  “Give ’im a break, first mission, Cap,” my Aussie pal murmured, careful to keep his voice low.

  The captain didn’t respond.

  We moved deeper into the station. With every step, our boots sank further into blood-stained water. Strangely, the sheer volume of blood dulled the nausea the water would have otherwise caused me.

  That was not a comforting thought.

  Boots continued to echo through the hollow tunnels.

  No skittering.

  No whispers.

  No movement.

  Just the slow ripple of water disturbed by fifty pairs of cautious steps.

  “…Too quiet,” someone muttered from behind me.

  He wasn’t wrong.

  We’d expected resistance. At least a stray Peasant or Thrall lingering near the outer tunnels. Something to confirm we were in the right place.

  But there was nothing.

  The captain raised a fist. The entire formation halted instantly.

  “Report,” he said quietly.

  “Left tunnel clear.”

  “Right side clear.”

  “No thermal spikes.”

  “No movement.”

  The masked woman clinging to my arm tightened her grip slightly. “That’s not normal, is it?”

  “No,” the man at the front replied calmly. “It isn’t.”

  My Aussie pal leaned closer to me. “Usually there’s at least one idiot vamp who doesn’t make it back to the nest in time.”

  “So where are they?” I whispered.

  “That’s what I’d like to know, mate.”

  A low murmur began to ripple through the group.

  “They could’ve evacuated.”

  “No chance. Not without us hearing movement.”

  “What if they already know we’re here?”

  That word lingered. Know.

  The captain turned slowly, scanning the darkened arches above us. “Hold formation.”

  “We push forward?” someone asked.

  A beat.

  “If there’s a Lord inside,” another voice said, sharper now, “and this is a trap, we’re walking straight into it.”

  A few heads turned.

  “Retreat and regroup?” someone suggested.

  “And abandon the Inquisitors’ operation?” another shot back. “You want to explain that?”

  A ripple of tension passed through the ranks.

  The woman beside me spoke again, her voice tighter now. “If this is a Lord-class nest, and it’s empty at the gates, that means they’re either deeper inside…”

  “…or waiting,” the calm man finished.

  That word settled in my chest like ice.

  My Aussie pal exhaled slowly. “Cap?”

  The captain didn’t answer immediately. He was listening. Listening to something none of us could hear.

  The water shifted, just slightly but everyone froze anyway.

  It might have been nothing. Or it might have been everything.

  “Forward,” the captain decided at last. “Slowly. Weapons up.”

  A few swallowed audibly. Others steadied themselves without hesitation.

  Slowly, carefully, we reached the end of the tunnel.

  The narrow railway corridor opened into something far older. The concrete gave way to stone, the air growing thicker, heavier, almost sacred in a warped kind of way. Our flashlights swept across carved pillars and damp walls etched with symbols long eroded by time.

  We stepped into a hidden chamber.

  At its centre stood a tall torii gate, its vermillion paint still shockingly vibrant despite the decay surrounding it. The colour glowed under our lights, almost defiant against the darkness. Beyond it lay what had once been a shrine room, now swallowed by shadow and neglect.

  The floor was uneven, cracked stone slick with water and something darker. Old prayer plaques hung rotting from the walls, their inscriptions long faded. The faint scent of incense still clung to the air, but it was drowned beneath the metallic tang of blood.

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  Above us, the ceiling was consumed by webs. Not the thin, dusty strands of abandoned corners, but thick, layered sheets stretching from wall to wall. Dense. Intentional. As if an entire army of spiders had claimed the place over years without interruption.

  Our lights traced movement along the strands. Small shapes darted, as if watching our every movement.

  “Clear so far,” someone muttered.

  The captain stepped forward, scanning the room. “Maybe they left the scene,” he said cautiously. “Could’ve caught wind of the Inquisitors.”

  A few exhaled in relief, but it was too early.

  I shifted my footing slightly, my boot brushing against something softer than stone.

  I glanced down. There, half hidden in the shallow water, was a body. No, half a body.

  The torso had been torn open, ribs exposed, organs missing. One arm was gone entirely. The face was frozen in an expression of terror, eyes wide and glassy. Flesh had been stripped clean in places, gnawed down to bone.

  I stumbled back instinctively, my hand catching the corpse’s shoulder for balance.

  It was still warm.

  “Don’t—!” the masked woman snapped, her voice sharp as a blade.

  I jerked my hand away, heart pounding.

  She knelt briefly, inspecting the remains. “Freshly eaten.”

  The room stiffened.

  “This is recent,” she said sternly. “Very recent.”

  The captain’s jaw tightened. It was clear, they hadn’t left, they were still here.

  Murmurs broke out immediately.

  “How fresh?”

  “Minutes?”

  “No more than an hour.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “They wouldn’t abandon a nest this size.”

  Voices overlapped, tension rising with each word. Weapons shifted in nervous hands. Flashlights scanned every inch of shadow again, slower this time.

  The captain stepped forward, raising a hand for silence.

  “This must be the base,” he said firmly. “Either they’ve retreated into the other tunnels… or they’ve evacuated entirely.”

  “That’s a stretch,” someone muttered.

  The man who was suspicious of me from earlier stepped up beside him, brandishing his weapons, scanning the ceiling and corners as if expecting something to drop on us at any second.

  “What about the Inquisitors?” he asked sharply.

  “They’re positioned at each tunnel entrance,” the captain replied. “One per exit. They’re waiting for our signal before advancing deeper.”

  So Realta Noxia was still outside. At least that was good to know.

  My Aussie pal shifted uneasily. “Then shouldn’t our best bet be to fall back? Let the Inquisitor at our entrance know there’s nothing down here?”

  A few nodded.

  “Could be a misread.”

  “Or we’re early.”

  The captain weighed it for only a moment. “We fall back. Regroup at the entrance. No unnecessary risks.”

  Agreement rippled through the formation.

  We began marching back the way we came.

  The silence felt heavier now. Every step splashed louder than before. Fear was no longer simmering, it was rising.

  I swallowed.

  “Uh… cap?” I asked hesitantly.

  No one responded immediately.

  “What if…” My voice came out smaller than I intended. “What if this is a trap?”

  Every single person stopped, the water settled around our boots. No one spoke.

  Then—

  From somewhere deep within the chamber, echoing through stone and web and darkness alike, came a feminine voice. Distorted. Creeping. Amused.

  “My, my… how insightful you are.”

  The sound slithered through the room. And suddenly, we were no longer alone.

  Before us, pairs of dark, unnatural eyes began to open within the shadows.

  It started with one pair, then three, then ten.

  They shimmered faintly under our lights, reflecting nothing human back at us. No warmth. No hesitation. Just hunger.

  Soft, synchronized footsteps echoed through the chamber.

  They emerged slowly.

  Their shadows did not follow them, even under our beams. The light bent strangely around them, as if refusing to fully acknowledge their presence.

  The first wave stepped into view.

  Pale, almost grey skin stretched tightly over angular faces. Veins traced faint patterns beneath the surface, dark and branching like cracked marble. Their lips were thin, colourless, and pulled back just enough to reveal rows of unnaturally sharp teeth.

  Their eyes varied. Some were pitch black. Others glowed faintly red or violet. None blinked.

  Their clothing was a mixture of eras. Modern suits torn at the edges. Business attire stained with old blood. Traditional garments from centuries past, worn and frayed yet still draped with eerie pride. They looked like fragments of time gathered into one army.

  More figures stepped forward behind them. Dozens, and then even more.

  They did not rush. They did not snarl. They marched, both disciplined and organised.

  At least forty filled the chamber’s lower level, spreading across the stone floor in a loose crescent formation. Above, along the webs, shapes clung to the ceiling. Leaner forms with elongated limbs, crawling upside down like spiders waiting for a signal.

  Thralls.

  Peasants.

  And perhaps something worse hidden deeper in the dark.

  The air thickened with the scent of iron and rot, as I realized quickly that this wasn’t an abandoned nest. It was a gathering, and we had just walked straight into it.

  The captain’s voice cut through the chamber.

  “Prepare for death.”

  Steel rasped against sheaths. Magazines clicked into place. The air filled with the mechanical rhythm of preparation.

  “Close combat, vanguard!” the captain barked. “Long range, rear formation! Tighten the line!”

  Executioners moved instantly, stepping into position with practised discipline. Blades were raised. Guns steadied. The formation curved inward slightly, shielding the centre.

  I shuffled forward awkwardly, trying to match their movements while forcing the fear down into my gut.

  Don’t freeze.

  Don’t freeze.

  “Not there, mate,” the Aussie muttered, grabbing the back of my collar and nudging me a step to the right. “Rear line. You’re long range tonight.”

  Right.

  I stumbled into place, pulling out the pistol he’d handed me earlier. It felt heavier now, colder. More real.

  I’d never fired one before.

  I tried to recall how it worked. Finger off the trigger until ready. Aim. Safety? Was there a safety? I glanced at it quickly, trying to make sense of the mechanism without looking completely clueless.

  But there was no time.

  The vampires began to move faster.

  Their slow march shifted into a measured advance. Then into something sharper, more aggressive.

  Boots splashed in unison.

  The ceiling creatures scuttled along the webs above us, repositioning.

  My heart pounded so loudly I was sure the vampires could hear it.

  “Steady. Breathe.” I muttered to myself weakly.

  The captain raised his blade.

  “Hold.”

  The distance between us closed rapidly.

  “Hold!”

  The front line braced.

  I lifted the pistol with trembling hands, aligning it roughly with the nearest pair of distorted eyes. I had no idea if I could hit anything, but I would try. The vampires broke into a full charge.

  And all at once—

  Everything exploded into motion.