"No!"
"Please!"
"No!"
"Just one bite!"
"No!"
"I promise I won't drink it all!"
"No!"
"Damn it!"
I'm starting to regret hiring Warfarin as my translator.
Her obsession with my blood, which according to her had the best smell and taste in all of existence, forced her to restrain herself from jumping on me, but that didn't stop her from pestering me for a snack.
After asking for more details, I discovered that her subrace, known as vampires, feeds on blood because normal meals didn't provide enough nutrition.
It seems Sarkaz is an umbrella term for various subraces with more specific names. The most common being horned people.
I received a resounding YES when I asked how many Sarkaz subraces existed in Kazdel. According to Warfarin, she wouldn't be surprised if an unknown race lived in a dark cave in the middle of nowhere.
This led to the question of what race I was due to the lack of obvious features. Without horns, scales, wings, or feathers, I asked Warfarin what she thought.
Ægir was the first answer, but she changed it to Archosauria after asking to see my teeth and eyes up close, which, according to her, resembled those of a predatory lizard. In the end, I said she was right.
My golden eyes with slits and slightly sharp teeth are due to the Covenant of the Dragon Remnants and the Dragon Communion of the Lands Between, but she doesn't need to know that.
Out of curiosity, I asked if there were dragons in the region and received the answer that the only "Dragons" in Terra were people of the Draco and Vouivres races, whose legends said they were descendants of true dragons.
"Alden, where exactly are you from? This kind of thing is common knowledge." The vampire asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.
"You may not believe me, but I lost my memories years ago, including common knowledge and basic human interaction, but some friends have been helping me get better. However, I was separated from them after a festival. I woke up in the middle of the desert, and the rest you already know."
It wasn't exactly a lie; I just adapted my story to the current situation.
"That sucks, I'm so sorry for what happened… Wait a minute! You partied so hard you woke up hungover in the middle of nowhere?! I've drunk until I passed out before, but you've set a new record!"
Then, the vampire started laughing at my suffering, and looking to the side, I glimpsed the people we rescued trying not to laugh. They shouldn't understand our conversation, but our interactions must be worthy of a comedy.
After the death of the warlord and his men, we looted the fortress in search of clothes, food, maps, water, weapons, money, and anything else of value.
The rest was distributed among the prisoners, now mounted on wagons pulled by horned boars, and over the days, I have protected them until we reach their respective villages.
It warmed my dead heart to see the families reuniting with hugs and tears.
I took the opportunity to heal the wounded and repair the damage done to the buildings, receiving reactions I was already used to.
Warfarin translated the thanks for me, and I said I didn't want any rewards, much to her frustration, as that was unthinkable in Kazdel.
"You know rumors will spread, don't you?" The vampire teased me as we left the last village behind.
"I'm used to it."
There are people in the Lands Between who think I'm related to the Demigods, no matter how much I deny it.
"If things continue like this, it's only a matter of time before someone swears allegiance to you."
"And why would anyone do that?"
"Sarkaz are proud and stupid; they tend to gather around strong and promising leaders. That always ends badly."
"Just like the one I killed?"
"That imbecile?! Strong?! He only captured me because he outnumbered me! And he even tried to starve me to death because I didn't do what he wanted! Do you know how I felt?! A vampire without blood for days is like trying to starve and thirst a human to death at the same time!"
I smiled slightly at her little tantrum; at least I could get some satisfaction from her incessant whining.
"Since the subject has been brought up, why were you locked in that dungeon?"
My companion's attitude changed immediately. Crossing her arms and puffing out her chest, she smiled broadly, making her fangs gleam before answering with a glint in her eye.
"If I may brag, I'm the best healer in Kazdel, if not the world! My blood arts are unparalleled! Unfortunately… This has caused several factions in the current civil war to set their sights on me, mostly to heal their wounded soldiers. I've refused several offers, as I don't wish to take part in this stupid conflict, but that hasn't stopped them from trying to force me to work for them. I managed to avoid capture for months, until… You know. The guy you killed wanted me to cure his oripathy"
She probably expected some compliment, but her face contorted in disbelief at what she said next.
"What is oripathy?"
Clasping her hands in front of her face and taking a deep breath, she gave me a long explanation of the disease that plagued this world.
And the more she spoke, the more oripathy ceased to seem like a disease and became a status effect, like the petrification of basilisks.
It had always existed, but never at the current levels, which only increased with the development of society.
Currently, originium, the ore causing the affliction, was used in steam engines, being mined in ever-increasing quantities to meet the demands of nations, which caused the risk of infection through inhalation or wounds.
Not to mention, of course, the accidents with machines that could contaminate an entire city if something went wrong.
However, the amount of energy generated by the ore was the reason why coal was not used. Simply put, it was more efficient. The risk was worth it for most people.
The symptoms varied depending on the level of infection, but always ended with black crystals growing on the body, with the individual transforming into an explosive statue.
The end result and the lack of understanding was the reason why those infected were feared, banished, enslaved, or killed. There was no shortage of cruel fates for these poor wretches.
From the slums to the mines, if they didn't leave, then the nations would put them to use before death arrived.
I reviewed my repertoire of miracles and artifacts, thinking of two things that perhaps could cure the disease, however, I had no idea how to brew more of a certain potion. I didn't want to create false hope or have a crowd begging for my help.
This conversation led us to the "magic" of this world, Arts, abilities to manipulate and transform matter and energy using the power provided by originium.
It was a natural ability of the inhabitants of this world, with those skilled enough to use it in combat being called Casters.
Generally, each individual learned only one type of Art, varying according to their race and place of birth. Once a healer, always a healer.
The Arts were aided by conduits called Art Units, which could vary according to the users' preferences, except for the infected, who could use the originium in their bodies for this, with the disadvantage of accelerating the infection.
The Sarkaz, on the other hand, possessed powerful Arts, but suffered from a type of racial curse that made them extremely susceptible to the disease.
This explained everyone's surprise whenever I conjured my spells, miracles, and pyromancies. From their point of view, I was some kind of legendary Caster due to the variety of abilities.
I made a comment about magic existing on Terra and received taunts about people being turned into frogs and similar things.
True magic was nothing more than fairy tales here, which helped me create a backstory in case someone asked. I am not an undead sorcerer, but an Archosauria Caster.
"I believe the warlord wanted to infect me, considering he exploded during our fight when he realized he wouldn't win."
I didn't know what to expect, but the vampire screaming in horror was certainly a surprise.
"SHIT! ARE YOU INFECTED?! I DRANK YOUR BLOOD!"
"I'm not infected."
"THAT'S WHAT EVERYONE SAYS! DENIAL IS THE FIRST STEP! I'M GOING TO DIE OF ORIPATHY AND IT'S YOUR FAULT!"
"HOW IS THAT MY FAULT?! BLAME THE WARLORD! YOU SHOULD BE GRATEFUL FOR MY HELP!"
"I'LL BE GRATEFUL WHEN YOU GIVE ME YOUR BLOOD AS COMPENSATION!"
"SERIOUSLY?! EVEN AFTER YELLING THAT I'M INFECTED?!"
"I'M GOING TO DIE ANYWAY, SO I BETTER ENJOY IT WHILE I CAN!"
"NO!"
"PLEASE!"
"NO!"
"JUST A LITTLE!"
"NO!"
Then the argument continued. I shook the reins of the boars, causing our wagon to accelerate while the travelers laughed at us.
Internally, I prayed that our journey would end as quickly as possible.
-XXXXXX-
We returned to the village of Duroch when the last person was returned to their home. The local population celebrated the amount of supplies we brought.
However, Warfarin's presence made them uneasy, with some murmuring "red eyes" as insults.
The vampire didn't help herself either; her superior attitude left much to be desired, and she had no problem returning insults or frightening people, especially children.
Having the blood of the living as food was bound to tarnish her reputation, and according to her, most of her race didn't bother to hide it. Many had a superiority complex.
Hmph! Now I know where her arrogance came from.
We were given a room to share, and the days passed with relative peace. I helped as much as I could and tried, but failed miserably, to keep Warfarin out of trouble.
The locals trusted my miracles and spells more than her Arts, and she kept bothering me with questions about them, always asking me to show her more.
Academic curiosity, she said.
Besides that, I asked her to teach me the local language, Kazdelian. And so she did, after I flattered her ego.
I could understand and read a few words now, and intended to learn more in the future. However, tonight we would leave for the capital. I wished to find a way back, and a large city was the best place to acquire resources.
Warfarin protested, but the promise of my blood and gold made her change her mind immediately, and now she was eager for us to leave, since vampires were nocturnal beings.
I emptied the food delivered to me into my bottomless bag before placing the plates and silverware on a nearby table. I've kept my curse a secret, pretending to eat and sleep when no one was paying attention, but someone will eventually notice.
"Warfarin, it's time to go."
I heard a laugh and the wardrobe inside the room opened, revealing the young woman standing with her arms crossed above her chest.
"It was about time, but I want my payment. I'm tired of drinking animal blood."
I sighed, pulling up my sleeve, offering my forearm.
"Hm… It would be more efficient if I sucked the blood from your neck."
"Forgive me, but I don't know you well enough to have you near my neck."
She sighed, but soon licked her lips, approaching with hurried steps before grabbing my arm and biting it.
"What the hell are you made of?!"
She recoiled in frustration, pinching my muscles.
"I have high pierce defense. You need to apply more strength."
She frowned in a confused expression, but shrugged and did as I asked. I groaned as she pierced my skin, but it was far from the worst pain of my life.
Her face flushed and she began making strange noises. Then I waited, and waited, and waited…
"Warfarin."
I called her name, but received no response.
"Warfarin!"
Still no result.
"WARFARIN!"
It was as if she were in some kind of trance.
I shook my arm as if trying to swat a mosquito, the vampire's feet left the ground as I swung her like a flag, but she refused to let go.
Avoiding hurting her, I flicked her forehead, pushing her back. The vampire looked around, blinking slowly as she rubbed her head until her confusion faded and her mind processed the pain.
"OUCH! SHIT! THAT HURT!"
"Forgive me, but you refused to let go of me. If this continues, the sun will rise before we even begin our journey."
She nodded, rubbing her aching forehead, but suddenly lifted her head and rushed to my side, nudging my body as she spoke faster than I could process.
"I'm so sorry about that! Are you alright?! Sorry, I drew more blood than I should have! How many fingers am I showing you?! Are you feeling dizzy?! Your skin looks paler! Here, eat something!"
She rummaged through the bag hanging from her waist, but I stopped her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Don't worry, I'm fine."
"H-how, anyone would have fainted now!"
"High blood loss resistance."
I left the dumbfounded vampire behind, then the house, crossing the village while ignoring her demands for more answers.
"You talk about vampires as if they were blood-drinking monsters, but your concern for me says otherwise."
"Because we are, but that doesn't mean I like it. I drink just enough to function, but it wasn't always like that."
"And what made you change?"
"I saw the bigger picture, unlike my clan."
I didn't ask any more questions; the tone of her voice indicated it was a sensitive subject.
"So, are you ready to start our travel? It will take almost a month to reach the capital on foot."
"Who said we're going on foot?"
I blew the whistle on my finger, its sharp sound echoing through the night. Immediately, Torrent appeared beside me.
I stroked its head, making it neigh happily. Warfarin, on the other hand, pointed to the steed with mouth agape and eyes as large as plates.
"W-what is that thing?!"
"That's Torrent, a Spectral Steed, not a thing. It has been by my side for quite some time, carrying me through danger, so don't be rude."
"Spectral, like a ghost?!"
"Exactly."
I feared that Warfarin would disappear if she got any paler than she already was. She looked ready to run.
"That's impossible, ghosts don't exist! It must be a construct of Arts or something!"
"Believe what you will, but Torrent doesn't need to eat or rest, which will shorten our journey, but if you wish, you can try to keep up with us by running."
I mounted the steed, offering a provocative smile. The vampire puffed out her cheeks and looked away, but soon sat behind me, embracing my waist.
"It's best that your steed doesn't take us to the afterlife."
"Don't worry, we don't need to die to face spirits and ghosts. They're more common than you think."
"WHAT?!"
"HA!"
I shook Torrent's reins, making it gallop at full speed, to the despair of my companion who clung to me for her life.
-XXXXXX-
The fortress that once belonged to a warlord lay abandoned in profound silence, the moonlight glistening on its worn stones as desert sand seeped through its gates.
Several hooded figures moved through its corridors, sniffing the air in search of something. Their search led them to the dungeon where one of the reinforced cells remained broken.
Finally, they found two scents, one belonging to the person they were hunting and the other to an unknown, ancient, and powerful being.
Quickly, they left the place like living shadows, disappearing into the night, following the trail left behind.
END OF CHAPTER