In another part of Eldoralth, a figure lounged in a dimly lit chamber, the air heavy with the scent of blood and incense.
Shadows twisted and writhed around the towering walls of the Vampyros citadel, casting a haunting glow over the lavish room.
Lirae Bloodveil, the Vampyros Apex, rested lazily in a chair, her legs crossed in effortless elegance. Her pale skin shimmered faintly in the soft, flickering light, and her violet eyes, filled with centuries of life and malice, glowed faintly from within.
At her side rested a blood-red lance, which continued to vibrate with intensity.
The room was silent as she traced her fingers lightly along the weapon’s edge. Although she appeared youthful and radiant, her eyes betrayed the weight of the ages, reflecting a depth and cruelty that only someone who had lived for centuries could possess.
Standing before her was one of her many servants, an older man with sunken, hollow eyes and skin as pale as death.
His voice trembled slightly as he addressed her, fully aware of the power and danger emanating from the lady before him.
“Apex Bloodveil,” he began, his tone cautious, “the council is… concerned about the Veriataga Nexus. The other races are preparing fiercely, and their confidence is troubling. The council believes we shouldn’t take any chances and has suggested additional training for you to ensure our victory.”
Lirae smiled, the kind of smile that was more predatory than welcoming, revealing the tips of her gleaming fangs. Her gaze never left the Bloodlance as she spoke, her voice smooth and velvety.
“Concerned, are they? So they want to mold me further… like I’m one of their pawns?”
The servant swallowed hard. “Not… a pawn, my lady. But they worry that—”
“They worry about their own survival,” Lirae interrupted, her voice dripping with amusement. “Tell the council I have no need for their extra training.” She lifted the Bloodlance, the weapon’s pulse matching her heartbeat. “Tell me… what do you think they will do?”
The man hesitated, his bony fingers twitching nervously. He knew she was referring to the other Apexes.
“They will… likely rely on brute force,” he said cautiously.
Lirae’s chuckle filled the room, soft yet cutting, like a blade slowly being drawn across skin. “Brute force,” she repeated, amused. “So predictable.”
She rose from her seat, her movement graceful and deadly, like a panther stalking its prey. Her fingers lightly caressed the Bloodlance, which pulsed in response to her touch, as if alive, as if craving more blood.
She took a step closer to the servant, her presence casting an icy chill over him. “Tell me,” she purred, her voice dripping with menace, “what is the true essence of survival?”
The man bowed his head. “Strength, my lady,” he whispered, trembling slightly under her gaze.
Lirae’s smile widened, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Wrong,” she said softly, her voice sending shivers down his spine. “Strength fades. Power shifts. The essence of survival is… consumption.”
The servant’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Consumption, my lady?” he repeated, unsure of her meaning.
Lirae moved closer, circling him like a predator about to strike. Her voice dropped to a near whisper, hypnotic and commanding.
“To survive is not to simply endure—it is to consume,” she explained, her fingers tracing his arm as she passed. “Not just life, but power, influence, resources. You don’t just overpower your enemies. You absorb them. You make them part of you. You become stronger with every soul, with every victory.”
The realization dawned slowly on the servant as he remembered the unique ability their Apex possessed, one never before seen in their race.
“So… in the competition, you intend to absorb their power? To make it your own?”
Lirae’s smile turned cold, devoid of warmth. “Of course,” she said, her voice chilling him to the bone. “This Verietega Nexus is far more than you all think, and each Apex is stronger than you could ever imagine. It’s going to be fun,” she added, suddenly smiling.
The servant bowed deeper. “But you needn’t worry about the lower races, my lady. Only the superior races should pose any threat.”
Lirae tilted her head slightly and suddenly frowned. “Leave me. Now.”
The servant immediately bowed upon hearing her command, his body shivering. He turned and quickly left the room.
Lirae continued stroking her Bloodlance with her hands, but her expression had changed. Her eyes were distant, as though she had entered deep contemplation.
‘Why am I having a bad feeling?’
Her servant’s advice not to worry about the lower races had suddenly set off alarm bells in her head. She couldn’t explain the unease that suddenly surfaced.
She rarely second-guessed herself, and yet this nagging feeling wouldn’t disappear.
‘The lower races… why should they matter?’
Her servant’s words echoed in her mind, and despite her dismissive attitude, she couldn’t help but feel unsettled.
The Vampyros, being one of the superior races, had never considered the lower races a true threat. And yet, something in the air felt different this time.
While Lirae had never doubted her strength, her instincts—honed over centuries of existence—told her that this time, something was off.
Her violet eyes narrowed, glinting in the flickering candlelight.
‘Perhaps there is something to worry about. Or someone.’
She let out a slow breath, her grip tightening slightly on the Bloodlance as if it could quell the unease building in her chest.
The Vampyros had long thrived by staying one step ahead of their enemies, by being more cunning and more ruthless than any other race. But Lirae knew better than anyone that even the strongest can fall if they underestimate their opponents.
‘Who could it be?’
She pondered the possible threats.
And yet, her thoughts kept returning to the lower races. The humans. The beasts. Even the dwarves and elves, who had never been considered major players in the Nexus. Why did they linger in her mind?
The feeling gnawed at her, refusing to leave.
After a few moments, she pushed the thoughts away. It didn’t matter.
She would consume them all—superior and lower alike. The Verietega Nexus would be her proving ground, and by the end of it, her power would be unmatched.
Lirae smirked, her confidence returning as she turned to face the dimly lit room. “It’s time to feed,” she whispered to herself, the Bloodlance pulsing in her hand as though it had heard her call.
The Vampyros race.
People born in shadow and thriving in darkness, they were as much hunters as they were survivors.
Known for their insatiable thirst for blood and power, their society was built on one simple rule: the strong consume the weak. They ruled through fear, dominance, and an eternal hunger for supremacy.
The Vampyros possessed abilities centered on manipulating blood. A deadly and versatile form of power, it allowed them to control the life force of others, heal from wounds, and enhance their physical abilities, among other things.
