Chapter 18: Chapter 18: Blood Inheritance

Chapter 18: Blood Inheritance

“The subject's regenerative properties do not match any known example. These properties activate once all signs of life have stopped and end shortly after the lethal injury is healed. Once the primary damage is addressed, other less serious wounds heal to a minor degree. Every toxin I have tried is flushed from the subject's system upon resurrection, and all observable forms of spiritual wounds are repaired. The rate of resurrection varies; the reason for this is still unknown. Extensive injuries take longer to heal than extreme injuries. Example: Decapitation healed in two minutes and six seconds. Organ Failure due to Phosphorus ingestion healed in thirty-five hours, fifteen minutes and two seconds”- Personal notes of Isabelle Gens Silva.

---

Cole and Natalie followed Dietrich, leaving the oubliette and its horrors behind. After maybe a dozen steps into the passageway, the stone shifted behind them and sealed the entrance shut. True darkness blanketed the hallway. Forcing Cole to stick a hand out and guide himself using the nearest wall. Natalie, for her part, was unbothered by the darkness; while she couldn’t see, her other senses compensated so smoothly she didn’t even notice.

The clank and scrap of Dietrich’s armor was the only sound in the hallway for a time, telling Cole and Natalie where their rescuer was. The Vampire Knight made sure and let them catch up when needed but offered them no explanation for his actions. After maybe five minutes of walking, Natalie had enough and demanded answers.

“Where are you taking us?” she said. Then, hesitating a moment, she added, “Why did you rescue us?”

Dietrich was silent. Natalie could almost feel him debating how much information to share. “The situation is radically more dangerous than I’d feared. The Court’s members have all turned traitor or been murdered. I alone stand between that sniveling rat Petar and his goal. This is untenable; I need allies of convenience. You and the Rest-Bringer will make do in that role.”

Cole grit his teeth in annoyance; he did not like the idea of working with this Vampire. Scarlet Knights were some of the most dogmatic and dangerous Nobles to infest the Blood Duchies. Cole also knew he had few options. If he wanted to protect Natalie and complete his duty, he needed to know what exactly Dietrich intended.

“Is Glockmire dead?” asked Cole, hoping to find out exactly how much information Dietrich would share.

Surprisingly, Dietrich answered plainly. “He survives, but not for much longer. I will tell you more when we reach him.”

Looking around the pitch-black hallway pointlessly, Natalie pushed for more information. “So are there many of these passageways in the Castle?”

A flair of annoyance struck Natalie like a physical blow. Psychic pressure slammed against her mind in an overwhelming wave. Domineering spiteful rage came off Dietrich, forcing her to take a step back in sheer shock. Instincts not her own told Natalie to run or kneel. The Vampire inside her recognizing a superior monster. With a pained gasp, Natalie doubled over and raised her hands in surrender.

In a tight whisper, Dietrich growled. “There are many secrets to this Castle. Many only Lord Glockmire knows. His magic is woven into its very structure; it is how we knew to find you. Now do not speak again, or I will break your jaw.”

Cole stepped forward, a deep angry growl rising in his chest, hunting knife pointed at Dietrich. For his part, Dietrich looked at the cowed Fledgling and furious Rest-Bringer. His enhanced senses pierced the darkness and gave him insight into his new accomplices. He saw the look of rage and worry on Cole’s face. The Rest-Bringer cared for the Striga Girl, even after her transformation. A useful fact Dietrich filed away for later use.

Slicing his hand through the air in a sign of dismissal, Dietrich barked. “We don’t have time for this. We are not safe here. Follow me in silence and survive. Or pester me and be left to starve in these tunnels.”

Letting out a deep, shuddering breath, Cole nodded in assent before adding in a low dangerous tone. “Do not hurt her, Vampire. I’ve already killed two of your ilk this week. I don’t mind a third.”

Unbeknownst to Cole, Natalie flinched at his words. The sheer venom in the word “Vampire” conveyed all the bitter hate Cole had for the Nocturnal Nobles. A hate that she was exempt from, for now at least. Hoping to head off any conflict, Natalie stepped between Dietrich and Cole.

“I’m alright, Cole, let's just go with him. We don’t have any other options.”

Dietrich gave Natalie a curt nod of approval. A superior officer recognizing a disappointing subordinate’s attempts to fix the situation. Ignoring the contempt in his actions, Natalie followed Dietrich. The still-fresh shock of his mental attack ridding Natalie of any real desire to countermand him. She’d heard Vampires could use sheer force of personality as a weapon. Still, she’d assumed it was just some sort of magical hypnosis. Not the very real impact of Dietrich's mind clashing with hers.

Cole put a comforting hand on Natalie’s shoulder as they walked, whispering in her ear. “He is a Wyrmoi, blood of Drakovich. They are skilled at throwing their weight around like that. Don’t let it get to you.”

Natalie gripped Cole’s hand in a gentle squeeze and kept moving forward. They didn’t talk after that, returning to the previous rhythm of following Dietrich through the darkness. After another fifteen or so minutes, they reached the end of the tunnel. Dietrich pressed against the stone wall capping the passageway, and it started to move, sliding out with a low grinding noise. The sound of stone scraping against stone contrasted violently with the quiet of the tunnel. It sounded so loud that Natalie expected an entire army of Castle Guards to be on the other side of the hidden door. Thankfully there was not, just a maze of rough-hewn corridors that spread out in all directions.

Dietrich turned right and kept walking. As they exited the tight passageway, Natalie became more aware of her sharpened senses. She could hear their footsteps echoing off the stone, giving her a vague idea of distance. While her nose was assaulted with scents of stale air, decomposition, and old stone. Natalie covered her face with an ashen hand and was, for the first time, thankful she no longer needed to breathe. Dietrich paid her a dismissive look as Natalie adapted to her new senses. The old Vampire raised a finger to his lips, indicating silence. Cole and Natalie nodded in understanding as Dietrich moved into the stone maze.

They followed Dietrich, all without a word, as he took them on a maddening journey through the labyrinthian maze of tunnels. On some instinctive level, Natalie knew she was deep below the earth. Buried beneath a mountain of stone and hidden in a catacomb dug by corpses. Natalie felt like she should be shivering in dread, but the sensation never came. The power that animates a Vampire would never waste itself on such a simple gesture.

Cole, for his part, was unbothered by the claustrophobic depths they found themselves in. He’d spent enough time in tombs, caves, and odder places to burn through any anxiety about traversing the underground. That was not to say he wasn’t worried. Those same experiences navigating catacombs and haunted ruins had given him a good sense of direction. That sense of direction was telling him their route was nonsensical. They’d doubled back, gone in loops, zig-zagged, done everything but go at a steady heading. The only reason Cole hadn’t questioned Dietrich about this because he knew only one reason for such behavior. The Vampire must think they were being followed. Still, that explanation made little sense. Tracking them through these tunnels would be easy for any predator worth the title. Making Cole consider if something else was in play.

After twenty or so minutes of walking, Cole felt faint pressure on his ear drums. Like he was rapidly descending a mountain or diving into a deep lake. Natalie also seemed to have noticed it; she was fidgeting, looking around, nervous energy emanating from her. Cole hated himself for it, but he couldn’t bear to look at Natalie right now. Her strange nervous twitches were that of a Vampire no longer pretending to be human. For Vampires, unless they focused, their body language fell into two categories. Deathly still or frantic spasms. The curse that animated them was either miserly or over-eager in its mimicry of life.

Right now, the newly turned Natalie was nervous and uncertain. She probably didn’t even notice the behavior. How her hands clenched and unclenched, how her head twitched slightly every few seconds. All the drive of an unnatural predator filtered through the mind of a human being, manifesting as a slight palsy that brought up terrible memories for Cole. Memories of when he’d spent six months in a dungeon on no official record. When he’d been fed upon by dozens of Vampires, his blood drained by hungry monsters with the same inhuman mannerisms Natalie now showed.

In those six months, Cole had learned he truly couldn’t die. Even when he hoped and prayed with his whole being, he hadn’t stayed dead. A development as much a blessing and curse as it was for him and his Vampire captors. They’d been tasked with destroying him, but they’d also grown to enjoy a never-ending font of blood. A feast they could indulge in as much as they liked. It had been a unique variety of Hell and one that still haunted Cole. It had inspired a deep abiding hate for Vampire in him. A fantastically paradoxical bit of hypocrisy for a man who had found love with one Vampire and was looking for it with another.

Something cold and soft pulled Cole from his memories. He looked down to see Natalie’s hand in his. A concerned look on her face. Cole had stopped walking and hadn’t even noticed. Dietrich was glaring at the two of them, his own hand reaching for his sword. Cole tried to give Natalie a reassuring grin, but judging by how her own look of worry only deepened, he failed.

They kept walking, and the pressure on Cole’s ears only increased, reaching a point where he felt mildly nauseous. By now, Cole was fairly certain the effect was magical. He’d heard of Spacial magic having this effect but had little personal experience with it. The only question was, what sort of spell had been woven into the tunnels? As Dietrich took them towards a dead end in the catacombs and showed no sign of slowing down, Cole realized he was about to find out. Dietrich barely paused to gesture for Cole and Natalie to follow him before he stepped through the solid stone.

Natalie looked at Cole with a questioning look at the shocking sight. Cole just shrugged, and the two of them stepped into the Stone. Holding hands as they did, neither wanting to face the danger alone. It felt like pushing through cold mud. A sticky feeling of resistance on them as they walked forward. Cole had gambled before stepping through and taking a deep breath. This was obviously something meant for Vampire use, and he’d worried it wouldn’t be breathable. Of course, he’d also worried that full lungs would somehow explode thanks to some magical side-effect on living flesh. Running out of air seemed more likely, so Cole went with that and was rewarded. His lungs started to burn when they reached the other end of the strange stone, but they had not popped.

Sucking in a breath of stale, metallic-tinged air, Cole looked around their destination. It was a tomb of some kind that was clear from the outset. An ancient circular chamber with a high dome roof and a polished granite floor. Intricate murals decorated the walls, and a central dais held a massive sarcophagus. A corpse lay next to the sarcophagus, a desiccated body mummified by the air-tight chamber. Dietrich stood a few steps away, looking at the Corpse. Cole stepped forward to join the Vampire but felt Natalie not move. He looked at her and saw a look of utter shock on her beautiful face. She was staring at the corpse, her eyes wide and mouth open in surprise.

Dietrich addressed the room as a whole. “Lord Glockmire, I have brought the two you sensed.”

Cole spun his head around, looking for the hidden elder Vampire, only to realize his mistake when the withered corpse started to move. Even meters away, Cole could hear the creak of dried joints and brittle bones. The corpse, no, Lord Glockmire, slowly pulled itself to its feet. Black beads recessed deep in its skull peered out at Cole and Natalie. A thin, reedy voice came from the Vampires mouth.

“Good, disable the Rest-Bringer. We will need him later, but for now, he will do more harm than good.”

Cole already had his knife raised before Glockmire completed speaking, but it wasn’t enough. Dietrich shot towards Cole like a bolt of red-lightning. A steel-clad fist hammered into Cole’s gut, doubling him over. A second equally devastating blow hit his back and drove him to the floor. An armored boot came down on the back of Cole’s neck. The low but constant pressure on Cole’s spine was a clear warning. Cause problems, and the Vampire would snap his spine like kindling.

Cole grit his teeth and seethed in anger. This had been too good to be true, and now his limited options had turned to nothing. Dietrich had proved to Cole how dangerous he was in a split second. A trained soldier was already an intimidating prospect. A trained soldier with unnatural strength and the focus to use it correctly was another matter. From where Cole lay, he could see a startled Natalie trying to move back towards the stone wall they’d passed through. Her back bumped against solid stone. Whatever magic had made the rock permeable was no longer active. Cole and Natalie were trapped.

The unliving corpse of Glockmire shuffled towards Natalie and spoke in that same croaking, unnatural voice. “You truly are of my blood. I can smell it on you, child. Turned in some act of foolishness by Petar, I expect?”

Natalie felt like she was being crushed, as an insurmountable psychic weight pushed on her being. It had started the moment she stepped into the tomb and only gotten worse as Lord Glockmire turned her focus on her. This was another part of being a Vampire Natalie had not expected. A new sense for the power and will of her fellow monsters. The rational, analytical part of Natalie wondered if this was some sort of distorted animal instinct. The ability to access a rival predator and realize how dangerous it is; now warped by the curse of Vampirehood. Other, more base parts of Natalie’s mind were paralyzed by utter panic. She had caught the attention of a truly ancient monster, and its mere presence was enough to overwhelm her.

The silence dragged on as Glockmire waited for an answer. Realizing annoying the Lord, even in his decrepit state, was a terrible idea, Natalie forced out some words. “Y-y-yes. He attacked me, and I fought back. Some of his blood got into my wounds.”

A low, croaking noise came from the walking corpse, a parody of laughter. “Did he now?” The Lord shuffled closer to Natalie, his head cocking to the right like an inquisitive bird. “Oh, this is very interesting. It's fitting for my scion to doom himself in such a way.”

Glockmire finally reached Natalie and reached out a single withered hand to brush her face. Again, Natalie didn’t shiver, she wanted to, but such human reactions were no longer hers. Seeing her, Glockmire smiled. Taut skin stretched to reveal white fangs in a grin too wide to fit on a living face.

Half speaking to her, half musing to himself, the old Lord spoke. “Beautiful, brave, clever, and arrogant enough to involve yourself in the matters of Nobles and Gods. Petar couldn’t have picked a better scion if he tried. It is a shame your transformation was not under better circumstances, Grandscion.”

Turning away from her, Glockmire moved back towards the central dais and the massive sarcophagus. “Still, I will not waste this good fortune. Come along Grandscion, we have a world to save and a usurper to punish.”

Confused and not entirely in control of her own body, Natalie followed after her “Grandsire,” as she supposed the correct term was. The idea of this monster considering her family after a fashion was another disturbing twist to an already crooked story.

Mustering the will to ask a question, Natalie spoke. “Save the world? What do you mean?”

Glockmire placed a hand on the Sarcophagus, and Natalie instantly felt the room chill a few degrees. “I miscalculated. I assumed that when I died, the power I’ve stolen would die with me. But as that time draws nearer, I’ve realized that's not the case. The Alukah’s power cannot be destroyed by mundane means. I’d hoped the Rest-Bringer would be capable of helping me seal it away. That seems the sort of thing a chosen of Master Time would be helpful with. But then I found you, and other options became available.”

Cole’s voice then rang out through the tomb. “Do not harm her, Glockmire. I will personally ensure your soul is cast into the deepest Hell if you do anything to her.”

The old Lord looked at the trapped Rest-Bringer and seemed amused. It was hard to tell on his corpse-leather face. “I’m not going to harm her Rest-Bringer. In fact, I’m going to do the exact opposite. She will claim her rightful inheritance with my blessing and become something incredible. A true Queen of the Night, an existence greater than any she might have once hoped to have.”

A stray thought seemed to catch in Glockmire's mind, and he changed topics abruptly. “You have the Rest-Bringer wrapped around your fingers quite well, Granscion. How did you manage that? In fact, how did you manage to avoid killing him? When I sensed Petar’s toadies toss him into the cell, I assumed he was as good as dead.”

Even from where he lay, pinned to the ground under Dietrich’s boot, Natalie could see Cole’s eyes widen in surprise. Glockmire and his Knight didn’t know what Cole was. An advantage that Natalie desperately tried to keep.

A believable lie quickly came to Natalie. “It's one of his abilities as a Rest-Bringer. Cole can make his blood taste foul. It stopped me after I drank.

What she said wasn’t truly a lie. Cole could indeed make his blood taste bad, by dying. Natalie hoped the half-truth of the statement might make it more believable.

Glockmire seemed to accept her statement as fact and looked back at Cole. “Don’t kill him yet, Dietrich. He might still be useful in this situation. Having someone who is as devoted to my Granscion as he seems to be is useful.”

After a moment of hesitation, Glockmire added. “In fact, I feel I must thank you Rest, Bringer” he looked down at Cole and smiled sadly. “Your actions turned what might have become a calamity into a minor disaster. Thanks to your sniffing about, Petar was forced to move up his plans and abandon others. He didn’t have a true army of Undead to cripple me and was forced to rely on other traitors to aid him. Something that let paranoid Dietrich here survive the coup and rescue me. They stole my power and ruined me, but they haven’t claimed victory in part, thanks to you. Then as if that weren't enough, you helped deliver a perfect successor to me at my most dire hour. Truly, I owe you, Rest-Bringer Cole. You will make an excellent thrall for my Grandscion.”

The old monster's words had a disturbingly paternalistic air to them. He talked less like a Vampire Lord describing the schemes against him and more like a proud parent discussing their offspring's accomplishments.

Yet, in all of it, Natalie proved her cleverness by picking out the important bits. “Petar stole your power? And you want to give me what you have left so I can beat him? Is that what you are saying?”

Glockmire beamed at her, a rictus that had more in common with a starving wolf than a human smile. “Oh, you are a smart one. But on point of technicality, the power was never really mine, to begin with. But it will be yours, Grandscion.”

Reaching out with a skeletal hand, Glockmire pulled Natalie towards the Sarcophagus, and the crack she now only noticed was in it. Something about the crack unnerved Natalie. The fissure summoned up some sort of alien dread. A sense that whatever was beyond it was not something she wanted to see.

Gesturing at the crack, Glockmire explained. “We stand in the tomb of an Alukah. One of the first Vampires. My secret treasure and my hidden curse. For centuries I have siphoned away the Ancient One’s power and hoped to consume its soul. Becoming a Demigod of our kind, just like it once was.”

Pointing at the basin of black blood at the foot of the sarcophagus, Glockmire let out a reedy sigh. “I was so close. A decade more, and it would have been mine. Then Petar forgot his place and sent us down this foolish path. I survived him and his minions stealing much of the power I had taken. But not for much longer. I will die, and I thought I could take the Alukah with me. But i’ve learned that isn’t the case. Weakened as it is, I’ve touched the Ancient’s mind and realized the truth. The Alukah’s power can survive even when it cannot. Even if I devour it and kill us both, all that will do is unleash its fury onto the world. The raging might of a monster not seen since the Book of Miracles was written, now without a mind to guide it. I cannot let that be my legacy. The Alukah needs a vessel, a mind to take that power and guide it. It needs you, Natalie.”

Understanding and utter horror started to fill both Cole and Natalie. Pieces fit together now. The immunity to Sunlight, the power of the Strigoi Cole fought, why a Scarlet Knight was assigned to Lord Glockmire, and why the old monster was so happy to have an heir.

Cole had only heard of an Alukah in reading historical and religious texts. This was not something he knew how to face. Even if he was a Paladin, he had gained that status more on the merit of being immortal than his skill. Nothing he could think of would let him stop such a monster if it were unleashed. The only semi-sane solution to this madness was what Lord Glockmire planned.

Except that wasn’t something, Cole could easily accept. He didn’t know what imbibing that sort of power might do to Natalie. Would there be anything left to her when the process was finished? Or just a true monster wearing her corpse? Duty and burgeoning love fought each other inside the failing Paladin.

In desperation, Cole begged his captor to intercede. “You can’t let this happen, Dietrich! Take the power for yourself; use it as Drakovich wishes.”

In response, the Scarlet Knight put his foot down harder on Cole’s neck. Glockmire had apparently heard Cole’s words and answered the question. “I’ve discussed this at great length with Sir Dietrich. I set this in all motion. Someone not of my blood will have little chance to succeed in absorbing the Alukah. And giving this power to a Fledgling is ideal. It would take an Elder Vampire years to unlock the full potential of the Alukah. My Grandscion is barely a day sired; it will take her centuries to master the power. Time for the Archduke to take her under his wing and keep her under his control. This is the best situation for all of us, including you, Rest-Bringer. I’m sure my Grandscion will have no qualms keeping you as hers once this is all over.”

Quietly, a soft voice cut off Glockmire. Hand atop the coffin, Natalie spoke. “My name is Natalie Striga. I had no choice in becoming a Vampire, and I will have no choice in this matter. So have the grace to call me by my own JAGGING NAME!”

Venom filled Natalie’s words as she finished, and she glared at Glockmire. The old monster looked momentarily surprised, then outraged, then finally amused. “Yesssss, I believe that much is owed Gran- Natalie.”

Nodding her head curtly, Natalie asked the elder Vampire. “If I take this power, will I be able to kill Petar?” then, in a smaller, almost pleading voice, she added, “And will I be able to see the Sun again?”

Grandsire and Grandscion locked eyes for a long moment, neither hampered by the need to blink. In an almost purring tone, Glockmire answered. “Yes to both, dear Natalie. The night will be yours to rule, and the day will be yours to enjoy.”

Natalie sucked in a deep useless breath and made her decision. If she was to live as a monster, she would make the best of a bad decision. Never breaking her stare with Glockmire, refusing to look at Cole, Natalie agreed. “Alright, what do I need to do?”

Instead of responding, Glockmire raised his hands to his mouth and, in two quick gestures, cut open his wrists. Rivulets of black blood started to drip from the wounds. Glockmire thrust his right hand into the Sarcophagus’s crack. A low, pained moan escaped the elder Vampire as his blood intermingled with the darkness inside the stone coffin. The temperature dropped even lower, and Cole could see his breath puff out in icy clouds. Straining against some unseen force, the old Lord raised his left hand towards Natalie. The black, tar-like blood of the Vampire hadn’t traveled far and barely dribbled from Glockmires wrist.

You are reading story The Homunculus Knight at novel35.com

Some terrible instinct told Natalie what she needed to do. The curse infesting her mind, body, and soul recognized what was being offered. The dreadful act of consuming another Vampire and the power that went with it. Looking at the dark blood and the desiccated flesh of Glockmire, Natalie hesitated. For a moment, she doubted if she could truly do this. That doubt died as a recent memory flashed through her mind. The sight of her father, his innards ripped apart by Petar, the Vampire standing above the good man he killed. Cold hate rose up Natalie’s still heart, and she took the plunge.

Cole had to look away as he saw Natalie’s lips lock on the monster's wrist. This act of cannibalism was deeply unsettling for him. Disgust and worry filled Cole’s mind as events unfolded. He didn’t trust Glockmire and doubted anything the old monster said. But Cole couldn’t disregard what the Lord claimed. It fit all the puzzle pieces together, and the risk of having a primordial Vampire set loose was not something Cole could gamble with. Cole had no say in what was happening, and it all fell to Natalie. Who, as she had so often reminded him, made her own choice. Now Natalie would have to face the consequences.

Natalie felt power flow into her, intoxicating, incredible power. Like the night itself distilled and injected right into her. Lord Glockmires life flowed through his blood, and with it came traces of something far far greater. An ocean of shadows, the power of an antediluvian monster, wrestled from its host and claimed by Glockmire.

Crudely, Natalie could feel what was happening between the Alukah and Glockmire. New senses, unrefined and untested, conveyed a battle to her. Where two dying leviathans tore at each other. Ripping pieces of each other free in the struggle. Pieces that Natalie greedily consumed. With every blow between the Alukah and its captor, Natalie grew stronger. Feeding on the mutually assured destruction raging inside the two elder Vampires.

The entire experience left her giddy and terrified. Like she was plunging from some great height, excitement and fear bleeding together in Natalie's mind. Consumed by the twisted act of consumption, Natalie barely noticed the crack in the tomb wall. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw part of the wall mosaic shatter. Bits of precious metal, gems, and colored stone clattered to the ground. Ancient rock that had been undisturbed for millennia broke as something pushed at it from the other side.

Confused and not entirely certain if what she was seeing was real, Natalie looked closer at the broken mosaic. Her newly enhanced sight showed her a piece of sharpened metal sticking out of the wall. The metal slipped back out of the hole it had created, leaving a dark hole in the wall. Looking at this odd sight, realization struck Natalie with enough force she nearly stopped drinking Glockmires blood. It was a pickaxe; someone was trying to break into the tomb with a pickaxe.

A half-remembered comment from another life filtered back to Natalie. “They shut the mine; Daymen aren’t letting anyone work.”

Matko had mentioned the Nobles had taken over the local mine for some unknown reason. Keeping everyone out of them and going as far as murder to keep townsfolk away. When Matko had mentioned it, Natalie had just filed it away as another oddity. As the hole in the wall widened, the truth became clear. Wherever this tomb was hidden, Petar couldn’t follow the passageways to reach it. So was taking another option; he had dug his way to them.

Frantically, Natalie pointed at the hole. She was afraid to let go of Glockmire and couldn’t do more than yelp loudly and point. Thankfully it caught Dietrich's attention, and the Scarlet Knight saw what she was pointing at. Dietrich leaped towards the hole and drew his sword in a blur of movement. Just in time for an avalanche of debris to fall to the floor as part of the wall collapsed. The small hole had widened into a door-sized crevasse, and a ragged figure stumbled through it. A figure Natalie knew.

Even covered in stone dust and partially decomposed, Gurni the Dwarf was still recognizable. Carrying a pickaxe in both hands, the Ghoul stumbled towards Dietrich, empty eyes staring out aimlessly. Dietrich lopped the Dwarf's head from his shoulders with a dismissive slice and stepped towards the breach. A dozen arms and flailing weapons stretched out from the darkness, the Ghoul mining crew hoping to remove the next obstacle. Except this time, they didn’t face rock and stone but blood and steel. Dietrich quickly tore through them with explosive fury. The weight of his sword not just cutting his enemies but ripping them apart.

As Natalie watched, she felt something stir inside of her. A foul coldness that grew with every passing second. Glancing over to Glockmire, Natalie was surprised to see the old monster slumped down. His body was even more withered than before. He looked like a skeleton clad in paper-brittle skin. Stringy hair barely attached to his scalp, and loose clothing practically falling off him.

With a low cracking noise like tortured wood, Glockmire turned his head to face Natalie. His lips formed words, but no sound came; still, Natalie heard them in her mind. “It's time.” As soon as she registered the words, a wave of darkness crashed into Natalie, and the world turned black.

Cole watched Natalie collapse, her body falling like a cut-string puppet. Only her mouth and hands showed any movement as she grasped onto Glockmire, never letting the connection break. With Dietrich busy with the Ghouls, Cole quickly scrambled to his feet and went to Natalie’s side. Cradling her still form, Cole felt his emotions run riot. He wanted to pull her free from this parasitic chain she was part of. He wanted to take her and run, get away from this place and be somewhere safe. After a moment, Cole dismissed the idea; they were silly thoughts from a panicked man afraid of losing someone else.

Cole wasn’t a mortal man, and he didn’t have the luxury of such flights of fancy. He was a Monster in service to God. He was a Paladin of Master Time. Cole gently laid Natalie down, trying not to look at her mouth and the dark blood dripping into it. Turning away from her, Cole looked at Dietrich and the fight raging. As he did, the cold tug of the God-Touch yanked on Cole’s soul with incredible power. Nearly pulling him off his feet. It pulled him towards where Dietrich fought. Giving him all the confirmation he needed that this was the right choice.

Picking up Gurni’s fallen pickaxe, Cole joined Dietrich at the breach. A ghoul had wrapped itself around Dietrich’s legs as another dozen tried to swarm him. Cole brought the pickaxe down on an entangled ghoul, splitting its skull with a wet crunch. Dietrich spun in surprise to see Cole, sending two more ghouls flying with an ugly backhand as he did. For a brief second, both warriors looked at each other, and a nod of understanding passed between them. The conflict between them was not over, but it could wait for a later date.

The Paladin and Scarlet Knight fought side by side. Dietrich tore through the oncoming horde with reckless abandon, while Cole methodically destroyed any Ghoul who slipped past the Vampires onslaught. In the cramped tunnel, Dietrich couldn’t unleash the full fury of his Executioner Sword, but the Ghoul miners were similarly restricted. Their advantage of numbers reduced by the bottleneck.

While Dietrich pushed into the tunnel somewhat, Cole held the entrance. He didn’t dare try and fight in cramped, dark confines without his equipment. And he sure as Jag was not about to let any Ghoul slip past Dietrich and get to Natalie. He swung his pickaxe until flesh and bone dulled the weapon to uselessness. A coating of viscera stuck to the tool and made it little better than a bludgeon. Cole threw it with all his might at an approaching Ghoul and picked up a nearby shovel. Using it like an axe, Cole got back to work, cutting down any shambling Ghoul that got to the tunnel mouth.

Soon the tunnel was slick with blood and guts. Ruined corpses and rotten innards covered the floor. This was one of the worst parts of Cole’s duties. Where he felt more like a butcher than a warrior or priest. Cutting up bodies and drowning in gore. To distract himself and try and bring some sanctity to this nightmare, Cole started to pray. Saint-Speech flowed from his lips in a near-constant stream. Cole begged for the enslaved souls he fought to find freedom in death. Freedom that had been denied them by Petar and his minions. These poor people had not only died at the Vampire's hands, but they’d denied their rest. Their souls intentionally trapped in their bodies by Necromancy to make better servants.

An anguished roar of pain echoed down the tunnel, and Cole took a step back, preparing to face whatever might come. Dietrich stumbled forward out of the dark, a halberd impaled through him. Gritting his teeth in pain, Dietrich barked at Cole. “Pull this out of me! I got through the miners, and now he’s sending Castle Guards.”

Cole obliged and yanked the weapon free of Dietrich's innards. Growling in annoyance, Dietrich looked down at his torso, where the hole punched through him was already being repaired. Cole paid no mind to his “comrade-in-arms” injuries; his focus was on the sound of clanking metal echoing down the passageway. Soon shining spear tips came into view, followed by armored figures holding out Halberds. A row of blades greeted Cole and Dietrich as the Castle Guards formed a phalanx. Three across, three deep, the formation filled the tunnel and presented a wall of halberd points.

Hefting his sword in both hands, Dietrich said to Cole: “I will knock the pikes aside; you go for the kill.”

Cole nodded; he wasn’t familiar with true battle tactics but could guess Dietrich had experience dealing with formations like this. He wasn’t about to second guess the Scarlet Knight in this situation. Dietrich pushed forward, battering his sword into the arrayed halberds. His weapon’s superior weight and his superhuman strength pushed some of the halberds out of position. Letting Cole come in low and drive his own halberd into one of the Castle Guards' neck. The strike punched through the Rattler Soldiers' armor and shattered its spine. With a fierce yank, Cole pulled the Halberd to the left and drove its axe-head into the skull of the nearest Castle Guard. The blow lacked enough power to destroy the Rattler, but it did knock the Castle Guard out of formation.

Letting Dietrich shoulder-check the Rattler to the ground and put an armored boot through its breastplate. The Vampire did this all while reversing his swing to open up another gap for Cole to push into. In this situation, the unflappable nature of the Undead Soldiers actually hindered them. Guided by crude magical Animus and following simple directions. The Castle Guards didn’t flinch away from oncoming blows or adapt to the situation. Letting the superior warriors, Cole and Dietrich, create openings and exploit them at will.

Despite everything that had happened between them, Cole and Dietrich proved to be a formidable duo. Fighting side by side with near-seamless coordination. Hacking and smashing through the first phalanx of Rattlers and facing two more in quick succession. By the fourth troop of soldiers, Cole felt his muscles start to burn in exhaustion. Dying and reviving had “rested” his body, but that would only do so much. Mental fatigue combined with the constant methodical combat of holding the tunnel entrance was starting to take its toll.

It would be a while before he truly started to falter, but Cole knew he couldn’t keep this up forever. Eventually, he would slip up and fall. If he was lucky, a clean killing blow would do him in. He’d revived from some of those before even falling to the ground in the past. But that was not the sort of gamble Cole could make right now. His immortality was fickle and uncertain; he couldn’t risk dying in battle.

Dietrich was not immune to the grinding attrition they found themselves in. Of the spear tips he batted away, a handful found him, and some of those found cracks in his armor. The Vampire was taking the frontline role and soaking up most of the attacks directed at the duo, and it was starting to show. Myriad small wounds started to show on Dietrich. Scratches and stabs that didn’t leak any blood. Dietrich refused to waste any of his power healing such minor injuries, so they lay open, dry, and pale like torn leather. A ghoulish sight, further demonstrating the inhumanity of the Vampire warrior.

Searing pain in Cole’s leg distracted him from the battle and his musings on Dietrich. He looked down in shock to see a skull biting into his calf. Separated from its body and helmet, the skull had latched itself onto Cole. Dull teeth bit through ragged clothing and scarred skin, drawing blood. Pale green witch-light glowed in the skull’s eye sockets, a sign of greater magic at work. Cole knocked the skull loose with the butt of his halberd. To Cole’s surprise and horror, the skull did not simply tumble away but floated into the air, its jaws snapping hungrily. Cole didn’t give the skull time to attack and smashed it to the ground with the flat of his halberd.

More witch-light burst into being then, illuminating the tunnel as a dozen more skulls floated into the air and charged both Cole and Dietrich. A frantic shout from Cole warned his comrade, and Dietrich just had time to catch and crush a skull aiming for his neck. Soon nearly two dozen skulls were floating about. Bobbing towards the tunnel defenders and snapping at them like starving vultures.

Growling in frustration, Cole reached down to his bloodied calf and decided to end this. Letting his dirty fingers touch the stinging wound, Cole whispered an incantation. “My veins are a net, and they will be your bane yet!”

It was a quick and crude incantation, the words focusing Cole’s intent into form. Pulling his hand from the wound, a long ropey string of blood came with his fingers. Cole lashed out with the blood, using it like a whip. The spell caught one of the nearby skulls, tendrils of blood gripping onto the bone like algae growing on stone. Whirling the blood-whip, Cole smashed it and the captured skull into two more cursed bones, capturing them as well. Soon Cole had a flail made from his blood and his enemies' bones.

Dropping his halberd, Cole heaved the flail with both hands, swinging it about in a great arc, smashing skulls to alabaster chips. Groaning with the effort, Cole directed his make-shift weapon to crush and collect this newest surprise Petar had thrown at them. This was a new application of Cole’s blood magic, and he didn’t know how wise it was. He felt like his very veins were being pulled from him by the flail's weight. Which they very well might be. Cole preferred using Blood to power his spells but had to admit this sort of grisly manifestation was a valuable part of the magical art.

After a few spins, Cole had most of the skulls in his blood flail or shattered to pieces. Something helped by the tightness of the passageway; every rotation smashed some of the skulls against the tunnel walls. As the strain started to become too much, Cole bellowed to Dietrich. “DUCK!”

The startled Vampire looked back at Cole just in time to dodge the flail of skulls flying overhead. The makeshift weapon slammed deep into the Rattler ranks, and Cole spat another incantation, “Boil and burst, steam do your worst.”

The blood clinging to the skulls instantly super-heated and detonated the bones into a shower of steam and shrapnel. The cloud of sizzling vapor engulfed the rattlers, and the clatter of bone and metal striking each other echoed through the tunnel. Gasping for breath, Cole stumbled backward; he’d pushed deeper into the tunnel for his attack but now retreated towards the entrance. Cole picked up his salvaged halberd as he moved and took position again. The weapon was shaky in his hands, blood loss making him clumsy.

As the steam faded, covering the tunnel in a cold slickness, Cole cursed as he saw more Guards coming to replace the ones his improvised weapon had killed. Cole had hoped the explosion would have been enough to damage the tunnel, maybe collapsing it and buying them some time. No such luck. Cole had used a worrying amount of his blood to deal with the floating skulls and had little to show for the investment. Taking a moment to steady himself, Cole readied to push back into the fight.

Dietrich had taken full advantage of the chaos Cole had sown and hacked apart a dozen more Rattlers, taking time to smash each of their skulls. The Vampire was loath to admit it, but the Rest-Bringer had proved himself in this battle. With little blood to draw upon, Dietrich couldn’t use any of his more impressive abilities. Forcing him to rely on his basic physical enhancements and his own skill. Which should have been enough, but the ambush by the floating skulls just might have tipped the balance against them. A quick glance at Cole showed that whatever magic he’d used against the skulls had weakened him. Dietrich figured the Rest-Bringer had only a few more sorties left in him.

Normally Dietrich would simply grab Cole and consume him now, but he feared the poisoned blood Natalie had described. So instead, Dietrich would wait until no strength was left in Cole, then he could strike, free of the Rest-Bringers powers and able to put the mortal's blood to good use. Dietrich didn’t plan this act out of any malice, just simple pragmatism. If Cole was more useful as a blood-meal than as a warrior, then so be it. It wouldn’t be the first time Dietrich had consumed his mortal comrades in arms when the need arose.

Tearing through two Rattlers and preparing to go for a third, Dietrich didn’t even see what hit him. Something massive flew down the tunnel and smashed into him, knocking the Scarlet Knight off his feet. Armored fingers clawed at Dietrich, and he quickly pulled a Castle Guard off of him and crushed its skull. Pulling himself to his feet, Dietrich realized someone or something had thrown a fully armored Rattler at him. He just had enough time to realize this when a huge black shape barreled through the broken formation of Rattlers and charged him.

The attacking shape was a colossal rat, easily the size of a Brown Bear and with muscles more ursine than rodent. It smashed into Dietrich, and rows of needle-like teeth closed on the Vampires torso. Rolling with the impact, Dietrich fell, so his body weight slammed on the Giant Rats' head. It let out a shriek of pain, and Dietrich slashed its flank with his sword. Black blood matted the Giant Rats' fur and confirmed its identity. The Rat was a Vampire, one of the traitors taking on an animalistic form to attack him. Petar’s vanguard had softened up Cole and Dietrich; now, the main force had arrived.

Cole watched as Dietrich struggled with the transformed Vampire. Charging forward, Cole rammed his halberd into the Rat’s side and shoved. Between the two of them, they managed to knock the Vampire Rat off of Dietrich and put some holes in it. Before either of them could recover, the Rat lunged again, and this time it wasn’t alone. A hungry shadow shot down the hallway, a lean figure of taught muscles and sharp blades. Moving faster than Cole could see, it threw twin daggers into Dietrich's chest, each piercing an unused lung. The wiry frame of the Vampire came into view, wearing black leathers strewn with daggers and throwing knives. The Dagger Vampire lept towards Dietrich and rammed his blades deeper, driving them into the stone below. Impaling the Scarlet Knight like a collected insect.

Other shapes became clear in the tunnel's depths. More Castle Guards, accompanied by more sinister forms. Vampires ready to attack and rend both Cole and Dietrich apart. For his part, a furious Dietrich had gripped onto the Dagger Vampire, keeping the wiry monster from escaping. Dietrich spat something at his attacker, too quiet for Cole to hear.

The Dagger Vampire just laughed in response. “You are a relic, Dietrich. A stupid old tradition-bound relic. I may be a traitor, but that's better than being a fossil.”

In response, Dietrich tightened his grip on the Vampire's forearms, squeezing hard enough to crack bone. The Dagger Vampire hissed in pain and shook his head side to side, like a dog trying to throw off fleas. In the movement, the Vampire sent droplets of water flying with his moment, and something occurred to Cole.

The entire tunnel was damp; the steam of his attack had altered the humidity of their cramped confines. Water dripped from the walls and coated everything with an ugly slickness. Dropping his halberd, Cole fell to his knees and started one final gambit. Reaching into his soul, Cole found his divine power was mostly restored. The pieces of himself he’d ripped off to fight the Strigoi and Varcolac had healed. He could tap into his Paladin abilities. Still, he’d overtaxed himself earlier, and it would be a while before he could use any subtle powers. Which was perfectly okay for what he had planned.

Plunging his hands into the terrible mixture of water and viscera on the tunnel's floor, Cole called up as much of his soul as possible. He instantly felt light-headed as much of his imprint in the Aether was turned to this task. Cold dribbled from his hands, spreading out from his digits in a wave of entropy. With a slow exhale, a cloud of frozen fog billowed forth from Cole and towards the fighting Vampires. Caught up in their own struggle, none of them noticed the encroaching chill.

Blood froze, and frost started to form on the tunnel walls. It wasn’t enough; Cole let out another deep breath. The arctic mist doubled in size and started to roll forward. With careful rhythmic breaths, Cole poured his soul into this act of divine magic. The Cold of Entropy was unleashed in a wave of frozen death. Obscured by the fog, Cole couldn’t see the Vampires and their minions, but he could hear their startled shouts. Muffled by the mist, but still loud enough to carry surprise and rage to him. Cole let himself feel some grim satisfaction as another breath of ice poured forth. A fierce grin spread on the Paladin’s face as he felt the Cold spread out and seep into his enemies.

Sucking in a huge lungful of air, Cole breathed out one final storm of frost. Sitting on his hands and knees, he almost collapsed forwards as exhaustion hit him. A strange hollowness filled his being. The sense of a soul scraped down to near-nothingness. Blackness circled at Cole’s vision, and he fought against the urge to pass out. After a few shakey moments, Cole managed to look up from where he sat and saw his handiwork.

Not thirty centimeters from his face were the outstretched claws of a Vampire. A frozen Vampire, stuck in its final lunge towards him. Smiling weakly at that, Cole looked past his would-be-executioner and saw a tunnel of ice stretch out before him. Nearly a dozen Vampires hung in frozen limbo. With twice that many Castle Guards reduced to piles of bones and armor. The Cold of Entropy had been so intense it had snapped the spells animating the Guards, an application of this ability Cole had never seen before. Which made sense, as he’d never drawn this much power forth in a single act. This magic froze the mind, body, and soul. A natural extension of that was turning some magic brittle.

Sucking down air, trying to push the light-headedness away, Cole pulled himself up. Taking multiple tries to pull his near-frozen fingers from the icy ground. Grabbing his scavenged halberd from nearby, Cole set about finishing the job. He smashed the frozen Vampire that had almost reached him. Reducing the monster to a pile of frost-blackened gore. Moving to the next Vampire and then the next, Cole destroyed them all. Leaving only one.

Cole looked down at the frozen form of Dietrich and weighed his halberd between his hands. While he knew the purely logical action would be to kill the Scarlet Knight. Honor stayed Cole’s hand. He’d fought side by side with Dietrich and found the idea of killing the Vampire in his defenseless state distasteful. A few days ago, Cole would have killed Dietrich on the principle of being a Vampire. Now looking back at the tomb and the unconscious form of Natalie, Cole had to admit things had gotten more complicated.

While he didn’t know for sure, Cole was reasonably certain Dietrich would survive being thawed out. If and when that happened, Cole would deal with the Scarlet Knight then. Using his stolen halberd as a crutch, Cole stumbled towards the tunnel entrance. Taking it slowly not to stumble on the ice, Cole made his way into the tomb. Leaning against the mosaic wall, Cole took a better look at Natalie. He nearly dropped his halberd in surprise at what he saw.

When he’d glanced a moment ago, he’d thought she was sprawled back like he had left her. And she was, except she was now hovering nearly a meter off the ground. As Cole watched, the last withered remnants of Glockmire fell away from Natalie’s hands. The shriveled bones collapsed to ash. Cole started to hobble towards Natalie when movement caught his attention. A dark shape slithered into the tunnel. Spinning around and nearly falling in the process, Cole saw a stream of semi-liquid shadows covering the ice. A web of sticky, inky darkness that clung to the walls and floor. Darkness kept shifting, wriggling and twitching as something at its heart moved.

The core of this new horror moved closer. The tendrils of darkness slithering about, an entourage proclaiming the arrival of their lord. As the shadows moved, Cole realized they didn’t break any of the fine ice crystals covering the walls or move the bits of broken Vampire scattered around. They were insubstantial; no, they weren’t physical. Merely the representation of something a mortal mind couldn’t easily understand. As the heart of darkness entered the faint light of the tomb's glowstones, Cole understood what he was looking at.

This was the side effect of him using the Cold of Entropy. He’d pulled on so much divine power that the backwash was effecting his senses. Letting him glimpse the world as the Gods might. This particular time, it let him see the soul of the newcomer. Seeing it as the sticky, fetid web of darkness and creeping corruption it was. It let Cole see the soul of The Feeder in all its foulness.

Flanked by five Vampires on either side of him, each with souls nearly as twisted as his. Petar entered the tomb, a too-wide smile on his face. Raising his arms up like a proud showman, he proclaimed. “At last! My inheritance!”

Cole just hung his head in exhaustion. He’d used up everything he had in him, yet the threat wasn’t over. The Feeder had come to claim his prize and, with it, Natalie’s life. There was little Cole could do as a Paladin or as a Man. All that was left was to try as a monster. Pulling himself up tall, Cole reached down to his boot, where he kept his spare knife. Holding the blade in his hand, Cole looked at the short dagger. It was nothing special, not some precious relic or family heirloom. Just a piece of metal he’d picked up years ago from a merchant's cart. But it just might save Natalie and the entire world with it.

Petar looked at Cole and the dagger and actually laughed. “Is that all you have left? A piece of cheap steel?”

Cole just responded with a mocking smile, “By the way, I hear it, small knives are your bane Petar.”

Unconsciously, Petar raised a hand to his neck, where the silver-scarred flesh of Natalie’s attack was still visible. It would take years for the wound to completely heal, and even longer for Petar’s pride to recover. The usurper Vampire snarled at Cole in bitter anger. “I will strangle you with your own entrails, Rest-Bringer.”

At this point, weariness had taken its toll on Cole, and he cared little for anything resembling decorum of secrecy. “Better Vampires have tried Petar, and some even succeeded.”

Raising the dagger, Cole held it to the back of his neck and, almost as an afterthought, added, “Oh, and I’m not a true Rest-Bringer.”

Gingerly, Cole placed the blade into the sweet spot where the spine and skull met. Then before he could hesitate, Cole jammed the blade into his spinal cord. A scream, bloody and raw, exploded from his lungs as he died. An injury like he just inflicted on himself was invariably and instantly lethal. For an Immortal, it did something very, very different.

Bruised flesh and frost-burnt skin healed instantly, over-taxed muscles were cleansed and strengthened. Cole died a hundred times over as his body tried and failed to heal from the injury. Each time his body was restored just a little bit more. Slowly regrowing nerves and cartilage dislodged the blade, spitting it out of Cole’s flesh. A shuddering, twitching Cole fell to his knees and screamed again. Years of experimentation and torture had taught him this little trick. A way to restore himself almost instantaneously. At the cost of experiencing more pain than a human mind could adequately understand. The feeling of every nerve in his body being sliced, regrown, and sliced again. Over and over until healing tissue pushed the blade free.

In the silence left after Cole’s scream, a shocked Petar asked, “What are you?”

Pulling himself back to his feet and lifting up his halberd to point at Petar, Cole proclaimed in a shaking voice. “I am the Homunculus Knight, I am the Paladin of Master Time, I am Cole the Deathless, and I am going to end this nightmare you started, Feeder!”

This time no derision met Cole’s words, just fearful silence. He’d unsettled the Vampires, shown them something they didn’t understand and couldn’t believe. Not long ago, Cole had proclaimed he would die as many times as he needed to. If it meant ensuring Natalie’s safety and the safety of the world. It was time for him to prove those words.

Twirling the halberd in still twitchy fingers, Cole leveled it at the Vampires and shouted for all the Gods and Monsters to hear.

“MAGNI! MORTAE! MUNDUS!”

You can find story with these keywords: The Homunculus Knight, Read The Homunculus Knight, The Homunculus Knight novel, The Homunculus Knight book, The Homunculus Knight story, The Homunculus Knight full, The Homunculus Knight Latest Chapter