When he woke, the sun had moved.

  Harsh, low light carved across the stone, long shadows stretching like grasping fingers across the battlefield.

  Alistair blinked.

  The Alpha’s corpse lay broken nearby, half-torn, dark blood congealing in black puddles around it.

  A cold breeze stirred the drying gore.

  And his hands…

  He stared at them, pale, blood-slicked.

  Claws gone now.

  Flesh smooth again, though faint black veins still pulsed faintly beneath the skin.

  A chill ran down his spine.

  [Bloodsong Ended]

  You have purged sufficient blood to sate the curse.

  Residual weakness will persist for 1:17.

  Duration exceeded — partial recovery occurred during unconscious state.

  He sucked in a slow breath.

  I’d been out for hours. And worse, he hadn’t stopped himself.

  A second notification pulsed:

  [Mutation Update – Seed of the Forgotten Lineage]

  The Bloodsong has accelerated your mutation.

  Dormant energies within your blood have stirred further.

  Progression: Unknown.

  Current Effects: Suppressed.

  "Not all extinction is permanent."

  A shiver danced through his bones.

  He flexed his hands, testing them. They felt… wrong. Stronger. Deeper.

  As if something beneath the skin was waiting.

  Yet when he checked his stats...

  [HP: 190 / 190]

  [SP: 172 / 172]

  [MP: 132 / 132]

  Full.

  Completely full.

  No sense. He should be half-dead. But the cursed blood had left him filled, not drained.

  He swallowed, throat dry.

  A soft sound pulled his gaze sideways.

  Thessaly sat beside him, quiet, steady.

  Her face pale, bark-scarred arms resting on her knees, but her eyes… calm.

  Like nothing had changed.

  A few paces beyond, Brimma stood, staff planted, gaze wary.

  Further still, Kael crouched behind a stone outcrop, bow gripped tight, knuckles white.

  Buddy paced in slow circles around them, low growls rumbling from his throat.

  But not at him.

  At everything else.

  He forced a breath.

  They’d seen it. All of it.

  The thought made his gut twist.

  “...well.” His voice rasped. He coughed once, forced a crooked smile. “That was a bit more dramatic than I’d intended.”

  It sounded hollow even to his ears.

  Brimma’s eyes sharpened. “Don’t you dare.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “Don’t you dare play this off.” Her voice cut like her staff. “We saw what you became.”

  Kael flinched, his eyes still locked on him, wide and haunted.

  Buddy huffed low and prowled closer, brushing against Alistair’s side once, heat bleeding through his scorched fur.

  Thessaly remained still.

  And then she spoke, soft, but certain:

  “I stopped you.”

  He blinked again. “You…?”

  She met his gaze. “Through the bond.”

  He sucked in breath, memory flashing, her voice, a single thread of sound through the storm.

  “You heard me,” she said simply. “And you stopped.”

  Something cracked in his chest.

  “I… I didn’t even know if that was possible,” He whispered.

  Brimma exhaled sharply. “It wasn’t your power that stopped you. It was hers. And that bond.”

  Kael swallowed hard. “And if she hadn’t…?”

  Silence.

  Alistair let the grin fall, hands dropping limp to his sides.

  “I’ve… always been careful,” he said quietly. “I feed, yes. But never more than I need. Never to gorge.” He shook his head. “The Bloodfrenzy, I avoid it. Religiously. I’ve built my entire damn life around that control.”

  He looked down, at claws that had torn and ripped, fangs that had bitten deep.

  “But the Bloodsong… that wasn’t Frenzy. That was something else.”

  Brimma’s expression didn’t change. But her eyes… they knew.

  “It’s in your blood,” she said. “Old. Forgotten. You can’t tame it by will alone.”

  Thessaly shifted, voice calm. “But you came back.”

  He managed a ragged laugh. “Because of you.” He met her gaze. “I heard you. Through all of it.”

  Kael spoke up, voice cracking. “I... I thought you were going to kill her.”

  He glanced at Brimma. “You... he was about to...”

  Brimma raised a hand. “And yet he didn’t.”

  Her voice remained flat. But her knuckles were white on her staff.

  Alistair let out a breath.

  “Right,” He said softly. “No more jokes.”

  He looked at them all, Buddy, panting and wounded. Thessaly, bloodied but clear-eyed. Kael, shaking but standing. Brimma, hard as stone.

  “I…” His throat closed.

  He shook my head.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The words barely left his mouth but they hung there, raw.

  Brimma’s gaze didn’t soften.

  Thessaly nodded once.

  Kael said nothing.

  And Alistair?

  He swallowed the shame that burned deeper than any blade.

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  The Bloodsong had shown them what he was.

  And now… we would see if they would still follow.

  Alistair sat in the dust, back resting against the cool stone of a shattered pillar.

  “I suppose…” he began, voice hoarse, “…I owe you an explanation.”

  Kael flinched. “You, you think?”

  Brimma’s eyes narrowed. “Speak. Before we decide whether to still follow you.”

  Fair enough.

  Alistair flexed his fingers, human again, but the memory of claws still burned behind the skin.

  “First,” he said softly, “that wasn’t Bloodfrenzy.”

  Thessaly tilted her head. “No?”

  He shook his head. “Bloodfrenzy happens to all of us, if we starve ourselves too long, if we lose control of hunger. It’s physical. It’s the body demanding blood. The system forces it on you.”

  He grimaced. “I’ve seen vampires gorge themselves to avoid it. I’ve spent years making sure it never happened to me.”

  Kael’s voice cracked. “Then what… what the hell was that?”

  Alistair looked down at his hands.

  “The Bloodsong.”

  Even Brimma’s brows lifted, just slightly.

  Alistair exhaled. “It’s… not a state. Not a condition. It’s something older. Something woven into the blood of the first vampires.”

  He shook his head again. “It isn’t something you control. You can’t prevent it. You can’t suppress it.”

  He looked at them, voice low. “It happens.”

  Thessaly’s voice was quiet. “Why now?”

  Alistair’s mouth twisted. “That’s the thing. It can be triggered by… anything. A sound. A smell. A prey that awakens the oldest instincts. An enemy that calls to something embedded in us.”

  He swallowed hard. “A racial enemy, especially. Lycans. Our oldest foes.”

  Brimma’s staff tapped the ground once. “The blood remembers.”

  Alistair gave a bitter smile. “Exactly.”

  He looked away. “Very few vampires ever hear it. Only those with old bloodlines… some of the born vampires, not the turned.”

  His voice softened. “My house… is old. I don’t know how old. My father grew up in another coven. He was the only Soulbinder there. No one remembers what happened to the rest of his house.”

  Alistair’s gaze darkened. “It’s never happened to me before.”

  He hesitated then forced the words out.

  “It happened to my father. Once.”

  Kael swallowed.

  Alistair went on, voice low and flat. “His commanders said he wiped a battlefield on his own. Didn’t stop until he had drained every single drop of blood. Not enemy, not ally. Everyone.”

  A long, heavy silence followed.

  Kael looked pale. Thessaly’s brow furrowed, thoughtful.

  Brimma… her gaze sharpened even further.

  “I have read of it,” she said softly. “Ancient records, old even when I was young. A few lines, warnings mostly. ‘When the Bloodsong rises, there is no friend, no kin, no lover. Only prey.’”

  She tapped her staff again. “And most who succumb… do not come back.”

  Alistair closed his eyes.

  That was the truth that had haunted him more than anything.

  When he opened them again, he looked at Kael, at Thessaly. “Do you think I wanted you to see that?” he asked, voice rough. “I’ve spent years making sure no one did.”

  Kael looked away.

  Thessaly met his gaze, calm. “But we did.”

  He gave a hollow laugh. “I know.”

  Another long breath.

  “It will not happen again,” he said quietly. “I will do whatever it takes.”

  Brimma’s voice cut through the air. “Don’t lie to yourself, boy. You can’t control it. You said it yourself, there’s no stopping the Bloodsong once it stirs.”

  Alistair’s jaw clenched. “Then what...”

  She tapped her staff, voice sharp. “You can’t stop it. But now we know...” her eyes flicked to Thessaly “... we can reach you. Through the bond.”

  Thessaly met Alistair’s gaze. Calm. Steady.

  “I did.”

  Brimma nodded. “Pray that will be enough.”

  A long silence followed.

  Alistair looked down, throat tight.

  It was all they had.

  No one spoke for a long time after that.

  The wind picked up, dry and sharp, stirring the blood-caked dust.

  Buddy circled once more around the group, never far from Alistair’s side. His movements were stiff, but his eyes remained bright.

  Protective.

  Alistair shifted slowly, testing the feel of his limbs. The weakness from the Bloodsong still coiled beneath the surface, but his body obeyed as if nothing had happened.

  Brimma broke the silence first.

  “We cannot stay here.”

  Kael looked up sharply. His voice was thin. “We can’t move either.”

  Brimma’s gaze sharpened. “The Arena won’t care. The Crystal Dragon won’t wait for us. We will be left behind. Or worse.”

  Thessaly stood then, slow but sure. “She’s right.”

  Alistair flexed his fingers once more. Still mine. For now.

  He forced himself upright, ignoring the low throb behind his eyes.

  “What happened,” he asked quietly, “while I was out?”

  Brimma’s mouth thinned. “Your beast kept us alive.”

  Buddy rumbled faintly at her words.

  Brimma continued. “He devoured the Lycans. All but the Alpha.” Her eyes flicked to the half-torn corpse nearby. “That one he left untouched. Your kill.”

  Alistair swallowed. “And?”

  Brimma’s jaw tightened. “Twice we were attacked. Enemy champions. Testing the scent of blood.”

  “And?” he pressed.

  “Buddy drove them off.” A faint, grudging nod. “They weren’t eager to face him.”

  Alistair let out a long breath. He looked toward the hellhound, who padded closer and pressed his scorched side lightly against his leg.

  A deep, weary growl rumbled in Buddy’s chest.

  “Good boy,” Alistair murmured.

  Kael gave a bitter laugh. “Seems he remembers who he’s supposed to protect.”

  Alistair met his gaze. “And I will remember that too.”

  The words hung awkwardly between them.

  Brimma planted her staff sharply. “Enough. We move. We have little time before the next threat comes.”

  Kael hesitated then slung his bow, shoulders stiff.

  Thessaly’s gaze met Alistair’s, steady as ever. “Can you walk?”

  “I can.” His voice came out rougher than intended.

  But he straightened fully. Buddy fell in at his side like a shadow.

  Brimma’s voice was cool. “Good. Because you’ll be leading.”

  Alistair blinked. “Why?”

  “Because if something like that happens again,” she said flatly, “you’ll be where we can see you.”

  The words cut deep, but he didn’t argue.

  He looked at them all, Kael wary, Brimma sharp, Thessaly calm. Buddy by his side.

  They followed.

  But trust, that was another matter entirely.

  He drew a slow breath. And began walking.

  Behind him, the others fell into line.

  They walked.

  The jagged wasteland stretched in all directions, bone-dry earth broken only by shards of old stone and the occasional twisted carcass.

  Buddy padded close at Alistair’s side, tail low but eyes sharp. Thessaly matched pace with him, her steps measured and sure despite the blood caked across her bark-armored limbs.

  Kael and Brimma followed behind, Brimma ever watchful, Kael silent.

  Alistair focused on each step.

  One foot. Then the next.

  The taste of blood still lingered on his tongue, a phantom echo he couldn’t shake.

  “Alistair.”

  He glanced sideways. Thessaly walked close now, voice low.

  “You’re not alone in this,” she said simply.

  He let out a rough breath. “I think I gave a fairly convincing argument to the contrary back there.”

  She didn’t smile. But her gaze was steady. “You came back.”

  “That’s a low bar,” he muttered.

  “And you’re still walking forward,” she added. “That’s a higher one.”

  For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then he managed the faintest grin.

  “Careful, Thessaly,” he said dryly. “If you keep sounding reasonable, I might start relying on you for emotional support.”

  Finally, her lips twitched. “I’ll add it to my skill list.”

  Alistair snorted, a genuine sound this time.

  It wasn’t much. But it was… something.

  The group kept moving, slow, steady. The wind whispered across the stones.

  After a while, the haze behind his eyes cleared enough for thought.

  I should check the damage.

  He exhaled. “Well,” he said aloud, voice wry. “Time to face the music.”

  He flicked open his system interface, pulling up the backlog of notifications.

  [LEVEL UP – You have reached Level 20!]

  +4 Attribute Points Awarded

  +3 Agility

  +2 Dexterity

  [Vampire Lord Class Milestone Achieved – New Ability Unlocked]

  Sovereign’s Presence (Passive)

  +5 Charisma permanently.

  Minor fear aura. Enemies within 3m suffer -5% attack speed.

  [Vampiric Essence Progression – New Ability Unlocked]

  Bloodcall (Active)

  Summon a spectral blood tether to one enemy.

  Deal small % damage per second for 5 seconds → heals Alistair for the same amount.

  [Fire Magic Skill Leveled Up: 6 → 7]

  +2% Spell Damage, +1% Burn Duration

  [Leadership Domain Skill Leveled Up: 6 → 7]

  +1% All Companion Attribute Boost, +2% Tactical Awareness Refresh Rate

  [Light Armor Skill Leveled Up: 7 → 8]

  +2% Physical Damage Resistance (Light Armor), +1% Dodge Chance

  [Mutation Progression Triggered – Minor Increase Registered.]

  [Bloodsong State Analyzed – Warning Flag Added: Future triggers possible.]

  Alistair let out a long, slow breath.

  “Well.” He arched a brow. “That’s one way to hit a milestone.”

  He skimmed the ability summaries with a faint grimace.

  [Sovereign’s Presence], an aura of command, subtle but inescapable. The kind of thing that would make most mortals kneel, if used right.

  [Bloodcall], he could feel the pull already. A power that would let him call blood to him, empower himself, strengthen allies… or control prey.

  “Charming,” he muttered.

  Exactly what I need after terrifying the people I’m trying to lead.

  He flicked past the loot summary, he’d deal with that later.

  Then his gaze landed on the last line again.

  [Bloodsong State Analyzed – Warning Flag Added: Future triggers possible]

  Alistair’s jaw tightened.

  Of course. Of course it wasn’t a one-time fluke.

  The blood remembered. And it would not forget.

  He closed the screen, shaking his head.

  “Guess I’m getting a reputation,” he said aloud, voice dry. “First charming bloodsucker. Now blood-drunk berserker. All I need is a decent haircut and the trifecta’s complete.”

  Thessaly glanced sideways. “You’ve had worse jokes.”

  “That was a sincere review,” Alistair said solemnly.

  Her lips twitched again.

  “You’re still our leader,” she said quietly.

  Alistair glanced at her, brow lifting. “That may say more about your standards than mine.”

  But the smile, thin as it was, stayed.

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