Legendary Vampire in the Apocalypse
Chapter 7: Vampire in the Apocalypse

Chapter 7: Vampire in the Apocalypse

’His majesty will require a suitable meal upon his awakening to recover, and fuel the maturation of his body... The blood of this filthy thing is unworthy.’

Her head turned towards the humans, and she saw upon their expressions a reverence and aversion for her.

The fury on her expression settled, though that within her heart continued to seethe. Be that as it may, it had not solely been targeted at the now lifeless creature whose soul she had torn through.

Her sins of tardiness were unforgivable.

Somehow, she must make her amends for that as well.

Her eyes showed the light of prana flowing, and the faintest wisps of it attempting to saturate their bodies, and the slightest frown darkened her expression.

’What a destitute world.’

"T—Thank you." She turned her attention to the stuttering one.

"No," she muttered back, bowing slightly. Then she rose, as she said, "Thank you for your offering. It might be meagre, but it is passable."

The crackle of ice resounded as the eyes of the humans widened.

From the manifested wall behind them, ice spikes punched outwards, goring through their bodies so severely that they died instantly.

Then, without their bodies freezing, the blood within them began flowing out at the gesture of her hand, gathering into a ball that was shimmering with a faint, cold fog around it, holding its frame.

Then, abruptly, her eyes widened as she turned.

Meanwhile, as the woman killed humans for their blood.

Dion, for what felt like a long time, could hardly feel anything beyond pain, and in that same torment, there seemed to be something seeping through and saturating him.

A red light consumed the darkness of his vision, and he had only distantly heard the messages from the system.

’What’s happening... to me?’

The red light in his vision began to throb at an increasing pace, until it raced in drumming flashes.

Then he felt that sensation grow in his chest, even despite remembering distantly how his heart should have burst...

How... was he even alive when his heart had burst?

Suddenly, his body was filled with a remarkable rush, a relief far greater than the pain. He was soothed so well that all his thoughts of the pain were banished.

And beyond his body, as this was going on, that strange formation that had formed above him had been pulsing with blood-red light.

The blood from the corpses in the mound had been dragged away from the corpses and into it, where it grew such that it filled the alleyway space.

In those moments, all of the blood that went into it transformed into strands of essence flowing through the air like mist and into his body.

His body began to levitate off of the ground, his wounds began to rapidly heal, and within his mouth, his canines began to elongate.

The black of his eyes transformed, and his pupils stretched into slits.

Away from him, attracted by the commotion that he and the woman had caused, cars were crashing into one another, tumbling down the street. The loud, rumbling explosions of some reverberated through the air.

Then, a large, roaring gnoll ran down the street towards him, a delirious, hungering rage in its eyes.

Dion felt a heavy throb within his chest, where his old heart had been, and his awareness began to somewhat clear.

However, his vision was still tainted red. The formation that was made of blood began to rapidly shrink.

The approaching gnoll drew closer, breaking into the twenty-metre range away from him.

At the commotion that the gnoll had caused, this was where the woman had looked back.

"Your Majesty!"

Whisking the gathered blood along with her, she moved rapidly, running as her expression fell flinty.

The mist stirred, gathering with much higher urgency than earlier. There were zombies approaching as well as the Gnoll.

However, before she could arrive, Dion had stood on his feet, and the blood formation that had rapidly shrunk swirled to gather, spilling into him, as his hand rose.

Dion’s attention was tainted with red; everything ahead of him was coloured with blood, especially the figure of the gnoll rushing him.

He was only half aware of his actions when he made blood move from one of the shallowest cuts that had remained in his body.

It spilled out in a quantity larger than the hair’s length of a cut should have allowed, transforming into the image of the first weapon that had come to mind.

He had heard the sound of ice crackling towards the side of him, and he had faintly seen her formation of the ice spears; that was why he immediately stamped forward, and his body whipped into a hard throw of the blood spear.

This gnoll had not been holding a sword like the other.

The arms of this one were thicker than the last, its claws longer and sharper, and it roared into a swing to break through the blood spear.

They clashed, and blood burst as the gnoll’s arm was ripped apart. The blood spear, its tip largely broken, had been stopped, skewered through the arm of it.

Dion had stood himself upright by then, his hand outstretched.

Rapidly, the blood spear melted, and the Gnoll had roared in pain and stopped, having barely been a moment from rushing forward through the last few metres between them.

The blood from the fashioned weapon had seeped deep into the creature, Dion’s eyes pulsing a malicious red.

Then he clenched his hand closed into a fist, and suddenly blood impaled throughout the gnoll’s figure from within it, dozens of blood spikes jutting outwards.

{ You have felled a Level 7, Destitute Gnoll, harvesting its essences. Your Strength and Endurance have been nourished significantly. }

{ Your Strength has been enriched to grade E. }

{ Your Endurance has been enriched to grade A. }

The creature stopped, and then collapsed beneath the moonlight, and Dion’s figure suddenly wobbled, his vision spinning.

He did not know what he had done, but it had thoroughly exhausted whatever energy that he had just used.

He fell to his knees. Then he had to quiver to force himself upwards again.

’There are still... zombies. I have to kill them...’

At this desperate, hatred-driven thought, he instinctively had thought to look for some way to recover his strength.

And his head whipped down into the alley.

The space had been cleared of all of the mist, it having been transformed into ice spears that shot through the air to skewer the dozen zombies that had been converging on their position.

The woman he saw had just reached shy of him, the blue of her attention softening dramatically.

His eyes, red and constricted in recognition, blood smearing down him as he dragged for breath.

The red that her figure was coloured in, there was something drawing within it. A scent rushed through his nose, and hunger possessed him, his eyes pulled to her neck.

He watched as her hands had briefly hesitated to hold him, then she stomached the discourtesy, helping stabilise him.

"My lord, you must rest. Your injuries are yet to heal completely."

"...Anastasia."

The rumble of the sound of her name freed itself from his chest, and her eyes gradually widened.

Their gazes met once more, and rapidly, she used the ice that had skewered the zombies surrounding them to block them into an ice dome.

The blood that she had gathered immediately fell, wasting itself over the ground. She had lowered her gaze to the sight of his elongated fangs, and how his attention had gone to her neck.

There was no way that she could not understand what his intentions were.

’To be honoured with offering myself for his renascence...’

Dion’s arms drew themselves around her figure, pulling her in as she gave of her pale neck.

Then his fangs sank into her, and he fed on her, a rapturous light possessing her ice blue eyes and flooding her countenance.

There was no greater joy for her, a Sanclair of the Hanging Garden, an eternal acolyte of its emperor!