The wind carried the scent of fermented blood and sea salt as Vlad Corvinus stepped onto the final stretch of the royal road. The fields surrounding the coast had long since surrendered to rot, and the crows no even flinched as he passed. Valencia rose in the distance, its ancient stone walls marked by centuries of conflict and the weight of secrets too old for memory.
Alexander's medallion pulsed with a dull red glow against his chest—only visible to him. It warmed like an old wound aching before a storm. The Toji System flickered faintly in his peripheral vision, feeding data into his consciousness.
[PRIMARY TARGET: RODRIGO DÍAZ DE VIVAR – 200 METERS NORTHWEST][THREATS DETECTED: 12 UNDEAD SIGNATURES – LETHALITY LEVEL: B+][WARNING: LYCAN BLOOD DETECTED IN ATMOSPHERE]
A creaking cart rolled past him, pulled by a skeletal mule and driven by a man who smelled of old fear. The cart was piled with corpses—half-dressed peasants, soldiers, and clergy. Their necks bore clean punctures, but Vlad's eyes caught what others would miss: the fingers of the dead had twisted and grown. The transformation had begun in them, but hadn't completed.
The driver spat into the mud without looking at him."Hunter?" he grunted. "The Campeador pays well for bandit heads… though these ones don't look human."
Vlad crouched beside the bodies and ran a finger along the edge of a torn throat. The flesh had been drained, yes, but altered too—stiffening in unnatural ways.
"They weren't," he muttered, rising again with his eyes on the city walls.
Valencia awaited him.
The marketplace boiled with midday heat when Vlad arrived. The stones radiated warmth, and the stench of sweat and wine clung to every surface. Amid the crowd, Rodrigo Vivar—El Cid —stood like a monument to war. He held a wineskin in one hand, pouring crimson liquid into his mouth as he recounted his latest battle to a crowd drunk on admiration.
But Vlad saw the truth.
A crescent-shaped scar peeked out from beneath the Cid's collar—fresh, not old. His left hand trembled, ever so slightly, as he drank. Poison. Lycan venom. And his sword, Tizona, shimmered not with steel, but with the glint of silver—reforged, perhaps, or cursed. The Toji System fed him silent truths as he watched:
[PHYSICAL STATE: 78% – PROGRESSIVE POISONING][UNDEAD COMBAT EXPERIENCE: CONFIRMED – 3 ENCOUNTERS RECORDED][CORVINUS BLOOD COMPATIBILITY: 92%]
Vlad didn't need to hear the Cid speak. He already understood.
This man was not a legend—he was a survivor.
They met that evening in the castle's abandoned courtyard, where the fading sun failed to reach beyond the stone towers. Vlad stood by the old well, where the shadows clung thick as velvet. The Cid arrived with his sword drawn, the heavy blade catching what little light remained.
"I knew you'd come," he said. "Men with eyes like yours always find their way to death."
He struck without warning—a horizontal slash meant to decapitate. Vlad dodged by a breath. The blade screamed through the air, too close. In one motion, Vlad responded—two fingers, swift and precise, striking the warrior's wrist. Tizona fell from his grasp and clattered against the stones.
"You're not human," the Cid growled, pulling a silver dagger from his belt.
"And neither is what bit you," Vlad replied coldly, pointing at the scar pulsing on his neck. "Nor what poisoned your blood."
Later, in the rank darkness of the royal stables, the Cid spoke through clenched teeth.
"It began three moons ago. Count Berenguer... he stopped aging. And the infanta—Urraca—drinks wine mixed with blood at every banquet."
Vlad crouched by a pile of discarded gear. A horseshoe, carved with old vampiric runes, caught his eye. Not simple glyphs. These were markings of the Elders—those loyal to Marcus.
"They aren't just vampires," he said. "They're Ancients. Bound to Marcus' will."
The System projected a three-dimensional map of the Alcázar into Vlad's vision. Red points pulsed like blisters across the structure.
[VAMPIRE NEST DETECTED: ROYAL ALCÁZAR – THREAT LEVEL: A][ENTRANCES: 4 – TRAPS DETECTED: YES]
A scream broke the night—high-pitched, human—and was immediately followed by the unmistakable howl of a lycan.
They found Pedro's body in a butcher's alley, his throat opened with cruel precision. He had been no older than fifteen. His hands had begun to change—fingernails turned to claws, irises gold and wild. A transformation, stopped mid-process.
"No…" the Cid whispered, falling to his knees. "He was just a boy."
Vlad scanned the wall behind the corpse. Words had been written in blood—thick, jagged, deliberate.
VALENCIA IS OURS – SIGNED: MARCUS
"This wasn't just an attack," Vlad said, his voice like stone. "It was a message."
At dawn, in the tower that overlooked the sea, the two men prepared for war.The Cid dipped his blade in wine laced with powdered silver, the old soldier's hand steady now, hardened by grief.Vlad unwrapped a weapon of his own—Chain of Heaven, forged from his essence and sharpened by centuries of silence. Its links shimmered gold in the blood-red morning light.
"What do you propose, demon?" the Cid asked.
"A purge," Vlad replied. "Starting with the royal court."
Rodrigo hesitated. "They are nobles. King Alfonso…"
"They are not human," Vlad said, cutting through his hesitation.He threw Alexander's medallion onto the table. The artifact pulsed, projecting the twisted visage of Marcus, wings spread, fangs bared.
"And if you need proof," he added, "ask your scar why it burns every night."
The arming began in earnest.
Repeating crossbows loaded with silver-tipped bolts.Cloaks lined with garlic and vervain.Concave mirrors, designed to focus light like a weapon.
But Vlad offered something more dangerous than tools. He handed the Cid a short sword—its hilt seared with Corvinus blood.
"This will hurt more than anything you've ever felt. But it may give you a fighting chance."
The System issued its warning:
[ALERT: CORVINUS BLOOD EXPOSURE][SIDE EFFECTS:▸ PAIN LEVEL: 9/10▸ SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: 56%▸ POTENTIAL ADDICTION]
The Cid did not hesitate. He drank it in one swallow. The scream that followed shattered the stillness of the morning.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the walls of Valencia became a fortress of dread.
From the battlements, Vlad and Rodrigo watched as nobles in crimson cloaks left the city, dragging peasants bound in silver chains behind them. The hunt had begun—and the predators wore crowns.
"Tomorrow," said the Cid, voice altered, glowing gold from within. "During the equinox banquet."
Vlad nodded. His own body responded, radiant with power.The blood they shared was working.
Then the sky darkened. A massive shadow with wings of bone and leather passed above them, casting the city into momentary eclipse. It was not Marcus.
It was Amelia.
The ancient vampire carried a torn, blood-soaked sack.
The System flashed, alarmed:
[NEW TARGET: AMELIA – MOTIVES UNKNOWN][WARNING: CARRYING PURE LYCAN BLOOD SAMPLE]
War had already begun.