The Skyfather Compound pulsed with stillness—an eerie calm, broken only by the soft clink of crystal as two glasses met in a quiet toast.
Seated at opposite sides of each other, the alpha vampires Damian and Jeryko Skyfather sipped from cups filled with Red Sea—a potent concoction of aged bourbon and ancient blood. The taste was smoky, iron-rich, and euphoric. It didn't just satisfy their thirst. It fed them. Strengthened them.
Dim firelight from enchanted braziers cast flickering shadows across the vaulted chamber. The air smelled of polished stone, old blood, and ash.
Damian wore a tight black t-shirt and matching pants tucked into worn leather boots, like he was auditioning for the role of brooding warlord—which, to be fair, wasn't far off. His bronze colored hair spiked upwards and down his back, while his five black bangs fall framing his face.
Jeryko, dressed casually in a dark shirt and sweatpants, leaned back in his seat with a lazy confidence.
"So," Damian muttered, swirling his drink, "that deal with Mephisto actually went through. Didn't think the bastard would cave."
Jeryko didn't look over. His crimson eyes stayed fixed on the glass in his hand. "We would've taken one of the nine Hells either way."
Damian smirked. "You're right. But where's the fun in that? No challenge I can see."
Jeryko relaxed in the chair, arms resting behind his head. "That again? You worry over meaningless things. Your better always sat beside you."
Damian scoffed. "Huh? Don't be stupid. You ain't got a chance in hell against me."
They both took a drink. The air between them felt tense—but familiar.
"Your delusions run deep," Jeryko said
"I'll kill you!" Damian barks.
The two laugh but stop when the door flung open. Two gorgeous women
approached the vampires.
Liza entered first, a voluptuous woman with caramel brown skin and curvaceous figure. Her long, wavy dark brown hair flowed behind her like silk as she walked. She wore a tight, low-cut crop top in deep crimson that hugged her full bust, paired with fitted black shorts that left little to the imagination.
Next to her was Nova, a lighter-skinned beauty with scarlet orange hair cascading to her waist. Her outfit was sleek and revealing—a black leather top that exposed her cleavage and toned stomach, paired with tight jeans.
"Guess what bitches?" Nova asks, barely holding her excitement.
Without turning, Liza approached with a holographic message from another realm. Her voice was filled with irritation as she delivered the news.
"Check it out. Helheim has declared we stay out of their way while they invade Alfheim." She turned, scoffing. "Could've sworn we told them stay clear of that realm. It seems their beef has reached a boiling point."
Jeryko glanced toward them without changing his posture.
"They were given directives not to engage with our colonies," he said, his voice low but firm. "It seems the livestock are getting out of hand."
"Our troops are ready for deployment in defense of Alfheim," Nova said.
"Tell them don't bother," Jeryko said standing up. "Their king has chosen to defy my orders. The four of us will handle it ourselves tomorrow evening."
Liza sighs. "I'll let the Grave Diggers know to stand down." As she turned to walk away, her heels echoed through the high chamber.
"I'll infiltrate their palace tonight. Learn all I can before we paint the walls red," Nova said following her.
From across the room, Damian slides deeper into his seat.
"Are you actually coming? Or do you intend to gravel in your own egotism," Jeryko asks.
"Yeah, I'll slide." Damian raised an eyebrow, gaze drifting lazily across the room. "Not like it matters when one of us can do it on our own."
Jeryko's voice grew dry. "Right. As if you'd miss the opportunity to put on a show."
Damian stood, stretching before finishing his drink. "If you're scared you'll lose without me, just say that."
Jeryko laughs. "The lack of your aid bares no consequence. I simply wish to save you from boredom."
***HEIMLAND***
Alarms screamed through the air like dying spirits. Chaos bloomed in green fire as the
skies above the Dark Elf Kingdom of Heimland were ripped apart. Towers crumbled. Jade-colored flame engulfed anyone unfortunate enough to be caught outside the walls. Screams echoed before bodies could finish burning—limbs scattered like splintered driftwood across blackened stone.
Charred remains drifted in the palace lake like grotesque petals. One guard, half her face melted, tried to crawl away. A foot clad in obsidian-steel boots crushed her skull into the cobblestones.
Damian exhaled a plume of steam from his mouth, gaze drifting over the battlefield. His skin—naturally bronzed, now bathed in arterial red—glowed with supernatural warmth. Standing six-foot-two, every inch of him radiated predator. His short-sleeved, black-fitted shirt hugged his muscular frame, arms wrapped in slate-gray bandages leading to black gloved fingers still wet with blood. His pants were tactical, military grade, tucked into buckled boots made for war. Around his waist was a black asymmetrical sash blowing like a cape.
The alpha vampire crouched by a dying soldier. With two fingers, he traced a rune into the elf's chest. The body erupted in flame, soul and flesh evaporating in seconds. Damian smiled through fangs.
"First wave's gone. No welcoming committee. Don't tell me they're hiding." Damian stands looking over the cliff. "Tinker Bell."
Behind him, a soft glow broke through the smoke. Liza Torvez floated down with casual grace, energy butterfly wings shimmering with iridescent light. Despite the battlefield, she looked untouched—fierce and beautiful in a dark-gray bodysuit with black trim, a plunging neckline revealing the curve of her chest. Her sea-blue hair, streaked with green and glittering with embedded crystal, flowed down to her waist.
"I told you not to call me that."
"Whatever," Damian replies, arms crossed.
With her eyes glowing emerald, she waved her hand through the haze. The illusion shattered—revealing the true stronghold of Heimland: towering stone walls laced with runes, and a swarm of flying battleships circling like carrion birds.
Liza gave Damian a sideways glance. "Thanks to you they beat us here.
Party started already."
Damian smirks. "Let's crash it. I'm sure they won't mind us being fashionably late."
Above the fortress, all movement ceased. Dozens of ships hovered mid-air—dead still in the face of the void. At their center floated Jeryko Skyfather, unmoved by the swarm of engines and spellfire pointed his way. His dreadlocks veiled part of his crimson eyes; a black coat fluttered behind him like a torn shadow. His posture was lazy. Hands in his pockets. Expression blank.
The general on the lead ship barked an order.
Magic surged. Cannons roared.
And disappeared.
Jeryko didn't move. His void did. The air shimmered purple, and everything launched at him bent, twisted, then collapsed in on itself—devoured.
The general froze, eyes wide. Jeryko glances in his direction. The air around the ships snapped.
Metal screamed as dozens of warships imploded, crushed by gravity gone mad. In less than ten seconds, Heimland's fleet was gone—sucked into nothingness.
On the ground, Damian launches his fist forward. A plume of jade flame erupted, disintegrating lines of elven infantry. Shattering a mile-wide stretch of terrain with the impact. Nearby mages attempted to rally. He erased them with a casual swipe of flame.
Overhead, Liza fell from a shimmering portal, fist aglow with red magic. As it struck the ground, a vortex opened beneath the mages—pulling them screaming into another dimension.
"Now!" someone shouted. Cannons roared again, leveling the courtyard.
"Yo!" Damian called as the ground collapsed beneath him, nearly dragging him into a crater.
Before he could fall further, a pink-hued barrier enveloped him.
"Tinker Bell!" he barked, looking up. "Wipe them out!"
Liza cracked her knuckles midair. "On it."
She burst through a portal, reappearing above the enemy line. With a telekinetic grip, she wrenched the tanks from the battlefield like toys and slammed them into one another—explosions lighting the sky in brilliant flame.
A line of elite mages formed a barrier. Damian stopped, cracking his neck. Heat radiated from his body in waves.
"Pour everything into it!" shouted a commander. "He can't break it!"
These weren't ordinary mages. Each was strong enough to bend dimensions—guardians of their realm. But as Damian stepped forward, the earth itself seemed to melt. With a bored yawn, he backhanded the barrier.
It shattered like glass.
Golden sparks scattered in every direction. Wind roared outward, toppling buildings, flattening trees, blowing out distant windows.
Damian inhaled deeply—his chest glowing gold. Then he roared:
"VAMP DRAGON ROAR!!!"
A column of molten heat burst from his mouth, carving a hole through the
kingdom's defenses like a sword through paper.
As smoke cleared, Damian passed the crushed remains of a child beneath collapsed stone. Without pause, he stepped on the child's skull, bursting it beneath his heel.
Moments later, Jeryko landed beside him.
"You're late," he said, brushing dust from his coat.
"Not like it matters," Damian replied, kicking a severed head down the slope. "Like you said we would've won anyway."
Jeryko nodded.
Damian looked skyward. "The hunts growing more boring by the day."
Meanwhile, inside the keep, a lone figure moved through a corridor stacked with corpses. Nova Shangfire walked casually over fallen guards—every one of them slain by her own hand while disguised as their ally.
With a touch to her necklace, the glamour vanished.
Her lava-orange hair coiled in sparks. She wore a sleek black jumpsuit, perfectly tailored to her voluptuous, athletic figure. A silver-trimmed cloak trailed behind her shoulders, and her eyes—catlike and golden—glowed with predatory focus.
She reached the king's sealed chamber. Without hesitation, she kicked the reinforced doors clean off their hinges. Guards lunged. They blinked—she reappears behind them. Throats opened. Blood hit the walls in fans of red.
The king and queen backed toward the far wall.
Nova teleported again, severed one elf's arm, kicked another's spine in half, then calmly hurled shuriken into the last guard's temple.
Steel glinted in the firelight as she approached the king. Blade at his throat, she tilted her head.
"You declared war on Babylon ten hours ago," she said. "We responded in
five. Took your kingdom in one. Any last words?"
The queen opened her mouth to plead—
Her neck split open.
"Bitch did I ask you?" Nova hissed.
The king choked on his silence.
Nova smiled. "Thought so. All that shit talking got you nowhere."
She dragged him outside by the collar. Together, they watched his kingdom burn. His people screamed as green fire devoured them.
When she dropped him in front of Damian and Jeryko, he trembled and pissed himself.
"You're embarrassing," Damian muttered. "At least die with some dignity."
Jeryko stared coldly. "You fell all before you. Know your place."
The void opened—silent, vast, final. The king's skin peeled away. Then muscle. Then soul. Until he was nothing.
Liza returned, floating with blood drying on her cheeks. "Everyone's dead."
Jeryko looked to the sky. "Take us home."
The wind carried silence through the ruins. The sky darkened—a portal opened. They left, leaving no one alive.