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Chapter 58 –: The Crimson Conclave
In the heart of the vampire continent, beneath a blood-red moon, the grand hall of the Crimson Citadel stood as a testament to ancient power and unyielding authority. Towering obsidian pillars lined the chamber, their surfaces etched with runes that pulsed with a faint, eerie glow. At the center, a vast circular table of dark stone bore the insignias of the thirteen vampire kigdoms, each seat occupied by a king draped in regal attire, their eyes gleaming with centuries of wisdom and cunning.
At the head of the table sat the Vampire Emperor, an imposing figure whose presence commanded both reverence and fear. His skin, pale as moonlight, stretched taut over high cheekbones, and his eyes, a deep crimson, seemed to pierce through the very souls of those before him. Despite his age, the Emperor exuded a vitality that belied the centuries he had witnessed.
Each king held a goblet filled with a thick, crimson liquid—blood harvested from the finest sources, a symbol of their unity and shared purpose. The air was thick with anticipation as the Emperor raised his hand, signaling the commencement of the council.
A hush fell over the assembly as a cloaked messenger entered the chamber, his footsteps echoing against the stone floor. Kneeling before the Emperor, he spoke with a voice that trembled despite his efforts to remain composed.
"Your Eminence, the human known as Lysar has confirmed our suspicions. The humans have established a camp within our territory."
A murmur rippled through the council, some kings exchanging glances of concern, others smirking at the news. The Emperor's lips curled into a smile, revealing elongated fangs that glistened in the dim light.
"Excellent," he intoned, his voice resonating with a chilling authority. "Lysar's betrayal of his own kind serves our purpose well. With the humans weakened and divided, we shall seize the advantage."
One of the kings, a stern-faced vampire with silver-streaked hair, leaned forward, his expression skeptical. "Can we truly trust Lysar? He is, after all, human. His hatred for his own kind may be genuine, but his loyalty to us remains unproven."
The Emperor's gaze shifted to the dissenting king, his eyes narrowing. "Enough," he commanded, the word echoing through the chamber like a thunderclap wave of energy.
The room fell into a tense silence as the Emperor raised his goblet high above his head. Suddenly, "Ahhhhhhhh.....hhhhh"
a piercing female scream emanated from the ceiling, followed by the sound of chains rattling. A hidden panel opened, and from it descended a bound figure, suspended upside down by iron shackles.
Blood began to drip from the figure, cascading into the Emperor's goblet cup, filling it to the brim. As the last drop fell, an eyeball dislodged from the corpse, plopping into the goblet looking like topings with a sickening splash.
The Emperor raised the goblet to his lips, drinking deeply before addressing the council once more. "Let this serve as a reminder of our power and the fate that awaits those who oppose us. We shall proceed with our plans, and the humans will learn the true meaning of fear."
The vampire kingdom stood in all its eerie glory, bathed in the blood-red glow of the moon that cast long shadows across the grand hall. The high walls, adorned with intricate carvings of ancient vampire lore, seemed to hum with an unsettling energy. The vampire kings, each of them a ruler of vast territories, had gathered in the Emperor's grand chamber to discuss the 1000 year war with the humans . It was an evening that would mark a turning point in their long and bloody existence.
The Crimson Court convened beneath the towering spires of the Blood Monarch's palace, a chamber carved from living obsidian, glowing dimly with enchanted red veins pulsating like arteries through stone. The scent of old power and fresh blood lingered in the air—a throne room not of diplomacy, but of war and ancient schemes.
The Emperor sat high upon his throne, his robes blacker than night, his crown forged from cursed silver and embedded with the ancient Vampire sigil—the mark of a ruler whose word had ended nations.
The room fell deathly silent as he leaned forward, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. The stone beneath the nobles' feet seemed to tremble at the weight of his words.
"So," the Emperor began, his voice calm yet cutting like a dagger across skin. "Lysar wants the Magic Power Stone."
Whispers stirred briefly among the kings and warlords present—no one had expected the Emperor to entertain the idea, let alone say it so directly. The Magic Power Stone was no simple relic. It was a piece of pure condensed life force, sealed away after the First Vampire War. Capable of granting enormous power—enough to raise armies of the dead, and twist time itself in short bursts—it was one of their realm's deadliest secrets.
"I shall give it to him," the Emperor continued coldly. "And continue to trust him… until his usefulness runs out."
No one dared speak until one of the elder vampire kings stepped forward. His crimson robe dragged against the floor like a shadow soaked in blood. This was King Dravus of the Nightspire Mountains, one of the oldest and most politically shrewd vampires alive.
"Your Majesty," Dravus said with a slight bow. "Your wisdom remains unmatched. Having Lysar serve as our mole within human territory gives us an advantage we have not enjoyed since the Great Betrayal 1,000 years ago. With him in place, we can map their troop movements, identify the sources of their new enchantments, and sabotage them from within."
"Well spoken," the Emperor said with a rare nod. "We shall bleed them from the inside first—cut their tendons before we take their heads. Any dissent?"
The silence that followed was telling. No one would challenge the Emperor's decree.
"Good. Now…" he said, leaning back slightly. "Do we have a plan to eliminate the intruders who've dared press so deep into our territories?"
A younger king, Lord Valthor of the Crimson Marshes, stepped forward with a proud smirk.
"Yes, my Emperor. We have assembled a unit of devastation." He snapped his fingers, and from the side halls came three figures that moved like predators through moonlight. The temperature dropped slightly with every step they took.
"These," Valthor announced, "are the Three Blades of Oblivion—the strongest vampires of our time."
The first stepped forward, tall and slender, his skin pale blue like a corpse preserved in ice. His eyes glowed with the cursed light of foresight. This was Kruven,the leader, the Blade of Eyes, known to manipulate the perception of space for his victims, forcing them to seize from position or existence
The second was a behemoth, nearly nine feet tall, his veins thick with volcanic blood. A scar covered his mouth, and his arms were wrapped in enchanted iron bands to contain his strength. This was Thurnox, the Blade of Bone, who had ripped apart dragons with his bare hands.
The third wore a heavy, rune-covered cloak.The eldest among them. Shadows clung to him unnaturally, even in the dim-lit hall. His name was never spoken—only his title: The Silent Blade. It was said he had consumed over 3,000 souls and could not be harmed by physical or magical means.
Each knelt before the Emperor, their smiles calm and confident.
The Emperor observed them closely. "Yes… the power you wield is no longer mild. This is what we'll use to crush the humans… and erase them from existence."
A stir passed through the nobles. Some smiled. Others clenched their fists in anticipation. With the Three Blades leading the charge and Lysar corrupting the humans from within, the plan was beginning to take its terrifying shape.
"But what of the humans' rising champions?" asked one of the lords from the eastern dominion. "What of the one lysar warned us about, Asher.
King Dravus again stepped forward. "Asher will not be a problem if we focus on the plan".
The Emperor nodded. "Then let it be done. Thurnox, Kruven, Silent Blade… I task you with beginning the operation. Cause enough fear, instability, and bloodshed to force the humans into reckless retaliation. When they panic… crush them."
"Yes, my Emperor," the three replied in unison, their voices like silk over steel.
As they vanished from the room, their auras left a lingering pressure that sent tremors through even the floor itself. One of the lesser nobles stumbled to one knee, choking on the energy left behind.
The Emperor turned to his war council. "We shall feed the humans their own desperation, then corner them when they run out of options."
He looked to one of his scribes. "And prepare the chamber. The moment Lysar delivers the final map… I want the Power Stone's containment breached. We'll let him touch power—but not control it."
A few murmurs spread. Some lords whispered concern about the stone's volatility.
"He's a tool," the Emperor said coldly. "We will use him as a spy to give us Intel about the humans and give us advantage making us one step ahead of them."
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