Chapter 8 – Rise of the Cursed Kings
The Blood Moon burned above the world, turning the skies crimson. The light rippled across the clouds like a bleeding wound, marking the dawn of an age humanity was never meant to witness. The air was heavy with ash, and silence stretched across the ruined cities — a silence that came before the storm.
In the heart of that red-lit darkness, Kael and Riven stood on the shattered ruins of what was once a city square. The wind carried the smell of smoke and blood. Their armor was torn, their eyes glowing with two different shades — Kael's a burning silver, Riven's a deep, abyssal red.
Once, they were brothers by heart. Now, they were the chosen heirs of a curse that would tear the world apart.
Riven looked toward the crimson horizon. "You feel it too, don't you?" he muttered. "The hunger… the pull… the Blood Eclipse whispering inside us."
Kael's jaw tightened. "I feel it," he said quietly. "And I hate it."
Their powers were awakening faster than their minds could control. The vampire blood within Riven had started to twist his heart — cold, sharp, and merciless. Kael's curse of decay, the power of the fallen, made him see death in every lifeform he touched.
Between them, an invisible tension pulsed. Not rivalry — destiny.
Then, a scream pierced the air.
From the distance, a wave of zombies charged through the fire-lined streets, their skin scorched, their eyes glowing green with infected energy. But behind them, shadowed vampires soared from the rooftops, their wings slicing through the smoky air. The two armies clashed like beasts in a cage, tearing through what was left of humanity's ruins.
Kael drew his blade — forged from the remains of the Crimson Eclipse. "We can't let them spread," he said, stepping forward.
Riven smirked. "For once, we agree."
And then the kings unleashed hell.
Kael swung his sword, and a wave of black and silver energy blasted outward, cutting through dozens of zombies. Every strike shattered the ground, every movement left trails of energy that flickered like lightning.
Riven vanished in a blur of shadows, reappearing behind the front line. His claws — curved and burning red — slashed through the undead like fire through dry leaves. He moved like a phantom, fast and graceful, his every motion an echo of centuries-old instincts.
Above, lightning broke through the crimson clouds. The rain began to fall — dark, thick, and metallic — as if the sky itself bled for what was happening below.
Then, the human resistance arrived.
Armored trucks tore through the rubble, headlights blinding the battlefield. A voice roared through the speakers:
> "All units! Protect the remaining civilians! Don't engage the kings!"
But the humans didn't understand — the kings were not enemies yet. They were the balance.
Kael turned, his hair dripping with rain. "Get them out!" he shouted at the humans. "We'll handle this!"
But before anyone could react, a massive tremor split the ground. From beneath the ruins rose a colossal creature — half zombie, half vampire — its body stitched from hundreds of fallen corpses. Its eyes burned like two dying stars.
"The Devourer," Riven muttered. "It's feeding on both bloodlines."
The creature roared, shaking buildings apart. Flames burst out of the ground, and the Blood Moon itself flickered. Kael and Riven exchanged a single look — a silent promise born from years of brotherhood and pain.
"Together?" Kael asked.
"Until the end," Riven said.
They leaped forward in unison.
Kael summoned his cursed aura — a storm of dark energy that formed black wings of shadow behind him. Every step he took cracked the ground open. Riven followed, his red energy spiraling like molten fire, the mark of the vampire king burning across his chest.
Their combined strike shattered the air like thunder. Kael's blade pierced through the creature's chest, while Riven's energy exploded from the inside, burning through flesh and bone. The explosion threw both kings backward, crashing into opposite sides of the battlefield.
When the dust settled, the monster was gone. Only silence remained — and the trembling earth beneath their feet.
Kael stood, his breathing heavy, his hands shaking. "Riven… the more I use this power, the more I lose myself."
Riven didn't answer immediately. His red eyes flickered — not with anger, but with sadness. "I know," he finally said. "It's the curse. It's choosing for us. One of us will lead the bloodline… the other will become its prey."
Kael looked at him sharply. "You think I'll let that happen?"
Riven smiled faintly. "You might not have a choice."
Thunder cracked again. The Blood Moon's light grew brighter, casting their shadows long across the ruins. In that moment, both of them saw it — the faint mark glowing beneath their skin. The Blood Sigil — proof that the curse had claimed them fully.
From the distance, humans watched in silence. Soldiers lowered their weapons, realizing what they were witnessing wasn't a fight — it was prophecy.
As the night deepened, Kael turned his back on Riven. "If the curse wants a king," he said quietly, "then I'll fight fate itself to stop it."
Riven didn't stop him. He just whispered, "Fate doesn't lose, brother. It only waits."
The wind carried his words into the red sky.
And as the Blood Moon bled its last light, the world understood that the war wasn't between humans, vampires, or zombies —
It was between the chosen brothers themselves.
The true apocalypse had only just begun.
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