The Blood of Vampire: Chapter 9 - The Scars of the Iron Road
The Imperial Road was a colossal, ancient structure of black basalt, once the proud artery of the Syldavian Empire, now choked with the heavy, crude fortifications of the Aerthos invaders. The road sliced through a deep, mist-filled gorge, the perfect terrain for an ambush, and Jatex knew General Marius would not miss the opportunity to deploy a fatal trap.
Jatex moved ahead of his meager scouting force—three fiercely loyal Vaelanar acolytes (now his personal guard, known as the 'Crimson Watch'). His stealth was absolute, the Shadow-Blood Weave compressed into a disciplined, silent core, yet a tremor of unease permeated his focus. He knew Marius was hunting him specifically, seeking to neutralize the creature whose very existence threatened the foundation of Aerthos's Light faith.
Jatex found the trap precisely at the narrowest point of the gorge: not a physical barricade, but a spiritual countermeasure.
General Marius had deployed a dozen of his elite Paladin Shock-Troopers, not merely armored, but ritually infused with volatile, unstable Light-Aethyr—a deliberate, theological counter to
Jatex's vampirism. These troops were moving spiritual bombs; if Jatex attempted to use his Shadow-Blood Weave to consume them, the unstable Light-Aethyr would instantly detonate, causing catastrophic damage to his spiritual core and potentially scattering the hard-won discipline of the Thirst. Marius was forcing him to starve or explode.
The Poisoned Consumption
Jatex signaled the Crimson Watch to hold back, knowing their limited Shadow-Weave would be useless. He stepped into the clearing, letting the compressed Sanguine Stain subtly expand, and immediately drew the attention of the shock-troopers. Their armor glowed with angry white light, their zealotry translating into palpable, dangerous power.
"Demon of Syldavia! Your darkness ends here!" roared the Paladin Captain, raising a sword.
The confrontation began. Jatex abandoned the efficiency of consumption and fought purely with the physical manifestations of his power: the razor-sharp Crimson Edges of the Shadow-Blood Weave, forcing him to deplete his inner reserve rather than replenish it. He parried, dodged, and struck, but every defensive block against their armored forms cost him vital energy.
Driven by desperation, Jatex finally attempted a localized, minimal siphon on the Paladin Captain, testing the trap. The moment the crimson filament of the Stain touched the captain's spiritual core, the Light-Aethyr flared into a blinding, green-white flash of anti-magic.
Jatex roared, the backflash slamming into his spiritual center like a physical blow, leaving a crippling, agonizing cold that sent him staggering back, blood trickling from his lips.
The residual spiritual toxicity was like drinking molten iron—a searing pain that temporarily destabilized the tightly bound control over his Thirst. The perpetual awareness turned into a panicked, screaming hunger.
As Jatex fought to regain control, Marius executed the second phase of his trap.
The Impossible Choice
A separate communication signal—carried by a panicked, spectral pulse—reached Jatex's mind through his spiritual connection to the Citadel: Aeliana was under attack.
Marius had sent a specialized covert team—elite assassins trained to ignore the spiritual noise of the Blood-Weaver—to hit the Citadel the moment Jatex was fully engaged. They were not targeting the defenses; they were targeting Aeliana, the spiritual anchor and political lynchpin of his rebellion.
Jatex was caught in an impossible vice:
* Continue fighting Marius: He could defeat the remaining Shock-Troopers, secure the map, and continue the main mission, but the delay meant the assassins would reach Aeliana, potentially killing or capturing her and collapsing his political structure.
* Break off and return: He could rush back to save Aeliana, but he would abandon the map, allowing Marius to secure the Iron Throne's location and sealing Jatex's destiny to perpetual defense.
The Vaelanar principles screamed at him to protect the innocent. The Shadow-Blood Weave core, fueled by the Thirst, demanded the strategic high ground. He chose the strategic high ground—the cold, ruthless path of the Blood Lord.
"Aeliana is the foundation," Jatex ground out, his voice hoarse as he manifested a deep crimson shield to deflect an incoming assault. "But the Throne is the key. Without it, the foundation crumbles anyway."
He would not break off. He would rely on Aeliana's own spiritual competence and the limited forces he had left at the Citadel—a gamble that twisted his heart with cold dread.
The Scars and the Serpent's Aid
Just as Jatex committed to the deadly fight, a sudden, blinding distraction erupted across the gorge. It was not a magical attack, but a Crystalline Illusion—an overwhelming spiritual mirage that conjured phantom Shock-Troopers, phantom flames, and phantom defensive structures, confusing the remaining Paladins and momentarily breaking their formation.
From the shadows of the gorge walls, a figure emerged. He was tall, thin, and impeccably dressed in faded Vaelanar silks, his silver eyes constantly twitching with nervous, calculating energy. This was Master Rion, a former Vaelanar illusionist and information broker exiled years ago for using his magic for espionage and profit—a morally gray man
Jatex had known only as a distant, untrustworthy acquaintance.
"Need a moment, Your Majesty?" Rion asked with a sarcastic, cynical smirk, his hands weaving complex, shimmering patterns that maintained the illusion. "Your counter-consumption strategy is failing spectacularly. Marius's traps are ingenious, I'll grant him that. But he didn't account for a third party looking to profit from a clean distraction."
Jatex, recognizing the opportunity and the source of the high-level illusion, lowered his stance.
"Rion. What is your price?"
"Simple," Rion replied, weaving another layer of illusion to hide the body of the fallen Captain.
"I need one political currency: unrestricted, temporary access to the Aerthos High Council's internal communication logs once you've dismantled their command. I want information, Jatex. Nothing more. My services now, your silence later. Do we have an agreement, Blood-Weaver?"
The partnership was repulsive, trading Jatex's principles for survival, but necessary.
"Agreed. Now buy me five minutes."
Rion smiled—a thin, predatory flash. The illusion intensified, creating a simulated spiritual blast that drew the remaining Paladins away from Jatex.
With the crucial distraction bought, Jatex ignored the debilitating pain from the Light-Aethyr backlash. He used the remaining four minutes to execute a devastating, focused assault on the Shock-Troopers, utilizing raw, kinetic Shadow-Blood Weave strikes to destroy their armor and disable their physical bodies, avoiding consumption entirely.
He located General Marius's tent, finding the General gone, but a heavy, scorched leather satchel remained. Jatex quickly secured the satchel, which contained a series of detailed, fragmented celestial maps overlaid with old Syldavian markings—the vital clues to the Iron
Throne's hidden location.
The success came at a cost. The anti-magic backlash had left scars—thin, web-like lines of silver, sterile energy etched permanently onto the skin of his chest and abdomen, a physical mark of the battle and a constant reminder of the pain of poisoned consumption.
Rion appeared at his side as Jatex quickly patched his wounds. "Debt owed, Your Majesty," Rion whispered before dissolving the illusion and vanishing back into the shadows of the gorge.
Jatex was left standing in the ravaged clearing, triumphant but bleeding, holding the map, the scars of his tactical sacrifice burning into his flesh. He had the map, but Aeliana's fate remained uncertain. He had traded a piece of his soul for the key to the Throne, and now he had to use it before his gamble cost him everything.
The acquisition of the map fragments is complete, but Jatex's most precious asset, Aeliana, is in danger, and he is politically compromised by the alliance with Rion.