Night draped over the endless desert.By a small oasis stood a dilapidated Arabian-style castle.
At a tower window, a man in black robes stared at the sky, which roared with fury but shed no rain.
Here, sheltered by the oasis, no sandstorm blew. He had removed his scarf, revealing a weathered face, chiseled like a Chinese character, long beard hanging to his waist.
Guguka was the captain of the Lizard Lord's troops, a line of warriors serving the Lizard family for generations. From the time the Lizard Lord was a national hero to the day the family was blacklisted, their fate was entwined with this castle. Once a frontier stronghold, now an internal outpost—erased from maps.
The Lizard family had declined. Once this was the frontline, with abundant military supplies. Now, with the empire expanding, prosperity elsewhere had led to their ruin. No residents meant no taxes; outside the limited rations from the capital, they had nothing.
The twelfth-generation Lizard Lord had devised a solution: robbery. Block an obscure trade route, seize goods, accept bribes from merchants of two nearby towns—just enough to keep the family alive.
Guguka raised no objections. A soldier's nature was obedience. Twenty years of semi-official, semi-outlaw life had taught him to be a thief, to do what thieves do.
"All the loot has been counted, my lord," a young bandit said, presenting a list.
Lightning streaked across the sky, flashing white light over the desert in eerie bursts.
"Put it on the lord's table. He'll see it when he returns," Guguka said, still watching the sky. "The woman… is she in the dungeon?"
"Yes, my lord. Brothers are asking if they can—"
"No!" Guguka interrupted firmly. He turned to the young bandit. "Rules are rules. Only the lord can distribute the spoils. Today's harvest is rich. Go to the storage, fetch some wine to reward the brothers. Roast two sheep for celebration."
"Yes, my lord."
The wind shifted from north to south.
Adam stood in the desert, surrounded by dry corpses.
No skin remained. Only patches of rotten flesh and black nasal holes twitched faintly.
He smelled roasted lamb. After becoming a vampire, his senses were extraordinary. Even miles away, if the wind carried it right, he could detect it.
Roasted lamb meant humans. Humans meant blood.
Two thousand years of slumber had never satisfied him. Yet that slumber had hardened him; his body had grown accustomed to the torment, enough to retain some sanity while craving blood.
Now, he desperately needed blood to heal his wounds.
Instinctively, he moved north.
Torches burned brightly, illuminating the great hall.
Bandits sprawled around low tables, laughter and sweat filling the air.
Servants carried freshly cut lamb to the plates of each bandit.
A scantily clad dancer performed on a worn sheephide in the center, enduring the hungry, lustful stares of the thieves.
"My lord, should we bring wine and lamb to the brothers on duty?" a bandit asked.
Guguka, seated at the center, the most powerful in the castle in the lord's absence, thought briefly.
"No need. Let them come in," he said.
Duty was now ceremonial. For decades, nothing had interrupted their peace in this barren land. Here, only they hunted; no one ever bothered them.
Like wolves, people avoided them unless provoked. Dangerous, foul, and strong—the effort outweighed the reward.
The nearby trade route was too insignificant for government intervention.
Soon, the guards outside, frustrated by the noise inside, swarmed in, turning the celebration into a bigger party.
Outside the castle walls, in shadow, a figure moved silently.
A flash of white light revealed a horrifying body.
Adam climbed the wall. His hands seemed frail, yet gripped with unimaginable strength. Flesh tore, blood ran, but he did not falter.
Desire. Curse. Hunger burning within him masked all pain.
Hearing laughter and song inside, his dry mouth watered.
In the dungeon, the previously sobbing woman removed her scarf, revealing a stunning, delicate face.
Her arched brows and lively eyes gave her a dreamlike aura. She crept to the wooden door, listening carefully, then tested the lock.
She found a small stone in the straw, striking the lock.
The guards had clearly left—this was her chance. But the thick door and its unknown material resisted her attempts.
After several tries, she abandoned breaking through and eyed the window.
Tall wall. Tiny window. Perfect for her petite frame.
She tried climbing but lacked strength and skill. Then, the crumbling stones scattered across the dungeon sparked an idea.
She stripped her coarse jacket and silk undergarments, revealing her slender form, and began tearing the garments into makeshift climbing aids.
Back in the hall, half the bandits were drunk, sprawled in a mess. Others sang or egged each other into drinking. A few even set up gambling tables.
"Where are you going?" a bandit asked.
"Damn it. Lost everything. Sobered up. Going out for air," another cursed and stumbled outside.
He gazed at the storming sky.
"What the hell is this weather? Damn—I shouldn't have gambled in this."
Then he noticed movement near the wall. Curiosity made him stagger over, peeking down.
A hand shot up, grabbing his collar.
A flash of white light.
The bandit froze in terror, mind instantly clear.
Before him, a person clung outside the stone wall. No skin. Blackened, dry muscles exposed. Teeth exhaling white mist. Red, lidless eyes fixed on him.
Before he could react, the figure released him, tipping backward, pulling the bandit over the wall.
Thud—
Almost silent. In the shadowed corner, Adam feasted atop the battered, twitching bandit.
The true feast had begun.