"Hahah..." Lucian laughed nervously, his voice trembling as he pointed a shaking finger at Alaric and Thorne. "Don't joke around, Lancaster. Kill them."

  Lancaster’s expression tightened, his smile vanishing into a cold, hard line.

  "Who is joking?"

  Lancaster reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver chain inscribed with a crystal identical to the one the assassin Raul had used months ago.

  Alaric’s eyes widened. He was cautious, remembering exactly what happened last time but as Lancaster activated it, he realized this was different. The mana signature flaring from the didn’t feel like an explosive.

  Immediately, the magic released from the jewel in the center of the chain. A thick, dark, transparent barrier formed around Lancaster and the Prince, separating them from the intruders.

  Duke Thorne, understanding they were about to do something catastrophic, didn't hesitate.

  "Hah!"

  He jumped forward, swinging his massive greatsword with enough force to cleave a building.

  CLANG.

  The sword bounced off the dark light as if it had struck diamond. The recoil was so violent it nearly tore the weapon from Thorne's grip.

  Alaric raised his dual guns and unleashed a barrage of bullets, trying to weaken the barrier by concentrating fire on a single point. But the bullets simply dissolved upon contact. Nothing happened.

  Inside the barrier, Lancaster looked at them with pity.

  "Calm down, everyone," the priest said smoothly. "I ain't going anywhere. Let me tell you something."

  He paced around the terrified Prince.

  "Have you heard the story of Sage Elision?" Lancaster asked. "Around a century or so ago, he took out one of the Thirteen Demon Lords, Vampire Lord Asteroth. This was, albeit, a huge blow for the Demon God’s army. But he didn't really get killed."

  Alaric froze. He remembered the story. He had heard about the incident in Magic class at the Royal Knight Academy previously. He also noticed the object in Lancaster’s hand.

  It was a deep red magic stone. It pulsed with a mana density that felt like it surpassed Alaric’s entire mana reserve combined.

  Lancaster held the stone up to the light. "While Sage Elision was burning down his very soul, Lord Asteroth stored his ego and memories inside a magic stone core. Which is this."

  Lancaster kept explaining, his voice rising in fanaticism. "We just need a host soul to take this information about his ego and memory from this magic stone and recreate his soul again. But to do that, we needed huge amounts of magic... which, by the way, you harvested for me."

  Lancaster gave a dark, maniacal laugh.

  "The Buckland War. The Civil War here. I have harvested every single dead soul from those conflicts inside this magic stone along with Lord Asteroth's ego. The fuel is ready."

  He turned his eyes toward the Prince.

  "We just need a soul with good magic aptitude... which happens to be you, Prince."

  Lucian, almost in disbelief and consumed by primal fear, started crawling backward on the floor, away from the priest.

  "What... what are you talking about?" Lucian stammered. He looked around wildly. "Guards! Help me! Rudolf! Where are you?! Kill them all!"

  His screams echoed in the empty hall. No one came. No one listened.

  Lancaster stepped closer, cornering him against the barrier. "Why are you fearing, my King? You will be a King just as I promised. A Great Demon King!!"

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Lucian hit the edge of the dark barrier. He couldn't crawl anywhere else. He looked up, tears streaming down his face, begging.

  "Please... please don't..."

  Lancaster closed the distance. With a swift motion, he jammed the jagged red magic stone directly into the center of Lucian’s forehead.

  "NOOOO!"

  Outside, both Thorne and Alaric unleashed everything they had to break the barrier, desperate to stop the ritual. But it was too late.

  Immediately, a surge of magic rushed from the magic stone into Lucian's head.

  BOOOM.

  The pressure was so huge that even Alaric felt the air crushed out of his lungs. Duke Thorne, a man who had withstood armies, fell to his knees, his face turning white as the sheer weight of the aura pinned him to the floor.

  "AGHHHHHH!"

  Lucian cried out a sound that wasn't human as his face deformed. His skull cracked and expanded. His skin tore apart, revealing something horrific and out of this world underneath.

  Finally, the screaming stopped.

  A towering figure appeared where the Prince had been.

  As a Vampire Lord, Alaric had expected it to look human perhaps a pale, elegant nobleman. But it was nothing close to it.

  The creature was almost eight feet tall. His body looked like it was carved from black steel, rippling with unnatural muscle. Massive wings, like those of a bat but armored, unfurled from his back. A thick, spiked tail whipped the air behind him.

  The magic radiating from him was so immense that the barrier Lancaster had created couldn't contain it.

  CRACK.

  The barrier imploded from the inside, shattering into motes of dark light.

  Alaric clutched his throat, feeling suffocated by the mere presence of the monster. Even Lancaster fell to his knees in reverence.

  Asteroth opened his eyes. They were burning coals of crimson.

  He looked down at Lancaster. His voice was deep, a resonant bass that sent a chill down Alaric's spine.

  "You are a human? Yet you serve us?"

  Lancaster bowed his head to the floor. "My Lord, we worship the Demon God."

  Asteroth’s eyes twitched slightly. "I see."

  He then lifted his head, scanning the room. He looked at Thorne, who was unconscious, and then his gaze landed on Alaric.

  "Human," Asteroth said, pointing a clawed finger at Alaric. "Your mana. It seems way too much for a human. How about it? I will make you a vampire. Serve me."

  Alaric gritted his teeth, forcing his trembling legs to stand firm. He tried to put on a brave face.

  "Huh? I? Serve creatures like you?" Alaric spat. "Don't make me l—"

  Before he could even finish the sentence, Asteroth moved.

  There was no blur. No sound of movement. Alaric just saw him vanish.

  The next instant, he felt a force in his gut so bad he felt like his innards were being mangled.

  CRUNCH.

  Asteroth’s fist was buried in Alaric’s stomach.

  Alaric didn't even have time to scream. He was launched backward like a cannonball. He struck the upper wall of the Royal Hall, smashing through the reinforced stone, and broke through to the outside air.

  Inside the silent Throne Room, Thorne had lost consciousness from the sheer pressure.

  Asteroth shook his hand, wiping off the dust from the impact. He looked around, confused.

  "I sense various humans fighting here," Asteroth noted. "Where are we? And is this a war?"

  Lancaster scrambled to his feet. "My Lord, we are in the Subcontinent. Please take care of these humans. We will use this place as a forward base when we wage war against the rest of humanity."

  Lancaster paused, then added hurriedly, "With you here... that Leviathan of the Southern Sea can't stop us!"

  Asteroth tilted his head, genuinely confused.

  "She is still protecting these insects?" he asked, his voice dripping with disdain. "Why?"

  Lancaster shook his head. "I don't know."

  "Whatever," Asteroth replied, bored.

  He crouched and launched himself into the air, flying through the hole he had created by punching Alaric.

  Asteroth floated to the center of the octagonal city, hovering high above the terrified populace and the warring soldiers.

  He spread his arms, looking around at the destruction.

  "I am alive again!" he announced, his voice booming over the entire capital.

  Suddenly, he felt something coming towards him.

  Compared to his speed, it was slow. But it was precise.

  Hypersonic bullets tore through the air, aimed directly at his head.

  Asteroth swatted them away casually, looking down at the rubble near the castle walls.

  Alaric was alive.

  When the Demon Lord had punched him, Alaric’s armour had activated all 20 layered shields instantly. They had shattered one by one, dampening the blow just enough to prevent instant death.

  Alaric lay in the crater, barely conscious. He groaned, activating the magic circle etched into his suit to enhance his physical regeneration

  With a gasp of pain, Alaric forced himself up. He wiped the blood from his mouth and stood up again, looking up towards the nightmare floating in the sky.

  I’m not done yet!