"Ivar Stormblade," the high lords' voices reverberated, their words a chorus that echoed through the chamber. "By your trials and valor, you have proven yourself worthy of the ancestors. The tides of destiny have shifted, and the war approaches. You shall be the champion of the Draugren when the hour of reckoning comes."
A solemn nod passed among the high lords, and they turned their gaze to Ivar. With a deep breath, he stepped forward, his heart pounding in his chest. The surface of the crimson pool churned and frothed as he entered its waters. The blood-like liquid seemed to welcome him, a communion between the living and the ancestral.
The high lords began to chant, their voices harmonizing into a rhythm that seemed to resonate with the very fabric of reality. Their words shifted into a language that had not been spoken for eons, a language born from the Draugren's origins, and imbued with an otherworldly energy.
As the chant continued, the pool's surface erupted with intensity. Crimson mist enveloped Ivar, tendrils of blood-water curling around him. His vision blurred, and a strange fusion of past, present, and future danced before his eyes. The pool's surface shimmered, and blood-red sigils and symbols emerged, swirling around Ivar's form.
With a sudden crescendo, the pool released its pent-up energy. Skills, imbued with ancient Draugren knowledge, floated to the surface, the blood-water mixing with their essence. The ethereal warriors, now fully formed, stood ready, awaiting Ivar's command.
"Your trial has just begun, Ivar. Seize it," the high lords' voices resonated as one, their words echoing in harmony and discord simultaneously, creating an eerie and otherworldly soundscape.
Ivar let out a primal roar, a scream of determination, as he launched himself at the blood-formed warriors. His bare hands met their ephemeral bodies, grappling and clashing in a chaotic dance of strength and skill. He quickly realized that their heads were their weakness, and with fierce determination, he fought to eliminate them one by one.
Amid the clash of battle, the arena resounded with the thud of blows, the splashing of blood-water, and Ivar's determined grunts. The air itself seemed charged with the intensity of the struggle. As he felled each spectral warrior, a burst of energy surged from their forms, adding to Ivar's own strength and resolve.
Finally, with a triumphant yell, Ivar defeated the last of the blood-formed warriors. Breathless and covered in the crimson residue of his battle, he stood victorious. The pool's surface stilled, its energy spent, and a sense of momentous transformation lingered in the air.
From the midst of the crimson pool, a pure white skull emerged. Its hollow eyes blazed with red flames, and it floated above Ivar, its presence both commanding and enigmatic.
"After so long, finally... a vessel. You will have to do," the skull's voice echoed with a resonance that seemed to emanate from the very depths of time itself. "The cosmic forces have shifted, and I see potential in you. You are chosen."
Before Ivar could react, the skull pierced the air with an ethereal shriek. It drove into his chest, and a sudden searing pain jolted through his body. His scream echoed through the chamber, reverberating with anguish and transformation.
As the pain subsided, a change came over Ivar. His scream faded, replaced by a sinister silence. A red, spooky smoke enveloped him, lifting him from the ground. He hung suspended in the air, facing the high lords with an aura that held a touch of the divine and the otherworldly.
The high lords knelt before him, their imposing figures bowing in reverence. "We greet the Ancient One," their voices melded into a single, powerful utterance.
"Finally." the voice that emerged from him held a resonance that commanded the attention of all present. "After so long, it feels good to be back. From now on, I am Ivar, and Ivar is me. I shall be known as Ivar Stormblade, the Soul Devourer. The pact is forged, I will make sure we survive the incoming cosmic tide."
The chamber seemed to vibrate with a newfound energy, a sense of foreboding, and a hint of imminent transformation. The high lords' devotion to the one who had returned was palpable.
"Gather the best from each clan, the hunt has began. The game of thrones commences." Ivar said has he floated down to the high lords.
"Yes my Lord"
"I feel strong, but this strength will not be enough, I need to get stronger" Ivar eyes contained something very dangerous at this point. He crave the feeling of being soaked in the blood of his enemies! He craved for battle!
*********
"Observe your surroundings, this place is filled with creatures that possess the ability to swiftly end your life if you stay unguarded." Lysandra reminded Alex as he walked around the Northern wolf forest, carefully looking out for the perfect creature to hunt.
This particular jungle is known to be one of the most dangerous ones around the northern continent of the cross-roads where Alex currently stays. Its more prominent attribute is the presence of the razor fang dire-wolves.
These wolves stand over 4 meters tall for an average adult wolf, but that alone isn't what makes them scary. Their stamina and razor sharp fangs that possesses the ability to rip apart flesh and break bones within seconds makes most adventurers wary of going too deep into the woods for their weekly hunts.
The worst of all is the Alpha dire wolves, leaders of the packs and the fiercest of them. They are known to possess strengths that rival that of vampire nobles so its only said to either go deep into the woods if you are confident in your strength or just steer clear so you won't make an early trip to the underworld.
As Alex treaded in the woods looking out for prey his eyes fell upon a mesmerizing sight: a beautiful purple plant with white stripes, its ethereal petals casting a soft, otherworldly glow. Lysandra's voice emerged again.
"For your first day here, you sure are lucky."
"What's that?"
"Lumisera, it's a herb used to replenish spiritual energy. Once made into tea, it becomes the beverage for the wealthy. It has better effects than most energy pills you may come across," Lysandra replied.
"So...I can use it then?" Alex asked as he went closer to the plant.
"Of course, you would need it, and not just because you're a vampire, but the presence of spiritual energy active in your blood gives you the grace."
"Why though? I mean, you already said vampires need and use energy, so shouldn't this work?"
"Different types of energies are peculiar to most races. You would understand more later. Just know, apart from a few, you are one of the only vampires who can use this," Lysandra said.
With all said, Alex was planning on taking it anyway, even if it became an herb that he couldn't use. Anything valuable can be sold; it's common sense. As he got to the plant, he spotted three more. This brought a cheeky smile to his face.
"Seems like my unlucky streaks are finally ending," Alex thought. With a sniff, he grasped the Lumisera's stem and uprooted it. In that moment, a chilling hiss shattered the silence, reverberating through the air. A massive serpent, its multicolored scales shining in the sunlight, lunged with a ferocity that sent a shiver down his spine. Lysandra's voice, urgent and concerned, guided his instincts.
"Watch out, Alex!"
His body responded with his newly gained instinct, muscles coiling as he rolled, narrowly evading the serpent's venomous fangs. The ground trembled as the serpent's strike hit the forest floor with a thud. Its eyes glowed with predatory intent, locking onto Alex's form.
Claws extended from his fingertips, the vampire's movements a blend of agility and precision. Claws met scales in a dance of danger, the forest becoming a battleground of life and death. Alex tried to get a grip on the snake, but it proved to be sleek and powerful, showing that this wasn't an average snake but a powerful foe. The serpent, a creature born from the wilds, matched his movements with eerie grace, its scales shimmering as it coiled and lunged.
Alex evaded with sharp speed, or so he thought. Yet in a heartbeat, the serpent's massive body closed around Alex's neck, its crushing grip suffocating him. Panic surged as his vision blurred, his very essence slipping away. It was a sensation beyond physical pain, an encounter with mortality that brought forth raw, primal fear.
He lunged for breath, his hands struggling to pull the vile serpent off, but all efforts seemed futile. In this moment, Alex felt weak once more, he felt...human. He felt his life slipping away, and memories flooded his head as he struggled to keep his consciousness. His first taste of death brushed his mind once more—the fear when Casper tried to kill him, Azaroth's attempt to control him. Suddenly, he felt anger! He came to hunt, not to be hunted! Voices of rage whispered in his ears. He wasn't just a vampire; he was the abyss, the dark. His will was not to bow to death but to be its reaper!
At this moment, something snapped once more in the universe as it did in Alex. The edges of his vision tinged with darkness, his irises turned obsidian black, and shadows emerged from his form like living tendrils. Lysandra's presence was a mere whisper now, as his focus was consumed by the battle for life.
Tendrils of smoke and darkness coiled around the serpent, snaking their way through its scales. The creature's hisses of aggression turned to desperate shrieks as the shadows tightened their grip. Inky tendrils found purchase, and with a final, defiant twist, the serpent's hold weakened.
Gasping for air, Alex wrenched himself free and grabbed the snake, swinging it to the floor with force that gave a loud boom, resonating around the woods. Its once-proud body now lay motionless, defeated. And as the forest settled into an eerie quiet, Alex caught his breath and looked towards the motionless serpent. He noticed something that raised questions and gave him chills.
"Lysandra...what's this?"