Crimson made his way past countless dead bodies. His feet carried him over many rotting cadavers while his right arm swung uselessly to his side. His nose twitched at the smell of death and his skin prickled at the feeling of desolation and emptiness permeated in the air.
Finding a place to step on was hard with almost every inch of the city ground covered by a dead creature or being. How it was possible for bodies to still be intact even after the ages long past was beyond him.
Behind him still chasing were the hunters though now they were close enough for him to male out their profiles and also close enough for them to fire more Silver Erken wood at him.
The bolts shot through the air with a whistle once they were released from their crossbows. He barely managed to evade them his body weakening with each second he ran.
Each street he entered was the same as the last, broken-down remains of houses or buildings. A civilization razed to the ground, streets littered with more bodies than the last.
The Old War was a closely guarded event, one that was as popular as it was secretive. Not many knew the true events of that day. The general knowledge covering the slaughter of the Dark Factions.
Yet there had been no tales of what happened within the castle. Just rumors.
Rumors that had grown and changed as the years came and went. Countless years later and the light faction had totally dominated the truth of the events. Why they sought to hide it was beyond those who knew the lies in their truths yet not knowing the actual truth had them silent.
The Old War had ended many said with the death of the Demon King. A fact confirmed by even the Dark Faction But that was the closest to the truth anyone got.
Why the war was fought was beyond anyone. While the Dark Faction and Light Faction were opposites, powers that could threaten the other there had been no known reason for a massive war like the Old War.
Yet it happened. The Dark Faction was wiped out, almost. The leftovers of the war scattered into the four winds in hiding where they remained hunted till this day.
The Black mountains became a cursed place for no reason other than it bordering the Deadlands. Horror stories were made up and told to babes to scare them. Young adventures were warned to visit at their own peril.
What made it worse was the bit of truth in it. With adventures going missing whenever near the Black mountains.
It had given rise to a new rumor. One of a great city within the Deadlands where no one walked out alive. Some called it the last and only gateway the thirteenth ring of the hellfire plane. Others called it a locked space where the dead went to find tbe afterlife. Several names became associated with it.
What everyone did know was that the higher powers never cared. While the inner sections of the Deadlands remained untouched, the edges were brimming with resources. Resources that because monopolized by the various parties of the Light faction.
While these resources were meager and the main thing was still located within the inner sections of the Deadlands none made a move for it.
Most said the higher powers feared the rumors of the Castle. Others were sure the Light faction knew what lay within the Black Castle and were actively avoiding it.
Whichever it was it didn't matter to Crimson. If he stopped he would die in his weak state. If indeed there was something that dangerous in the black castle then he would bring his pursuers to death's door with him.
He crossed the last building seeing the open expanse of the dead fields covered by more bodies. To the edge across a dried-up moat towered the caved and weathered down walls of the Black Castle.
Staring at it as he ran he realized that while it lost its grand air or majesty the pressuring feel of might or danger never left it. He could feel its grip from across the moat.
At the edge of the moat right before his feet could bounce off the last walk of earth Crimson tugged at the flow within him. Letting it surge through his body and guiding it down to where he wanted. Right as he leaned his legs pushing off with a burst of strength he could manage his lips parted a string of arcane words leaving his tongue yet translating into something understandable.
"Wind Push".
A jet of air coagulated at his feet once he soared up before bursting free behind him. The force pushed him in a slingshot far up into the air and effectively crossed half the distance between the moat.
Halfway he began descending. Yet just as he made to recreate another burst of wind pain flared up from his back. Crimson could only hiss as the Silver Erken wood drilled into his back narrowly missing his heart.
Blood splashed out of his injury and he felt his body sag as a weakness grabbed him. From behind him, a victorious shout could be heard.
Slightly annoyed Crimson gritted his teeth before he urged himself on. Managing to create one last feeble push of air behind him he kicked out flying away and crashing into the other side of the moat.
His body rolled and turned on the floor his head bouncing on the dead soil while the bolt dug into him from getting pressed in. Crimson stared with a tired gaze across the moat as the hunters kept coming.
At this point, he'd realized that they were just either too strong to care or plain stupid. There wasn't a soul that didn't know the tales of Castle Black. Entering it was akin to suicide and while he felt like it was okay for him he didn't think these hotheads were suicidal either.
"Seems I'll have to lower my rating on a human's survival instinct. It doesn't seem to work well after all" he sighed as he pushed himself up ignoring his body which begged for rest.
Being undead didn't make vampires like the original undead. They weren't never tiring or never fearing. Erasing their blood need, dark affiliation which wasn't a choice, and deathly pale skin they were closer to elves than anything else.
The reason why placing them on such a high rating of danger was stupid. Even though it was clearly understood in a way.
With a stagger and slower gait, the vampire dragged himself past the Castle walls feeling once more the pressure of something sinister and mighty wash over him. Almost like a scan.
'Something definitely appraised me' he thought yet his footsteps never faltered instead quickening.
'If half the rumors are true then this is as good as any spot to bury those fools with me',
The vampire's mind was already going delirious from blood loss yet he refused to succumb. Holding himself up long enough to get to his final destination.
'Where would something dangerous hole up if not the lord's keep itself? Or should I say King' he chuckled in his head as he finally laid eyes on the thick mahogany doors that sealed the entrance into the broken looming spire of a castle keep.
The place was even more dreadful than the entire Deadlands. Not accounting for the pressure that it released its looks alone was enough to make Crimson doubt his plans.
Black stones rose high up, shattered holes that let the interior darkness stare down at any passerby. Thick black vines stretched about weaving themselves all around the castle walls and then disappearing some into the ground and others into the castle grounds in all directions.
The doors themselves were covered by vines though it did not attempt to seal the entrance. Standing here the vampire sighed, and shook the feeling of dread off though not succeeding. He soldiered onward and set his still bloody palm on the grand gigantic doors of wood. Quickly sensing what he needed to do he placed both palms this time.
His mana surged forward and a light flashed peeking through the various crisscrossing vines.
CREAK
The doors slid open slowly but instantly and a cold wind of death and strangely comfort washed upon him.
Taking one last glance behind him Crimson sighed, cursed the hunters that took his choice from him, and then entered.
A few minutes passed before eight figures of the hunters appeared each panting harshly as they stared at the grand castle before them.
"Do we go in?" The first of the band asked. He was a black man who spotted a ring of gold on his left ear. His question was met with a glare by Rolock who seemed about to beat his head in.
"I suggest we wait a bit. Rest up before entering." One of the females said. Unlike the shooter female, she wielded a spear with a silver tip made just for vampires.
"While that is a good idea letting the vampire regain any amount of health or strength would reduce our chances of killing him". The shooter was the one to boot her partner down.
"Then we enter now. Get this over with and go grab our rewards back at Lurtan City." Rolock ordered.
While it was obvious most of them disagreed with this they could also see the sense in the shooter's words, yet they felt annoyed mostly because of Rolock's lack of care and their bone-deep fatigue.
But they had to obey the man. He was paying them after all.
"Am I the only one who's gonna address the big issue here?" The second man to Rolock's right muttered. "This is Castle Black. The gateway to hell. The Spire of nightmares. Are we just gonna waltz in there to hunt one vampire".
Silence.
" Yes. Yes, we are. " Rolock deadpanned not batting an eyelid. And Curtis, stop believing in bedtime stories".
"But the corpses.."
"Obviously some spell of sort, illusion, or maybe curse who knows. As long we don't die here it's all good. Now go on. I don't pay you to read me bedtime tales". While Rolock's voice had a bit of assurance, not all were convinced. Yet grudgingly they had to abide.
A few seconds later the mahogany doors creaked open even wider than normal letting the cohort waltz right in comfortably. As the doors slammed short a shiver could be seen running through the vines that lined the walls and doors.
One that almost showed, excitement.