His path was clear.
Conquer Elesbury, turning it, if necessary, into a desolate wasteland where only he and the dead existed. That was only the first step, but it was a very important first step. If he didn't succeed in this, he would be lost.
He needed strength, a place to call his own, because otherwise the world would crush him and smother him.
Because he was alone.
Jonathan clamped a hand over his mouth. He had eaten every last bit, had left nothing behind, really. And, just as he had thought, it helped him recover.
But it was surprising he hadn't ended up throwing up.
Yet.
He didn't feel one hundred percent yet, but maybe he never would again, and in any case he couldn't afford to waste time. The longer he waited, the more his chances of winning would diminish.
The closer something inevitable would come.
Unless he moved.
That was why Jonathan was outside, now. Under the shade of a tree. He had managed to approach the mansion of Elizabeth, the governor of Aylesbury, unnoticed and more or less untroubled.
It crossed his mind that he could have a soldier grab him and the rest escort him, acting like a prisoner. That, at the very least, would help him attack by surprise.
At best, perhaps he could get his hands on the governor and the sword to her throat. Ending hostilities before they could really begin.
There was only one problem.
Looking around him, it was clear to him.
The wounds that had killed them were too obvious. That tactic wasn't a bad idea, but there was no way to put it into practice.
Too bad, he thought.
He pulled at the iron gates blocking the entrance. Locked, of course. But he thought he had to try.
Jonathan climbed over the gate, passing through to the other side.
With a couple of blows, he smashed the padlock on the other side of the gate. It wasn't the most secure system, to say the least.
What kept petty thieves and not so petty thieves out of the governor's house wasn't these gates, but the weight of the fact that to target the governor in any way was practically synonymous with a death sentence.
His dead passed to the other side.
He smiled at that as if he had told a joke. As if it was funny or the time for it in the first place. Yes. He didn't feel one hundred percent. But it would have to do.
Jonathan fixed his eyes on the mansion at the top of the hill.
Its shadow encompassed all of Aylesbury.
"I'll keep moving forward. Whatever happens."
——
Adam stood in front of the office door. He took a deep breath before knocking on the door with his fist. He didn't like being in the same room as that woman, but any high position had its disadvantages.
Unless you were so high up that there was no one above you.
Then, he imagined, there was no disadvantage at all. But that was all he could do. Imagine. He wouldn't be king of anything, he wouldn't even be king of this city.
"What is it?" the woman snapped sharply. Maybe he had caught her sleeping. It wouldn't be the first time. Or maybe she was in a bad mood for no particular reason.
It wouldn't be the first time either.
Adam was silent, suddenly his mind was going blank and he had to think again about how to say that.
"We're... In the middle of an emergency."
"Oh, is that you? Come in."
Adam opened the doors and locked them behind him. Not with a key. He didn't have a key.
Elizabeth was sitting on the couch. Maybe he had indeed caught her sleeping. She was lazy and sloppy, but he'd never seen her without a suit. It seemed as if she had dozens of them in the closet.
It seemed like it was a uniform for her.
In any case, the sooner it was over, the better. He took another deep breath. Today he was more nervous than usual.
"You're nervous," Elizabeth said. "Nothing new, but today you look like you're hoping no one will notice you just farted. Let it out. Whatever it is."
"I didn't do anything. We're under attack."
That made Elizabeth sit up. Well, at least now she was sitting up instead of lying down, acting as if it had nothing to do with her.
"That attacker brought a giant snake with him."
"Come on."
"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it either. But I saw its corpse. And I ordered it to be burned."
"I see. I trust you."
Did she? He had been working under her for several years, but he still wasn't sure. Knowing her past, many would say there was only one answer that made sense: she didn't trust him, or anyone, only herself.
But sometimes Adam allowed himself to think that she did trust him. Perhaps because he indulged his imagination too much.
"Some of my men confronted the attacker in the cemetery. This is... even harder to believe. But the last survivor swears he raised the dead. Not only those already buried, but those who fell in battle. I think he's telling the truth. Of course, not about the resurrection. It could be an ability to control corpses as if they were empty marionettes...."
Adam fell silent. For Elizabeth's expression had changed completely, suddenly. And it wasn't, as he had feared, because she didn't believe him, because she assumed he was mocking her. No. Adam had the feeling that she believed him. That it didn't even surprise her too much.
"What should we do, ma'am?"
"Keep looking for him, of course. But call most of the soldiers back."
"Why, ma'am?" He wasn't paid to ask questions and usually didn't. But the order was strange enough he felt the need to ask.
Elizabeth rose from the couch.
She was quite tall, especially for a woman. A head or two taller than he was.
"Isn't it obvious? Because he'll come after me."
——
Jonathan kicked down the front door.
He thought he would have the element of surprise, even if not for long, but he had been wrong. He ran straight into the welcoming committee, scattered up the long staircase and to the sides.
They had clearly been expecting him. They didn't look surprised.
Well, not surprised by his appearance, at least.
"So what Damon said was true," muttered one.
They had been warned. He had spared the life of one of them in the cemetery, so he had expected him to talk, but the guard couldn't have known that he would attack the mansion. He knew nothing about him.
Still, they had chosen to wait here to greet him instead of gathering all their forces? Along the way he had passed troops that had been searching for him, no doubt.
Why, all to catch him by surprise? Well, he supposed it was about to be decided if it had been worth it.
"Charge!"
That shout came from the throat of an enemy.
Jonathan didn't need words to lead his army. In any case, they collided in the middle of the hall. Soon everything would be covered in blood, destroyed, unrecognizable.
He had to be careful, leaving the better part of the battle to his soldiers. His equipment was good as ever, except for the boots, but he was still weak. Even if he continually fought, how hard would it be to bring his stats to even half of what they had been after decades?
More importantly, they knew he was coming. They had prepared to welcome him. So what had Elizabeth done, would she even still be here?
Yes.
Surely she was.
They had never met, but from what he had heard about her, that woman wouldn't run away.
Unless a few years of luxury and privilege had softened her up. In any case, this was a good place to start looking for her.
Jonathan ran up the stairs, slipping between his soldiers and the enemies.
Going straight for her.
Once he had her in his hands, it would all be over.
His advantage increased the longer a battle dragged on, but he didn't want to waste time. Out of eagerness. And so as not to give her a chance to escape, if she hadn't already. She might change her mind seeing that things weren't going well.
"He's getting away!"
Jonathan reached the top of the stairs.
It was one of those that split in two, left and right. Jonathan had never been inside the mansion before, so he chose a random direction, not hesitating for a moment.
One of Elizabeth's guards jumped.
A leap so tremendous that, from the ground floor, he went over the railing and landed right in front of him. Holy fucking shit. Jonathan took two steps back as the soldier threw himself at him, spear thrust in front of him.
The soldier said nothing, but it didn't matter. His expression screamed: demon! Everyone wanted to get in his way. Jonathan threw himself against the railing at the last moment, dodging the spearhead.
His enemy didn't stop immediately, didn't turn to strike again.
Carried by the momentum of his charge, he moved just a little further. Until the tip of his spear struck a mirror. Hairline cracks like the threads of a spider's web spread across the panel, splitting it into dozens of pieces.
For a moment, Jonathan stared at his twisted, broken reflection.
It was the first time he had seen himself since before he was betrayed. Something had changed. It was evident in his gaze alone, that he was not human. It was no wonder everyone wanted to get in his way.
But that didn't change what he had to do.
The soldier tugged on the spear, yanking it out of the broken mirror. It took less than a second, but by then it was too late. Because he had a pistol in the back of his head.
Jonathan wasn't a big fan of guns. But he could make exceptions.
He pulled the trigger.
The enemy's skull cracked like an egg. Its contents flew everywhere. Jonathan watched the blood sliding down the mirror, distorting his reflection even more.
And he smiled.
Something had changed. Indeed.
"Fucking bastard!"
The spearman stood up again. Half his face was missing and he no longer held the weapon as firmly as before, but it was enough for him. He sent the man against his former comrades, and went on his way.
If Elizabeth was still at the mansion, she had surely kept a personal escort for herself. As legendary as she had been in the past, there was no reason for her to stay alone. A completely unnecessary risk.
Where there's smoke, there's fire.
It was the same principle.
Jonathan saw the smoke.
Half a dozen soldiers in front of a door, guarding it. And he was alone. There was probably no way he was going to win this fight. He frowned, he needed support, he had to admit.
It wasn't as if he could see the revived ones through the walls, but he could feel them, even from this distance. He ordered three of them to separate from the battle and come after him.
Jonathan still had much to discover about his powers. He was looking forward to it.
The sole purpose of his soldiers was to do his bidding. So they headed to where he was like speeding bullets, not caring about themselves, not thinking about anything else.
They would arrive soon. Assuming they weren't stopped first.
He was already hearing them.
The problem was, he wasn't the only one. The dead weren't capable of subtleties, so they found out. One of the guards twisted his features, anger and fear mingling in the lines of his face, but he couldn't expect them to run away.
"You!"
Yes, me.
Three of the gate guards came straight for him. Cautious, more cautious than they really should be, for the same reason that Leonard had run off as soon as he saw him.
They didn't know his condition. They had no way of knowing that he was still a long way from making up for the loss of his stats, and that he had suffered that loss in the first place.
Jonathan had not reached Elizabeth's level, but he was still a pirate of renown.
He took a step back. Another.
This mansion was ridiculously ostentatious considering it belonged to the governor of a city in the middle of nowhere. In other words, the hallway wasn't narrow.
If it had been, the numbers would have played against his enemies, here and now. He would have had even just that small advantage.
But, as he had said, right now he couldn't win.
So he did as Leonard had done. Turn and run at the first sign of danger.
But this was different.
A tactical retreat, not a getaway.
He could hear the footsteps of his soldiers, getting closer and closer. As soon as he saw them, he turned to face his enemies.
Six, not three.
The rest had apparently joined them when they saw him running. Jonathan was still outnumbered, but not by much.
Besides, more importantly, behind him must have been acquaintances of theirs.
As much as there was nothing left inside, it couldn't be easy to swing a sword at a fellow soldier. Not for any normal person. One of the guards stepped forward. He drew his sword, assumed a fighting stance, positioning his weapon so that the tip almost touched the ground.
"This is the end of the line, monster."
We shall see about that.
——
The end of the line, indeed.
But not for him. In the end, he found himself surrounded by corpses. No. Of undead. They staggered beside him to the office door. They had fought close enough, Elizabeth had to be inside, and she couldn't have fled without him noticing.
That was because the door hadn't moved at any point. And that was her only possible means of escape.
What else was she going to do, jump out the window from the third floor?
He took a deep breath, putting his hands on the door. That didn't mean he was out of danger, of course. There were guards to spare everywhere, still. He outnumbered that woman at the moment, but it wouldn't be that easy.
He kicked the door, bursting into the office.
Elizabeth.
There she was, dressed in a man's suit, as if she were going to a business meeting, not a fight for her life. And with a gun in her hand.
She pulled the trigger.
Shit.
Too little, too late. But at least she didn't blow his brains out. The shot hit him in the knee. Jonathan couldn't help but scream and fell to the ground, unconsciously bringing his hands to the wound.
He raised his head to look at that woman through gritted teeth.
After a few hours (though it had seemed like days to him, truth be told), he was in practically the same situation in which he had started his life as undead.
Would this be the end?
Bullshit, I refuse.
"Stop it," Elizabeth said, slowly but with a coldness that chilled his blood. "If you send them against me, next time I'll blow your head off."
So it hadn't been a misfire. She had shot him in the leg instead of somewhere lethal on purpose. The fact that they had sat there waiting was starting to make sense.
He couldn't quite figure out why, he didn't have all the pieces.
But had this been her goal all along? Disable him and talk?
What could she possibly have to say to him? He didn't know that either. But it made sense.
"What do you want?" Jonathan spat through his teeth.
Elizabeth walked to the table, aiming the gun at his head at all times, of course. She sat down on it. It seemed as if he had been in the palm of her hand from the very first moment. It couldn't be more frustrating.
"You know that. There's only one thing that makes you special."
"So what?"
"Get them to close the doors." Elizabeth answered his question with an order.
Jonathan clicked his tongue. If he didn't obey, she would threaten to pull the trigger. Besides, it cost him nothing, in fact it would only make it harder for Elizabeth to escape if the tables turned.
He could still hear the battle in the distance.
For a moment, the closing doors drowned out the sounds of battle. But only for a moment. Even with the doors closed, distant echoes reached him.
"You want revenge. "It wasn't a question. He had the feeling that she saw right through him, but surely she couldn't really guess what was moving him... "You want Count Dracula's head. You want Count Dracula's head. You don't have to tell me why, I can figure it out, I know his hobbies. You don't have any wounds that weren't inflicted on you a few minutes ago. So he must have touched some of your loved ones.
"My wife... and my daughter were mutilated. Murdered.
"And thrown into the fire," Elizabeth finished for him, as coolly as she had handled everything from the beginning. He supposed that was what it took to get this far. From pirate to governor. From a life in the dump to a life among luxury and riches, going beyond the status she had been assigned at birth.
In a way, she was an admirable person, the dream of many a pirate.
But Jonathan could only feel anger towards her.
It was almost as if she was making a mockery of his family.
"I can help you."
"What?"
"You want him dead," she pointed the gun at herself, in an extremely casual motion, "I want him dead. It's very simple, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Didn't your mother teach you that? Before you ask me why you should trust me... Otherwise why haven't I blown your brains out already?"
"Going after the Count is a suicide mission. Why would you want to do that?"
"Simply a matter of survival. And yes, I refuse to split the details. If you want this to work, stay out of my business. First rule. What do you say?"
She held out a hand. The one she wasn't holding the gun with, of course.
Jonathan looked at her for a long moment. Then he grabbed it. He had to make a decision, now. Teaming up didn't sound bad, but could he trust her? Besides, Elizabeth had let him grab her.
That could be her last mistake, the worst of all by far. Now he should be able to turn the situation around easily, if he so chose.
Snatch the gun from her, stick it under her chin, one finger on the trigger. Then he would be in control of the situation.
He had to make a decision.
And whatever it was, he had to make it quickly.