Xain's concern deepened as he began to grasp the implications of dealing with soul drinkers. *What sets soul drinkers apart from regular vampires, besides the obvious?* he inquired.
Ercale elaborated. *A soul drinker is the result of a sun-touched individual turning into a vampire or a vampire being born sun-touched.*
Puzzled by the term sun-touched, Xain probed further. *So, that means they...*
Ercale finished his sentence, *Don't burn in the sunlight. You're absolutely right.*
Ercale focused his attention back on the captive Almer. He grasped the man's collar firmly and demanded, "You mentioned there were other thralls. Where are they?"
Almer hesitated for a moment before muttering, "I don't know... they could be anywhere."
Ercale wasn't satisfied with that answer. He pressed further, his voice firm, "But you do know where they live, don't you?"
Almer, realizing that he had little choice, reluctantly nodded.
In the midst of the interrogation, Xain had his own question. *Why do you want the other thralls?* he asked Ercale.
Ercale responded resolutely, *We want to minimize their backup, no matter how weak they may be.*
Finally, Ercale inquired about a crucial detail. "When is the ritual taking place?"
Almer, still trembling from fear, managed to stammer, "Tonight."
**Back to Lunar Stay inn**
The crowd around Larkin continued to cheer relentlessly, their chants of "Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!" fueling his determination. Larkin, who had already downed who knows how many beer glasses, seemed impervious to reason. Zee and the bartender both attempted to intervene, their voices filled with concern, but Larkin was unresponsive. The raucous encouragement from the onlookers only spurred him on, and he kept on drinking, heedless of the potential consequences.
"What the hell is happening here?!" An authoritative voice abruptly shattered the raucous atmosphere in the bar. Larkin, swaying from the effects of excessive drinking, turned to identify the source of the commanding voice. Standing there was a man in his thirties, exuding an air of affluence and sophistication. His complexion was strikingly pale, his pupils ominously dark, and his black hair slicked back with precision. He was impeccably attired in the refined fashion typical of aristocrats.
The bartender hastily interjected, "I apologize, sir. I tried to intervene with this man, but he wouldn't heed my warnings." The man scrutinized Larkin with an appraising eye, observing his disheveled condition.
"Is that so?" the man inquired, his penetrating gaze locked onto Larkin, who had mustered the energy to stand. Ignoring Zee's futile efforts to restrain him, Larkin slurred his words with a belligerent tone, "And who're you to come here and spoil our fun?"
The man, barely fazed, exhaled with a faint grin before delivering his response with an air of authority.
"I'm the Supreme Officer."
Larkin's faculties were waning fast under the influence of alcohol, and he defiantly mumbled, "That's supposed to scare me?" The man, maintaining an air of indifference, rolled his eyes in response. He then shifted his focus to the bartender and inquired, "Is he not a local?"
The bartender nodded as Larkin, in his intoxicated stupor, yelled furiously, "Pay attention, you piece of...!" He swung a drunken punch at the man, his aim wild and uncoordinated. Zee cried out, "No!" as she lunged to intervene, but it was too late. Larkin's fist was hurtling toward the man's face.
However, with startling ease, the man's left hand shot up and effortlessly intercepted Larkin's punch, halting it in its tracks. His attention still fixed on the bartender, he chided, "I distinctly remember telling you to inform me about any out-of-towners who arrive at this establishment."
Zee and Larkin stood in stunned silence, their shock palpable. This man had not only effortlessly halted Larkin's punch but was now scolding the bartender as if the entire encounter were a mere inconvenience.
Larkin struggled to pull his hand free, but it was as if an unyielding force held it in place. "Let me go!" he bellowed, frustration evident in his voice. The man, seemingly unperturbed, replied in a casual tone, "Alright," and released Larkin's hand abruptly. Caught off balance by the sudden release, Larkin tumbled to the ground unceremoniously.
Zee rushed to his side, deeply concerned. "Are you okay?" she asked, her worry etched across her face. Larkin, still inebriated but now furious, began to rise, his intentions clear. He intended to use his magic to empower himself, but Zee, realizing his intent, exclaimed urgently, "Larkin, just stop!" She held him back, her voice a plea for reason.
The man approached them, his demeanor shifting to a more amicable tone. He inquired, "Are the two of you traveling together?" Larkin began to respond defiantly, but Zee promptly intervened, saying, "Yes, we are. I'm truly sorry for our behavior." She lowered her head apologetically, and when she raised it, she was relieved to find the man wearing a smile.
"Ha, that's great," he remarked before turning back to the bartender. "Were there any others with them?" The bartender nodded and added, "There was also a boy with blue hair."
Once again, the man addressed Zee and Larkin. "Both of you will need to accompany me. I've been instructed to conduct special inspections for out-of-towners." Before Larkin could voice his objections, Zee quickly responded, "Certainly, sir. And please accept our apologies for the trouble we've caused." Zee believed this was the best way to make amends for their unruly behavior.
Larkin, determined to confront the man, started, "I don't care who you are, I'm gonna..." His words were abruptly cut off by a sudden, sharp pain at the back of his neck. The man had swiftly and precisely incapacitated him with a well-placed chop.
With a composed demeanor, the man assessed the situation and issued a clear instruction to one of the bar patrons, "You there, carry him and follow me." Without hesitation, the patron complied, lifting Larkin's unconscious body. Zee couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and admiration for the man's strength and efficiency. He had effortlessly blocked Larkin's punch and incapacitated him, it was clear that they were dealing with someone formidable.
"Let's go," the man stated, prompting Zee to nod in agreement. As the man, Zee, and the patron carrying Larkin departed from the bar, he briefly addressed the bartender, "When the boy returns, ensure he's brought to me, or designate someone else for the task, understood?" The bartender acknowledged the instruction with a nod.
Continuing on their way, Zee felt compelled to inquire, "May I ask for your name, sir?" The man turned towards her, his countenance revealing a faint, nearly imperceptible smile, as he replied, "Lennix, Lennix Star."