Highway to the Other Regions
Kingdom of Ashtarium
September 26th, 6414
2:03 am
Before I had departed from Xibalba, the fragile balance that kept my homeland from crumbling into chaos was already shattered. Tensions with Ashtarium—once our tenuous ally—had grown as taut as a drawn bowstring. The trade agreement painstakingly forged between my father and King Rafael dissolved the moment the new king ascended the throne. It was as though years of delicate diplomacy had been erased with a single stroke. My father, resolute and unyielding, withdrew from all further negotiations with the Director of Regions. The whispers of war that had long murmured in the corners of council chambers now loomed like a thunderhead, dark and imminent.
Deep down, I knew the truth. My country stood no chance. Ashtarium's military might was not just an abstraction; it was a force that dwarfed most other nations. Their mastery of technology and their unrivaled command over the arcane arts made them an unstoppable titan. Among the great powers, only the New Berlin Empire and the distant Jade Republic could hope to rival them. Yet those nations lay far beyond our reach, across the seas and in lands that regarded Xibalba as little more than a fledgling state. The League of Nations barely acknowledged our existence. When the storm broke, no one would come to our aid.
No one, that is, except her.
The Ashtarmel family had once been our allies—not the ruling branch that now sat on the throne, but another. A promise had been made, sealed with the first trade deal. A pledge bound to Ariella Ashtarmel. By all accounts, she had been slain, wiped out along with the entire main branch of her family. But I knew better. No mere rumor could mask the truth I had felt. The repugnant human girl who was always at Ariella's side would never have allowed harm to befall her. And then there was the blood oath, the sacred bond that transcended whispers and courtly hearsay. When Ariella awakened, I felt it. Blood calls to blood, and I heard the call.
That moment changed everything. War was on the horizon, but the answer was clear. I had to find Ariella Ashtarmel. I had to act before war ignited between our nations. The decision to leave Xibalba and seek her out was not made lightly. It was the most important choice I had made in centuries of existence. And now, I found myself crammed into a truck rattling over cracked, radiated roads, chasing a phantom who didn't want to be found.
The truck jolted as it hit a deep rut in the road, jarring me from my thoughts. I glanced at Carmen. Her steady gaze had been fixed on me for miles, unwavering and intent. I had been wary of her at first. Not so long ago, she had been human. The rebirth process had changed her, made her one of us—a New-blood Vampire, bound by bloodline and loyalty. I hadn't resisted her decision to accompany me. She was devoted, willing to follow me into the desolation of these irradiated lands without question.
Then there was Jose Sancho. Unlike Carmen, Sancho was a deliberate choice. A veteran of my father's personal guard, he was a master with the polearm, a weapon I had always admired for its elegance and reach. Sancho's experience spanned more than two centuries, and his reputation as a fierce and unyielding combatant preceded him. Convincing him to leave his post and join me on what he must have considered a fool's errand had not been easy. Yet I had my ways. Years spent navigating the labyrinth of Xibalban court politics had armed me with more than a sword. Secrets were my true weapons—knowledge gleaned from the royal courts and the whispered scandals that could bring men to their knees. Sancho had no choice but to come along, though his silence since leaving Zellux spoke volumes about his displeasure. I didn't need his conversation, only his skills, and those he had in abundance.
As the truck trudged on, the monotonous grind of tires on desolate terrain lulled me into a trance-like reflection. Memories crept in unbidden, vivid and sharp as old wounds. I remembered the grueling training sessions under royal instructors who never softened their blows and who demanded perfection from a child too young to understand why. I remembered the sting of my father's wrath, the weight of his expectations crushing down on me whenever I faltered. The scars of those years had faded from my flesh, but they still marked my soul.
This was not the time to dwell on the past. I forced the memories back into the recesses of my mind, locking them away. I could not afford distraction. The road ahead was perilous, and Ariella Ashtarmel—the one glimmer of hope in an otherwise bleak landscape—was waiting to be found.
"How's your hunger?" I asked Carmen. Her expression shifted immediately—her previously calm demeanor cracking as if the mere mention of it had stirred a deep, gnawing emptiness inside her. She hesitated, then gave a dismissive wave.
"Nothing I can't handle," she said, though the tightness in her voice betrayed her effort to suppress it.
From the front seat, Jose snickered. The sound, low and dry, was the first he'd uttered since we left Xibalba. Carmen's eyes narrowed.
"What's so funny?" she snapped, her tone sharp and defensive.
"Nothing," he said, the word clipped. A few beats of tense silence passed, and then he spoke again. "You've been a vampire for what—a few weeks? A month, maybe?"
Carmen's lips curled back slightly, her fangs flashing as she snapped, "A year. And what about it?"
"So you're still a fledgling," Jose said, matter-of-factly. His tone was detached, almost clinical. "You're aware that hunger is difficult to control when you're still in your infancy."
Carmen growled, a low, feral sound, and for a moment her true face emerged. Her anger brought her vampiric features to the surface—sharp teeth, a predatory glint in her eyes. But if she was trying to intimidate Jose, it didn't work. He barely glanced at her, his expression entirely unbothered. Instead, he turned his attention to me, his voice calm but cutting.
"Are you sure it was wise bringing a newborn along, Prince Gomez?"
I sighed, the weight of his words settling heavily on my shoulders. I'd already gone through this argument once, and I wasn't in the mood to revisit it. Mother had been adamantly opposed to me bringing Carmen in the first place. She'd insisted I involve Father instead, but I'd known from the start that was impossible. My father cared little for who I married or whether Ariella survived. His only focus was the unification of Xibalba, the consolidation of power, and the inevitable march toward war.
In the end, Mother had given me no choice. If I refused to involve my father, I had to at least bring someone capable of keeping me alive. That's why she'd insisted on Jose—a seasoned soldier from my father's personal guard, a man whose prowess with the polearm was legendary. Though I hadn't wanted to take him along, I had ultimately agreed for her peace of mind. It was the only compromise I could make.
"Carmen packed enough synth blood to last us a week," I said, cutting off the brewing tension. "She'll be fine."
"Synth blood. Esa cosa asquerosa," Jose muttered in one of the ancient languages of the Old World, his disdain clear.
Not all vampires accepted synthetic blood. Despite its widespread adoption—thanks in large part to Ashtarmel's advanced science and their king's vision of coexistence—there were still purists among us. Those who clung to the old ways, who believed the hunt was our birthright, looked down on the synthetic alternative. But after nine hundred years of adaptation following the Long War, the world had changed. Ashtarium's scientists had perfected a synthetic blood substitute that not only nourished vampires but also quelled the need to feed on humans. The move had won King Rafael considerable favor among human populations, securing their loyalty and trust. While some nations rejected the practice entirely, others—like Xibalba—had no choice but to embrace it as part of the alliance.
I didn't have strong feelings about synth blood myself. It was sustenance, nothing more. Yet, I couldn't fully dismiss the traditionalists' perspective. There was truth in the idea that our kind was, by nature, a predatory species. The hunt was a part of us, hardwired into our very being. Suppressing it had always felt unnatural, even if it was necessary for progress. And progress, I had learned, was inevitable. It couldn't be stopped, no matter how much resistance it faced.
"Synth blood is all we have," I said evenly, keeping my tone neutral. "Unless, of course, you'd rather…" I let my words hang, glancing toward the drivers up front.
Jose fell silent again, muttering no more complaints. Good. I preferred him quiet.
Carmen broke the silence after a moment. "So, Master, if you find the princess and marry her… that would make you King of Ashtarium, wouldn't it?"
A smile crept onto my lips. I couldn't help it. The thought had crossed my mind many times. Back when the betrothal was first arranged, I hadn't cared for Ariella personally. Our engagement had been a matter of convenience, a strategic move rather than a romantic one. In Xibalba, my chances of inheriting the throne were slim at best. I was one of many, and the line of succession was complicated, tangled with politics and family alliances. But in Ashtarmel, things were different. Ariella had been a favorite of the former king's children, and many believed she would have succeeded him had her branch of the family not been wiped out. If she truly lived, if I could find her and revive that connection, my path to a throne would be far clearer than anything Xibalba could offer me.
"Actually," I began, my grin widening as I leaned back against the truck's side. "That would make me the king's consort—not the true king. And that's if we even find—"
The truck screeched to a sudden halt, cutting me off mid-sentence. A dull, rhythmic pounding reverberated through the vehicle's frame. Startled, I pushed past Carmen and Jose, heading toward the front of the truck where an opening in the partition revealed the driver's face. She was pale, her dark hair clinging to her forehead in damp strands. Fear clung to her scent, sharp and acrid, filling the enclosed space.
"Looks like we've got ourselves into a bit of a pickle," she said, her voice trembling slightly.
"What is it?" I asked, already dreading the answer.
"The scanner's picked up a horde of Demon Beasts heading straight for us," she replied.
I cursed under my breath. Just what we needed. Traveling through radiated lands always carried the risk of running into those monsters, but I had hoped—hoped—we'd be spared. But hope didn't last long out here. The endless wastelands, scarred and mutated by centuries of war, were their breeding grounds.
Before the Eternal Night and the Long War, Demon Beasts were said to be the stuff of nightmares—creatures born from a mysterious plague known as the Crimson Plague. In those long-lost times, humanity ruled the world. Our kind—the vampires, the lycans, and all the other Manaborn—lurked in the shadows, little more than myths. But then the plague came, twisting men and women into abominations. Civilization buckled under their onslaught, and war erupted between the races, each desperate to seize control of a shattered world. Millennia had passed since that war ended, and still these monsters roamed, like remnants of some unshakable curse.
"How far away?" I asked.
"Two, maybe three miles," she said. "Tonto's checking to see if—"
A sharp, wet sound cut her off. Red splattered the partition's glass as her head snapped back, and then she was gone. The truck's interior was suddenly still, heavy with the metallic tang of blood. A scream, raw and piercing, came from the other side of the cab. Tonto, the bald male driver, cried out in horror—and then, just as abruptly, his voice was silenced.
Jose and Carmen appeared at my side in an instant, drawn by the sound. They stood motionless, their eyes wide, the silence that followed stretching thin and taut.
"What the fuck?" Carmen whispered, her voice barely audible.
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing. "Weapons," I muttered, my heart thundering in my chest. Sweat pricked at the back of my neck. Fear clawed at me—raw, animal fear. But I couldn't let it take hold. I couldn't afford to die here. Not yet.
Carmen wasted no time. She reached for her pack and began pulling out firearms. My own GR-45 was first. I took it with a nod of thanks, the weight of the gun a small comfort. It was a weapon designed for the modern world, a fusion of magic and technology. Enchanted circuits hummed faintly within its sleek frame, and the energy blasts it fired could rival the force of any traditional enchanted blade. With the right aim, even an immortal could be brought down.
Carmen's weapon of choice was an MP30, a heavy-duty gun capable of ripping through the thickest armor. It felt out of place in her small hands, but she wielded it with steady confidence. When she offered a GR-45 to Jose, he shook his head.
"No need," he said simply, producing his preferred weapon: a polearm. The silver blade at its tip gleamed faintly in the dim light. Though the shaft was unassuming in appearance, it had been reinforced with silver, a material deadly to many Manaborn, including certain types of Demon Beasts. Despite its archaic nature, Jose's skill with the weapon was undeniable. I'd seen him use it before—his precision, his strength—it was enough to set my mind at ease.
Bam! The truck shuddered violently as something slammed against its side. A moment later, another impact reverberated through the walls. Bam!
"I don't understand," Carmen said, her voice laced with growing panic. "I thought the Demon Beasts couldn't get close. Isn't that what the silver and verbena are supposed to prevent?"
"They can't," I said, though my voice was heavy with uncertainty. "At least, they shouldn't be able to. In most cases, the silver and verbena cause too much pain for them to approach. But there are times…"
I hesitated, my mind flashing back to old stories. "…there are times when hunger drives them beyond reason. When their desperation overtakes their pain, they lose all sense. They attack anything—prey, each other, even themselves."
"Cannibalism," Carmen whispered, her voice shaking as she traced the symbol of the inverted cross on her chest. To us, feeding on one's own kind was the gravest sin. In Lilithism, the act was unthinkable, a transgression so vile it severed a vampire's soul from the Divine Mother's embrace. Yet here we were, facing creatures so consumed by hunger they had turned on their own.
"We need to get out of this truck," I said firmly. "Away from the silver and verbena."
Jose didn't hesitate. With a single powerful motion, he drove his polearm into the truck's wall and tore a section of it free. The metal screeched as it gave way, exposing the dark, radiated wasteland beyond. A gust of cold air rushed in, carrying with it the faint, sickly-sweet scent of decay.
This was no safe haven. If we stayed here, we would die. The monsters were closing in, their relentless hunger driving them ever closer. The time for planning had passed. We needed to move. Now.
"I'll take the lead. Follow me, my Lord. The girl will cover our rear," Jose said, his voice steady. Without hesitation, he stepped out of the truck and into the outside world. I followed closely behind him, my senses immediately sharpening as we entered the crumbling remains of what had once been a thriving settlement. Now it was a place long forgotten, its buildings skeletal and sagging, cloaked in creeping vines and patches of sickly moss. Broken windows stared out like hollow eyes, and the faint stench of decay hung in the air. The ruins bore the unmistakable scars of the Long War—scorch marks, shattered masonry, and the eerie silence of a place long abandoned by life.
A faint rustling reached my ears. I turned just in time to see a pale, gaunt creature leap from the roof of the truck. Its body was a grotesque mockery of humanity—skin the sickly color of chalk, peeling back to reveal necrotic tissue beneath. Its scarlet eyes gleamed with malevolent hunger, and rows of jagged fangs dripped with foul saliva. Before it could close the distance, I raised my gun and fired two clean shots. The bullets struck true, punching through its temple. Black blood erupted in a gruesome spray, mingled with putrid brain matter. The creature's body convulsed and collapsed in a heap. I sidestepped the splatter, the air thick with the acrid scent of its corrupted lifeblood.
Another emerged from the shadows, skittering around the corner of a ruined building. Before I could react, Jose moved with deadly precision. His polearm gleamed under the dim light, striking in a swift arc. The blade tore through the creature's chest, ripping its heart free in one fluid motion. The beast fell lifeless to the ground, a gaping wound where its heart had been. The silence that followed was tense, heavy, as if the world itself held its breath.
Then the earth beneath us trembled. The silence broke, replaced by a low rumble and the scrape of claws on broken stone. The ground seemed to shift, and five more Demon Beasts burst forth from the shadows, their movements almost too fast to track. My grip on the GR-45 tightened. The air filled with the sharp cracks of gunfire. My shots found two of them, each blast striking their heads with precision. The creatures' skulls burst apart, black blood raining down like a grotesque storm.
Carmen's MP30 roared as she fired at the third beast, shredding its chest in a hail of enchanted rounds. The creature staggered back, its body a mangled ruin, and collapsed into the dirt. Jose, ever efficient, dispatched the fourth with a decisive swing of his polearm. His silvered blade cleaved through flesh and bone, and the beast fell without a sound.
The last one moved toward Carmen. I saw its crimson eyes zero in on her, its claws raised to strike. Without thinking, I surged forward, vampire speed carrying me faster than thought. I tackled the creature mid-lunge, slamming it into the ground with a force that sent a shockwave through the cracked pavement. Pinning it beneath me, I let my instincts take over. My fingers grew into razor-sharp claws, and I plunged my hand into its chest. My claws wrapped around the monster's demonic heart—a dark, pulsing organ that throbbed with a sickly glow. The creature bucked and howled beneath me, its struggles growing weaker as I squeezed. The heart collapsed in my grip, its grotesque vitality extinguished. The Demon Beast let out one final wail before its body shriveled and turned to ash.
Carmen was suddenly at my side, her eyes wide and filled with worry. "You weren't scratched, my Lord, were you?" she asked, her hands darting over my arms and shoulders, searching for any sign of injury.
"I'm fine," I said, standing and shaking off the ash that clung to my clothes. The thought of infection crossed my mind. A scratch, a bite—any exchange of blood with one of these creatures could mean certain death. Vampires were not immune. If their tainted blood touched an open wound, it would corrupt even the strongest of us, transforming predator into prey. But my skin remained unbroken. I was safe.
"Let's move before more of them show up," I said.
"What about them?" Jose gestured toward the mangled bodies of our human drivers. Their lifeless forms lay slumped on the ground, their blood pooling and soaking into the earth. The scent of it was thick and heady, a tantalizing temptation.
"Are we really going to waste a perfect meal?" he asked, a hint of mockery in his voice.
Carmen looked stricken. "Now is not—"
"Drain them," I interrupted. My voice was cold, pragmatic. "We'll need our strength."
Jose's lips curled into a pleased smile. He didn't hesitate. Grabbing Tonto's limp body, he bent down and sank his fangs into the neck, drawing out every last drop before the blood ran dry. I turned to Carmen, who hesitated, her expression torn. But she gave in, leaning down to feed from Brenda's corpse. I could see her reluctance, but the moment the blood touched her tongue, her hesitation melted away. For me, synth blood would suffice. I retrieved a pouch from Carmen's bag and drank it quickly. The thick, iron-tinged fluid coated my throat, less satisfying than fresh blood but enough to restore my focus and strength.
The verbena-lined truck had left us weakened. Now was not the time to argue over old traditions or personal preferences. We needed to be at our best. When we'd finished, I looked at them both.
"We move now," I said, my voice leaving no room for debate. Carmen and Jose straightened, their faces hardening with resolve. Together, we stepped away from the bodies, leaving the truck behind as we ventured into the broken, perilous expanse of the ruins. Every step was measured, every shadow watched. The air was still heavy with danger, and I knew that we were far from safe.