Realizing that his only option was to flee, Elias resolved to leave the unsettling scene behind and never look back.
The panic gripping him was undeniable. Without a clear direction, he darted into the dense field of trees, his feet carrying him wherever instinct dictated.
This feels oddly surreal, even though I've read about such things in novels before, Elias thought as he ran, his boots pounding against the dirt road, the cool night air whipping past him.
The rush of the man's blood still coursed through him, hot and vibrant, fueling his every step. His senses were sharper now, the world around him painted in vivid detail—the rustle of leaves, the faint hum of distant insects, the moonlight casting silver shadows across his path.
Experiencing it first hand is nothing like I imagined, he mused grimly, the memory of the lifeless body still fresh in his mind.
His thoughts coalesced around one goal: return to Larkspur Street and find Victor, the last familiar face he had seen.
After running for what felt like an eternity, Elias spotted the faint glow of distant buildings. The sight spurred him forward, and as he drew nearer, recognition bloomed in his mind.
The surroundings became increasingly familiar, guiding him to the edge of Luneford, their district within the sprawling city of Lunaris. He had reached the border of the Slums.
Elias hesitated at the threshold of the Slums, deciding against venturing further for now. He needed to locate Victor first. Retracing his steps, he made his way back to Larkspur Street, only to find it deserted. Victor was nowhere to be seen.
Where could he possibly be? Elias wondered, his mind clear despite the chaos of the night.
How did I even ended up there? I was lying here. Then… I wasn't. He frowned slightly, dissecting the gap in his recollection. "Someone," he whispered, or something moved me. It wasn't me… not entirely.
The thought stirred something familiar in him, a detail he'd come across once before. 'I've read about this. A state where vampires lose themselves, driven by hunger until the need is satisfied, and control returns.'
His mind worked methodically, sorting through the details. 'It's an instinctive response, primal and unavoidable if the thirst lingers too long.' He exhaled sharply as the name came to him, crisp and undeniable.
Frenzy.
The word settled in his mind with a sense of finality. That's what they called it. A complete loss of control. The body takes over, hunting, feeding… until the thirst is gone, he paused, thinking about the scene he'd woken up to, then you wake up to the aftermath, he added.
His lips pressed into a thin line as the realization crystallized. So that's what happened to me. There was no hesitation in his thoughts, only clarity and curiosity tinged with grim acceptance.
As he stood there, Elias tilted his head skyward, the large, luminous moon dominating his view. Its soft glow brought with it a sudden remembrance-his sister. Worry gripped his heart, and he immediately turned, dashing towards home.
His body felt astonishingly light, as though he were no more substantial than a feather. Each stride seemed effortless, and for the first time, he felt as if he could run forever without fatigue. Yet something nagged at him-his current speed, though swift, felt restrained. He knew he could move faster, but the narrow, overlapping streets of the city hindered him.
This is both exhilarating and terrifying, Elias thought with startling clarity, his mind dissecting the experience even as his body moved instinctively through the night.
The thought lingered, a mixture of awe and unease settling within him. Power like this makes survival possible, but at what cost? Is this what it means to exist as something more than human?
As he neared the Slums, the familiarity of the surroundings emboldened him to test his newfound limits.
Pushing himself harder, Elias felt the world around him blur. His movements became startlingly precise, his agility far surpassing anything he had experienced before.
It reminded him of that first encounter with Percival, when time itself seemed to slow, granting him an uncanny clarity.
Without hesitation, Elias surged forward, his pace quickening as he neared his home. However, as he approached, he halted abruptly, his senses sharpening with an intensity that startled even him.
From a distance, he could discern a group of figures gathered outside his house. Their attire-a mixture of worn gloves embedded with scratched crystals-marked them unmistakably as fighters, similar to Percival.
Despite the distance, Elias's vision seemed unnaturally precise, as though he were peering through a spyglass.
The front door of the house was ajar, light spilling out into the night. The fighters loitered nearby, some engaged in conversation, others resting. Unease washed over Elias, a mixture of concern and curiosity etching itself onto his face.
Acting on instinct, he bolted towards the house, his movements blurring the world around him once more. The people outside appeared oblivious to his presence, their gestures and speech unnaturally slow to his heightened perception.
Bursting through the doorway, Elias's unease turned to shock. There, crouching beside his sleeping sister, Lily, was a man wearing a hat. The stranger's presence in their home triggered a surge of anger and protectiveness.
Without hesitation, Elias launched himself at the intruder, his fist aimed directly at the man's head. The speed of his movement closed the distance in an instant, but just as his blow was about to land, the man tilted his head to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack. His expression betrayed surprise, but no fear.
Elias failed to recognize the man—it was the same elderly figure from the underground arena who had given Victor the soli. But to Elias, none of that mattered.
To him, these were raiders, trespassers who dared to invade his home. No further explanation was needed.
His mind made up, Elias prepared to act decisively, his heart pounding with a mix of rage, determination, and confusion.
Before the old man could utter a word, Elias launched himself forward once more, his body tense with determination. In the split second it took for him to glance at his sister's still, sleeping form, his focus faltered—a moment of distraction that the old man capitalized on.
With a fluid motion, the old man sidestepped, avoiding Elias's charge entirely.
The confined space of the small room worked against Elias. His inexperience in combat made the close quarters a liability, yet the alternative was no better. To engage this man outside, where a group of raiders waited armed and ready, would be a death sentence.
Resolving to make the most of his position, Elias adjusted his footing. But the old man was faster. Moving to the side, he seized Elias's outstretched arm and pulled sharply, unbalancing him. Elias stumbled forward, and as he pitched toward the ground, the old man's knee drove into his stomach.
The impact sent Elias to his knees, his hands clutching his abdomen in discomfort. He expected pain to overwhelm him, but instead, the sensation was muted, as though his midsection had been cushioned by an invisible barrier.
What was that? he thought, surprised. For someone who had endured a fractured elbow and the searing pain that came with it, this blow felt insignificant.
That thought was quickly interrupted as Elias glanced down at his arm—the one that had been broken not long ago. He had forgotten about it, and for good reason: it hadn't ached for a while now. In fact, it didn't feel like anything at all.
He flexed his fingers experimentally, his brows furrowing as he realized something strange. I can move it… completely. The arm that had once been mangled and useless now obeyed him as if it had never been injured.
The realization settled over him like a cold truth. This must be the natural effect of human blood, he concluded, his tone calm but edged with something darker.
But there was no time to dwell on it. Whatever was happening to his body—whatever he was becoming—could wait. Reality pulled his focus back sharply, the urgency of his situation forcing him to set his curiosity aside for now.
As he raised his eyes to meet the old man's, he saw him reaching for his collar. Before Elias could react, he found himself being dragged toward the door, his body still unprepared for the sudden movement.
Was the strike earlier just a feint? he wondered, his thoughts racing as he studied the old man. Despite his imposing physique, the elder didn't possess the exaggerated bulk Elias often associated with the bodybuilders of Earth.
With a swift motion, the old man tossed Elias outside, his body landing unceremoniously before the gathered raiders.
Several turned their heads to look at him, their expressions ranging from blank indifference to faint curiosity. Others didn't even bother acknowledging his abrupt appearance, as though they had anticipated his arrival all along.
Elias remained on the ground for a moment, his mind racing to assess the situation. His sister's safety, the old man's intentions, and the raiders' presence-all of it swirled in his thoughts as he prepared himself for what might come next.
Elias's racing thoughts were abruptly interrupted when one of the raiders approached him. The man moved with deliberate care, his hands raised and open to either side—a gesture of peace to show he wasn't holding a weapon.
From his position on the ground, Elias studied the figure before him. The man, who sported a close-cropped buzz cut, didn't seem much older than him. His demeanor was casual, even friendly, which only deepened Elias's suspicion.
The raider crouched down, extending a hand in a show of goodwill, a faint smile playing on his lips. Elias found the gesture strange, perhaps even unnerving.
Rather than accept the offered help, he pushed himself off the ground and stood, dusting himself off before locking eyes with the raider. His voice carried an edge of suspicion as he asked, "Who are you? What are you people doing here?"
As Elias spoke, the old man from earlier stepped beside the young raider. Leaning close, the elder whispered something inaudible before retreating, leaving the younger man visibly burdened by whatever task had just been thrust upon him.
Scratching the back of his head, the raider sighed and took a tentative step forward, as though trying to bridge the gulf of mistrust between them. "Relax, man," he began, only to be cut off by Elias, who took a deliberate step back and warned, "Stop. Don't come any closer."
His eyes flicked toward the house behind him, where the door stood ajar.
The raider raised his hands again, palms outward in a gesture of conciliation. "We're not here to cause trouble," he said, his tone almost pleading. "We just... need to talk. That's all."
Elias's scowl deepened. "Talk about what?"
The raider sighed again, clearly realizing this would take some effort.
Elias remained unmoved, his expression skeptical as the raider continued, "Look, we're here for you." He paused briefly, as though anticipating an objection, then hurriedly added, "But it's for a good reason. I swear."
There was an earnestness in the raider's voice, a desperate hope mirrored in his eyes. "If we could just sit down inside and talk calmly, I promise you'll understand."
Elias's mind raced. Why should he believe the words of someone who had trespassed upon his home and endangered his sister?
Or had they? His memories of the confrontation blurred in the light of his lingering anger. Who had truly been the aggressor? He recalled Lily's face from earlier, unperturbed and unhurt. Somehow, he knew she was fine—knew it with a certainty
His shoulders sagged as the tension drained from his posture. Without a word, he stepped aside, granting silent approval to the raider's unspoken request.
The raider's face lit up with a smile, his steps quickening as he made his way toward the house. Elias followed close behind, his eyes sharp and watchful, ready for whatever might come next.
As the raider settled into the chair by the table, Elias knelt beside his sleeping sister, his focus entirely on her peaceful expression.
"Man, you really trust a raider?" the man asked, leaning back casually, though his tone carried an edge of disbelief.
Elias didn't look up. "The moment you walked into this house, I could've killed you with your back turned to me," he replied, his voice calm but cutting. He finally glanced at the raider, a sarcastic smile tugging at his lips. "But you showed trust first—by giving me your back."
The raider blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. His confidence faltered until Elias stood, leaving his sister's side to take the chair opposite him.
The man quickly regained his composure, leaning forward slightly. "My friends outside? There are at least twenty of them. Raiders, all armed and ready. Of course, I wasn't afraid of you attacking me," he said with a mocking smirk, his eyes gleaming with misplaced confidence.
Elias didn't flinch. Instead, he tilted his head ever so slightly, meeting the man's gaze with unnerving calm. "Strange, then, that they haven't attacked yet, isn't it?" he said, his voice as steady as his demeanor.
The raider's smirk faltered, his eyes darting toward the door where his companions waited. Elias followed the glance before speaking again. "The old guy—the one who whispered to you earlier—he's in a higher position than you, isn't he?" Elias let the question linger, his expression sharp as he watched the raider's reaction.
A sigh escaped the man, betraying his unease. Elias pressed on, his tone carrying a subtle threat. "He might even be the boss. And yet, I already attacked him." He leaned forward slightly, his smile devoid of warmth, more like a predator sizing up prey. "Tell me, why am I still sitting here, talking to you, instead of lying dead outside?"
The raider swallowed hard, the confidence draining from his features as sweat beaded on his brow. He wiped his face nervously before muttering, "Look, there's a reason we're here… at your house."
Elias leaned back, waiting silently, his cold gaze demanding the truth.
***
Victor stirred awake, his back pressed against the cold wall he had been leaning on. Blinking groggily, he realized Elias was no longer by his side.
The sky was painted in hues of orange and gold, the sun just beginning its descent. He judged it had been only minutes since he'd drifted off. How did I not notice him leave?
The thought gnawed at him, but he quickly dismissed the more alarming scenarios. Kidnapped? No. Why would anyone take a sick kid over someone like me—small, sure, but stronger and can still stand straight He shook his head. It didn't make sense.
Pushing himself up, Victor stretched briefly before heading toward the arena. His instincts told him to check there first, and sure enough, the sound of voices and faint laughter led him to the bar area where the raiders gathered.
The air was thick with tension, and the only ones present were the group of raiders. Their laughter and low chatter filled the room, but Elias was nowhere in sight.
Victor's unease grew. He scanned the room once more, ready to slip out and continue his search, when a voice rang out.
"Hey, kid."
He turned sharply to see the old man, the one who seemed to command authority within the group, gesturing for him to approach. Victor hesitated, his instincts screaming caution, but he pushed down the apprehension and walked forward, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"The arena doesn't open until eight," the old raider remarked, his gravelly voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Unless you're here to collect your winnings, you've got no reason to be here so early."
His words were followed by a burst of laughter from another raider, who leaned back in his chair with a smirk. "Maybe he's looking for his boyfriend," the younger raider quipped, the mocking tone cutting through the room.
Before Victor could respond, the old raider snapped, "Enough." His sharp tone silenced the laughter immediately.
The younger raider shrugged, feigning innocence. "I was just joking..." he muttered, though the mocking look he shot Victor suggested otherwise.
Victor ignored him, his voice steady as he addressed the group. "I'm looking for my friend—the one you saw fighting yesterday. Have you seen him?"
He scanned their faces for any reaction, but they all shook their heads, their expressions indifferent.
"He must've gone home by now," Victor thought, though the possibility didn't sit right with him. "But why would he leave without telling me? Was he in a rush?"
The old raider's gaze lingered on Victor, though it wasn't suspicion directed at him. Instead, there was a thoughtful edge to it, as if he was piecing something together.
"Let's go find your friend," the old raider said abruptly, rising from his seat and grabbing the worn hat resting on the table.
Victor blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected offer. He didn't dwell on it, though; the situation demanded urgency, and any help was better than none.
As they made their way toward the exit, the old raider cast a glance over his shoulder, his expression hardening. "I'm not letting those bastards get to him first," he thought grimly, his pace quickening as they stepped into the fading daylight.