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I, Dracula (Castlevania/Multicross) 14
🕑 Added 2025-07-27 23:00:05 +0000 UTCThe bond had weakened steadily over the past few minutes, thinning like a fraying thread. Now it trembled in the back of his mind, barely there,a shiver at the edge of thought. But it still existed, which could only mean one thing: his night creature still lived.
Isaac followed it without hesitation, hood drawn low against the biting wind. Snow crunched beneath his Nightmare's hooves, dry and brittle like old bones as the warbeast plodded forward, its body temperature melting snow as it released breaths of steam.
Despite the hunt, his mind wandered. The past year had been... strange. When he had accepted Dracula's recruitment, he had assumed he would be knee-deep in human guts by this time, yet he had not accounted for the change.
That was what they called it, he and Hector, when they put aside their differences and sat through cold nights with drinks in hand. In a new land, with savages as neighbors, he had grown fond of the naive forgemaster. Childlike he might be, yet his intelligence and sharp mind could not be understated, and during those long nights where they had only themselves for company, they had spoken of the change in their master.
It was strange and sudden, not the sort of thing that had happened over the course of years but over the course of days, then the months leading to their departure from their original world. Yet despite the change, Master Dracula had dispelled his fears and worries with a single sentence, a question he had asked only once before. It was an inside code of theirs.
"Am I still your friend, Isaac?"
There was a vulnerability in the way those words were always said, a hidden thing shared between them, and that was all Isaac had to hear to know his master remained. Different perhaps, but such were the things that came with the monumental amount of grief that Dracula had felt since he lost his wife.
It was easier once again to swallow the change. Especially since it was the second of such that he had experienced, the vampire Isaac had met before and after Lisa's death might as well have been different people. However, the new change was more surprising because Dracula was not one to go back on his words. And that was what he did when he spared the people of Wallachia and stayed his hand from committing genocide.
A gust of fresh chill hit him, sharpening Isaac's senses and forcing him to focus as the Nightmare finally crested a hill of packed ice. All of a sudden, the sharp scent of blood curled into his nose before he saw it.
The night creature lay crumpled in a shallow depression, half-buried in snow. Isaac's Nightmare plodded forward, hooved feet uncaring as it carried him to get a better view of his night creature. Its feathery wings were torn, one limb twisted at a sickening angle, ichor frozen around the stumps where a dozen small legs should have been at its midsection. It still breathed, but only barely.
A tremor passed through it as Isaac dropped down from the Nightmare and approached, and one pale eye rolled toward him in recognition.
"Master Dracula would be displeased," Isaac murmured, kneeling beside the creature. His voice was steady, but beneath it simmered cold fury. Not at the creature; no, never at the poor loyal creature. At whatever had done this. This methodical dismantling.
His night creature had been toyed with, played like a fiddle for minutes, the same way a cat played with prey. No simple beast had done this. He crouched low enough to place a hand gently against its head. The bond flickered brighter for a moment, then dimmed again, steady but faint. Rare was the night creature capable of speech, and this particular creature wasn't one, yet Isaac did not need it to speak. This close, their connection was strong enough that it was able to pass on a message through the sympathetic link that they shared as forgemaster and night creature.
"Rest," he whispered, his hands drifting over its single pale eye. The bond dimmed once more, permanently. The night creature had struggled to stay alive and endured just long enough so it could feed him the relevant information. A level of love and loyalty that most humans could hardly ever comprehend. "I'll see to the rest." A final word toward the dead beast.
He rose slowly, eyes tracing the bloodied snow in widening arcs, splatter patterns where something incredibly sharp and long had carved and diced at his night creature. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the ground. There were no footprints other than the ones he left, as well as the ones both night creatures had created, which were slowly filling up. However, his keen eyes picked up something else, nearly invisible with how thin they were: the remnants of silk. Thin strands of it, pale as frost.
Isaac's lips pressed into a thin line. "A spider," he said flatly. "Of course."
The silk remnants left a trail, one that was not too obvious as to be suspicious, but clear to anyone with a keen eye and in search of something unusual. Isaac allowed a small smile to slip across his dark features, then he began to follow it, but not before clicking at the Nightmare to follow him three paces behind.
The trail led toward a ravine of jagged stone where even the snow did not fall deep or often enough to gather too thickly. Ice clung to the walls like crystal fungi, and the air was silent. The kind of silence that spoke of the coming of a storm. There was not even a bird call, nor the whisper of wind; the only sounds he could hear were the dull beat of his own heart, as well as the crunch of feet and hooves treading on snow.
The attack came swiftly. The spider struck from the cliffs above, dropping down with its eight limbs, each the width of a man's chest, aimed down toward him in sudden violence with the intent to skewer him. But Isaac had expected it; his night creature had warned him in advance. Isaac dove to the side the moment he sensed it fall and dodged the first strike.
He rolled to his feet a second later, drawing the short, encrusted and enchanted dagger at his side with fluid precision. A blade that served both as his primary weapon of choice as well as his forge tool. The spider shrieked, a sound like frozen glass shattering, as it reared up to its full height. It was a large white arachnid, its body covered by segmented plates of ice that served to reinforce its soft carapace, and its body looked like it was carved from ice. Its features made it nearly invisible, and Isaac was sure there was some magic to it. But that cursory glance was all he was permitted before the giant spider lunged again.
Isaac rolled under its legs with a fluid dive and came up beneath its belly. His arms lashed out: once, twice, thrice, each attack slashing deep into the spider's vulnerable underside. The spider shrieked once more in pain, and Isaac could feel blood pool and dribble down his ears as black fluid sprayed out of the wound, hot against the cold.
The beast dropped, but Isaac was expecting it. He rolled immediately, dodging as the spider dropped its full weight into the snow. Isaac, without hesitation, flipped to his feet, stance low, dagger pointed toward the ground in anticipation.
The beast rose up once more, a chattering in its maw as it stared at Isaac's uncaring and calm brown orbs with eight black, all-too-intelligent eyes. Isaac returned the stare with apathy; already he was dicing it up in his head. He was human, stronger than most perhaps, faster by means of near-inhuman training he had put himself through as well as a blessed physique. All these were advantages, advantages that helped him match and surpass many a vampire or night creature, and the piddling beast before him would be no different.
The giant spider, sensing the disdain and apathy he greeted it with, shrieked once more. It took more effort than Isaac cared to admit not to flinch at that sound of frozen glass shattering, of steel shearing along iron. Sensing some perceived weakness, the beast lunged once more, low this time, and Isaac dove to the side, recovering fast enough that when it reared, legs flailing wildly, he was able to parry an attack with the flat side of his blade.
Another scythe-like limb came crashing down upon his head, but Isaac was already moving. He danced along the ice, spinning and carving his blade deep into the leg of the beast. Once again he was greeted by the screeching. Their dance continued. Isaac dodged and weaved past scythe-like limbs, only lashing out and cutting deep into the limbs every time it overextended. Slow, precise. He had no need for rage here, nor speed either. He had a job, and he was going to do it.
The final blow came as a shock to the giant spider. The injuries had begun to tell on it. It had begun to slow; it was not an obvious thing, especially as Isaac also slowed down to accommodate the beast. Each weary lunge it let out sent blood flying from the numerous injuries and gashes Isaac had drawn around its frame.
Then, all of a sudden, Isaac burst forward in what must have seemed like a blur of speed to the beast but was just him increasing his output once more. He appeared in front of the giant spider, hand outstretched. His short dagger immediately found its way into one of its clustered eyes. Not deep enough.
He dug his feet into the ground and pushed, forcing the entire blade into the beast's head and up to his forearm. Only then did the creature still, before it spasmed once, twice, its limbs flailing about in a death rattle, but Isaac was too close for them to reach him. Then it slumped forward, and Isaac skipped backward, watching with cool brown eyes as the giant spider twitched, the last of its strength bleeding into the snow.
Isaac took a step forward, burying his foot on the head of the night creature. Already he was thinking about fascinating things he could do with the spider. A night creature could not be altered and could only be made from already dead stock. However, Isaac had never had the chance to try transforming a magical creature that had not been touched by forging, and his curiosity pushed him to retreat with the beast on his back at once.
He had accomplished his mission already; however, he didn't let his impulse control him. Instead he let out a small breath, watching the air fog up before him. He had noticed it during the fight, the sudden further drop in temperature. The sense of something watching, like a finger trailing along the back of his neck.
He had drawn out the fight for longer than he had needed to, with the expectation that whoever was observing him would show its face at an inopportune moment. But his silent watcher remained still; even when he had feigned weakness, there had been no attack. Growing tired, he had dispatched the beast immediately.
Now his eyes searched for the presence. It was not like the spider. Neither was it some wild beast. Instead, its owner had been curious, patient. He scanned the cliffs, the top of the ravine, the trees, and the bare sky, but nothing moved.
However, he knew the sensation. He'd felt it before, in the coldness of desert nights, where the dead walking could be mistaken for the living and old and powerful night creatures rested beneath the sands, watching humanity with intelligent eyes. He did not know the nature of the gaze now upon him, but it was intelligent.
He suddenly caught it: light reflecting at the top of the ravine. His brown eyes narrowed as he slowly began to pick up features until suddenly, like a fog had been lifted from his sight, he saw it clear as day. Skin so pale it could be mistaken for ice. White long hair that moved lazily in the wind like it had no weight of its own. Tilted ears and empty blue eyes that stared down at Isaac with hints of curiosity. Its features were beautiful, yet fae-like in the sense of uncanniness it called forth.
It was wrapped in armor, a breastplate around its torso that seemed made of ice, and in its hand was a long spear.
"I see you," he said aloud, voice steady.
There was no reply. Only a curious tilt of its head as it watched him. Then there was a sudden gust of wind, and Isaac tensed, expecting an attack. But as the snow sent flying by the wind cleared, the figure was gone. Brown eyes searched again, but this time he knew it was gone for good.
Isaac glanced once more at the fallen spider, in thought. It was a good thing that the figure had not attacked. He had planned to forcibly turn the night spider if it had, a quick and dirty solution that would make him a night creature but not one as powerful as it would have been if he had taken the time to turn it in a proper forge.
He wondered how it would turn out: night forging on a different world. Where would the souls come from? This world's version of Hell, or perhaps his original world? Or were all Hells connected, and there was only a single version of hell connecting all worlds? What about magic? He and Hector had spoken about how little they could sense in the world, but that had changed over the past few hours since the comet tore across the sky.
Then he turned and began the walk back to his Nightmare, shelving his thoughts. The horse had been another plan; if he had been forced to, he would have called on it to assist him. It was no combat beast, but all night creatures were capable of combat. He tugged at the saddlebag strapped to the beast and brought out a rope. Retreating to the fallen spider, he deftly wrapped its body alongside its limbs with the rope, then tugged at it to be sure there was no give.
Only then did he mount the Nightmare. He had lost a night creature and gained another one in return, one with more potential. As the horse trudged forward, dragging the carcass behind him, he began to wonder just how much the strange figure had seen. He disappeared into the trees, yet he kept one hand on the hilt of his blade and his senses sharpened and alert, just in case the figure was stalking him.
He had done his duty. Now he returned to Master Dracula with a story to tell.
