The Curator
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Chapter 213: I want more Blood
🕑 Added 2025-04-09 12:01:05 +0000 UTCMaike moved through the aftermath with sharp purpose, her voice steady as she brought order to chaos. Even though the undead had retreated, she wasn't taking any chances. Makeshift healing stations had sprung up across the square, not just for the fighters but for everyone—civilians, support staff, even children who had seen too much.
The air reeked of smoke and blood, tinged with the metallic tang of a battle hard-won. Here and there, a few vampires still lurked within the city’s shadows, but escape was impossible. Despite their speed and unnatural talents, they would be hunted down swiftly. There were simply too many humans stationed here for them to remain hidden long—unless someone helped them. But who would side with the undead? The living had few allies, and the undead had none.
Kaldrek had rejoined the others, retrieving his longsword from where it had fallen during his vicious duel with a vampire. Though his left arm remained wrapped in blood-soaked bandages, the bleeding had stopped, and he claimed the pain was tolerable. Still, he insisted others be treated before him. Maike admired the sentiment—it was noble, in its way—but also foolish.
This was a volatile phase. Tensions still simmered, and with people roaming freely, all it would take was one well-placed knife in the dark. His safety depended entirely on Thalion's patronage. And while that offered protection, it didn't make him invincible. Not when so many in the base had proven themselves dangerously competent in battle.
The recent fight had drawn a stark line between the elite and the rest. The common defenders fought bravely, but they simply weren’t in the same league. Then there were those like Thalion and the master vampires—warriors of such caliber they seemed almost mythical. Their strength dwarfed all others. How Thalion had stood his ground against not just one, but several of the vampire elites, was still difficult for her to comprehend.
It wasn’t raw power alone that set him apart—it was precision. The way he moved, the way he read his enemies before they even struck. Every motion was calculated, deadly, and impossibly fast. His awareness was uncanny; he countered ambushes with the ease of someone who had already lived them in a dream.
And then there were the vines.
Crimson tendrils had burst from Thalion’s body like something out of a nightmare—alive, ancient, and crackling with raw energy. His armor deflected claws like they were mere twigs, while his blade sliced through the undead as if drawn by vengeance itself. She had heard tales of these vines from the young family who had fought beside him before, back on the fourth stage. But the ones they described had been… different.
These vines were no longer mere tools—they were a force. The ones the vampires used had once struck fear into every fighter. Thalion’s vines made those look like roots in a garden. Their presence radiated terror, and even the master vampires hesitated when faced with them.
That battle had made one thing undeniable: Thalion stood above them all. And with power came attention—attention that would inevitably fall on her and Kaldrek as well. Yet there he was, injured, still trying to help, still refusing full treatment. It was reckless. Worse, it was the kind of heroism that could get them both killed.
Thalion, meanwhile, was relentless. Bloodlust still gleamed in his eyes as he stalked through the ruins, the only one who had managed to capture any vampires alive. Despite the brutal conflict, he looked like he was just getting started. The scale of the undead swarm had been staggering—somewhere between one and two thousand vampires, by her estimate.
Yet only a few hundred had been killed. Over four thousand humans had fallen, most of them the weak and untrained. The stronger combatants had pulled back when wounded, but the weaker ones had no such luxury. They died quickly and without ceremony.
The true price of this attack had been steep. Maike could only assume the vampires had been provoked. Whatever Thalion had done to that one captured vampire must have enraged them. She only hoped it hadn’t been too much. The thought of losing Kaldrek—or Lucan—gnawed at her. Most of the council were vipers—ambitious, manipulative, and utterly indifferent to the suffering of the people. But Kaldrek and Lucan were different. Trusted. Human.
Strangely enough, the elite fighters she had briefly spoken with after the battle surprised her. None of them bore blessings, and all shared Thalion’s disdain for the so-called “blessed.” They kept their distance from them, much like she wanted to. But avoiding the blessed was easier said than done—they always came to her. If they couldn’t recruit her, they threatened her.
Her organizational role granted her access to every resource in the base—but that access came with risk. Her class wasn’t suited for direct confrontation; it was designed to find, retrieve, and escape. Gaining real experience was a struggle.
The sky had long since gone dark. Stars hung high and cold above the wounded city. They had, at best, two more days until the catacombs opened. Two days to locate and destroy all the remaining pillars. If there were more than a few, they were doomed. Time was slipping through their fingers, and Maike could only hope Thalion would extract useful information from the captured vampires before it was too late.
In the distance, she could hear Kargul and his group finishing off the last of the fleeing undead. Jack and Josh moved like reapers, cutting through their enemies with frightening speed and never once slowing. If the rumors were true, they now held the highest kill count in the entire base. The messages flying into her terminal seemed to support it.
She had no time to rest. Everything had to be ready the moment Thalion was done. The next target was likely the Black Castle, and Maike needed to stay one step ahead. Until then, her eyes would stay fixed on the so-called blessed gathered under Thalion’s banner—watching, waiting, preparing.
<--
Thalion immobilized vampire after vampire with ruthless efficiency. Occasionally, he allowed the Crimson Virethorn to devour one, but those were exceptions. He had already subdued over fifteen of them, each shackled in special manacles that drained mana and stamina, rendering their abilities inert. These restraints would be unnecessary once they were placed within the pillar—but caution was worth the extra effort.
The base quickly settled into a heavy silence, broken only by distant shouts as others hunted down the last of the fleeing undead. They pursued vampires as well, though catching one in the open was nearly impossible. Thalion took to the skies, his body dissolving into mist, surveying the city from above. His enhanced vision pierced through the buildings and streets, confirming that no undead remained in plain sight. If any vampires lingered, they were burrowed deep in the ruins—and it was the guards’ task to flush them out.
Still, Thalion was mildly disappointed. Only eleven vampires had been captured by the elite fighters. Understandable, perhaps—capturing one alive was far more dangerous than simply killing it. But the war had claimed too many lives for him to be content. Thousands of undead had been destroyed, which, in his eyes, made the bloodshed worthwhile. And yet, the mourning faces, the broken cries of those who had lost friends and family, carved their grief into the air like invisible scars.
This was the way of the world now. Cruel, merciless, forged in pain.
He sympathized with the survivors. Most of them had never asked for this war. They wanted to live simple lives, but the System had torn that dream from their hands. Would it comfort them to know what he had planned for the captured vampires? Probably not. Some truths were best kept sealed. This was only the beginning. The first wave in a long and bloody war. Many battles still lay ahead before they would be allowed to leave the tutorial.
A message from Maike flashed in his vision—the captured vampires are assembled at the base of your tower. Good. Before locking them away beneath the fortress, he would give Amalia one final chance to prove her worth. Perhaps she could extract something useful from these blood-drenched fiends. Meanwhile, the elite still had time to gather more offerings for the pillar. For now, he had other priorities.
The Crimson Virethorn pulsed beneath his skin, coiled in anticipation. It had already absorbed multiple Sanguine Thorns, and now it waited—hungry. The blood was everywhere. It soaked the stones, clung to shattered walls, and drifted in the mist that still blanketed the battlefield. It was time to feed.
Thalion dissolved into mist again, surging through the air toward one of the larger towers. He reformed within a reinforced magical circle, deep blue symbols glowing beneath his feet. There was no point in flying around, collecting droplets one by one. He would take it all at once.
The circle flared to life, amplifying his reach. His blood-sense rippled outward, sweeping across the base and beyond. It took time to span the entire area, but once complete, he ensured no humans—especially the wounded—were included in the pull. Then, he activated Blood Harvest.
A silent pulse surged through the land.
The blood began to stir. Drops lifted from the ground, streaks rising from walls and corpses alike, drawn toward the tower like iron filings to a magnet. Mist curled in ribbons through the air, twisting around the building. Thalion focused, the vines extending from his back writhing with anticipation. They stretched like serpents, tasting the air.
He could feel the Virethorn's eagerness, its silent urge to help him draw faster—but he resisted. The risk of draining the living was too great. Still, the vines trembled, brimming with power, pulsing like something ready to burst from its skin. This is going to hurt, he thought grimly. Hopefully I don’t pass out before it’s done.
The first drops reached the vines.
They drank greedily, channeling the blood into the ever-growing reservoir deep within his body. With each pulse, Thalion felt like an overworked air compressor, the pressure mounting inside him. The core of the Crimson Virethorn, nestled just beneath his heart, radiated blistering heat, each wave stronger than the last. It was like standing at the edge of a nuclear furnace.
And still, the blood kept coming.
It was the first time the Virethorn had ever shown signs of nearing its limit. That in itself was a revelation. But the plant felt no fear, no restraint. It devoured the offering like a beast preparing for a drought, insatiable and unrelenting.
Time dragged.
The process took far longer than anticipated. He had underestimated the sheer volume of blood left behind. Thousands of undead had fallen—some monstrous in size, especially the dinosaur-like beasts. Those alone could have held hundreds of liters. Compared to a bathtub’s capacity of two to four hundred liters, these things were blood tanks on legs.
When it was finally done, more than an hour had passed. But he had done it—absorbed all of it in a single ritual. It was a feat that proved just how superior the Crimson Virethorn had become. Back when he’d fed the Sanguine Thorn, it had taken multiple stages, multiple evolutions. This... this was something else entirely.
Vines unfurled around him like a blooming flower, each one radiating power with every pulse. Just before the transformation began, he put his armor back in his spatial ring. The armor had never interfered before, but with this much energy surging through him, it was best not to take chances.
The change started slowly.
He held on for as long as he could, gritting his teeth as pain ripped through his body like lightning. After twenty minutes, his vision began to dim. The agony overwhelmed his senses. The transformation had begun in earnest.
I wonder how I’ll feel when I wake up this time, he thought, a bitter smile forming as darkness overtook him. Because this fire burning in my veins... it’s addictive.
This would be another major breakthrough. And if the vampires thought they had seen the limits of his strength, they were about to be terribly, terribly wrong.
Comments
Daniel Hamilton
He could form it out of the iron in the blood or just use blood, skin and bones 6ft throne Outer shell • Outer shell thickness ~2–4 inches • Material volume ~1.2 m³ = ~1,272 liters • People required = ~255 bodi Blood: ~1,272 liters = ~255 people • Bones: ~10–15 skeletons • Flesh: ~3–5 people Internal structure • Femurs and tibias for legs/support beams • Ribs and spines for back curves • Skulls as ornamental fixtures or armrests Estimate: • ~10–15 skeletons needed Upholstery • Human skin stretched and tanned for seat and backing • Coagulated blood foam for cushion padding Estimate: • 3–5 full hides (skin from head to toe) • ~50 liters of coagulated material for comfort
Barbara Collier
Yes.......how much stronger can he get?????
Wanheda
Damn someone already took my comment! Yes blood for the blood god, though he still needs his throne. Anyways great chapter very satisfying!
Johannes Röhrl
Same. This is where i wanted this book to be from the start and now its payday.
Ola
Thanks
Saru Yama
Blood for the blood God, Skulls for the Skull Throne! I love it! I love that after the long phase of preparation and not being able to compete with the Tutorial forerunners Thalion finally reveals his fangs. That is the reason i like stories about powerful MC's. It's all about the anticipation of the coming doom for your enemies. It's like you had a terrible annoying itch and finally after scratching it eases up.
Lan
Thank you for the chapter
Snake With An Aurora Borealis
Thanks for the chapter!
