The Curator
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Chapter 206: Are we losing?
🕑 Added 2025-03-31 12:56:09 +0000 UTCThe transformation of the Thorn felt endless from Thalion’s perspective. Agonizing waves of searing pain surged through his body, forcing every muscle to convulse as the parasitic plant burrowed deeper into his veins. Twenty minutes passed in a torment that stretched time itself. Then, at last—blackness.
When he awoke, he expected to feel weak, drained, sluggish. Instead, his body hummed with power. There was no trace of exhaustion, no lingering pain—only a raw, primal energy coursing through his limbs. He could feel it beneath his skin, coiling like a beast waiting to strike. His veins no longer felt like mere conduits of blood; they pulsed with something denser, sharper, alive.
Pushing himself upright, Thalion called forth his status screen, his gaze locking onto the changes. As he read, his eyes widened in shock.
Crimson Virethorn (Ethereal)
The Crimson Virethorn is the awakened form of the Sanguine Thorn, a symbiotic plant that has unlocked its full potential by consuming another of its kind. No longer a mere blood-drinker, the Virethorn has fully integrated, fusing plant and flesh into something beyond human, beyond nature.
Gone are the fragile, hidden tendrils that once lay dormant beneath the host’s skin. Now, living vines coil through their veins, reinforcing muscles with fibrous strength and sharpening reflexes to inhuman precision. Their skin takes on a faint, ever-shifting pattern of crimson veins, as if petals stir beneath the surface, waiting to bloom. When injured, thorned tendrils emerge, sealing wounds and drinking deep from pain itself. Yet, for all its gifts, the Virethorn is never silent. It whispers in instincts, in urges. It craves growth, battle, dominance. And should the host’s will ever falter, they may find themselves less of a person… and more of a vessel for something ancient and patient, something waiting to take root in the world.
"Holy shit." Thalion grinned, his fingers trembling slightly as he reread the description. This was beyond anything he had expected. The Sanguine Thorn had already been powerful, but now? It had evolved into something far deadlier.
A thought struck him—Kael still has that item for the Sanguine Thorn… and there are dozens of them growing along the outer walls. If he had been able to force an evolution by feeding one to another, then what would happen if he fed it more? A shiver of excitement ran down his spine.
Turning back to his status screen, he noticed another change. His previous abilities—Blood Thorn and Vine of the Sanguine Thorn—were gone. In their place, a single new ability had taken root.
Virethorn's Wrath (Ethereal)
The Crimson Virethorn, having fully awakened through consumption, manifests its ultimate ability—an unholy fusion of tendrils and bloodthirsty thorns. When activated, a web of crimson-black vines erupts from the host’s body, writhing and lashing out like living serpents, seeking the warmth of flesh. Each vine is lined with barbed, hollow thorns, piercing into victims and draining their vitality with every pulse. The moment a thorn embeds itself, it acts as a sanguine conduit, spreading through the target’s bloodstream like invasive roots. The more blood they siphon, the faster and stronger the vines grow, entangling enemies in a writhing, tightening web of living crimson.
"This… is insane." Thalion's grin widened. The ability seemed similar to his old ones but on an entirely new level. He had already learned how to grow the Sanguine Thorn inside an enemy, slowly draining their lifeblood and resources. But this? This was raw devastation.
Still, he needed to test it. Without hesitation, he activated the skill. Instantly, multiple tendrils tore free from his left side, whipping through the air before slamming into the stone wall with terrifying force. The impact left deep cracks, the sheer power far beyond what he had expected.
"Damn… power and lethality on an entirely different scale." And that was without him even pushing it to its limit.
Curious, he willed one of the thorns to launch itself. The tendril coiled back, then snapped forward, sending a barbed projectile hurtling toward the stone. The thorn embedded itself deep, its bloodied tip pulsing faintly.
"I can still fire them individually?" That wasn’t even mentioned in the ability description. A hidden function, perhaps? His excitement only grew.
With a satisfied smirk, Thalion reabsorbed the bloody tendrils, feeling them slither back into his skin. His status screen still flickered before him, but at this point, he didn’t even need to check it. The power thrumming through his veins told him everything he needed to know—he had ascended beyond what he once was.
Thalion could feel the difference. Strength surged through his limbs, his muscles coiled with explosive potential. His entire body felt reinforced, his very being thrumming with newfound energy.
Had his stats increased? With a smirk, he summoned his status screen, eyes scanning the numbers.
Strength: 610
Intelligence: 462
Vitality: 790
Those were insane power boosts. Maybe his agility had risen too, but he couldn’t recall the exact number from before. If it had changed, the increase was probably minimal. Regardless, every fiber of his being felt stronger, faster, sharper.
As he closed the screen, his thoughts drifted back to something from the Virethorn’s description—its hunger, its whispers. Was it truly trying to overtake his mind?
No.
Thalion felt nothing foreign—only a shared thirst for blood, an unshakable hunger for more of its kind. And honestly? He fully agreed.
The only thing left to do now was test his power—and what better way than to slaughter some vampires? With that thought, Thalion rushed up the stairs, eager to join the battlefield.
<--
"RETREAT!"
Kaldrek's voice boomed across the battlefield, his throat raw from shouting. His lungs burned, but he had no time to care. The vampires had broken through.
The first wall had fallen within hours. The second—within half an hour after that. And now? The final, strongest barrier had been breached.
Kaldrek's hands clenched into bloody fists. It wasn’t just this section of the battlefield—holes had been torn open all over the city. The once-imposing fortifications had become stepping stones for the enemy.
Above them, the protective blue dome flickered, its light weakening as the wall crumbled beneath it. If that shield collapsed entirely, they were doomed. The walls might be thirty to forty meters high, but to a vampire, that was nothing.
And now, the enemy was using their own defenses against them. The first two breached walls provided cover, allowing the vampires to regroup and attack from within. The bloody mist was everywhere, its choking presence thickening by the second. If not for the formation’s protection, Kaldrek was certain he’d already be dead.
He had lost his flaming sword—and with it, his right arm.
Blood still dripped from the wound, staining his armor, pooling beneath his feet. Every few moments, his vision blurred, but he forced himself to stay conscious.
The one who took his arm was no ordinary vampire. A towering figure clad in black armor, his muscular frame shrouded in unnatural shadows. His blood wasn’t red—it was black. And he fought with terrifying speed and precision.
Kaldrek had stood no chance. The clash had lasted mere moments, ending with his arm severed in a single blow. If not for an archer’s timely intervention, he wouldn’t have escaped at all.
Now, standing atop the battered wall, he glanced at his injury. His bone was still exposed, the bleeding stopped only by crude battlefield magic. It looked horrific, but there was no time to care.
Below him, the battle raged on. The vampires and their undead hordes pushed forward, the mist curling around them like a living entity.
So far, only one breach had been made in the main wall, and their forces had concentrated everything they had to hold it. But already, the bloody mist crept inside.
Mages fought to push it back with wind magic, but it was useless. The mist wasn’t just some environmental effect—it was alive. It moved with purpose, weaving through the city like a predatory beast, seeking weaknesses.
Kaldrek's communication crystal pulsed, another urgent message from Maike.
"Fall back. Recover. You're no good to us like this."
He grit his teeth, glancing down at the battlefield. The vampires were fully engaged, their blood magic striking like crimson lightning. They moved in blurs of speed, dodging arrows, evading fireballs, dancing through the chaos like wraiths in the mist.
The only silver lining was that the battlefield ships still dominated the skies.
The undead bees had been wiped out, giving the airships free reign to bombard the enemy. They had even maneuvered inside the blue dome, ensuring they wouldn’t be picked off by aerial threats.
Flames rained from above, scorching the hordes of undead below. But even as bodies burned and crumbled, more poured in to take their place. The vampires refused to yield.
Kaldrek gritted his teeth. So far, no undead had actually made it through the breach, but that was changing.
A sudden explosion rocked the city. Another section of the wall collapsed, stone and debris thundering to the ground.
A second explosion—another breach on the city’s opposite end.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
Kaldrek's heart sank.
The protective barrier flickered violently, its energy strained to the breaking point. From the outside, the vampires doubled their assault, unleashing massive blood attacks against the dome, trying to shatter it entirely.
The first undead poured into the city, their rotting maws open in silent screams.
Kaldrek cursed. With one arm missing, he couldn’t even fight properly anymore. He wasn’t a fool—against the stronger vampires, he’d be slaughtered instantly.
"Shit. There's no choice."
He ordered his entourage to divert their formation energy to someone else. He was done fighting—for now.
Instead, he leapt onto the scouting vessel, soaring high above the battlefield, gripping the railing tightly with his remaining hand.
From up here, the full scale of the disaster became painfully clear.
Four breaches—North, South, East, and West. The city was wide open.
They had fighters, yes. But spreading them too thin would only ensure defeat.
Even so, they had no choice. The walls had fallen, and the enemy was pouring in.
And as Kaldrek watched the undead hordes widen the gaps, his mind could focus on only one, grim thought—
"This city is going to drown in blood."
The situation was dire, and with each passing moment, it only grew worse. The first vampires had breached the city, slipping through the cracks like shadows in the mist. The streets erupted into chaos as Thalion’s strongest warriors—empowered by the formation’s magic—clashed against the invaders in desperate combat.
But the vampires had an advantage. The bloody mist that cloaked the battlefield wasn’t just an obstacle—it was a source of power. They drank from it, their wounds closing faster, their strikes growing deadlier, their movements becoming nothing more than blurs of crimson and shadow. Kargul’s unit fought ferociously, cutting down vampire after vampire, and against all odds, they managed to secure one of the breaches completely. A small victory. But the others had turned into floodgates, spewing forth an endless tide of undead.
And then, the real monsters arrived. Kaldrek stood atop the scout vessel, his breath heavy, his mind racing. He had no idea how to deal with these new vampires—the ones who carried themselves with unshakable confidence, their presence thick with an overwhelming aura of power. One in particular stood out—a vampiress wrapped in twisting red vines, her body wreathed in living tendrils of blood. With a single gesture, razor-sharp vines erupted from her, impaling multiple fighters at once. Their bodies twitched, drained dry before they even had the chance to scream.
His stomach turned. He had to act fast. His hands flew across the communication crystal, barking orders. He signaled one of the giant skyships, calling for reinforcements—more expert close-combat fighters who might have a chance at containing the vampiress. But even as he called for help, the battle spiraled further out of control. Below, the city was being overrun. The defenders atop the walls and towers still rained fire and steel upon the invaders, their defensive weapons thundering as they tried to stem the tide.
But inside the city, it was pure carnage. The streets had turned into a chaotic, desperate melee, fighters locked in close-quarters combat against the undead. The mist thickened, swirling around them, feeding the vampires, weakening the humans. Kaldrek barely had time to process the battle before everything shattered. One moment, he was shouting orders, coordinating defenses, trying to rally his men—then the scout vessel exploded.
A deafening blast of crimson energy tore through the air, and Kaldrek was flung like a ragdoll, crashing hard against the rooftop of a nearby building. His vision blurred, his ears rang, and for a second, the world was nothing but a haze of pain and smoke. And then—something moved above him. He looked up just in time to see a vampire descending, a jagged, bloody thorn shooting straight for his skull.
Instinct took over. He rolled to the side, the attack slamming into the rooftop, cracking the stone. He swung his electric longsword, aiming to cleave the vampire in half—but he was too slow. The vampire vanished in a blur, and before Kaldrek could react, a red vine shot from its hand, wrapping tight around his wrist. Pain exploded through him. His breath caught in his throat as he felt the life being drained from his body, his blood siphoned through the vine’s cruel grip. His sword slipped from his fingers, clattering against the stone.
The vampire’s lips curled into a wide, triumphant grin—only for a dark blur to materialize beside them, moving too fast to track. A single punch shattered the vampire’s jaw, sending teeth flying in a spray of red. Before the creature could even register what had happened, the man’s other hand plunged into its chest. The vampire's body convulsed, every drop of blood being ripped from it in an instant. It opened its mouth to scream, but no sound came. A second later, the vampire collapsed into an empty husk, withering before it even hit the ground.
Kaldrek's vision swam. His body felt weak, his strength draining away. But through the haze, through the pain, he saw them—a pair of crimson-red eyes, burning with unbreakable conviction and power. Then darkness.
Comments
DrifterMan
"Waow, me preguntó cómo hicieron para poner a la gente en mí contra, si soy tan bueno"
Richard Reid
As time goes on, it gets more and more difficult to both like and understand the main character.
