Corrupted blood lord

Teclos stood in the ruined forest, breathing heavily through clenched teeth as the two halves of the wyvern lay across the frozen ground.

Half of his body was still sealed in ice, and he was not feeling particularly well himself. His lungs burned, his blood burned, and one side of his body felt like it had been carved out.

Still, he was doing slightly better than the dead wyvern, so he could not complain too much.

He could not move his frozen half at all, which forced him to walk like a penguin. It felt a little silly, but since no one was around to see it, he decided that it did not matter.

Something minor like this could not kill him anymore, but that did not mean it felt pleasant.

He slowly made his way toward the wyvern to replenish at least some of his strength and seal its heart before too much power dissipated.

He spat blood into the snow and forced himself forward.

Once he was close enough, he lifted his good arm, and crimson threads rose from the corpse, rich, cold, and full of power, bending toward him.

He drank it, and some of his strength immediately returned, making him reach the corpse faster.

Teclos pressed a hand against the wyvern’s ruined side and dirrectly bit into it.

He drank some more until he could comfortably contain its power, unlike what had happened with the blood orb, and slowly started healing himself.

The heart was the real prize and if he could slowly absorb its power, but he could not absorb any of it, as it was not for him.

Sadly, Luther would take that prize.

Teclos clicked his tongue and drew his knife.

The wyvern’s chest had already been split open by his final attack, but the heart was still buried inside the ribs and frozen flesh. He carved through the carcass carefully, and with the help of his blood mana, he quickly found it.

After a few more cuts, he finally reached the final tendons and pulled the heart free.

It was larger than his head, covered in frost and dark red blood. Even now, it pulsed with power.

Teclos began gathering the surrounding blood around it.

The blood wrapped around the heart in thick crimson streams, surrounding it layer by layer. After that Teclos pulled it tight and shaped it into a protective cocoon. Then the blood hardened and crystallized around the heart until it looked like some piece of bloody candy.

A gift for Luther.

Teclos opened his dark dimension and threw it inside with distain on his face.

Once that was done, he looked up at the mountain.

The black scar from his final attack stretched across its side, cutting through stone for hundreds of meters.

He started making his way toward the top, curious what the wyvern had been protecting.

A beast that strong would not die for nothing. Teclos felt that this was beyond just protecting territory. After all, it had fought until it was cut in half.

Something had to be up there.

He sighed because he was slow as hell, and the trip was miserable. Trying to climb up a mountain with half of his body not functioning turned out to be a pain in the ass.

His regeneration had already started working, but the frozen mana still lingered in his left side like a curse.

He needed a whole three hours until he finally found the cave.

The entrance was half-hidden near the peak, covered behind ice and snow. Cold air drifted from inside, and it smelled like a meat freezer, he thought.

Stepping inside, Teclos saw various corpses lying scattered across the cave floor. Some were fresh. Others had been gnawed down to bone.

At the far end of the cave, sitting in a nest made of ice, bone, and torn hides, was an egg.

The wyvern egg.

Its height nearly reached his chest, and its color was a pale blue-white, with silver veins running across its shell. Mana pulsed inside it, slow and steady.

"Well," Teclos muttered. "Turns out I was right..."

Then something else caught his eye past the egg.

It was some sort of altar.

It was carved from black stone and shaped like a tombstone. A stone skeleton head rested at the top, its empty eyes staring down at the cave. Thorn-like runes covered the entire surface, twisting over the stone like sharp vines. In front of it was a round platform that had been carved into the floor, also covered in runes arranged in a perfect circle.

Power seeped from it.

Ancient power.

Teclos decided not to try his luck with the thing.

"Not ominous at all..."

Messing with an ancient altar covered in thorn runes and topped with a skeleton head was exactly how idiots died, and he had no intention of being one of them.

What he did wonder was why the wyvern had built its nest beside it.

Was it guarding the altar?

Or the egg?

Or had the altar somehow drawn it here?

After a bit of pondering, he found no answer, so he ignored the altar altogether and walked toward the egg.

The shell was ice cold beneath his hand, but despite that, it still felt alive. The mana inside of it shifted the moment Teclos touched it.

It was by no means anywhere close to the wyvern heart, but consuming it should be helpful to him.

"Sorry, little one."

When he tried, though, the egg pulsed once, and a repulsive force slammed into him like a sledgehammer.

Teclos was thrown backward by the unexpected blow. He crashed onto the round platform in front of the altar hard enough to shatter the ice around his left arm, making him bleed fresh blood onto the rune-covered platform.

After a long second of nothing, every rune suddenly lit up.

Pale violet light spread across the platform, running through the thorn-like carvings and runes until the skeleton head’s eyes glowed from within.

Teclos looked at it, and then at the egg.

"Oh, come on!"

And in the next second, violet thorny vines burst from the altar.

They pierced through him from every direction, pinning him down to the platform. From skin to internal organs and bone, they ran through every part of his body.

Teclos tried to teleport away, but nothing happened.

He tried to summon his darkness unsuccessfully as well.

The runes flared brighter, and the vines began pumping something into him.

A cold violet liquid surged through the thorns and entered his body, making even his veins turn violet beneath his skin. And then, his entire being began to suffer unimaginable pain.

Teclos screamed as the pain swallowed everything, making him unable to even think.

It was worse than when he had overloaded his mana against the orcs. Worse than the wyvern’s frost eating through half his body. Worse than any of Luther’s torture methods.

He screamed until his throat bled, and kept screaming more anyway.

The violet liquid kept pumping into him, filling his veins, muscles, bones, and mana pathways.

The worst part was that, for some reason, he could not lose consciousness.

His mind reached for darkness again and again, but was somehow dragged back every time. His eyes stayed open, his body stayed awake, and he felt everything.

For two days, this did not stop.

Then, finally, like a blessing releasing him from his suffering, the vines retracted.

One by one, the thorns pulled out of his body. The violet light faded from the runes, and the skeleton head went dark again. The platform beneath him cracked and disappeared.

The second those vines retracted, Teclos finally lost consciousness from that torture, and even his experienced mind needed rest now.

—

When Teclos opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the cave.

The ceiling above him was familiar somehow and made of old wooden beams.

He stared at it for a moment and sat up.

The pain was almost gone now. His chest, arms, and legs were wrapped in bandages, and the blood had been cleaned from his body. He looked underneath the sheets and saw that he was naked... it was annoying, but not surprising.

He lifted his bandaged arms.

"Strange."

He checked his body.

His mana moved freely like usual. All of his circles were intact. His body responded like it should. And his veins were no longer glowing violet.

He was not stronger or weaker...

Whatever had been pumped into him seemed to have no effect on his strength, body, or mana.

’What the hell?’

Then the door opened.

Selma stepped inside with a bucket of hot water and a cloth. She froze when she saw him sitting awake in bed, and her eyes widened.

"Fred! Fred! He woke up!"

She left the bucket near the door and ran back into the hallway.

Teclos watched her go.

"..."

A set of heavy footsteps came up the stairs a moment later.

Fred entered first, looking pale and tired. Behind him was the village chief, followed by two men who stopped outside the room.

Fred stared at him for a second, and then he sighed.

"You’re awake."

Teclos showed a rare smile. "I somehow made it out alive."

Fred let out a short laugh.

The chief then stepped forward and bowed deeply.

"Thank you," he said. "You saved our village."

Unlike with Fred, Teclos looked at him with cold eyes.

He had not done it for them, but there was no point in ruining the man’s moment yet.

"The wyvern’s corpse has been secured," the chief continued. "Along with the mangled corpses near the mountain. We can offer you a reasonable payout for them. It will take time to gather the full amount, but—"

"Chief," Fred interrupted. "Let him rest first."

Teclos raised one hand, and Fred stopped trying to defend him.

"You can keep the monster corpses," Teclos said. "But I want an artisan to make me a new cloak from the wyvern’s scales. Use what is needed for that. You can keep the rest."

Relief passed through the chief’s face.

"That can be arranged."

"Good." Teclos then leaned back slightly and asked, "And the egg?"

The chief’s heartbeat changed.

Only a little.

His face barely twitched, but the pause before his answer was enough for Teclos to tell something was off.

"Egg?" the chief asked. "We found no egg in the cave."

Teclos stared at him.

The chief’s expression remained composed, but his heart was beating faster now.

Teclos smiled faintly.

"Is that so?"

"Yes," the chief said. "Only corpses, bones, and that strange altar. But no egg."

Teclos nodded.

It was funny.

The man was trying to deceive him while standing close enough for Teclos to hear his heartbeat and read his expression like an open book.

"What day is it today, by the way?" Teclos asked.

The chief answered him, and it made Teclos pause for a second.

Three days had gone by.

Two days trapped on that altar, then unconscious long enough for them to find him, carry him back, clean him, and bandage him.

With his vitality almost as strong as a troll’s, he had still come that close to death...

It gave him a second pause now that he thought about it again. Teclos then turned toward Fred.

"You nursed me back?"

Fred scratched the back of his neck. "Most of it was Selma. She cleaned you, changed the bandages, and kept you from choking on your own blood. I mostly carried things."

"Thank you."

Fred looked uncomfortable with the thanks.

"You saved the village," he said. "And my tavern. Even if it was unintentional."

Teclos smirked.

"Hah... still, thank you."

Fred shook his head.

The chief bowed again. "Then I will speak with the artisan." Then he quickly excused himself, like a rat.

"Do that."

Fred remained by his side for a bit longer.

"You should rest a few more days."

"Yes, I’ll take one more day to recover before I go."

"I thought you would say that," Fred said, glancing over his heavily bandaged body. "Selma will be happy to hear that."

"Why?"

"She was worried..."

Teclos gave him a flat look.

But Fred did not yield this time.

"Fine, I’ll thank her when I’m out of the bed tomorrow."

Fred chuckled and left him to rest.

Teclos leaned back against the wall. The violet liquid had done something to him, but what?

For now, he only had a bad feeling about it. Hopefully, it was not some ancient curse.

—

The next morning, Teclos woke up before sunrise.

His body was almost fully healed now. Only the faint traces of cold from the wyvern remained.

It was manageable now.

Someone had left him folded clothes on a chair near the bed. Simple trousers. A plain shirt.

It was better than walking downstairs naked.

He dressed, checked his body one more time in case some ugly curse suddenly spawned, and closed the door behind him.

The tavern was quiet at that hour, filled with the smell of warm bread, roasted meat, and tea or strong liquor. A few villagers turned to stare at him in gratitude, but Teclos ignored them and took a seat near the window.

Selma came from the kitchen, froze for a second, then narrowed her eyes.

"You should still be in bed."

"I was bored... and hungry."

"You were dying just yesterday."

"I suddenly got better."

She glared at him for a long moment.

Then she placed breakfast in front of him, but with more force than necessary.

Teclos looked at the food, then at her. Her reaction strangely was not repulsive.

"Thank you."

Selma blinked and blushed from the sudden gratitude. She quickly huffed and turned away.

"Eat before it gets cold..."

Teclos picked up the tea and took a slow sip. He thoroughly enjoyed the flavor and then took a delicious bite out of the freshly baked bread.

He would miss these peaceful moments... but alas, he would have to depart tomorrow by morning and return to the bastard master to bring him his heart.