The Vampire Count Returned to the Apocalypse Game

Cold indifference filled his eyes as he slipped into the shadows.. If he exposed himself, survival would become uncertain.

His weapons clamored silently to act, anxious and bloody. But it was he who held the strings, controlling his deepest impulses.

He knew almost nothing about his enemies and his presence was no secret for the thickest roots of the Frozen North.

When he calculated and pondered his possibilities against possible attacks, he observed how a grayish smoke filtered through the worn structure, threatening him.

Despots... Not fools.

He took an impulse and jumped through the window, shattering the dirty windowpanes and breaking the hinges. He had no time to analyze where he landed, fleeing quickly with long strides and huge leaps.

The thick smoke that had managed to filter inside the barracks began to cloud his mind and weaken his muscles.

Finally falling in his free run, hitting the ground and rolling over the garbage, until his body was left without strength.

He was suffering slight spasms on the cold ground, with his breathing weakening and his vision spinning aimlessly.

Then he heard soft footsteps and an aged voice, with a hurtful mocking tone. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

"That brat really fooled him. Just look at this little fish that fell into such an obvious trap... The dump." A hoarse laugh echoed.

Gabriel acted in an instant.

His dagger pierced the man’s throat in a murderous blur. The blade sank deep and the hooded man choked on his own blood.

Gabriel kicked the body and crawled on all fours, moving away from his previous position.

In his mouth he chewed desperately on the herb that the Alchemist Gustav had given him. The extremely bitter taste was like an electrifying spell, revitalizing his senses and returning clarity to him, erasing all effect of the smoke.

He stood up with effort and observed his surroundings.

At that moment he was no longer alone.

Multiple hidden figures had emerged from among the mountains of garbage.

With long dark robes that covered them completely, deep hoods hiding their faces.

They moved with deliberate slowness, savoring each step until his death.

The Despots.

Their behavior was unsettling. In their eyes swayed a deep indifference to life, not even caring about the death of one of their own.

But the worst was when the man he had just stabbed in the throat stood up with exaggerated movements, as if repositioning every joint.

The wound bled profusely, but in his eyes there was only a macabre amusement. There was no hatred or pain, only the amusement hidden under the darkness.

Gabriel gripped his daggers tighter.

Fuck me.

He had a very bad feeling.

His first reaction was to escape. He had already left the Novice Village, so he was absolutely aware of the new dangers.

In Bérsaic death could be very cruel. He had obtained the notebook, an object of immense value, so he had to escape alive.

He tried to buy time, mentally reviewing all possible escape routes.

"I understand that you are The Despots," he said in a firm voice.

"Despots is a very broad term, young man," replied one with a raspy voice, "It is a shame that you will die so soon, without being able to discover its true meaning."

They waited no longer.

They moved like an experienced pack, coordinating and attacking from different angles at the same time.

Gabriel only had a few instants to react. His instincts activated to the maximum while his mind calculated every movement. He defended himself, avoided possible attacks and tried to counterattack.

But there were too many.

And he, relatively weak in comparison.

He exchanged small wounds to avoid serious damage, but soon felt unknown toxins invading his body. His blood fought fiercely to repel them, but the effort exhausted him.

It was now or never.

He began to flee while repelling the attacks. Pieces of flesh began to detach from his body, with the wild and extremely violent style of the group. His blood flew in streams, staining a wide scene around him.

It was practically a human butchery. For the first time he suffered the consequences of not having enough strength.

His muscles bulged in a last desperate effort. He moved through the garbage with the instincts of a dying animal, while his eyes only contained the will to survive.

The Despots fought in a somber silence. Their pack tactic was disciplined, with combined attacks that overwhelmed him, covering him with open wounds.

For some inexplicable reason, the member he had fatally wounded did not attack. He only coldly observed every movement of Gabriel, as if studying his behavior.

And although Gabriel managed to cause them damage, miraculously it seemed to have no lasting effect. It only delayed them for brief instants, until they finally returned to battle.

It was a fight doomed to fail.

The exchanges became even more brutal, with exhaustion accumulating in his bones.

His body was reaching its limit. With the unbearable pain gnawing at his mentality, but his will burned with the rebellion to live.

Then he saw it. One of the exits from the dump.

He hurried toward it, ignoring the exhaustion. A thick chain whipped his back with untamed force, but he did not allow the impact to knock him down.

The pain drove him even more, while he clenched his teeth covered in blood.

He forced himself through the exit, expending every ounce of energy he had left.

His entire body was bloodied, with his clothes in tatters and the overcoat soaked. The toxins continued fighting inside his body, but his constitution resisted the foreign poisons.

He ran with all his remaining strength through the shadowy streets of the district. Each stride was an agony that impacted him deeply, with his vision clouding at times.

Finally, in the middle of a deserted street, his legs failed.

He fell to his knees and then with his face against the broken cobblestones.

His breathing was panting. The notebook still remained safe inside his overcoat.

He fought against the idea of losing consciousness, clenching his teeth tightly and trying to drag himself.

He still remembered the cruel methods of the group. The streets where he was; and what his agonizing end would be.

But finally, his vision was covered in darkness.