by Kindred Ult
Demenn was not feeling quite as cocksure. He was hurting. Not just from the punch, but from the beating he received from Brand, and the ramifications of almost being sliced to pieces by the weredragon. More than anything else, though, he was hurting in his mind. He had been beaten far too many times in the last week or so, and he had seen too many friends die. He was feeling frustrated, and angry. Any hope he had of relaxing and trying to find the surviving members of his squad were now lost as the first one to meet him at the gate had been Darius. Demenn knew why Darius was attacking him, but he also knew that he could not refuse the challenge. All of these problems coalesced into only two feelings: Exhaustion and rage, and he was not sure which one was stronger. It seemed, though, that fatigue would win, as he was panting and letting his sword droop even as Darius slowly walked towards him. He ached to be using his spear, but honor demands that a duel must be fought with a sword.
Darius wasted no time in lunging forward with his supernatural speed, and before Demenn even knew what was happening, Darius' sword was heading for his heart. Desperately, Demenn dodged to the right, and just barely evaded death. He pulled both of his hands back and swung his sword at Darius with all of the strength he could muster, but the other vampires slapped the sword away with his off-hand. Just then Demenn noticed that Darius was wearing metal gauntlets, which would also explain all of the cuts from the punch. Despite his weariness and anger, he still put that away as a good idea.
Then Darius turned, and all of Demenn's thoughts were lost in backpedaling and trying to defend each slash and thrust that came his way. He had not even known anyone could attack this swiftly until this day, and he was even more astonished each time he managed to block at strike. Many times, he was not even aware that an attack was heading towards him until he had already blocked it, and he could only thank his many years of battle experience for reflexes beyond his understanding. Still Darius kept up the attack. He never faltered once in his onslaught, and he chased Demenn all across the circle that had been formed as more and more people came to watch the duel. Each time Demenn was near the end of the circle he would slowly work his way to an angle, while still blocking or dodging every strike, until he was headed another way.
Still blocking would get him nowhere, so at one point he blocked and then slashed out at Darius, who simply stepped back, let the sword pass him by, and then stepped after it. He smashed his sword down of Demenn's and the strength of it made Demenn's hands go limp as his blade fell to the ground. Demenn was about to dive and retrieve it, but in another second Darius' sword was at his throat, and Darius himself was smiling.
"Very good, Demenn, but now it is time for you to surrender if you do not want to die like the rest of your squad."
Then, looking into the eyes of his general, Demenn felt all of the rage that had been accumulating inside him flow through him. He saw Lidian, Raphael, and Leon die while Nasoren called him scum and countless werewolves beat him mercilessly. He felt danger all around him, as if he should warn those around, but before he could the pain reached his brain, and something inside him snapped.
A growl fled from his throat as he lunged forward. Darius' sword plunged through his neck and sliced through half of it, but Demenn did not feel it. His vision was red, and all he could see was Darius' surprised face. He shot out his left hand, grabbed Darius' dominant wrist, and pulled him towards him while swinging his right hand up towards his extended right elbow. The sickening crunch that followed made Demenn smile, and he grabbed Darius' metal-clad left hand with his right before pulling him close and headbutting him in the face. He then lifted a foot up and slammed it into Darius' right leg, causing another snap and making Darius fall down.
His pain and weariness suddenly gone, Demenn watched with satisfaction as Darius dropped to the ground, but then he realized that he was on top of him, sitting on his chest and pinning him to the ground. His hand was raised, and his nails somehow seemed sharper than they ever had. He slung his hand across Darius' face and laughed as blood flew from it, then he slashed with his other hand, and Darius' head jerked back the other way as he groaned in pain. Back and forth Demenn sent his head as he pulled his hands back and swung them back down in succession.
Finally, when there was more blood than flesh left on his face, Demenn pulled his chin up and stuck his teeth into his neck. It took him only a moment before he found the artery, and then he drank deeply of Darius' lifeblood. He wanted it, all of it, but just as he reached a dangerous level he came to his senses and flung himself away from the general. His eyes widened and he looked around to see all of the spectators speechless. They looked at him in silence, and he could say nothing to them as well. Killing a vampire in a duel was supposedly forbidden, and even though it was loosely regulated, the affront of killing the general would mean certain death for Demenn. He looked around for another moment.
"Somebody, please…Please get him some blood!"
Nobody moved.
Demenn growled again and ran to Darius. The general really did seem dead, but Demenn could tell that he was still alive. He stubbornly held on to life, even when a lesser man would have died. Having nothing else to do, Demenn drew his knife and cut along his wrist, placing it above Darius and letting the blood flow into his mouth. A few seconds after he started, he saw Darius' flesh begin to grow back on his face, and then he stopped, knowing that his work was done. The general would at least live, but Demenn knew that he had made a powerful enemy this night. He wished then that he had simply surrendered, or even not taken the challenge at all, but it was too late for that.
Just as he stood, two second class vampires pushed through the crowd and came to the front. They stopped when they saw what had happened, but Demenn could tell that they were Darius' aids. He gestured to the body, and they gratefully ran to it. Bottles appeared from their cloaks, and in seconds they too were pouring blood down his throat.
Still no one spoke as Demenn collected his weapons. In fact, besides the aids, no one made any noise at all, or even moved. Then, from somewhere in the crowd, someone clapped. It was not the spontaneous clapping that invited more before it turned into a roaring exultation. No, it was the kind of clap that dared anyone else to join in, promising pain to those who did. Slowly, the crowd parted as a vampire walked up between them. Demenn groaned on the inside when he saw who it was that was congratulating him. Dimitrious, the oldest living vampire, the head councilor, and the one to be most feared when being congratulated by.
His clap was that of a superior to an inferior who had managed to do something amusing, and even though he was smiling, his smiles never really made it to being a full-fledged smile, and always turned into something of a sneer.
Even with being the oldest living vampire, Dimitrious still looked relatively young, which surprised Demenn. It was said that vampires are immortal, but that was only true as a technicality. Just like all things, vampires eventually fell to decay. They start losing their ability to gain sustenance from blood, and then, unless they enough influence to have blood constantly delivered to them, they slowly begin to age. Their skin shrivels, their hair grays, and they even lose their ability to see in the dark. They can never truly die of old age, but it is only a matter of time before another vampire or even a human destroys them in their weakened state.
The fact that Dimitrious still looked to be in his prime was frightening. This meant that he either had no such decaying in his system even though almost all around him had experienced such, or that he was powerful enough to have mass quantities of blood at his disposal. Neither prospect comforted Demenn as he stared into the face of one of the most dangerous vampires in the city. It was Dimitrious who spoke first.
"Nicely done, Demenn. Primitive, and I'm sure also highly frowned upon, but undeniably effective."
Demenn had no idea what to say or expect, so he did not sheath his sword, but kept it at his side in an attempt to be non-threatening. When Dimitrious saw him in this posture, he laughed.
"Oh, no. Don'
t misunderstand me. I have no love for that one, as powerful as he is. No, the one I am most interested in here is you. Now, come with me."
He abruptly turned and walked back down the path he had recently created by walking up to Demenn. Demenn followed, since it was not the smartest idea to disobey a direct order from a member of the council. They walked for a bit, moving through several different quarters of the city and eliciting more than one excited wave of whispers. Demenn disliked the groups who would gather and begin talking. He knew that the discovery of the werewolf lair would have made him known, but since coming to the castle he had been far too much in the public eye. A vampire did not live long when noticed too much, and what with Darius already having a grudge against him, Demenn wanted nothing more than to not be seen.
Nonetheless, here he was, waltzing through the streets behind one of the most notorious vampires in the city. He was thankful when Dimitrious finally turned down an alleyway and stopped in front of a nondescript door in a nondescript wall. He looked around furtively, then placed his hand on the door and spoke a few words. The door swung inwards, and after another look Dimitrious slipped in, pulling Demenn after him.
His grip was not threatening, so Demenn permitted it, but when they entered the room, nothing was inside it. Only four walls, the ceiling, and the floor made up the house, and the door in which they entered was the only other fixture inside it. Demenn did not understand what this meant, but he did not like the direction this was going, so he swiftly, but gently disengaged his hand from Dimitrious' and took one step back. Dimitrious, for his part, turned around with a self-satisfied look on his face.
"What did you wish to see me about, sir?" Demenn said, trying to be respectful.
"Oh, please," Dimitrious shook his hands in front of him. "No 'sirs' here, I simply cannot abide by them. They make me feel old."
Demenn felt rather confused by this. "Okay, what did you wish to see me about, Dimitrious?"
He flashed another one of his sneer smiles. "Well, Demenn, I'm sure that you've realized your name has been very much in conversation these days. Indeed, you are the first vampire in a very long time to achieve your Other form without the necessary requirements. That alone made all eyes subtly shift towards you, mine most of all, but then you shocked us all by finding the werewolf lair, which had been hidden since its first creation."
Suddenly, it hit Demenn that one of his squad members had survived. He had taken that for granted before, but now that the information was validated, he felt comforted.
"These two special events, though seemingly unrelated, tell me much about you, Demenn. These are not two random, very surreptitious events that just happened to fall onto you. The chances of both of those happening to one person are astronomically low. You must not have thought of them this way, but you must understand, yes? These are not coincidences, Demenn, they're gifts."
"Gifts?" Demenn had no idea where he was headed.
Dimitrious snapped his fingers. "Yes! Gifts from Lucifer."
Demenn raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me but, Lucifer is dead, is he not?"
A degrading chuckle emanated from Dimitrious. "Oh no, not that Lucifer. That vampire was simply an agent. He was very powerful, but he was still only a vampire endowed with strength by our god and creator, Lucifer. Perhaps not the only one, either."
Lucifer, Demenn knew that name while he had been a human, and nothing said about him had been good. Although nothing said about Vampires was good either, so he supposed it was fitting that he had created them. "So wait, you think that I am being favored by Lucifer so that I will become his next agent or something?"
Dimitrious nodded. "We believe that Lucifer foresaw the upcoming battle and has chosen you to be one of his elect, maybe even his champion."
"And you think this because of what I've done?"
Dimitrious looked to the side. "Well, not just that. Sometimes, Lucifer sends us direct messages, using one of our bodies as mediums. Generally, the process of granting a message to us is quite damaging to the body of the vampire, and they rarely live through it, so the message we finally get is very vague and garbled. From what we've been able to gather recently, a champion will soon be chosen from among us, and based on certain qualifications, we believe it to be you."
Demenn was following, but he caught something that concerned him. "We?"
Dimitrious nodded. "Demenn, have you ever wondered why we are able to achieve our Other form? Or how we can control others with only our eyes? These are just the most basic of our gifts, gifts given to us by Lucifer himself. These and a few others he gives for free, but for his other, far greater gifts, he demands a price. Complete devotion and obedience are required before you can feel the power that he truly meant for us to have. Those of us who have accepted Lucifer as our master and pledged our devotion to him have seen the true strength of the vampires. We are a sect within a sect. A power within a power. We are the true vampires!" As he was talking, he had been walking around Demenn, who followed him with his head. When he reached his climax he swung open the door that had lead outside, but instead of the alleyway, Demenn saw a dark room with a single ray of light shining down on an alter in the middle of it. There were figures kneeling down, but they wore large black cloaks, so their numbers and identities were hidden from him.
Dimitrious swept into the room, but Demenn hesitated at the door. Seeing this, Dimitrious laughed. "I assure you, Demenn, it is quite safe. In fact, if you are smart, this may be the safest place in all of our forest."
As they entered, the figures turned towards them, and Demenn saw flashes of familiar faces, although none of them could be seen long enough for him to recognize them. Some, who he did not recognize, even took off their hoods and smiled at him. He smiled back at them, or at least tried to. They walked to the altar, and slowly the ray of light shrank until there was complete darkness. Once they came up to the front of the altar, Dimitrious turned.
"So what will it be, lad? Will you accept the gifts of Lucifer and gain power beyond any other creature?"
Demenn took one breath, slowly let it out, and then stared at Dimitrious. "No."
The smile plastered to Dimitrious' face vanished, but only for a second. It was back up momentarily. "Ah, you doubt the truth of our power, well then, I suppose I'll have to give you a small demonstration of our power then." He crouched in a battle stance. "Have at me."
The thought of another battle ground at Demenn's sensibilities, and he wanted nothing more than to be let go, but he could see that this situation could not be exited by any normal fashion, so he drew his spear from his back with one hand, grabbed the shaft with the other when it was about half of the way through, and at last spun forward while swinging it at Dimitrious. As he had suspected, Dimitrious was no longer in front of him, but when he spun around, he was not there either. This meant that he could not have leapt over him, but where could he be? Demenn looked up and saw Dimitrious flying in the air with wings that had sprouted from his back, but the rest of his body was normal.
"See Demenn, we were flying long before we discovered our Other form." He laughed and plunged down towards Demenn, who was barely able to roll out of the way as his wings contracted, hardened, and slashed into the ground where he had been. The wings cut deep gashes into the stone floor, and when he landed they contracted behind his back. Demenn was up from his roll and ran to him, spinning his spear over his head once before bringing it sweeping down at his neck. Dimitrious lifted his hand up, and caught the edge of the spear in his palm. At first Demenn thought he had metal grieves as well, but then he saw that Dimitrious' entire hand had turned to metal. He tried to grab the spear tip, but Demenn spun and passed the spear behind his back to swing from the other side. Dimitrious' other hand blocked this strike in the same fashion, and this time he succeeded in grabbing it. He gave a hard pull, and Demenn let the spear go, pulled out his long knife, and buried it in Dimitrious' gut.
Dimitrious still smiled, and Demenn looked down to see a flowing mist wh
ere his knife's blade was. He slashed it upwards, but a line of mist flowed up Dimitrious' body. It preceded the knife and followed behind it, and no matter how many times Demenn slashed his knife back and forth across his body, the mist was around it.
"See how feeble your attacks are, Demenn? You cannot hope to even touch me."
With that he promptly burst into dozens of bats. They swarmed over Demenn, who had to pull out his other knife and swing them around him in a frenzy. He could feel them all over him, cutting into his skin and taking just a little blood at a time. He could also feel his blades cut through them, though, so he knew that at one point they would have to give up. When they eventually did, though, and they flew a few feet away to form into a perfectly unharmed Dimitrious, even though many bats still lay dead at Demenn's feet, Demenn could feel blood running down almost all of his body.
Demenn caught his breath, waiting for Dimitrious to make his move, but Dimitrious turned his back and walked away from him. He walked to the wall, placed his foot on it, and began to scale that as well. His hands were clasped behind his back, along with his wings, and he simply walked up the wall and then the domed ceiling. When he got to the zenith, he looked down with glee in his eyes.
