Chapter Seven: A whole new world.

  Kainen slid down the dry dirt bank until the ground evened out, landing beside the young man who had already righted himself.

  “My name is Kainen af Veyndral-Solvheim von Ebonhart,” he said smoothly. “Would you care to make acquaintances with me, human?”

  He extended his hand, fingers spreading invitingly.

  Andrew stared at it.

  There were at least fifty good reasons to say no. No, no, absolutely fucking not. Enough red flags to start a parade. But the truth was, he didn’t feel any of them. He’d had more than enough opportunities to hurt him already. More than enough chances to kill him. And Andrew knew something Kainen was clearly trying to hide, and even then… he’d done nothing but protect him.

  And if someone had uncovered his secrets; if Andrew had been the monster in the shadows could he honestly say he wouldn’t at least consider silencing them?

  With a resigned breath, Andrew reached forward and grasped Kain’s hand.

  The cold hit him instantly.

  Not cool. Not chilled. Dead cold; like grabbing iron left out in winter. Andrew locked onto that sensation, onto Kain’s eyes, doing everything in his power not to think about the fact that the man was completely naked.

  “Andrew Wyatt,” he said. Then, because apparently his survival instinct was broken, added, “Does it just… not bother you? That you’re naked? Like we’ve established I can see it, right? Every part.”

  Kain’s smile widened as he released the Fool’s hand.

  “I am long desensitized to it,” he replied calmly. “I regenerate. My raiment does not. If you are decent after twelve hours in a fight, you are letting your kin down.”

  Andrew stared.

  “Huh,” he said finally. “Thank you. That was significantly more unsettling than anything I thought you’d say.”

  “Not a problem,” Kain replied easily. “But speaking of problems; your friend in the tree appears to be sobbing.”

  Andrew cocked his head, curiosity flickering. Then all the energy drained out of him.

  “How the hell—” He stopped himself, exhaled. “No. Actually, I have a better question.” He looked back at Kain. “What exactly are you?”

  “You truly do not know?” Kain asked mildly. “Even after gazing upon my true form for so long? Is it not obvious?” A faint smirk touched his lips. “You are quite lucky I am good-natured. Many Pure-Bloods would consider that an insult.”

  Andrew had no idea what joke he was missing.

  “I am a pure-blooded vampire,” Kain continued. “A lord of my kind. Created through fel magics to be more than the vile-bloods ever could be.”

  Are you fucking aura-farming while nude?

  Andrew swallowed the thought and went with the more important reaction.

  “That’s not possible,” he said flatly. “Nothing like you exists. None of the Intruder realms even have anything close to that. Vampires are a myth. A fairy tale.”

  He shook his head, denial firm despite the evidence standing in front of him.

  It had been drilled into every awakened through schooling; earth myths were just that. Names were reused for similar things, sure, but undead? No. The environment was toxic to them. Necromancers were crippled in rifts. High mana density made sustained undeath impossible.

  Hell, researchers theorized that within a few centuries necromancers wouldn’t even be able to operate in daylight on Earth; forced to wait for night when ambient life energy dipped low enough to function.

  “Listen,” Andrew continued, pushing through his disbelief, “that can’t be right. Are you sure you’re not just an awakened? It is technically possible you awakened to an advanced class young enough that you don’t remember it. Open your status. Check your class see if it’s vampire-related.”

  Kain raised an eyebrow.

  “I understood very little of what you just said, Andrew,” he replied calmly. “Explain this Awakened of yours. And what is a status?”

  He turned and began walking back up the hill, beckoning Andrew forward with two fingers.

  And to Andrew’s immense unease he followed; not because he was forced. Not because he’d lost control.

  He could stop.

  It was just… disturbing how easily he found himself obeying.

  “Okay,” Andrew said, stopping abruptly, “before I explain any of that… what the hell are you doing? Is this mind control? Do vampires do that?”

  He asked the vampire, despite refusing to believe that’s what he truly was.

  Kain rolled his inhuman eyes.

  “No,” he replied flatly. “And yes. This is not mind control, though my kind frequently employ it. You are within the range of my compulsions. My intent transmits across them easily, and your own mana understands; feeding that knowledge into your subconscious.”

  Andrew radiated confusion prompting Kain to continue.

  “You would already agree if I said walk and talk. So my movement carried intent, and you chose to follow. Not consciously. If I wished, I could force obedience regardless of your free will. But as you have established, you are ‘resistant to command effects.’”

  Andrew swallowed.

  “…Would you mind not doing that?” he asked. “It feels really uncomfortable.”

  Kain waved a hand dismissively. “Certainly. I was not aware it was poor form here.”

  “Yeah. Big no-no.” Andrew hesitated, then pressed on. “And where are you from? You said your kind—like there are more of you. And I can’t imagine anywhere civilized where people don’t know not to control others. Or what an Awakened is.”

  Kain chuckled.

  The sound was wrong, rich and layered, like something beautiful being played on a broken instrument. For a moment Andrew missed the velvet smoothness of the voice he’d first heard; before his trait pushed back against whatever resonance lingered beneath it.

  “More of us,” Kain said amusedly. “How droll. When I told you I was a lord, what did you imagine I ruled? Sheep?” He smirked. “There are nations of my kind. My house alone could field ten thousand aged vampires and dozens of pure-bloods.”

  Andrew blinked.

  “As for where I am from,” Kain continued, “Valatia. Though I suspect you have never heard of it. And to my understanding this is not my planet.”

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  “Huh.” Andrew rubbed his face. “So you are an Intruder. And no, Valatia isn’t one of the realms we’ve contacted.” He paused. “Also… would it kill you to be a little more humble? At least until you have clothes?”

  “Yes,” Kain replied simply.

  Then he stepped ahead, climbing the hill and Andrew found himself staring directly at an expanse of pale, moonlit ass.

  “…Christ,” Andrew muttered.

  “Now,” Kain said, unconcerned, “what are we doing with your simpering kin?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” Andrew snapped. “Nope. That idiot is on his own. You killed the monster. I’m calling the authorities, reporting an Intruder, and letting them get him down. I’ve already done more than I ever should have.”

  He hesitated. “What about you? You live here or something?”

  Kain snorted. “Devils no. My next concern is escaping this infernal wood that bastard dropped me in.”

  Andrew frowned. “How long have you been on Earth?”

  Kain stroked his jaw thoughtfully. “I am aware of several hours. Possibly a day. Regeneration from complete destruction is slow especially when one is low on blood.”

  Andrew stiffened.

  “You… got destroyed?” He stared at him. “What the fuck did that to you? Is it still here?”

  “Some claim he is everywhere,” Kain replied evenly. “But no, I doubt Eidruhn walks this realm. His rift dropped me above the cloudscape.”

  Andrew physically recoiled.

  That realization; that Kain was new, dangerously new, it shifted something in him. After a moment, he asked carefully:

  “Kain… do you know what electricity is?”

  “Of course,” Kain said. “Lightning.”

  “No,” Andrew replied. “Not lightning. Electricity. Lightning is just what happens when massive amounts of charge build up and discharge violently.”

  The look on Kain’s face told Andrew he’d lost him somewhere around not lightning.

  Holy shit.

  If I let him walk out of here alone, he’s dead in a week.

  He doesn’t even know what electricity is.

  A quieter voice told him to walk away. Wish him luck. Let natural selection handle a monster before it integrated with humanity.

  But Andrew didn’t think Kain was a monster.

  And what kind of person repaid having their life saved with that kind of callousness?

  “Kain,” he said slowly, “can I be totally real with you; without stepping on some lordly vampire pride and getting honor-killed?”

  Kain stepped back, hand to his chest, mouth slack in mock offense. “You think I would—”

  He cut himself off, tone snapping back to normal.

  “No. Absolutely not. I jest. Speak your mind, mortal.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Andrew muttered. “You’re trying to give me a heart attack.”

  “That would be inefficient,” Kain replied. “I would need to wait another fifty or sixty years for that to be plausible.”

  “Okay. Moving on.” Andrew took a breath. “I think your world is… how do I put this delicately… technologically behind ours. And I don’t think you’re going to survive here without the education people get from being born on Earth.”

  Kain scoffed. “You are mistaken. My kin are pioneers of the natural sciences. Our carriages surpass all others in suspension. Our horses are attended by trained animal physicians; elsewhere one would rely on common medicine men and hope the ailment translated across species.”

  Andrew listened in growing horror as Kain launched into a proud explanation of calcardians—sliding metal cubes on rails to make mathematics easier for peasants.

  It’s an abacus.

  Their revolution is… the abacus.

  “Okay,” Andrew interrupted. “I’m going to make my point very simply.”

  He reached into his pocket and withdrew a sleek rectangle of black glass.

  He turned it toward Kain.

  The screen bloomed with light colors brighter and more vivid than anything Kain had ever seen, neon brilliance flooding his cavern-born eyes.

  Andrew flicked his thumb.

  The image shifted sliding away to reveal a moment captured in time. A looping memory sealed in glass.

  A small child in a porcelain actor’s mask, spinning through the air in the arms of a much larger man.

  “What kind of artefact could possibly produce such visions; capture such memories so clearly?” Kain murmured. “I can see it as though I were there to witness the moment. I have never seen divining magic so… beautiful.”

  He meant every word.

  His undead heart softened at the sight of something so extraordinary being possible for humans something so powerful, used not for war or domination, but to preserve a moment of simple familial love. The small rectangle of dark glass and metal reflected what he had always admired most about humanity: their obsession with remembering what mattered.

  “It does a lot more than capture images and videos,” Andrew said. “It can play games, send messages across the entire planet instantly. You can talk to someone anywhere in the world, track and locate almost anything, and access humanity’s collective knowledge. And that’s barely scratching the surface. This isn’t special, either. They’re so overproduced and common that everyone carries at least one. You’d be hard-pressed to find a child without one.”

  Kain’s gaze lingered on the device. “How is such magic possible?”

  “As far as we know?” Andrew shrugged. “It isn’t magic. There’s not a drop of mana in it. We had these and things far more impressive, long before mana ever showed up.”

  Kain’s attention shifted sharply, the device forgotten. His focus settled entirely on Andrew, hunger flickering behind his eyes not for blood, but for knowledge.

  “What do you mean,” he asked slowly, “before you had mana?”

  “Exactly that. Mana, magic, the system; it’s all pretty new. It started back in twenty-nineteen. Nearly eighty years ago.”

  “That…” Kain frowned. “That cannot be correct. Your species must be miserable. Can you even survive a century?”

  “If you’re really lucky, you might hit a hundred,” Andrew said. “Though God forbid I ever get there without a youth trait. At that point you’re more machine than human. Most people clock out somewhere between sixty and eighty.”

  Kain shook his head faintly. “Ah. I see now… you are jesting. This is how humans amuse themselves. I appreciate the attempt, but you should have made it more believable. It is not possible for a people with such short lives to reach this level of advancement.”

  Andrew waved the objection aside. “We worked around it. We made learning easier. Streamlined it. Knowledge is created freely and shared freely, and anyone can access it. Education starts at six and doesn’t end until you’re at least eighteen.”

  “Fascinating,” Kain admitted. “Then I suppose I must concede. You were not wrong… I am beginning to doubt I could ever blend in among your kind. Especially with much of my magic eroded. You said I would not manage without assistance. Tell me, Andrew… is it your intention to offer that help? To harbor me, and teach me of your people?”

  “I do intend to do that,” Andrew said, as if the answer surprised even him.

  “I will not pretend familiarity with your customs,” Kain continued. “But in my homeland, terrible things were done to humans who sheltered monsters of my pedigree. Despicable things.”

  A cottage engulfed in flame flickered through his thoughts, clashing violently with the memory of a blonde girl waving to him only the night before, smiling as he vanished into the dark.

  Andrew swallowed. “I can’t say anyone’s ever harboured an impossible creature before. But you’re not wrong. Before the treaty, there were executions for hiding sapient intruders; elves included. Legal or not.”

  Kain extended a clawed hand. “I will not refuse help freely given. But I will not ask you to endanger yourself on my behalf, or place yourself on the wrong side of your kin.”

  This time, Andrew didn’t hesitate. He took the vampire’s hand.

  “If humanity can’t look past your race to judge your character,” he said, “then they’re on the wrong side of what it means to be human. I meant it when I said I’d help. That said… one of my classmates has definitely called someone by now, so I suggest we skedaddle before I have to explain why you’re not stranger danger.”

  Kain smiled faintly. “I am a fan of escaping consequences. Lead the way.”

  Andrew moved first, noting absently how unnervingly quiet Kain was; no breath, no footfalls, nothing even an awakened’s senses could catch. He pushed the thought aside and led them through the trees, toward an old hiking trail he used to walk with his father. From there, the river would take them back toward the city.

  Then what? Hide him in the basement?

  …Still better than fighting an orc.

  Eventually, the interrogation Andrew had been expecting began, and Kain started asking questions; about the awakened, the system, and what exactly a status or class was supposed to be.

  Much to Andrew’s complete lack of surprise, Kainen called bullshit politely, until Andrew showed him how to open his status. That bought him silence, at least for a while, and Andrew hoped it would last the rest of the hike. He didn’t mind explaining, not really, but he was out of energy for the night and had no interest in compressing ten years of public education into a moonlit walk through the woods.

  They’d gone some distance before Kain finally spoke again, his attention clearly fixed on a view only he could see.

  “Andrew,” he said, “what are the average numbers for a human?”

  “About ten across the board,” Andrew replied. “Though it’s a bit misleading. An awakened body uses its stats more efficiently, so even a level-one awakened is stronger than a baseline human with the same numbers.”

  There was a pause.

  “Andrew,” Kain said carefully, “I believe something is very wrong with me.”

  Name: Kainen af Veyndral-Solvheim von Ebonhart

  Hunger Stage: Craving

  Title: Heir of False-Silver

  Race: Pure-Blood Vampire

  Sub-Race: Argentis Mercurii

  Level: 0

  Class: Ilrigger / War-Mage / Binder / Dungeon-Lord

  Sub-Class: N/A

  Strength: 19 (50)

  Agility: 21 (55)

  Dexterity: 21 (55)

  Vitality: 25 (65)

  Constitution: 4

  Intelligence: 25

  Wisdom: 30

  Perception: 18

  Glamour: 17

  Traits:

  Dark Mind — E

  Argentum Heritage — C

  Dark Mantle — A

  Heart of Darkness — B

  Blood of Many — S

  The status did not remain stable.

  Before his eyes, the list of classes began to collapse; one vanishing, then another, then another, until only a single entry remained.

  Dungeon-Lord.

  Moments later, the smaller figures beside his attributes faded as well, leaving only the larger numbers behind. Numbers that implied he was no more than twice as strong as an ordinary human.