Chapter 397: Army of the dead 2
The rooftop had become a hellscape of blood and violence. Reggie, pinned beneath one of Duncan's creations, watched in horror as his brothers were systematically torn apart. Something inside him snapped.
A primal roar tore from Reggie's throat, drowning out even the storm's fury. His eyes blazed crimson, face contorting into a mask of unbridled rage. The very air around him seemed to darken, shadows writhing in response to his fury.
"Get. Off. ME!" Reggie snarled, his voice barely human. With inhuman strength, he threw off his attacker, sending her flying across the rooftop.
Reggie rose, a dark aura pulsing around him. His gaze swept over the scene, taking in Gunther's prone form and Randal's desperate struggle. Something feral gleamed in his eyes.
"You want a fight?" he growled, shadows coalescing around his fists. "I'll give you a fucking war."
He moved with blinding speed, appearing before one of Gunther's attackers. His shadow-wreathed fist punched clean through her chest, emerging from her back in a spray of blackened blood.
"This is for my brothers," Reggie snarled, ripping his arm free and taking half her torso with it. With a vicious kick, he sent the mangled body flying off the roof.
The other undead lunged at him, but Reggie was beyond their reach now. He ducked under clawing hands, his own fingers elongating into shadow-black talons. With a swipe, he decapitated one, then another.
"Come on!" he roared, challenging the remaining women. "Is this all you've got?"
Two of Randal's attackers rushed him. Reggie met them head-on, his body becoming a whirlwind of shadows. Limbs flew, blood sprayed, and inhuman shrieks filled the air.
In moments, it was over. Reggie stood amidst a scene of carnage, chest heaving, hands dripping with gore. Without hesitation, he grabbed the last two women and, with a roar of effort, hurled them off the rooftop.
The sudden silence was deafening. Reggie, still trembling with adrenaline, approached the edge of the roof and looked down. The bodies were mangled beyond belief. But as he looked on, what he saw made his blood run cold.
Far below, the dismembered bodies were... moving. Twitching. Slowly, grotesquely, limbs were crawling towards torsos, heads rolling to reattach themselves.
"What in the hell is going on?" Reggie whispered, horror dawning in his eyes.
Gunther, pulling himself to his feet, limped to Reggie's side. "They're... they're still alive?" he croaked, disbelief evident in his voice.
Randal joined them, one eye swollen shut, blood matting his hair. "Not alive," he said grimly. "Look at them. Really look."
Reggie focused, pushing past the rage that still clouded his mind. That's when he saw it. The unnatural pallor of the skin, the jerky, puppet-like movements, the complete absence of pain or fear in their eyes.
"Holy shit," Reggie breathed, realization hitting him like a physical blow. "They're not vampires. They're... they're undead..."
Gunther's face paled. "Duncan didn't turn them. He... he raised them."
Randal spat blood, his good eye narrowing. "Which means they can't be killed. Not in any normal way."
Reggie turned, his gaze finding Duncan's amused face across the rooftop. The ancient vampire's eyes gleamed with malicious mirth, clearly enjoying their moment of realization.
"Brothers," Reggie said, his voice low and dangerous. "I think we might be in over our heads here."
The three knights stood side by side, battered but unbroken, watching as their undead opponents began to climb back up the building. The true nature of their enemy had been revealed, and with it, the terrifying scope of the battle they faced.
Reggie, Gunther, and Randal exchanged knowing glances, a silent understanding passing between them.
"To hell with it," Reggie growled, his fangs elongating as he spoke. "If we're going to face these abominations, let's do it our way."
Gunther nodded, his eyes beginning to glow with an eerie red light. "For old time sakes, for Rose ..."
"And for the sweet taste of victory," Randal finished, licking his lips in anticipation.
As one, the three vampire knights turned to face the horde of undead climbing towards them. They let their carefully maintained human facades slip away, embracing the full extent of their vampiric nature. Shadows seemed to cling to their forms, deepening and darkening until it looked as if they wore armor made of pure night.
Their eyes blazed crimson, reflecting centuries of predatory instinct and supernatural power. The change was palpable; the air around them grew heavy with the weight of their unleashed auras.
Reggie flexed his hands, watching as his nails extended into razor-sharp claws. "Well, brothers," he said, his voice carrying the resonant power of the ancient undead, "shall we show these shambling corpses what true vampires are capable of?"
"Say no more," Gunther growled, dropping from the roof top to tackle one of the undead woman climbing up to them. So did his brothers follow.
******
The rooftop battlefield seemed to shrink, the ongoing carnage fading into background noise as Blake and Damien locked eyes. They began to circle each other, two predators sizing up their prey. The air between them crackled with barely contained violence.
Frost began to creep across Damien's skin, spreading like a living tattoo. It thickened, hardened, forming an intricate armor of ice that glinted in the dim light. His breath came out in visible puffs, the temperature around him plummeting.
Blake's blood responded in kind, swirling around him in a crimson cyclone. It coalesced into various shapes - swords, spears, writhing tentacles - before dissolving and reforming in an endless dance of potential violence.
Damien's voice cut through the tense silence, dripping with venom. "She should have been mine, Blake. Rose was meant to be by my side, not wasting away with a pathetic human like you."
All this whole and Damien still regarded him as a human? The feeling of superiority as Damien saw it was not lost on Blake. He knew Damien detested humans so it pained him so much that he got beat by one.
Blake's eyes narrowed, his blood constructs pulsing with his rising anger. "You're still on about that? After all this time?" He shook his head, a mirthless chuckle escaping his lips. "You're even more fucked up than I thought, Damien."
Blake found himself using words he had long trained himself out of because of Celena. Words he would never say around her again. But somehow, Damien, he was a talented asshole as it seemed. He knew how to bring the absolute worst out of Blake.
"You don't understand," Damien snarled, ice crackling as it spread further across his body. "We were perfect together. We could have ruled this world, shaped it in our image. But you... you ruined everything. You just had to plant your seed in her!!"
Blake's voice dropped low, dangerous. "Ruled the world? Is that what you told yourself when you were eyeing up our daughter? When you were planning to groom her like some sick fuck?"
Damien's face contorted with rage. "You dare-"
"I dare?" Blake cut him off, his blood forming into razor-sharp blades that hovered around him. "I dare because I was too weak to end this two years ago. I'm paying for that mistake, Damien. We all are." His eyes hardened, glowing with an inner fire. "But not anymore. This time, I'm going to finish what I started!!"
Damien's laugh was cold, brittle. "You? Finish me? You're nothing but a newborn playing at being a vampire. I've lived for centuries, boy. I've seen empires rise and fall.
What hope do you have against me?"
Blake's blood suddenly stilled, condensing into a single, massive construct - a perfect replica of the scythe that had obliterated Drake. "Hope?" he said, his voice eerily calm. "I don't need hope, Damien. I have certainty. Certainty that after today, you'll never threaten my family again."
Damien's ice armor completed its formation, turning him into a being of living frost. "Bold words from a dead man walking. I'm going to enjoy tearing you apart, Blake. And when I'm done, I'll take back what's rightfully mine."
Blake's eyes flashed dangerously. "Rose isn't a possession, you delusional fuck. She's not yours to take. And Celena..?" His grip tightened on the blood scythe. "I'll die a thousand deaths before I let you lay a finger on her."
The air between them seemed to vibrate with tension, the very molecules charged with their mutual hatred. Damien's ice crackled, Blake's blood pulsed, both poised on the edge of violence.
"Enough talk," Damien growled, ice forming into deadly spikes along his arms. "Let's finish this, once and for all."
Blake's response was a grim smile, his blood scythe raised high. "Couldn't agree more."
For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still. Then, with a shared roar of fury, they lunged at each other. Ice met blood in an explosion of power that shook the very foundations of the building.
The true battle had begun.