Unfortunately for Allen, launching a surprise attack head-on didn't do him much good.
A shimring magical barrier rose up instantly, completely nullifying the curse he had just cast.
As the man's expression twisted from smugness to utter shock, Allen's fist crashed directly into his head with a heavy thud, Heh. A mage trying to go toe-to-toe with a lee fighter? And with his spell blocked? At that point, he might as well have been a salted fish laid out on a butcher's block.
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
Modi thought he was the unluckiest vampire alive.
As a noble bloodkin, he had already co to terms with not inheriting a shred of his ancestors' forr glory. But now being hunted by his own clan? That was just too much.
He was supposed to be elegant, refined, a pureblood vampire. Not so filthy, rat-like creature hiding in alleys just to survive. It was a disgrace.
In the ancient lore of the bloodkin, they had once lived in towering, gloomy castles, drinking the crimson blood of virgins that tasted like the finest wine. nial tasks were left to servants or those dirty werewolves. Humans were herded like sheep within their territories. That... that was life.
But those sheep eventually grew fangs.
They developed magic, eerily similar to that of the vampires, and even gave themselves a proud new na, Wizards.
Attacked by wizards and betrayed by their werewolf servants, the vampires lost their castles, their wealth, and their human herds.
Still, centuries of survival skills weren't for nothing. They slipped into the shadows of the wizarding world, carving out a new habitat, the graveyards.
Damp as they were, vampires actually liked the darkness. A high-quality stone coffin could even help mitigate the humidity.
Unfortunately, Modi didn't even have that anymore. Now he had to squeeze into a cheap wooden coffin, which reeked of glue and the coal tar used to preserve the planks. His sensitive nose picked up every nauseating detail.
And yet, today, he feared even this lousy coffin wouldn't be safe. Because when he opened the lid, he clearly sensed it, that unmistakable whiff of magic.
The kid standing there wasn't a Muggle. He was a wizard. (In Arica, non-magical people are called No-Majs, not Muggles.)
Before Modi could attack, the kid smirked, openly mocking him.
Then, everything went black.
When he ca to, he found himself tightly bound and lying on his own floor. His wand was in the boy's hand, being twirled around like a toy.
The ropes were secure, fastened precisely at all the key joints he'd need to shift forms. No matter how much he struggled, it was pointless.
As he gave up, he glanced again at the boy who knocked him out. In his hands was a coin pouch, Modi's coin pouch, to be exact. It had exactly 70 Galleons and 8 Knuts.
How did he know? Easy. Because it used to be his.
But instead of begging for his money back, Modi's mind was racing to figure out who this kid was.
A damn vampire hunter? A young prodigy recently turned by the family? Or maybe so ancient monster pretending to be young? Surely not so underage Ministry intern, right?
Unfortunately, all his guesses were wrong.
The kid's real identity? A custor.
But Allen had no intention of staying in "custor" mode anymore.
"Let bygones be bygones" only worked in schoolyard scuffles. This guy tried to kill him. Allen wasn't going to let that slide, especially not after finding a corpse in the kitchen, pale and malnourished, clearly bled to death over ti.
The only reason he hadn't killed Modi on the spot was sheer curiosity. Vampires were practically extinct, classified as "magical creatures" and hunted with large bounties from the Ministry.
Allen had looked them up during a broken streak and had even considered becoming a vampire hunter. Problem was, nobody really found vampires anymore, not because the Ministry was stingy, but because the bloodsuckers were too good at hiding.
And yet here one was.
Not that Allen could claim the bounty. An illegal wizard like him would be lucky not to get arrested by the Ministry.
Still, in exchange for a quick death instead of being dragged into the sunlight to burn alive, Modi gave up.
He confessed everything Allen wanted, after Allen encouraged him a little by forcing a partial transformation under bright sunlight. A little reminder of what death by sunlight felt like worked wonders.
After spilling the details, Allen kept his word.
He transford a silver Sickle with magic into a sharp spike and drove it through the vampire's heart.
A little wasteful, sure, but considering the Galleons he pocketed, Allen decided not to use a more painful spell.
From this unlucky sucker, he'd gotten a lot:
A Beginner's Map (locations of the Ministry and local shops),
An Initial Weapon (Modi's wand),
A Starter Fund (a small pouch of gold),
A Blank ID Card (still to be filled out),
A Partial Treasure Map (allegedly passed down from an ancestor, the knowledge of which led to Modi being hunted),
A Rumored Epic Questline (after a large-scale werewolf migration, the clans were re-hunting vampires to improve relations with the local Ministry).
Given everything he'd received, Allen gave Modi a proper vampire funeral, by lting his corpse in sunlight.
According to vampire legend, this kind of death cleansed all curses and allowed reincarnation as a wizard in the next life.
Allen didn't really get the logic. Burning alive while alive was torture, but doing it post-mortem was a holy ritual?
Whatever.
As the ashes scattered in the wind, Allen set off again, heading in the opposite direction of the vampire clan.
What kind of lunatic would go poke a nest of vampires now?
==========
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