"Haha! There's nothing you can do to make talk, bloodbag," the vampiress sneered, her voice laced with defiance as Thalion carried her deeper into the dimly lit corridors of his domain. The stone walls pulsed with a faint crimson glow, veins of ancient magic running through them like lifeblood. Ahead, the air grew heavier, charged with the lingering energy of suffering and power. At the end of the passage, a towering black pillar stood waiting—a relic long starved of its purpose.
Despite her current state, the vampiress radiated newfound arrogance, emboldened by her victory over Amalia. That won’t last long, Thalion thought. She had misunderstood one crucial detail. She assud he had dragged her down here to extract information through pain.
She was wrong.
Oh, he would definitely torture her—but not for answers. No, her agony would serve a far greater purpose. The pillar needed fuel, and her suffering would be the perfect offering. More importantly, he needed her eyes. Not to tornt her, but to claim their power for himself. Even if he had wanted information, he wouldn't have trusted anything she spat out after being broken. There were plenty more vampires coming for him—ones with weaker minds, easier to crack. Amalia would handle them. If she failed, well... keeping her alive would beco more of a liability than an asset.
Thalion had abandoned the cumberso chains that had originally bound the vampiress. Instead, she was now restrained by the Sanguine Thorn, a parasitic vine coiling tightly around her limbs. Unlike tal shackles, the Thorn had a hunger of its own. Even now, it yearned to burrow beneath her ribs, to coil around her heart and drain her dry. Holding it back was proving to be exhausting.
"Gods damn it, can’t you rein in your bloodlust for one mont? You’ll get everything after I take her eyes." Thalion sent the ssage telepathically, his patience wearing thin.
The Thorn responded, its thoughts feral and insatiable.
"Hunger. Feast. Power."
A wave of raw bloodlust surged through their bond, powerful enough to make even Thalion's soul tremble. He clenched his jaw.
"Yes, when I’m done with the eyes, you can have everything. Just hold back until then—this is getting really tiring."
"Devour. Now?" the Thorn pressed again, testing his resolve.
Thalion exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to snap.
"Listen. You may not realize it yet, but in the coming days, multiple vampires with their own Sanguine Thorns will be coming for . If I’m not strong enough by then, you’ll miss out on a much greater feast. So just—wait."
With that, he forcibly silenced the Thorn. The writhing vines hesitated before reluctantly stilling.
The vampiress, watching him closely, let out a slow, bloody smile. It might have been nacing—if not for the fact that most of her teeth had been shattered or knocked loose.
"You’re no vampire," she mused, her voice hoarse but laced with amusent. "No wonder your thoughts don’t align with the Thorn."
Thalion didn’t bother responding. In his mind, she was already dead—rely raw material to temper his body and refine his strength.
As Amalia had kept the vampiress distracted, Thalion had been preparing. He had ordered special tools from Lucan—an altar engraved with ancient runes, its centerpiece a small indentation at the top, perfectly designed for his next ritual. The process would have been easier with a proper hamr, but he was confident he could manage. He had also acquired a potent healing potion to ensure the vampiress survived just long enough.
Then there were the spike balls—specially crafted to be inserted into her empty eye sockets, preventing any regeneration until his work was complete. She doesn’t know about those yet, he thought, amused. That explained her arrogance.
That was, until she felt it.
As they entered the chamber, the pillar’s aura of fear and despair slamd into her like a physical force. Her breath hitched. Her bravado wavered.
"W-what is that?" she whispered, her eyes darting between Thalion and the looming structure.
Thalion didn’t answer. He simply pressed her into the pillar, releasing the Sanguine Thorn’s hold on her. Only her head remained free, her body locked in place.
The pillar’s influence took hold imdiately. The vampiress stiffened, her bravado crumbling as a flicker of true terror crept into her wide, unblinking gaze. The pillar fed on suffering, and already, it was drinking in her fear.
For now, she was holding strong.
That would change soon.
Thalion studied his tools, his gaze drifting between the two variations of his Runic Spoon—one smooth, the other lined with jagged spikes. He had considered using the spiked one, but that would risk damaging the very prize he sought.
No, he would do this properly.
In hindsight, it had been a foolish idea. But perhaps, just perhaps, he would find so use for it later.
"What is that for?" the vampiress asked, her voice strained with apprehension as Thalion retrieved the runic spoon.
He remained silent, stepping toward her with deliberate slowness. That was when her composure finally shattered. She thrashed against the restraints, the weight of the situation pressing down on her like a vice. The oppressive aura of the pillar, combined with Thalion’s unsettling silence, had broken through whatever defiance she had left. Her breath hitched. Her lips quivered. Then, to his mild amusent, she began to cry.
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