Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 305: The Will to Survive

Ol’gaz was a creature of hunger, but also of patience. He didn’t strike—yet. Instead, he let the witches scurry like frail, pathetic insects, let them gather in false safety.

He let their unease fester, their terror grow thick in the air, curling around them like a noose. He would wait until their fear was unbearable, until their minds fractured beneath the weight of it.

Then, and only then, would he consume them. Fear was not just sustenance—it was power. And the more they trembled, the stronger he would become.

He was just thinking of turning back when something yanked him violently from his spot. His body—normally bound to Florian’s unconsciousness—was being dragged back as if an unseen force had tightened its grip around him.

Florian had woken up. A groan escaped his lips as he blinked in disoriented confusion. He had no memory of how he got here, but the pounding in his skull made one thing clear—Ol’gaz had brought him and knocked him out.

There were rare instances when Ol’gaz could separate from Florian even while he was awake, but those were different. He was manifesting at those times—weakly, barely tangible, yet present enough to torment Florian. Like when he took on Florian’s own form, sneering at him, a twisted reflection of the boy’s fear.

The separation wasn’t purely physical, and Ol’gaz could only travel a short distance before being pulled back into his host.

And now, with his newfound ability to fully detach when Florian was unconscious, Ol’gaz was exhilarated. He could push further, fray Florian’s mind, gnaw at his desperation—until, one day, he wouldn’t need Florian’s unconsciousness at all.

Until he could exist freely. In his own body. The thought alone sent a pulse of anticipation through him. Soon. Very soon.

"What did you do?" Florian spat, his voice sharp with fury. His fingers curled around the demon’s collar, gripping tightly. He had grown accustomed to the sickening sight of his own face twisted into Ol’gaz’s sneer, but it never dulled his rage. "What have you done?"

His worst fear clawed at him—Ol’gaz slaughtering more innocent vampires. He had heard rumors of the Imperial Army settling in Eira, and through the fragmented memories buried in his mind—Ol’gaz’s memories—he knew witches and wizards had infiltrated, seeking to summon the demon.

But Florian hadn’t grasped the full weight of the situation. He couldn’t yet comprehend just how catastrophic it would be if Asvaldur’s magic wielders got their hands on Ol’gaz. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Not yet.

"Naive boy. We’re conquering the world. I told you, didn’t I? I’ll give you everything. So what are you so afraid of?" Ol’gaz hissed, his voice slithering through the air like poison.

Florian’s grip on Ol’gaz’s collar faltered. His breath hitched as he shook his head, desperation creeping into his voice. "No. No. That’s not what I want."

"Oh, really?" Ol’gaz smoothed out his shirt, tilting his head with a smirk that dripped with mockery. His eyes gleamed with amusement as if Florian’s resistance was nothing more than a fleeting joke.

"This world doesn’t need you. You’ve seen it for yourself. Why do you think the Imperial Army is here? Why do you think the witches and wizards have crawled out of their holes? You think it’s for peace? No, Florian. They’ve come to subdue you."

Somewhere deep in his mind, Florian knew the truth. The magic wielders weren’t after him—they were after the demon. He had seen it in Ol’gaz’s memories, buried in the recesses of his mind.

But the years of whispered lies, of reality twisted and reshaped by Ol’gaz’s influence, had unraveled his certainty. His sense of truth had eroded, and now, standing in the wake of destruction, it was Ol’gaz’s words that took root.

"Your king has abandoned you. The princess is dead. The mistress is running. You’re all alone," Ol’gaz murmured, his voice a blade against Florian’s fraying sanity.

"You’re lying!" Florian spat, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew they were empty. He wasn’t saying it because he believed it—he was saying it because he needed to. But his mind, clouded by Ol’gaz’s relentless manipulation, couldn’t grasp the truth anymore.

He turned sharply, stepping onto the crowded street. He needed to go back. Not home—home didn’t exist for him anymore. Back to his prison. Back to that cursed, spell-sealed room. The spell didn’t even work, but it was the only thing standing between Ol’gaz and more destruction.

He had to stay awake. He had to stay in control.

"Am I lying?" Ol’gaz’s voice slithered after him, thick with mockery. "Then tell me, where is your dear uncle? Why hasn’t he come for you? Why hasn’t he even visited the room to check on you? Doesn’t that mean he’s not worried in the slightest? That he doesn’t care what happens to you? He’ll discard you like a broken tool—because that’s all anyone is to him. Tools."

The cruel irony was that Ol’gaz’s words weren’t entirely false. King Valentin did see people as tools—pieces in a grand game meant to uphold peace, prosperity, and the illusion of stability.

He wasn’t a tyrant, not exactly. He truly believed his choices served the greater good. But the end didn’t always justify the means.

And Florian knew the truth: Valentin had never treated him like family. He and Riona had always been thorns in the king’s side—burdens and liabilities. Years of being an outsider in his own home made Ol’gaz’s lies all the more convincing.

"He wouldn’t do that," Florian murmured, more to himself than to the demon. "He’s a good king. And no good king sacrifices his own people."

Ol’gaz chuckled darkly. "But is he a good uncle? And more importantly... are you even his subject? You’re me, Florian. That’s how he sees you now—a part of me. A demon. You’re no longer the frail little boy who clung to his sister’s skirts. You’re a monster. A bloodthirsty, menacing beast." freёweɓnovel.com

Florian’s breath hitched. His hands curled into fists. Then, in a sudden burst of fury, he whirled around to face Ol’gaz, his voice raw with desperation.

"But it’s you! It’s not me! You’re the one who killed those vampires!"

"You. Me. Does it even matter?" Ol’gaz’s voice dripped with amusement, his grin sharp as a blade. "I told you—we are one. Whatever I’ve done, you did it."

Florian’s mind spiraled into chaos. Denial clashed with something deeper—something darker. He needed to find a reason, any reason, to prove he wasn’t useless. No matter how much he wanted to reject Ol’gaz’s words, they slithered into the cracks of his mind, seeping in like poison.

Uncle will abandon me. I’ll be discarded if I do nothing. I have to prove myself. I have to show him I’m worth keeping.

It was a cruel paradox—the desperate will to live and the aching desire to disappear, coexisting within the same fragile body.

Florian wanted to die, but not because he wished for oblivion. He was simply exhausted—exhausted from being Ol’gaz’s puppet, from the relentless torment, from feeling like he was nothing.

But beneath that, buried under layers of despair, there was something stubborn, something unyielding. He wanted to survive.

And so, the boy who wanted to live began searching for a way to make it happen.