Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 328: A City of the Damned

"Riona, I’m losing my mind!" Lady Maris collapsed to the ground, her hands clutching at her head. "I can’t take it anymore. Help me!"

A few feet away, her daughter, Lisbeth, writhed in distress, the same cursed reinfection consuming her. She staggered, tearing at her hair, her once-bright eyes now a vacant, milky white. "Mother! Father, stop! Don’t do it! I promise I’ll do better—please!" Her voice cracked, raw with desperation.

All around them, more vampires succumbed, falling into the nightmare trap of their affliction. Riona’s chest tightened. There was no time to question, no room for doubt. Whether Thorin’s theory was right or not, she had no alternatives.

She spun to Thorin and Puck, resolve hardening in her voice. "We’ll imbue our blood into our comrades!"

And so they did. Their blood mingled with their comrades’, breaking the curse and setting them free. None of them could explain how it worked, but it didn’t matter—it worked. That was enough.

With their team now liberated and seemingly immune to the mist of terror, they pressed forward.

"How did this happen?" Isaac asked, curiosity flickering in his voice. Though he, too, was an elder, he was the youngest among the ten. Unlike the older, more seasoned elders, his mind still burned with questions.

At the front of the group, Ulysses and Madam Silvia led the way, guiding them through the haunted city toward Asvaldur Castle. The other elders dispersed among the ranks, ready to offer guidance—or protection—should anything strike from the shadows.

Isaac walked alongside Lennix and Perseus. He wouldn’t have dared voice his question had Griswold been within earshot. The older, battle-hardened elder had no patience for what he considered trivial matters.

To Griswold, there was only one priority: kill the demon, kill the emperor, claim victory, and go home. Anything else? Forgotten.

"I can’t say for sure," Perseus admitted, a hint of regret in his tone. "Nothing like this has ever happened before."

"Ol’gaz’s power only affects vampires, right?" Lennix asked. He wasn’t always the sharpest, but every now and then, he surprised everyone—like now. "I don’t know if it’s his original ability or if it’s because his host is a vampire, but his power is cold. You felt it too!"

He was referring to Riona’s biggest struggle during her early training with her inability to harness cold power, utilizing her warm power only. At that time, she had scolded herself, thinking that it was due to her lack of training or lack of will. When it was actually just her being a half-werewolf.

Lennix’s gaze flickered with thought. "What if the werewolf’s warm blood counteracts the cold?" He paused, as if piecing it together. "We’re not exactly immune, but we carry the werewolves’ warmth now. Maybe that’s why the poison mist can’t affect us anymore, or at least, for now."

"What?" Isaac was about to laugh. Lennix had a habit of thinking outside the box—sometimes way outside—so he often spouted nonsense.

But then—

"That could be true," Perseus said.

Isaac blinked, completely caught off guard. He turned to the walking encyclopedia, eyes wide, his face full of questions.

"Vampires naturally channel cold power," Perseus explained. "That’s how we teach them—it’s easier to grasp. And the mist? It carries the same cold energy. I believe that’s not because of the demon itself, but rather due to its host."

He kept a steady pace, deep in thought, piecing together the implications.

"It’s a likely explanation," he concluded.

Isaac frowned, his mind racing. "Wait—you’re saying the cold power comes from the vampire host, not the demon itself. But what if the demon fully manifests into its own physical form? Would it still rely on Florian’s power, or would it wield something entirely its own?"

A chilling thought crept into Isaac’s mind.

If Ol’gaz shed its dependence on Florian and took on a body of its own, the poisonous mist might no longer be limited to vampires. It could affect everyone, cold-blooded or warm.

That would be a true nightmare.

"That’s why we need to kill the demon before it gathers enough power to separate from its host," Lennix said, his voice firm.

Isaac nodded. He was right.

It didn’t matter what the demon might do once it broke free—whether it would wield a new power or unleash something even worse. What mattered was stopping it now, before it drowned the entire world in its nightmare.

*** freewebnσvel.cѳm

They now stood before the gates of Asvaldur Castle, greeted by an eerie, almost surreal sight.

A dense, nightmarish fog circled around the castle, as if devouring it from the inside out. The once-grand structure was riddled with deep cracks, its foundation seemingly on the verge of collapse—yet, somehow, it still stood.

The black mist was so thick it swallowed everything below their calves. Within it, figures moved—mindless vampires, trapped in their nightmares, wandering aimlessly through the inner courtyard.

The palace guards, who should have been standing watch, now drifted through the haze like lost souls, their vacant eyes unseeing. They groaned softly as they staggered forward, occasionally colliding with one another, only to continue their aimless march.

"There’s no mistaking it. They’re here," Riona said, her voice steady. She could feel it.

"Yeah," Puck muttered, sniffing the air like a hunting dog. "I can already smell him."

Everyone remained on high alert. The Asvaldur vampires were little more than mindless husks now, but this was still enemy territory—and Ol’gaz was no ordinary foe. If he had truly allied with the wicked emperor, then something was lurking in the shadows, waiting.

There was no way Emperor Kaan would simply let them waltz in without a fight.

And their instincts were right.

A presence loomed above them. From the highest tower of the doomed palace, a figure floated in the air, framed by the eerie fog.

His silky silver hair billowed like fine strands in the wind, a stark contrast to the bleak ruin around him. His face—unfathomably beautiful—stood out against the crawling darkness seeping from the ground, consuming the castle inch by inch.

Then, he smiled. It was dazzling. Breathtaking. And utterly malicious. The pretense was gone. There was no more need for diplomacy, for mystery. Emperor Kaan had no desire to play the role of an enigmatic ruler any longer.

He was a god, and it was time to prove it.

"Welcome," he said, spreading his arms wide, his voice smooth yet laced with amusement. "I must commend your tenacity. Traveling all this way... truly admirable. And you—Blood Moon child—what a pity that our union will never come to pass. But don’t be too heartbroken. I still have a gift for you."

With a sudden, violent motion, he yanked his hands downward. The nightmare-trapped Asvaldur vampires, once dormant, sprang to life.

With unnatural speed, they lunged at Riona’s group, eyes vacant, mouths twisted in silent agony.

"Prove yourselves to me, my dark puppets!" Emperor Kaan’s voice thundered through the night—just as lightning tore across the sky, illuminating the battlefield in a flash of silver and shadow.