Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 343: The Road to War

The reinforcements arrived just in time. The werewolves, alongside King Valentin and his army, descended upon Asvaldur moments after every remaining vampire, with the exception of Emperor Kaan, had been consumed by the poisonous mist, imprisoned in an endless nightmare.

The empire was in utter ruin. Not a single functioning vampire remained. Even King Valentin’s troops began to feel the effects of the poisonous mist—some falling to it entirely.

But the king was sharp. He didn’t need a scholar’s knowledge to recognize that something was wrong with the air. The moment his vampires began showing symptoms—headaches, vomiting—he acted. Without hesitation, he ordered his entire group to cover their mouths and noses.

"How did you know something was in the air?" Charna asked, walking side by side with the king.

It was a sight no one could have imagined before the war—and likely one that would never happen again. King Valentin, for all his cooperation with the werewolves in aiding Riona, was still a firm believer in vampire supremacy.

"Look at that!" King Valentin pointed toward the castle, now completely swallowed by black fog. "Does that look normal to you?"

The castle of Asvaldur was the greatest anomaly of all. One glance was enough to know something was terribly wrong—something unnatural was at work. Not a single inch of the structure or its towering walls remained visible. Every part of it was cloaked in an oppressive black fog.

King Valentin raised a hand, twirling a finger slowly in the air as his sharp gaze swept across the bleak horizon.

"This fog is everywhere," he muttered. "I can’t even see my own feet. Sure, mountains have mist—but this? This isn’t mountain fog. And they are far enough from the range that the fog should never touch this place."

But the fog was only part of the dread gnawing at him.

King Valentin was no ordinary vampire. He was powerful—feared, even. And for good reason. He possessed many gifts, but among them, none more valuable than his ability to sense danger before it struck.

"But you know," Charna said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder, "it’s mostly your knights who are infected."

Margrave Boris froze mid-step. A wave of fatigue crashed into him, his vision swimming, his stomach twisting violently. It felt as though he might vomit up his very soul if he dared to take another step. He hunched over, hands braced on his thighs, breath ragged as he fought the rising nausea.

He tore the handkerchief from his face, gasping. It felt like he was suffocating—but the cloth wasn’t the cause.

"Put it back," King Valentin ordered sharply, eyes narrowing. But before Margrave Boris could obey, the pain struck.

A blinding headache pierced his skull. Then he vomited, body convulsing, and collapsed to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. Within seconds, he slipped into the realm of nightmares.

"Boris!" the king shouted, rushing to his side.

The margrave had never truly recovered from the injuries inflicted by the demon. Yet the moment he heard the king had joined the front lines, he had followed without hesitation. King Valentin regretted that deeply, though he never let it show.

But now, seeing his loyal companion fall—seeing the poisonous mist consume him before his eyes—something inside the king cracked. For once, the mask of cold control began to falter.

None of this would have happened if not for the war, for the darkness unraveling across the land. King Valentin had endured much, learned even more—but masking his emotions now cost him more than he could spare.

He reached out, hands trembling, ready to shake Margrave Boris back to consciousness. But it was already too late.

The margrave’s body began to twitch. His movements turned erratic. It was the first sign—the beginning of the transformation. Soon, he would be nothing more than a soulless puppet, bound to the will of the emperor.

Of course, King Valentin didn’t know that a werewolf’s blood could reverse the effects of the poison. And so, it happened again—another wave of fresh puppets arrived, walking willingly into the grip of Emperor Kaan’s curse.

King Valentin felt it too. The creeping pull.

He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the haze clouding his vision. His head throbbed with growing intensity. He shook it, desperate to stay focused.

That’s when he saw them—two familiar faces cutting through the fog. Lady Maris. And Lisbeth.

His heart lurched. He broke into a run.

But halfway there, a sharp, stabbing pain exploded in his skull. He stumbled, nearly dropping to his knees. Now he understood why Margrave Boris had ripped the handkerchief from his face.

It was suffocating. At first, they’d all thought it was just the cloth, tight around the mouth and nose, restricting breath. But it wasn’t the fabric. It was something in the air.

King Valentin paused, his hand rising slowly in front of his face, fingers trembling as they hovered near the edge of the cloth. He hesitated. One pull, and he’d breathe freely again. But at what cost?

Charna grabbed his wrist just in time, stopping him from making the same mistake Margrave Boris had.

She shook her head firmly, voice urgent. "Don’t do it! We need you!"

But it hardly mattered. The handkerchief offered some protection, yes—but it was far from enough. The poisonous mist still seeped through, slow and relentless. freewebnσvel.cѳm

King Valentin cried out, clutching his head as agony surged through him. He pulled at his hair and let out a guttural scream, trying to release even a fraction of the torment tearing through his mind.

Lady Maris and Lisbeth stood nearby—still, unbothered. They didn’t flinch at his scream. They didn’t even look his way. He was in pain, visibly unraveling... and they didn’t care.

That’s when he saw it. Their eyes. A thin white film veiled them like frost on glass.

And suddenly, everything clicked. No, he didn’t understand the science, the mechanism behind the poison. But he understood what it did. And he noticed—far too late—that only vampires were falling victim to it.

"You have to..." Valentin groaned, collapsing to the ground as he gripped Charna’s arm for support. "You have to find out what this is. Whatever it is—it’s taking over us. All of us vampires..."

Then his eyes rolled back. The white veil took them, too.

Charna gasped, frozen in horror, as if she’d just watched the king’s soul leave his body. She spun around, scanning the fog-choked battlefield.

Not a single vampire had clear eyes. They were all gone. All puppets now—puppets of Emperor Kaan.

"What happened to them?!" Morgan’s voice rang out from inside the gate, strained with effort. She was locked in combat, defending herself against the very soldiers who once protected the realm.

Charna had no answer. She didn’t even have time to look for one.

Because a second later, the horde turned on her. And at the front of them—fangs bared, eyes dead—was King Valentin himself.