It was the blackest night yet when they finally seized control of the Black Fortress. The operation had gone so smoothly that Jack and Josh were already bickering over who had slain the most vampires, a difficult tally to keep, given that the bloodsuckers had fled in chaos, desperate to escape with their lives. Thalion had engaged in a brief skirmish at the entrance with a cluster of straggling vampires, but the fight was short-lived. Their blood, as always, was hungrily consumed by the Crimson Virethorn.

What truly vexed Thalion, however, was the state of the fortress itself. Sections of it had collapsed or were completely destroyed. The blood ponds had been drained dry, and worst of all, the captured low-level humans were all dead. That discovery ignited something cold and furious inside him. He had no intention of showing mercy to the vampires or their pawns, but this… this was unforgivable. Sometimes, he questioned whether he had truly become evil. And yet, moments like this reaffirmed that every ruthless decision he had made so far had been necessary. If he wanted to survive in this broken world, he had to act before others ended up like the corpses now surrounding him.

He had neglected the people of his city for too long, focusing solely on his own ascent. Worse, he had given individuals like Amalia far too much power. A purge was long overdue and with the tutorial nearing its end, there would never be a better time. He had some free time now, and once the ships portals were sealed, escape would be impossible for them. More and more weak individuals joined his base, easy prey for the witch if left unchecked. And with others baptized, he no longer needed Amalia or Jim to power the formation for the lightbeam.

Standing before the dry, hollowed corpses of over four hundred humans, Thalion clenched the control token and opened a direct channel to the two elite guards stationed at the skyships portals.

“Deactivate the portals immediately. If anyone asks, say there’s a malfunction. It’ll be fixed soon,” he ordered.

They accepted without hesitation. Moments later, confirmation came: the portals were closed. Thalion exhaled slowly, suppressing the urge to let his killing intent flood the fortress. The looting was still underway, and revealing himself too soon would compromise everything. First, he needed to inform the others. There were too many witches to face alone.

A message went out to Kaldrek, Maike, Jack, Josh, Evelyn, and Kargul:

“The purge begins. Eliminate every witch under Amalia’s command, and especially Jim. Leave no survivors.”

Maike responded almost instantly, her tone fraught with panic.

“Wait... do you have any idea how many there are? Hundreds, maybe!?”

Another message followed seconds later.

“We need a list of targets! Some of them can influence souls, if we’re not careful, their attacks could be lethal! And what about the regular survivors? They’ll panic when they see us kill their teammates!”

Thalion understood her fear. It was all happening too quickly for Maike’s cautious nature. But he also knew this was the best chance they’d get. Before he could reply, Jack chimed in:

“Execute Order Filthy Witch: Broomsticks down, pointy hats off. It’s witch-hunting season.”

Kaldrek sent a quieter, more serious message.

“Stay silent. If they sense what’s coming, they’ll trigger their escape tokens.”

He was right, of course. That was one of the main reasons Thalion hadn’t moved against them earlier. But at least now, with the portals sealed and the element of surprise on their side, they could strike decisively. Even if some escaped, they'd be cut off, never again allowed to return and prey on his people. And with luck, they would be caught off guard by the suddenness of his betrayal, still believing he was too hesitant to act.

The Black Fortress was a sprawling labyrinth of corridors and ruins, its shadowy depths perfect for ambush and misdirection. If any witches survived, they’d likely assume rogue vampires were still lurking in the ruins. Thalion wouldn’t risk exposure either. With a single thought, he shed his human form, becoming the crippled Eclipsari once more. Darkness clung to him like a second skin, and the shadows at his feet twisted unnaturally, stretching longer and deeper with every step.

He should have done this long ago. But tonight, finally, the reckoning would begin.

--

Valeria moved silently through the lightless tunnels of the catacombs, shadows clinging to her like old regrets. The news of Nathaniel’s death had shaken the council, though none would admit it aloud. More troubling still was the fact that every other vampire bearing a Sanguine Thorn had perished alongside him. It fell to Valeria to inform the remnants of the council, an awkward, unpleasant task, but necessary. What they didn’t know was that her own Thorn hadn’t just survived. It had evolved. Not once, but many times.

Her patron had spoken of the Crimson Virethorn and an advanced evolution that occurred when a Sanguine Thorn devoured another of its kind. A brutal path to power, but one of many to unlock the thorn’s true potential. What pulsed within her now surpassed even that. She no longer bore a Sanguine Thorn. She wielded the Bloodthorn Sovereign. A rare and terrible bloom whose strength dwarfed even the Crimson Virethorn. The plant still remembered the fear it once felt when it faced its kin during the siege on the human base. But now, it craved vengeance. It hungered.

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Valeria had slaughtered her own siblings without hesitation, feeding their remains to the Sovereign as her patron commanded. It had been worth the blood. Since then, she had consumed thousands of undead beasts and every living soul in the fortress’s depths. Her strength was no longer merely formidable, it was absolute. No human could hope to stand against her. Not now. Not with this power coursing through her.

Still, revenge would have to wait. She had a mission to fulfill. The elves' sudden alliance with human settlements had complicated everything, launching coordinated assaults on the catacombs from multiple fronts. The tunnel systems stretched endlessly, connecting each catacomb as described in the system’s message. All Reinforcements had been redirected to this pillar, while others had been ordered to retreat if resistance became overwhelming. But this one, they would not allow this one to fall.

The pillars were no ordinary structures. Massive and over fifty meters high at least. They radiated a protective aura, their foundations infused with ancient magic. Carved with runes, bones, and twisted skulls, they exuded a malevolent presence. The gaping mouths of the skulls gave the impression of eternal screams, frozen in despair. This particular pillar was positioned in the lowest, most remote catacomb. Even if the enemy breached the outer defenses, they would never reach it in time.

Navigating the catacombs was a trial in itself. The layout was a labyrinth of dead ends and deceits, and time would be their greatest ally. The tunnels teemed with undead beasts and traps crafted by the Blood Witch, lethal mechanisms capable of killing instantly if no healer was nearby. Valeria had watched the witch work day and night, weaving death into every corner of stone. Many of the catacomb chambers were submerged, leaving only a few narrow routes through to the pillar. Every single one heavily guarded.

Their alliance, forged out of necessity, united the clans in defense. Each was tasked with protecting one pillar in exchange for passage to the new world.

And yet, it was likely that three of the four clans wouldn’t survive. The undead couldnt protect every pillar and they had to focus on one single pillar, using the sacrafice of the three races to stall the living. That was why so many undead had been relocated from the Black Fortress to this site. The Amphic warriors now patrolled the submerged corridors—an elite caste of amphibious fighters who wielded short blades and staves with brutal efficiency. Their skills enhanced their physical might, especially underwater, where they reigned supreme.

Valeria saw no plausible way for the living to destroy every pillar in the short time that remained. Ankhet would rise soon and once he did, the tide would turn. That was certain. It pained Valeria to part with the palace's treasure, a gift she would have to surrender to Ankhet. But it was a small price. She had already gained more than she had ever dreamed. After the tutorial ended, countless special quests would emerge. Special quests she would seek to dominate.

Well... perhaps not dominate. There were many chosen and powerhouses from integrated space waiting for their moment to strike. But she would rise among them. Of that, Valeria was certain.

She still couldn’t understand why the elves had chosen this moment to turn against them. They’d had so many chances before—times when they could have intervened, and yet had remained silent, distant, indifferent. Now, without warning, they struck.

Elias had been the first to recognize the shift. Swift and cunning, he had wasted no time exploiting the new conflict. With barely a word, the lich discarded his previous vessel and claimed the body of a fallen elf. The aura he now exuded was almost on par with her own. A fact that both surprised and intrigued her. There was a raw, untamed power in the new form, far beyond what his previous body had held. What made that elven corpse so uniquely potent?

Her thoughts were interrupted as a vampire approached, his steps careful, shoulders tense. He stopped several paces away and lowered himself into a deep bow, not daring to meet her eyes.

“Mistress… the Black Fortress has fallen. Three of the catacombs are under siege.”

Velaria’s gaze sharpened. The air around her chilled slightly, shadows coiling at her feet like serpents stirred from slumber. “Which of the human bases attacked the fortress?” she asked, her voice a blade wrapped in velvet.

She doubted it was the elves. They’d been spotted too close to one of the besieged catacombs. If it was the large human settlement they had previously assaulted, that would be… unfortunate. That base was too distant to threaten this catacomb directly. If they were attacking another site, then she might be robbed of the slow, exquisite revenge she craved. She wanted the human who had humiliated her to die—inch by inch, breath by breath.

“It was the great human base, mistress. The one we struck before,” the vampire answered quickly, head still bowed low.

Velaria’s jaw tightened, but she gave no outward sign of emotion. Disappointing, yes, but not the end. Their paths would cross again—of that, she was certain. And when they did, he would pay.