Thalion’s aura erupted like a furious beast unleashed from its cage. It surged outward in a wave of searing pressure, crackling with raw violence. The combined killing intent of both him and the Sanguis Impera poured into the surroundings like liquid fire. Crimson embers flickered in the air around him as he took a slow, deliberate step forward, each movement radiating restrained power.

Across from him, Ankhet grinned with sinister delight and mirrored the motion, stepping forward into the swelling tension. Though his aura was partially pushed back by Thalion’s overwhelming presence, it still clung to him like a shroud of ancient dread, dense, unnatural, and filled with a strange pressure that seemed to weigh on the soul. The air between them shimmered with heat, vibrating from the collision of forces.

“Ha! Yes! That’s exactly what I need. A strong meathead I can smash into the ground!” Ankhet laughed, his voice twisted with glee as he advanced. His smile was wide, unhinged, and brimming with anticipation.

Yeah, we’ll see who’s laughing last, Thalion thought grimly. Deep down, he knew the odds were stacked against him. Even if he could overpower Ankhet for a moment, it wouldn’t last. The other vampires, or worse, the lich would eventually intervene. But victory wasn’t his goal. Escape was. If he could just reach the lower catacombs and shift into his Tidecaller Serpent form, he might slip through the sunken corridors and vanish beneath the waters. He could even adopt a different shape and hide there until the tutorial ended and sent him to the next world.

But first, he had to survive. He glanced at the barrier blocking the upper exit, impenetrable, glowing blood-red. His only path was downward. Unfortunately, his danger sense was still flaring wildly from the aura he was releasing, clouding his ability to navigate. Worse still, he hadn’t figured out how his new plant-based abilities worked. Not exactly ideal for fighting an ancient death-sorcerer who clearly wanted him dead.

With a flash of crimson light, Thalion summoned the Blade-Blooded Templar to his right hand. The weapon blazed with fiery energy, its shaft wreathed in blood-red flames. Ankhet responded by drawing a simple, black-forged sword from what must have been a stolen spatial ring, nothing ornate, certainly not of high rarity, but in Ankhet’s hands, that didn’t matter.

They blurred forward at the same moment, blades slashing through the air with blinding speed. Thalion opened with a defensive pattern, wary of committing too much to a reckless strike. Aggression was easy to counter, and he had no desire to be decapitated in the opening exchange. He was right to be cautious. Ankhet didn’t meet his blade head-on. Instead, he twisted with a speed that defied reason, spinning around Thalion’s guard and stabbing directly at his side.

The sword bit through armor and flesh, piercing a few centimeters into his ribs. The pain was sharp, but it barely registered before both the wound and the armor healed in seconds. Still, the strike had been clean, and Thalion hadn’t been fast enough to parry or counter. He cursed internally. He still hadn’t figured out how to command the blood vines of the Sanguis Impera. Without them, his options were limited.

Keep defending, he decided, edging slowly toward the blood barrier. If he made his shift in direction subtle enough, maybe Ankhet wouldn’t notice until it was too late. The undead lord pressed forward, relentless in his assault, but Thalion had found his rhythm now. He moved with poise, deflecting and dodging with growing precision. The upgrades from the Sanguis Impera had drastically improved his speed and strength. He just needed time.

Ankhet, meanwhile, showed no signs of difficulty despite having been resurrected in a completely new body. His technique was refined, nearly flawless, clearly the result of centuries, if not millennia, of battle experience. That he was only F-rank and operating at a fraction of his true strength made the situation even more absurd. Thalion couldn't even fathom what Ankhet must’ve been like at full power.

But he couldn’t afford to show his trump card just yet. Revealing he was a shapeshifter could destroy his chances of hiding within the palace later. So, for now, he remained on the defensive, absorbing cuts and stabs that healed as quickly as they came. The shallow wounds didn’t slow him, and with each exchange, he picked up small lessons. Angles, footwork, counters from Ankhet’s fluid movements.

Ankhet, however, was growing frustrated. Thalion’s passive style was grating on him, pushing him toward recklessness. That impatience opened the first real opportunity. In a flash, Thalion stepped in and landed a punch across Ankhet’s face, his gauntleted fist slamming into the undead’s cheek. It wasn’t as powerful as it could’ve been, but it was enough to send Ankhet stumbling several steps backward.

Thalion surged forward to press the advantage, but Ankhet vanished into a cloud of black miasma, reappearing several meters to the side. Thalion watched as the undead’s broken nose knit itself back together in real time, the bones snapping back into place beneath unmarred skin.

He might not have looked like a rotting corpse, but Thalion had no doubt anymore. Ankhet was undead. His aura was cold, hollow, ancient. It radiated the kind of darkness that didn’t fade with time but grew deeper with each passing century.

Now, that aura grew even darker, more oppressive. Getting punched in the face, especially by someone beneath him, had wounded more than just his nose. It had damaged his pride.

And an angry Ankhet was far more dangerous than a smug one.

The plain metal sword slipped from Ankhet’s hand, clattering to the stone floor as his face twisted into a mask of pure hatred. His lips curled back, revealing sharp teeth, and those eerie orange, snake-like eyes gleamed with malice. Thalion had always found those eyes unsettling, predatory and inhuman, but they matched Ankhet’s hideous nature all too well.

Stolen novel; please report.

A sharp spike of danger prickled down Thalion’s spine. Ankhet raised his now-empty left hand in a grasping motion. Through the heightened perception granted by his title, Thalion saw a soul begin to manifest, wrenched violently from the void and clenched within Ankhet’s claw-like fingers. Even if he hadn't been trapped in the crimson flower earlier, he would’ve recognized the twisted, contorted face within that glowing mass. It was the soul of the man Ankhet had first seized by the neck and killed. Now, it writhed in silent agony in Ankhet’s palm, reminiscent of the tortured cluster of spirits Thalion had seen devoured by the amulet after they destroyed the pillar.

Ankhet’s hand clenched into a fist.

The soul shattered.

A violent eruption followed, black lightning bursting from the epicenter in a deafening, blinding explosion. It wasn’t just energy; it came with a monstrous shockwave that tore through the chamber like a cannon blast. Thalion had no time to think. With a desperate motion, he threw up a mana barrier in front of him, channeling every drop of energy he could muster into the hastily cast shield. He also banished the Blade-Blooded Templar into his spatial ring to prevent it from being blown away.

Sensing his peril, the Sanguis Impera responded instinctively. Several thick, crimson vines burst forth and coiled into a second protective layer before him. These were no ordinary vines. They pulsed with a power easily four times greater than those of the old Crimson Virethorn.

But it wasn’t enough.

The black lightning slammed into both barriers like a tidal wave crashing against fragile glass. The defense shattered, and the shockwave struck him full force. Thalion was hurled backwards, crashing into the massive rear wall of the chamber nearly seventy meters behind him. Bones snapped with a sickening crack as he struck the stone—sharp pain lancing through his arm and ribcage. His armor fractured and his body lifted off the ground briefly before slamming down hard in a heap.

He healed quickly, but the process was agonizing. His broken arm jerked itself back into place with a brutal jolt, and his armor mended in a flurry of regenerative magic. Without it, he might’ve been killed outright. Still, several patches of scorched plating remained where the black lightning had torn through him.

Groaning, Thalion forced himself back onto his feet, still reeling from the blast. If Ankhet had more of those soul-fueled detonations, he was in serious trouble. There was no countermeasure that came to mind—the speed and scope of the attack made it impossible to dodge or deflect. His only hope might lie in teleportation using his bloodline skill.

Ankhet remained in the center of the chamber, smiling as if nothing had happened. His needle-like teeth flashed in the dim light.

“Good… you survived. You had me worried there for a moment,” he said with a low chuckle. A few of the vampires around him joined in, their laughter echoing like ghosts in the vast room.

Thalion noticed how Ankhet drank in their laughter, clearly savoring it. The only thing bigger than the undead’s power was his ego, something Thalion hoped he could exploit.

“Would’ve been boring if it ended so soon, wouldn’t it?” Thalion replied with a wry smirk. Then he added with pointed sarcasm, “By the way… any chance we could go back to swordplay? Or are you too afraid?”

The jab hit its mark.

Ankhet’s smile evaporated, replaced by a deep scowl. His brow furrowed, his aura darkening as if a storm had begun to gather inside him.

“We’ll see if you’re still smiling when I cut your heart out,” he growled, venom in his voice.

He raised both arms, and twin streams of black lightning surged from his palms. For a brief moment, Thalion thought the image eerily resembled something out of a Star Wars holovid—Ankhet looked uncannily like the Emperor himself, especially with the dark robe draped around his shoulders, likely taken from one of the fallen vampires.

Whatever it was, Thalion didn’t want to touch it.

This time, however, the assault was far weaker than the soul-fueled explosion from before. Thalion summoned a sturdy mana barrier, bracing for impact. The lightning struck, but this time it fizzled harmlessly against the shield’s surface. It seemed that, without a soul to detonate, Ankhet wasn’t omnipotent after all.

Good. That gave him space to experiment.

While the intensity of the fight had lessened for the moment, Thalion decided to test something. He concentrated, attempting to activate Blood Thorn, even though the skill technically no longer existed. He hoped the Sanguis Impera would understand the intention.

Three bloodthorns exploded from his outstretched hand, speeding forward like crimson lances. He quickly dismissed the mana shield so they wouldn’t collide with it on release. Relief flooded him when he realized it had worked and not only that, the reaction time was even faster than before. The Sanguis Impera had responded instantly, as though it had always known what he wanted.

Ankhet twisted to the side, dodging the incoming thorns with ease, though a trace of reluctance marked his movements.

“You didn’t really think that would hit me, did you?” he laughed, full of scorn.

He probably believed Thalion had launched a clumsy, desperate attack. In truth, Thalion was thrilled, it had all worked better than expected. The ability, the speed, the synergy—it was all there.

Now, it was time to find out if the vines worked the same way.