"Darion! Please, spare my husband! I understand that you are angry because we are unable to meet with this month's tribute, but please, spare us!" She yelled at the top of her lungs.
While all of this transpired, the others simply went about their business, as though an altercation wasn't taking place right before their very eyes.
Well, it wasn't like they had the power to change anything. They would simply be throwing their lives away by choosing to interfere.
"If that doesn't satisfy you, then you are free to take whatever you want from the stall. If fact, you can have it all. My family and I will simply live on the streets. Please just spare us!"
Darion remained motionless as he took it all in, his lips curling into a malevolent grin as he swung his hand out.
A line of bloor aura shot out, heading straight for the pleading woman.
What followed was to be expected—a disturbingly massive splashing of blood that stained the fabrics all around, her head swinging away from her shoulders, the scared expression seemingly etched into it, even after death.
The noise of shoes striking the floor caught Darion's attention as a young woman emerged from the stall's inner part, her expression livid as she witnessed the scene before her—her father knocked to the wall, lightly bleeding from his mouth, shattered teeth piercing soft flesh. Meanwhile, her mother remained as a headless corpse, both parts separated from each in a spreading pool of blood.
She drew rough breaths, her chest raising and falling rapidly. Her trembling eyes moved from the ghastly scene, falling upon the man standing outside if the shop, hands in his pockets as he stared back at her with a subtle sense of interest in his eyes.
"You!!!" Her pupils scattered across the stall, searching for something that could serve her as a weapon. A bunch of needles caught her view, abd tge next moment, she rushed and grabbed them.
She kicked off with her feet, lunging over the counter to pierce the culprit with her choice of offense.
Seeing this, Darion swiftly raised his hand up, catching hers before she could bring the prickly needles down upon his snow white skin. Granted, such objects wouldn't do much to hurt him, anyway.
Especially considering the fact that the girl couldn't perform any considerable blood coating to argument her mediocre attack.
"A fiesty one, aren't you?" He asked, his gaze looming all across her body, a knowing glint sparkling within them.
"You bastard! How dare you!!!" She struggled within his grasp, her inferior strength marking her efforts with resentful futility.
"My, what a beauty you are. Your parents are luckily to have a girl like you as their daughter," he adjusted himself, pushing her back into the stall, crashing into the wall.
Her body rolled into the floor, pained gasps escaping her mouth as she scratched her head furiously, feeling something sharp pierce her from the inside.
"I like you. You have all the... qualities I'm looking for in a woman," he spoke, a wave of fascination coating his words. "You are now mine."
Her head shot up, wild eyes staring back at Darion.
The next second, a light chuckle invaded the space, a hideous wave of laughter following soon after.
"Me? Yours? Oh... Oh, Supreme Sovereign, I'd rather die than belong to a devil like you!" She hurriedly scurried about, gathering some needles back together.
Then, the next moment, she thrust their sharp edge, aiming to pierce her abdomen, however, she was stopped, Darion's hand gripping hers firmly.
"I won't let you take your life. You are mine, so whatever becomes of your life is mine to decide," he declared, the grin on his face remaining.
The girl swiftly raised her head up, spitting into Darion's eye.
Still, that wasn't enough to make him let go.
She inched closer to his face, her mouth opened wide. Vampiric fangs we're mere centimeters away from his glorious face, stopped by his other hand as he pushed her face back.
"Vicious, determined, and stupidly stubborn. Truly, you would make a fitting wife."
Her figure struggled under his grip, squirming like a pest caught in a dreadful trap.
Seeing her in such a helpless state, his enthusiasm continued to escalate. But then, all that glee abruptly vanished, replaced by something less insidious, more humane.
Regret.
He hurriedly freed her from his grasp, scurrying aside, giving her space to regain herself.
"... I apologize for hurting you?" He eventually said, seeing her regain her footing.
Her attention went back to both her parents on the floor. Her mother was gone, never to return. But, her father remained—alive, breathing, though considerably injured.
She turned to face Darion, her voice demanding.
"Get my father treated!" She spat, her tone laced with a corrupt feeling, something subtly beyond the edge of sanity and reasoning.
She wished for her father to live, even if it was through the very man who had put him in that state.
Darion lingered for some moments, then responded:
"On one condition."
Her nails dug into her palms, drawing blood. She tilted her head to the side, her sanity gradually crumbling as she asked:
"And what might that be?"
Darion took a few steps closer, his eyes firm and steady.
"Become my wife—that is all I ask, and I will heal your father," he replied.
The world around her trembled, as though shuddering. No, that wasn't it. It laughed, its macabre tone surging through her ears like a fiendish tune.
Whether she liked it or not, her life now belonged to the man who ruined her family.
Her body stilled, logicality departing further from her shambled consciousness. The flames within her irises dimmed, overwhelmed by the sickening reality befalling her inconsequential existence.
Her body collided with the blood-stained floor, puffy eyes looking down at her mother's headless body.
She remained still, mute—utterly unresponsive to the world around her. Everything slowed, arriving at a chilling halt.
Her arms reached forward, trying to grab hold of her mother's. The noise of locals bickering filled her hearing, her gaze staring up at her mother as she was lead through the dense streets, heading to one of the shops she usually enjoyed visiting.
She wept, sorrow cradling her within its grasp. Without her mother, the hollow sensation felt it was oy right to keep her company.
Darion stepped closer, bending down to meet her gaze.
"Just say the words."
Silence reigned right after. The only present disturbance being the lithe sounds of sobbing from the girl.
Eventually, she raised her arm, wiping her tears as she sniffled.
Then, she stared back at Darion, her eyes dull, perpetually scarred by the unforgiving regime that influenced the empire.
Then, her lips parted, her words coming out in a hollow, coarse volume.
"... I... am now yours..."
Darion clicked his tongue, offering her a hand. She stared down at it, slowly accepting his help as he raised her back up to her feet.
"So now, tell me, what is your name, beautiful?"
She cleared her throat, a brief wave of coughs escaping her sour throat.
"Rachel... Rachel Welson."
Present time...
Darion's figure trembled as the memories assaulted his senses.
A demented siege of laughter saturated the terror clinging feverishly to the shivering folks. They shifted and curled, their heads pressed hard against the dirt, begging from their lives.
Futility garnered their desperate act, beads of sweat staining the ground beneath them. Their jaws teetered, countless thoughts squirming fruitlessly within thralls of their desecrated minds.
The abysmal hollering ceased, cancerous silence reigning once more.
Darion sucked his teeth, crimson energy ejecting from his hands as they took shape. The insidious light swayed and twisted, adjusting to the sadistic will of its conjurer. On his face, a maniacal expression remained, refecting by the malevolent glow of his powers.
"You know, according to the rule Raphael set, none of us are meant to go above the usual killing rate that was set. One hundred—that was how many we were allowed to slaughter," he trailed his finger across the crimson rapier, swinging his arm across the air.
A sharp, piercing sound rang, the pleading crowd feeling their lives flash before their gaping eyes.
"But then, this isn't some other matter that would have been settled so easily, no. This matter is far more grevious that what even he can imagine. I'm sure if I tell him my reason for this, he'll let it slide. If not, then I suppose my punishment won't be too bad," he stepped forward, the crimson light illuminating the tenebrous path before him. "Killing you all, should ease my pain somewhat, at least."
His movements were sudden, sharp, and delegated with bloodthirsty precision. He swung the rapier at one of the fearful folks, the pointed edge slashing deep into the man's neck, beheading him within seconds. Without wasting a single moment, he swiftly glided across the terrain, severing one head after the other.
Blood oozed from their sliced organs, tainting his clothes and weapon with their feeble blood, yet the expression on his face remained—gleeful, demented, unsettlingly sadistic.
Within his eyes, that twisted sensation surged, raging forth in despicable amounts.
Ezeikel's expression grew pale, his darkest thoughts laying claim to all sense of logicality. His body remained plastered to the ground, slightly shivering as the chill breeze caressed his stale figure.
He gave a mental command to his limbs, ordering them to move, yet, they disobeyed the will of their master. Darion's presence, his actions, his words—they all seemed to coalesce, dismembering his mind and will.
He remained still, dangerously close to loosing his life.
Vampires fell, one helpless soul loosing their life after the other. Darion's assaults were precise, harrowing, and morbidly corrupted.
"Rachel... may your soul find peace as I avenge your death," he muttered to himself, ceasing another life upon the shadowy terrain.