First Intergalactic Emperor: Starting With The Ancient Goddess

Luther looked back at Xavier, who still writhed inside the crimson veil, his body twitching, his eyes burning through the blood haze. ”I don’t know,” he said at last. ”But whatever he’s become, it’s not natural. I can feel it. His energy is mutating by the second. If we let him live, he’ll grow beyond control. Better to end him now before he takes the mountain with him. If he is left alive and he escapes the castle walls, once again the legacy and name of the vampire will be stained by the world.”

Eryndor gave a low chuckle. ”And that, my boy, is why your kind never learns.”

Luther frowned. ”What?”

”Always so eager to destroy what you don’t understand.” The old man smiled faintly. ”Do you ever stop to think that perhaps it’s worth studying instead of killing?”

Luther blinked, then laughed once, short and bitter. ”You can’t be serious. You want me to treat that thing?” He pointed at the swirling mass of blood and rage in front of them. ”That’s no longer a person. The treatment has a one percent success rate—less, if the subject’s already lost his mind. It takes weeks of blood stabilizers, runic surgery, and essence correction. It’s a waste of time, effort, and resources.”

Eryndor didn’t move. ”So?”

Luther stared at him, uncomprehending. ”So? You’d pour the blood reserves of a generation into saving a human that shouldn’t even exist?”

”Yes.” The old man’s answer came as easily as breathing. ”Because if he survives, we learn why he exists. If he dies, we learn nothing.”

Luther’s lips curled. ”You’ve gone senile.”

”Perhaps,” Eryndor said with a thin smile. ”But you forget who taught your father, and his father before him. I’ve seen what happens when we destroy what we should have feared enough to understand.”

He turned back toward the barrier. The blood rippled again, as if the thing inside could hear them. ”Treat him,” Eryndor repeated. ”Stabilize him. I want him alive.”

Luther’s voice dropped, tight with disbelief. ”You’re asking me to cage a beast that almost leveled this castle.”

The old vampire’s tone didn’t waver. ”Yes. And when he wakes, we’ll see if he’s a beast or an omen.”

Luther exhaled hard through his nose, shoulders tensing. He wanted to argue, to throw reason at the old man until he listened. But one glance at Eryndor’s expression told him the decision was already made. The elder Von Stein didn’t ask twice.

”Fine,” Luther said at last. ”But when it tears the healers apart, remember whose fault it was.”

Eryndor didn’t reply. His eyes were fixed on Xavier, his voice soft, almost to himself. ”Let’s see what the gods buried inside you, boy.”

”Please reconsider, great-grandfather. With only one percent success rate, I don’t think it’s a wise decision. We would just be wasting resources and gain nothing in return.”

Eryndor stood there, quiet as the veil pulsed red beside him. His eyes gleamed faintly as he turned toward Luther and said, ”It won’t be a waste, boy. The treatment will succeed—if you use the Orb of Eternity.”

Luther’s head snapped up. For the first time that night, his composure broke. ”You’ve gone mad,” he spat. ”Do you even hear what you’re saying?”

Eryndor didn’t answer.

Luther stepped closer, his voice sharper, rising with every word. ”You want to use an Orb of Eternity on a failed awakener? On a creature that shouldn’t even exist? Do you have any idea what that means?”

Eryndor raised a brow, unmoved.

Luther’s hands curled into fists. ”Our kind has hunted across star systems for eons to gather those orbs. Thousands of vampires—our best—died to claim even one of them. We’ve collected twelve. Twelve! Each one a treasure of pure life essence, capable of reviving a dying bloodline or ascending a vampire beyond mortality itself. And you want to waste one on him?”

He gestured violently toward Xavier, who was still thrashing inside the blood veil, his veins glowing faintly gold beneath the red shimmer. ”It’s an insult to our ancestors. To every warrior who bled for the glory of our race. The orbs were meant to lift the vampires above all living species—to restore what we lost in the wars. You’d throw that away for a half-dead mistake?”

Eryndor let him finish. Then the old man chuckled—low, quiet, almost amused.

”Tell me something, Luther,” he said. ”What night is it today?”

Luther blinked, caught off guard. ”What?”

Eryndor repeated, ”What night is it?”

Luther frowned. ”...The night of the Red Moon.”

The old man nodded slowly. ”And what did we used to do on this night, before the tragedy twenty years ago?”

Luther sighed. ”We celebrated. Held rituals.”

Eryndor’s tone sharpened. ”What ritual?”

”The ancestral one,” Luther said quickly. ”An offering, a prayer.”

”For what purpose?”

Luther hesitated. ”Because... it was tradition.”

Eryndor’s eyes narrowed. ”You’ve memorized the gestures but forgotten the meaning. So I’ll ask again—what was the purpose?”

Luther exhaled sharply. ”To pray for an heir. For the one spoken of in the prophecy.”

Eryndor smiled faintly. ”And what does the prophecy say?”

”That one among us,” Luther said slowly, ”will awaken beneath the red moon, blessed by the blood of the ancients. A being who would one day rule over the living, the dead, and all that lies between. Lord of the Universe”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Eryndor leaned on his cane. ”And when, my dear boy, was that awakening supposed to happen?”

Luther froze. The gears turned in his mind. His lips parted as he whispered, ”On the night... under the red... moon.”

The old man’s smile deepened, almost sad. ”Exactly.”

Luther’s eyes widened, and his fangs bared in disbelief. ”You’re not actually suggesting that he—that thing—is the one from the prophecy?”

Eryndor said nothing.

Luther shook his head violently. ”He’s a human. A filthy human! He’s not one of us—he’s an abomination! His awakening failed! His body’s collapsing! You dare compare that... that thing to the Chosen of the Bloodline? How could you even think of something like this? It’s blasphemy!”

Eryndor’s gaze turned cold. ”I didn’t write the prophecy, Luther. Neither did you. The universe doesn’t bend to our pride.”

He turned to the blood veil. ”And tell me, in all our history, has any vampire ever awakened during the red moon?”

Luther hesitated. ”...No.”

”Do you know why?”

Luther didn’t answer.

Eryndor smiled faintly. ”Because the red moon weakens us. Our blood turns volatile, our essence unstable. It is the one night our kind becomes fragile.” He paused, his voice lowering. ”Yet this boy... awakened through it.”