Chapter 3

Atlas Von Carstein cut a striking figure, his tall and imposing frame exuding an aura of ancient power. With piercing crimson eyes that seem to glow in the darkness, he commands attention wherever he goes. His features, once handsome in life, now bear the mark of undeath—pale skin stretched taut over chiselled cheekbones and a strong jawline. Despite his unearthly appearance, there is a magnetism to his presence, a charisma that draws both fear and fascination from those around him.

His hair, a dark shade of ebony, falls in untamed waves around his shoulders, framing his face like a sinister halo. Though his expression is often inscrutable, there is a hint of predatory grace in the way he moves, a silent reminder of the beast that lurks beneath his suave exterior.

However at this moment, he exuded none of those. Atlas lay facedown in the mud with cuts covering his torso. The garments of dark velvet and rich brocade that he (and many aristocratic) favoured were in taters as a crowd of on-lookers; some kin to him, others mortal pets, watched in amusement and sick fascination.

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting an eerie glow over the ancient castle that served as the battleground for the night's confrontation. Atlas had been training with Gilbert, a Von Carstein master at arms, with the other newly turned to forge them into something that Vlad would find useful in the upcoming war.

Gilbert struck a fierce figure in the night. A long flowing cloak that billows behind him as he walks with armour forged from blackened steel, its surface etched with arcane symbols and sigils of protection. He wields a finely crafted sword at his side, its blade gleaming with otherworldly power—a weapon befitting a warrior of his calibre. The exertion of hours of brutally beating Atlas and his peers seemed to wash over him, not showing any sign like unmoving marble.

"Status," Atlas whispered under his breath.

Beep!

*Hosts Status* (Reminder 5 is average for humans)

*Strength – 14 ->16 *

*Agility – 17 -> 21 *

*Physique – 12 ->15 *

*Spirit – 9*

Vampirism: Grants immortality, supernatural abilities, and control over the undead, yet it demands a constant thirst for blood. At night, stats increased by 30%. Increased vulnerability to sunlight and silver. Bonds of servitude with maker and Nagash.

Seeing his condition quantified made his situation simultaneously worse and better. He knew he was making progress, the weeks of training had made him stronger, even exceeding all the other newborn vampires. Despite the transmutation his life had been through, he started to feel comfortable in this new body. Even the blood no longer phased him; he hadn't developed enough control to leave the human alive after however, they were but minor sacrifices in his journey to glory.

The one area he hadn't advanced in was Spirit. Spirit, commonly called magic, was essential in his plans. While a human, he had no talent for the mystic arts, as a vampire, a whole new world was opened for him where even death wasn't the end. Count Vlad had cast such powerful raise dead spells to awaken ancient warriors from their slumber to march to battle once more. Atlas needed such power for himself – only he hadn't received any instruction as of yet.

He rose from the ground, brushing his soiled clothes and prepared for another encounter. Taking the stance taught to him; and later refined by the AI chip, he loosened his control of the beast within. The primal hunger that gnaws at his insides, driving him to seek out the sustenance he needs to survive gave him strength as he charged at Gilbert.

Their swords met in sparks, colliding with a speed that would make mortals quiver in terror. Thrust. Parry. Block. Strike. The pattern repeated. Atlas gave his all, drawing from the memories that the AI chip extracted of his sword training, in addition to the predictive analysis of the AI chip. In his eyes, he could see coloured lights showing the path of Gilbert's blows enabling him to block and counter far more than what he could have managed alone.

It wasn't enough.

Gilbert seemed to glide through every movement, as if air and gravity held no sway over him. With a sudden blur of motion, Gilbert lunged forward, his movements a blur of speed and grace as he unleashed a flurry of strikes against Atlas. The younger vampire fought back with equal ferocity, his sword flashing in the moonlight as he parried blow after blow, each clash of steel ringing out like a symphony of war.

But despite his best efforts, Atlas found himself steadily losing ground, Gilbert's superior skill and strength proving too much for him to handle. With a swift strike, the elder vampire disarmed him, sending his sword clattering to the ground as he stood defenceless before his opponent.

Breathing heavily, Atlas braced himself for the final blow, his heart pounding in his chest as he prepared for the inevitable defeat. But instead of delivering the killing blow, Gilbert merely smirked, a cruel glint in his eyes as he circled around his fallen adversary.

"You fight well, young Atlas," Gilbert remarked, his voice laced with amusement. "But you still have much to learn. Your ambition may be great, but without the strength to back it up, you will never achieve your true potential."

With a flick of his wrist, Gilbert delivered a swift kick to Atlas's chest, sending him sprawling to the ground in a cloud of dust and debris. As the younger vampire struggled to regain his footing, Gilbert loomed over him, his form blocking the moonlight leaving Atlas in his shadow.

"You have potential, Atlas," Gilbert said, his voice low and menacing. "But you must learn to harness it. Strength alone is not enough to survive in this world. You must also learn strategy, cunning, and the art of deception."

Atlas gritted his teeth, his frustration boiling over as he struggled to push himself upright. Gilbert's words cut deep, a reminder of his own shortcomings and the steep uphill battle that lay ahead of him.

"I will not be defeated so easily," Atlas growled, his eyes blazing with determination. "I will become stronger. I will surpass you, Gilbert, and all who stand in my way."

Gilbert's smirk widened, a flash of amusement dancing in his eyes as he regarded the younger vampire with a mixture of scorn and curiosity.

"We shall see, Atlas," Gilbert replied, his tone dripping with scepticism. "But for now, rest. Reflect on your defeat, and let it fuel your hunger for greatness. For one day, you may indeed become a force to be reckoned with. But until then, know your place."

Without warning, Gilbert's enchanted sword flicked out and sliced Atlas's ear. The injury wasn't the worst the instructor had inflicted on him during the training, but it didn't lessen the pain he felt. Over time he had learnt his body would heal most injuries that would be fatal to mortals.

"Let that be a reminder never to let your guard down. Friends. Foes. They are competition on the way to the top."

With a final, contemptuous glance, Gilbert turned and vanished into the shadows, leaving Atlas alone in the courtyard, his mind ablaze with thoughts of revenge and redemption. As he struggled to his feet, his resolve hardened, a silent vow echoing in the depths of his undead heart.

"I will not be defeated," Atlas whispered to the night, his voice a fierce declaration of his determination. "I will rise, stronger and more powerful than ever before. And when that day comes, Gilbert, you will rue the day you crossed paths with me."