Chapter 7
In the dimly lit tent, Atlas sat surrounded by ancient tomes of magic, their weathered pages filled with arcane knowledge and forbidden rituals from different vampire clans. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows across his face as he pored over the texts, his crimson eyes scanning each word with rapt attention assisted by the AI chip.
The combined armies of the vampires had been marching for days, their ranks bolstered by legions of undead minions and monstrous creatures of the night. Orders had been given to take several nearby human settlements, and Atlas found himself swept up in the tide of war, his spirit surging with newfound strength and purpose.
With the aid of his AI chip, Atlas delved into the intricacies of dark magic, refining his control over the supernatural forces that coursed through his undead veins. Each incantation and ritual became second nature to him, the lines between mortal and immortal blurring as he embraced his true nature as a vampire.
Beside him in the tent, a dozen human thralls stood silent and obedient, their eyes dull and lifeless as they awaited their master's command. They were a final gift from Sophia, intended to keep Atlas comfortable and well-fed during the campaign. But as he glanced at them now, a pang of guilt tugged at his undead heart. These were living beings, their lives shortened to serve his needs.
But there was no time for remorse, no room for sentimentality in the harsh reality of war. Atlas donned the amulet that Sophia had bestowed upon him, feeling its power pulse against his skin. It was tied to ten graveguard, formidable undead warriors clad in ancient armour and armed with deadly weapons. With a thought, he could command them to do his bidding, turning the tide of battle in his favour. Combined with his risen force of just over 100 skeletons, he wasn't weak any longer.
As the army prepared to march on the nearest human settlement, Atlas steeled himself for his first command. He would lead the charge, his thirst for blood driving him forward with a single-minded determination. The town lay in their path, an obstacle to be overcome in their relentless quest for power and domination.
The attack was swift and brutal, the vampires descending upon the unsuspecting town like a swarm of ravenous beasts. Buildings were set ablaze, screams echoed through the streets, and the air was thick with the scent of death and decay. Atlas fought with savage ferocity, his sword cleaving through flesh and bone with deadly precision; not giving mind to those whose existences he ended.
But amidst the chaos and carnage, a silent conflict raged within him. Memories of his human life flickered in the recesses of his mind, reminders of a time when he had known love, compassion, and empathy. Now, those feelings were buried beneath layers of darkness and bloodlust, but they still haunted him, a whisper of the man he once was.
As the battle raged on, Atlas moved through the wreckage, his senses attuned to the faintest glimmer of knowledge or treasure. Among the ruins, he found books and scrolls, relics of the human world that held secrets and the potential for power. He salvaged them greedily, knowing that they would aid him in his quest for supremacy.
And so, as the smoke cleared and the cries of the wounded faded into silence, Atlas stood amidst the ruins of the town, his thirst for blood temporarily sated but his hunger for power still burning bright.
Atlas stood amidst the carnage, his once gleaming armour now stained with gore and his sword bearing the marks of countless clashes. The crimson hue of his eyes seemed to glow even brighter in the dim light, reflecting the savage fury that still burned within him.
His ebony hair, tousled and tangled from the heat of battle, framed his face like a dark veil, accentuating the sharp contours of his features. Blood dripped from his fingertips, staining the ground beneath him as he surveyed the aftermath of the destruction he had wrought.
Despite the grisly scene surrounding him, there was an air of triumph in Atlas's posture, a sense of grim satisfaction that twisted his lips into a predatory smirk. His chest rose and fell with each laboured breath, the adrenaline of battle still coursing through his undead veins.
But beneath the facade of strength and power, there lurked a hint of something darker—a shadow of doubt that clouded Atlas's mind as he contemplated the horrors he had unleashed upon the innocent. It was a fleeting moment of introspection, quickly buried beneath the weight of his insatiable thirst for conquest.
And so, with a flick of his blood-stained cloak, Atlas turned away from the scene of devastation, his resolve hardened and his determination unyielding. He had tasted victory, and now he hungered for more.
Atlas, still adorned in his blood-soaked armour, made his way to the grand tent where Sophia and the other vampire nobility awaited. The flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows across the leather walls as if he was entering an abdominal beast, adding to the atmosphere of solemnity and death that permeated the chamber.
Kneeling before Sophia, Atlas bowed his head in deference, his crimson eyes meeting hers with a mixture of reverence and determination. Despite the weariness that weighed heavily upon him, there was a spark of pride in his gaze—a pride born of his recent triumph on the battlefield.
"Sophia," he began, his voice steady and unwavering, "I come to you now to present my report of the battle."
Sophia regarded him with a regal air, her pale fingers tracing the rim of her goblet as she listened intently to his words.
"Speak, my fledgling," she commanded, her voice like velvet wrapped in steel. "Tell us of your victories."
Straightening his posture, Atlas recounted the events of the battle in meticulous detail, describing the fierce clashes and the overwhelming tide of undead that swept through the human settlement like a tide of death. He spoke of the losses suffered by his skeleton legion, casualties of war that had fallen in the heat of battle.
"But fear not, my lady," Atlas continued, his tone filled with confidence. "For even in death, my fallen soldiers serve me still. I have raised their fallen enemies to join our ranks, replenishing our forces and ensuring our continued dominance on the battlefield."
Sophia's lips curved into a satisfied smile, her approval evident in the glint of her eyes.
"An excellent report, Atlas," she remarked, her voice a soft purr of approval. "You have proven yourself to be a formidable commander, even if it is but a minor skirmish. Your resourcefulness in replenishing our forces speaks volumes of your potential."
With a graceful gesture, she beckoned Atlas to rise, acknowledging his success with a nod of her head.
"Rise, my fledgling," she said, her voice echoing through the chamber. "You have done well. Continue to serve me faithfully, and together, we shall conquer all who dare to oppose us."
-------------------------------------------------
As Atlas returned to his personal tent, a pang of guilt gnawed at his undead heart as he beheld the sorry state of his human servants. Their faces bore the marks of fear and exhaustion, their bodies trembling with the weight of their servitude. For a moment, he saw the reflection of his own humanity in their eyes, a reminder of the life he had left behind.
Determined to protect and care for them to the best of his ability, Atlas set about teaching them the basic knowledge they would need to survive in this harsh and unforgiving world. Drawing from the depths of his memories, he imparted lessons on simple tasks that were second nature to him but foreign to them.
"Listen carefully," he began, his voice firm but not unkind. "Boiling water is essential for purifying it and making it safe to drink. Watch closely as I demonstrate."
With practised ease, Atlas filled a pot with water and placed it over a fire, patiently waiting as the liquid came to a rolling boil. He explained the importance of boiling water to kill off harmful bacteria and pathogens, emphasizing the need for caution when drinking from unknown sources.
In addition to teaching them about water purification, Over the following days, Atlas also instructed them in other basic survival skills, such as foraging for edible plants, building rudimentary shelters, and identifying potential threats in their surroundings. He shared his knowledge of combat techniques, showing them how to wield a weapon and defend themselves in times of danger.
Despite the ever-present hunger that gnawed at his insides, Atlas resolved to limit his feeding on his human thralls, knowing that he could sustain himself during battles and other encounters. Instead, he focused on nurturing their growth and well-being, recognizing that their survival was intrinsically linked to his own.
As the days passed, Atlas watched with satisfaction as his human servants began to grow stronger and more self-sufficient under his guidance. Their eyes sparkled with newfound confidence, their gratitude evident in the way they served him faithfully.
Though the path ahead was fraught with uncertainty and danger, Atlas knew that together, they would face whatever challenges came their way. And as he looked upon his charges with a sense of pride and determination, he vowed to protect them at all costs, for they were now his family in this dark and treacherous world.