-The Sixth Rider-

==(Author's Note: this means a PoV Shift)

Upon the Wild World Pluton, in an undisclosed location:

Marcus Eques Sanguinis leaned back in the control chair of his Fleshcraft. The chair was comprised of cords of flesh that looked like raw musculature, and Marcus with his vampiric wild magic shaped the chair into the semblance of a grand throne.

He sat cross-legged with dull, crimson red eyes that gleamed in the shadowy dark of his ship. On the arm rests of his throne, half-dressed human women he had hypnotized away from their homes sat, their eyes blank and listless as they drew near to his shoulders.

His eyes seemed at once at ease and ready to erupt into fierce glare at any given moment, and this unpredictable gaze was what caused all of his subordinate crew to fear him.

That, and his recognized power.

For Marcus was one of the Bloodriders, an elite group of Vampire Outlaws whose name was known throughout the entire realm of Hyperia.

There was not a single soul worth a damn across the Majoris races and planets that did not know of the Bloodriders.

A smaller group of Outlaws compared to the other elite crews, but what they had in low number they made up for in raw power.

The Bloodriders were comprised of six crews.

Three Highblood crews and three Lowblood crews.

Collectively, they were known as the six riders, and Marcus was the Sixth Rider, leader of the weakest Bloodrider crew. His status was made known in a gleaming red roman numeral of VI etched into the pale white, grey-tinted skin of his forehead.

Marcus resented his position as the weakest Rider. He knew he was better. He was already at the High Phantasmal grade, a feat that would have taken the ordinary talented vampire three hundred years to achieve.

But Marcus in all his superb genius had achieved this in a mere one hundred.

Yet it was the curse of his genius and talent that had caused him to lash out at the old vampiric ways.

The Familia Laws that all vampires were to abide by. Old, archaic laws that placed far too much a premium on age that meant nothing.

For Marcus knew he was destined for greatness. He knew he was better than all those untalented fools around him.

So why should he be bound by age old laws?

Why should he let vampires far weaker than him command him solely because they were a few decades his senior?

Why should he, so blessed with talent, not take what he wanted?

Thus, when a bratty princess of the Familia he once was sworn under spat at him, he had not hesitated to kill her, to take from her the sanctity of her body and mind, because was not everything destined for him anyway?

Regardless, Marcus had been exiled, but his talent was well known, and as a prodigy, he knew that someone would always want him.

In this case, the Bloodriders had reached out to him, offering him their newly opened seat as their Sixth Rider.

Of course, this was all a stepping stone.

Marcus could not challenge Lucius, the First Rider and overall leader of the Bloodriders, but in time, before the Finalis, he would tear that old man's head from his shoulders and devour it whole.

Then, the Bloodriders would be his to command, as would everything else once he proved his supremacy in the Finalis.

That Marcus was reduced to scouting for potential rare artifacts in fringe wild worlds like this was an utter insult to his capabilities. He would remember this, bide his time, power, and when the opportunity was ripe, drain the lifeblood of Lucius directly from his jugular.

For now, though, Marcus had to tend to these idiots.

Three kneeling figures before him.

Members of a crew of no name Outlaws called the 'Ravagers'. An impressive name for worthless trash that came from Lower Races who were soon to be wiped out or enslaved in the Finalis anyway.

"Raise your heads," said Marcus as he moved a finger lazily. The blood control he exerted on the three loosened, allowing them only the freedom of movement to raise their heads and speak. "You promised me a dragon. I see no dragon. I want answers."

The captain of the group, a tan-skinned human, grimaced as he spoke. "Our ship was seized, but the dragon should still be in it. We have a tracker on the ship. I swear to you that we will give you the dragon. Just give us time."

"Time? I gave you twenty-four hours. That is more than enough time for the likes of filthy mudbloods such as yourselves," said Marcus, scoffing. "Why is it that mudbloods such as yourselves that live so few years believe time such a bountiful resource?

One would think your shorter lifespans would grant you far better appreciation of what few hours you have to spend."

He was tempted to simply hypnotize these fools and turn them into mindless slaves, but he was expressly forbidden from doing so by Lucius.

Professionalism, the old fool said.

If they mistreated their clients or hired help too harshly, even if they were a dirty mudblood whose lifespan did not even reach a tenth of an average vampire's, then the reputation of the Bloodriders would be stained.

Ridiculous.

What use was there to maintain a clean image in front of groveling monkeys and furred beasts such as these?

Nonetheless, Marcus could not disobey Lucius, if only on account of the old man's might. He would have to let these idiots continue on through their own.

He doubted in the first place that they had even caught a dragon, especially when the likes of the species had not been seen in the past half century, but the risk to reward ratio of letting these fools work for him was high.

If they did truly have a dragon in their midst, especially a young one, then its blood would be an immense treasure. Especially if the dragon was one of the fated one hundred offspring.

Meanwhile, Marcus could take it easy.

Treat this assignment to this Wild World as a small retreat from his more important duties.

There were plenty of women here he could steal away from their homes to play with and devour later. Though he did not like gracing mudblood lower races with his presence, he did quite revel in their suffering, for suffering was universal and almost equally delectable across all sentient beings.

Perhaps even more so with weaker mudbloods who were too frail to do anything but suffer.

There was technically a ceasefire across all races until the Finalis set by the Angels, but these did not bind Outlaws, and even then, the Angels only responded to large offenses.

Kidnapping a few measly mudblood human women meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.

"We can still track the ship," said the captain, his voice straining as Marcus unleashed some of his magical pressure. "We will have it back and the dragon to you in…in three days. Three days. That is all we need."

"Three days? Hm." Marcus already grew tired of this conversation. Smelling the filth of these mudbloods almost made him nauseous. He had to suppress an urge to tear them apart this instant. He wanted them out. "So be it, then. This is your final chance. If you fail, you will not only lose the coin promised for this contract, but all three of you will also lose your lives."

A silence descended upon the three mudbloods as they stilled, fear settling into their hearts.

Marcus smiled, enjoying the scent of fear. It was the only scent from mudbloods that excited him to any real degree. "You are a crew of nobodies. Perhaps another Rider would be more lenient with you, but I truly could not care less about your pitiful existences. I will personally wring your spines from your backs if you fail.

But I trust you will not, no?"

"No," said the captain with shaky voice.

"Hm. I take that back. I will not lay my hands upon you," said Marcus, and the three mudbloods looked up at him with surprise and hope.

Marcus almost visibly licked his fangs. It was when he crushed hope that he could squeeze out the finest wine of fear.

Marcus snapped his fingers, and three droplets of blood sped from his digits and onto each member of the crew. The blood seared the skin of their necks before seeping into the flesh. The mudbloods cringed in pain but could not hold their necks because their bodies were still frozen from Marcus's blood control.

"I will not sully my hands with the likes of you. Three days, was it?" said Marcus. "In seventy-two hours' time from now, the blood toxin I have placed within you will immediately melt you down into nothingness.

The terms of our contract did not involve this, so in exchange, I will also double the coin reward if you succeed.

Consider this motivation and generosity far, far beyond what you mudbloods deserve.

Now get out of my sight."

==