Chapter 68:Fear

Elias's heartbeat pounded in his chest as he watched Alaric, each step the creature took a march toward them, unstoppable and unnerving. The air felt thick, like it was holding its breath. Isabella's fingers flickered through the air, crafting the portal between them, but Elias knew they didn't have much time.

He squeezed the trigger again, the shots ripping through the tense silence, but each bullet, each strike, seemed to melt into Alaric's body . The immortal's skin shimmered and healed, not even a scar left in its wake. Alaric wasn't even flinching. His teeth had lengthened—shark-like and dripping with hunger—while his eyes, once a soft shade of human, had turned pitch black.

Alaric stopped just a few feet from them, his gaze locked onto Elias. The hallway was silent now, except for the eerie sound of Alaric's low, guttural laugh.

"I won't be stopped anymore." Alaric's words were more of a growl than anything. "I'll make your lives a living hell until you die by my hands."

Elias's heart raced as he realized—this wasn't just a battle for survival. This was something personal. Alaric was playing with them, savoring the fear. His grin stretched wide, revealing those sharp teeth.

Alaric's eyes flicked to Isabella, then back to Elias. He was savoring the moment, as if he was toying with them.

And then, with terrifying speed, Alaric lunged.

Alaric's teeth sunk into the person closer—into the doctor's neck with a sickening, wet crunch, his eyes burning with an intensity that matched the fury churning inside him. The doctor's screams were drowned by the savage power of Alaric's bite, the vampire's strength overwhelming as he tore into the flesh with brutal efficiency. But he didn't bite deep enough that he would bleed out to death just enough to shock him and as he thought— he went unconscious.

Elias, eyes wide with a mixture of dread and determination, didn't waste a second. The moment the doctor's fate was sealed, he lunged for the vials the doctor had flung toward him when Alaric was distracted. His fingers wrapped around them quickly—three small glass containers, each holding something that could turn the tide of this fight. He could feel Isabella's presence beside him, her energy steady and focused as she prepared the portal. They didn't have much time.

"Isabella," Elias said, voice sharp. She didn't hesitate, her fingers moving faster as the portal began to open behind them, glowing with faint light, ready to take them to safety.

They exchanged a quick, silent glance—one filled with urgency—and without a word, they stepped into the portal. But just as the last of them was about to disappear, the air split with the sound of something fast, something impossibly fast.

Alaric lunged, a blur of motion, his clawed hands outstretched, and Elias felt the weight of his attack just moments before it hit. The swipe was a blur of lethal speed, a streak of pure destruction. Alaric's claws raked across Elias's chest, tearing through flesh and fabric with ease, sending a shock of pain so intense it nearly knocked the breath out of him. Blood sprayed from the deep gashes, and Elias's vision swam as he stumbled. He barely managed to stay upright.

Isabella wasn't faring any better. Alaric's claws slashed across her side, ripping through her clothes and skin, leaving a trail of blood that instantly began to pool around her. She gasped, but her focus never wavered.

In that split second, they were gone. The portal closed just as Alaric reached them, his fingers grazing the edge of Elias's sleeve as they slipped through the veil of space. The last thing Elias saw before the world shifted away was Alaric's furious, maddened eyes, filled with promise—a promise that the hunt was far from over.

And then, the world went dark.

Alaric's fangs were still bared, his face twisted in a savage sneer as he watched the doctor's chest rise and fall with frantic breaths. The doctor wasn't dead—not yet. Alaric's fury only deepened at the thought.

He moved swiftly, his monstrous strength dragging the doctor's limp form by the hair, the man's body jerking and scraping against the stone floor as Alaric dragged him through the ruins of the facility. The doctor screamed, but Alaric didn't listen. His anger had drowned out everything else. His mind was a blur of violence, a singular thought: revenge.

The prisoners, once wild and savage, froze in their tracks as they saw Alaric. Some of them, the ones who recognized him as the one who freed them, dropped to their knees in reverence. Alaric didn't spare them a glance. They were nothing to him. If any of them dared to cross his path, they would be no different than the doctor—nothing but a casualty of his fury.

Finally, Alaric reached the lab—the place where everything had started. Where his pain had begun. He tossed the doctor onto the bloodstained table with the force of a predator throwing its prey. The doctor's face hit the cold surface with a sickening thud, and he groaned, struggling to breathe.

Alaric loomed over him with a grin.

"It's time for your session Dr.Halloran. "he repeated the words he grew accustomed to hearing.

The doctor's mouth trembled, his face contorted in pain. He had no words left—only terror and sheer pain of from the steadily bleeding wound on his neck. He knew what was coming, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Alaric's grip tightened on the doctor's hair, his fingers digging into the scalp as he yanked the man's head back, exposing his neck.

"I don't want your filthy meat, doctor. Not anymore."

"You're not worth eating," Alaric spat. "Your flesh doesn't even deserve to be on my tongue. I'd rather tear you apart piece by piece."

The doctor's body wracked with sobs, his terror escalating as he realized what Alaric was about to do.

Dr. Halloran gasped, his trembling hands clawing at the cold metal table as he struggled weakly against Alaric's grip. His breath came in sharp, ragged sobs, his face streaked with sweat and blood. The gashes on his neck still bled, but that wasn't what terrified him most—it was the thing looming over him.

The thing that had once been a man.

"P-please…" Halloran stammered, his voice breaking as Alaric roughly forced his wrists against the table's restraints. "I—I was just doing my job. I didn't have a choice! It was orders. We had to—"

Alaric barely paid attention, humming softly, almost sweetly, as he fastened the thick leather straps around the doctor's wrists and ankles. The sound was deceptively lighthearted, a stark contrast to the monster's blackened, soulless eyes.

Halloran flinched as he felt the cold metal of a buckle press against his skin, tightening, holding him down in the exact way he had once restrained Alaric so many times before.

The realization hit him like ice in his veins.

Alaric was mimicking him.

The vampire's fingers moved with an eerie precision, fastening each restraint just as Halloran had done countless times, following the exact same methodical routine. Except this time, he was the one strapped down.

Alaric's head tilted as he adjusted one of the buckles, still humming, his expression unnervingly serene. The sound was wrong—too cheerful, too detached. A twisted mockery of innocence.

Halloran's breathing hitched. His thoughts spiraled into panic. His mind clawed for salvation.

He squeezed his eyes shut, muttering desperately. A prayer.

"Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name—"

Alaric's humming stopped.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then—a laugh.

Low at first, like a ripple in the dark, then growing, twisting, curling into something unhinged.

The doctor whimpered, still whispering his prayer, his voice faltering under the weight of that laughter.

"Thy kingdom come, thy will be done—"

"Oh, I love this." Alaric grinned, his teeth glistening with the remnants of his last kill. He leaned down, so close that Halloran could feel the chill radiating from his unnatural body. "You really think He's listening?"

The doctor squeezed his eyes shut tighter, as if that could make it all go away.

"Give us this day our daily bread—"

Alaric clicked his tongue. "Mm, no, no. He's not coming for you." His voice dropped to a whisper, sickly sweet, like a lover's secret. "You should be praying to me. Because I'm the only god you have left."

Halloran let out a broken sob.

Alaric straightened up, rolling his shoulders, still grinning. He turned to the tray beside him, fingers dancing over the gleaming instruments—the scalpels, the syringes, the bone saw—just like Dr. Halloran had once done before experimenting on him.

He exhaled deeply, savoring the moment. Then, almost absently, he resumed humming.

The same gentle, almost bubbly tune.

As if this was just another routine experiment.

Alaric suddenly straightened, his blackened eyes widening with a spark of realization. He gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his mouth in exaggerated surprise.

"Oh! I forgot something."

Dr. Halloran barely had the strength to lift his head, but his body twitched in response. His pulse hammered in his throat as he watched Alaric turn away and rummage through the scattered remains of the ruined facility, humming to himself like a child searching for a lost toy.

The sound of shifting debris filled the room—metal trays clattering, papers crumpling, cabinets flung open with careless force. Then, with an excited little noise, Alaric spun around, holding something in his hands.

A doctor's scrub and a face mask.

He slipped the loose-fitting, blood-stained fabric over his shoulders, tying the strings neatly in place. The mask came next, covering his mouth and nose, though it did nothing to hide the amusement glimmering in his pitch-black eyes. His long, white hair spilled over the collar, stark against the deep blue of the scrubs.

He turned to Dr. Halloran with an expectant look, tilting his head slightly. "How do I look, doctor?" His voice was syrupy sweet, dripping with mock innocence.

Dr. Halloran let out a weak, choked sob.

Alaric giggled.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" He clapped his hands together like this was the best day of his life. "Your book! The one you always scribbled in. You were always so busy, writing things down like a good little worker."

He reached down, plucked a leather-bound notebook from the wreckage, and held it up with a look of exaggerated reverence. The corners of the pages were curled, some soaked with blood.

Alaric flipped it open, skimming over the cramped, precise handwriting. His gaze lingered on the carefully detailed notes, the graphs, the numbers—all things he had seen the doctor obsess over.

But Alaric couldn't read.

His grin widened beneath the mask.

Instead, he snatched up a pen, gripping it in his long, clawed fingers. He hovered over a blank page for a moment, as if deep in thought. Then, with slow, deliberate strokes, he drew a big, round, smiling face,the same one he would he would see when Eric would absentmindedly trace in the air with his fingers.

The black ink bled into the paper, the crude drawing standing out starkly against the carefully written notes.

Alaric held the notebook up proudly. "Look! I'm a doctor too!"

He beamed down at his work, his fingers tapping against the cover in excitement. But the way his body moved, the way his eerie black eyes gleamed, wasn't human at all.

He turned the book toward Halloran, showing him the drawing. "What do you think, doctor?" His voice was bubbling with amusement. "Is this what you wrote about all day? Important, life-changing discoveries?"

Dr. Halloran sobbed harder, his restraints straining as he writhed against them.

Alaric's grin stretched. "I think it's perfect."

He tossed the book aside carelessly and leaned down, pressing gloved fingers to the doctor's forehead like he was checking for a fever. "Now then… shall we begin?"

His humming resumed, the same light, cheerful tune.

And the real nightmare began.

His gloved fingers skimmed across the bloodstained instruments laid haphazardly on its surface—scalpels, forceps, syringes—all the lovely little tools Dr. Halloran had once used on him.

Then, he spotted exactly what he needed.

A long, thick iron rod, once part of some outdated medical equipment, now discarded in the chaos of the ruined lab. He picked it up, weighing it in his hand before casually strolling over to a pile of burning wreckage in the corner. The flames flickered hungrily, eating away at the remains of shattered machinery and splintered wood. Alaric crouched, pressing the tip of the iron deep into the glowing embers.

The heat licked at the metal, turning it a deep, angry red.

Behind him, Dr. Halloran whimpered, his breath ragged and uneven. Blood still seeped from the bite wound in his neck, soaking into his torn collar. His face was drenched in sweat, his body trembling as he weakly pulled at his restraints.

Alaric turned back, eyes flicking to the sluggishly bleeding wound. He let out a soft "Tch."

His head tilted, his expression almost… disappointed.

"Oh no, no, no, that won't do." His voice carried a mock scolding tone, like a parent chiding a child for scraping their knee. "You can't die yet, doctor. I forbid it."

Dr. Halloran let out a broken sob, but Alaric ignored him.

Instead, he reached for the iron, now burning hot at the tip, the color a molten orange. The heat radiated off of it in waves. Alaric turned it over in his hands, fascinated, his blackened eyes reflecting the glow.

Then, with the same bubbly, innocent tone, he leaned over and pressed it directly against the torn flesh of Halloran's neck.

The reaction was instant.

The sickening sizzle of burning flesh filled the air, a foul, acrid stench rising as skin melted beneath the searing heat. Dr. Halloran's entire body arched violently against the restraints, a raw, gut-wrenching scream tearing from his throat.

Alaric giggled. "Oh wow, that really works!"

The doctor's shriek fractured into sobs, his body convulsing in agony. Smoke curled up from the iron, thick and black. The wound that had once oozed blood was now a charred, ugly mess of sealed flesh.

Alaric finally pulled the iron away, turning it slightly to examine it. A thick layer of burnt skin and tissue clung to the surface. Beneath it, fresh, raw red flesh was left exposed, the skin around it blistering from the heat.

Dr. Halloran couldn't even respond—he was choking on his own screams, his breath coming in wet, hiccuping gasps.

Alaric placed the iron aside with a satisfied nod and leaned down so their faces were mere inches apart. His pitch-black eyes glowed eerily in the dim light.

"There," he whispered sweetly, tapping the doctor's cheek. "All better. Now we can keep playing."

Alaric clapped his hands together, his blackened eyes gleaming with something sickly sweet—excitement. Anticipation. He tilted his head, examining Dr. Halloran's trembling hands strapped to the table.

"You know, Doctor," he mused, dragging a wickedly sharp scalpel from the cart. "You took so many things from me. A little bit at a time. A piece here… a piece there..."

He twirled the scalpel between his fingers, his tone light, almost dreamy. "So I thought, why not return the favor? It's only fair, right? Right?"

Dr. Halloran was shaking so badly the restraints rattled against the table. His lips parted in frantic, soundless pleas, but Alaric wasn't listening.

He grinned as he placed the scalpel against the doctor's smallest finger.

"Oh! I just remembered something!" His expression brightened with childlike delight. "A game. An old one. From a long, long time ago… back when people still told their children the truth about the world. Would you like to hear it, Doctor?"

Dr. Halloran let out a strangled whimper.

Alaric didn't wait for an answer.

His voice softened into a sing-song rhythm that was whispered in the dark to children who had to learn fear before they learned love.

"This little thief stole from his kin…"

Alaric pressed down and sliced. The blade sank into flesh, parting it like silk, until the pinky severed completely.

Dr. Halloran's scream tore through the air, his body seizing against the restraints as blood sprayed in hot, erratic pulses.

Alaric giggled and placed the severed pinky neatly beside the doctor's head, as if setting aside a precious trinket.

"This little liar paid for his sin…"

The scalpel moved, now poised against the ring finger. Another swift cut. Another slice of flesh falling away.

Dr. Halloran was wailing now, his voice high and broken, body convulsing so violently the table shook beneath him.

Alaric tapped his chin. "You're not very good at this game, Doctor. You're supposed to wiggle your toes, not scream."

"This little coward begged and cried…"

A deeper cut this time. The middle finger. The doctor's agony had reached a fever pitch, his voice hoarse from screaming.

Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the sweat and blood coating his skin.

"This little wretch still had to die…"

The index finger came off with a wet pop.

Dr. Halloran was sobbing uncontrollably, his breath ragged and choked. His body had gone limp, though tremors still wracked his frame.

Alaric let out a mock sigh of disappointment.

"Oh no, Doctor, don't give up on me yet."

He traced the scalpel down to the thumb.

"And this little piggy?"

Alaric's grin stretched too wide, his blackened eyes reflecting nothing but glee.

"This little piggy—"

He pressed the blade slowly against the base of the thumb, watching as the skin split open beneath the delicate pressure.

"—burned alive."

With a final, merciless stroke, the thumb fell away.

Dr. Halloran didn't scream this time.

A weak, wheezing noise was all that left his lips. His body convulsed, then stilled.

And then—

A dark stain spread across his pants.

Alaric stilled.

Then, his giggle bubbled up from his throat, breaking into full-bodied laughter.

"Oh, Doctor," he gasped between breaths, wiping at a tear that wasn't there. "Did you really just pee yourself?"

His laughter echoed through the ruined lab, ringing out pure and delighted against the backdrop of Dr. Halloran's soft, pitiful sobs.

Dr. Halloran's breath hitched, his voice trembling with a mixture of agony and rage. His bloodied hands twitched against the restraints, the raw, exposed flesh where his fingers once were dripping onto the table.

"Y-You… you're a demon," he rasped, voice hoarse from screaming. "A monster… no one will ever love you."

Alaric's smile didn't falter.

Instead, he tilted his head, considering the words as if they were something novel, almost amusing.

Then, he let out a soft, breathy laugh.

"Love?" he echoed, his voice laced with mock wonder. His blackened eyes gleamed, reflecting nothing but dark delight.

He leaned down, slowly, his face inches from the doctor's, letting his breath ghost over the man's blood-slicked skin.

"Tell me, Doctor," he whispered, his tone mockingly sweet, "what is love to something like me?"

He reached out, trailing a finger along the doctor's cheek. Halloran flinched, his body tensing, but he had nowhere to go.

"Is it warmth?" Alaric mused, his tone light, conversational. "Is it kindness?"

His smile widened, revealing sharp canines.

"Is it the thing that makes you weak?"

He giggled, a bubbly sound, before pulling back and standing to his full height. He spread his arms, as if presenting himself to the doctor, to the world.

"I don't need love, Doctor."

He took a slow step back toward the heated iron resting nearby. The glow of the embers cast his pale features in an eerie, inhuman light.

"Because I already have something better."

He reached for the branding iron, lifting it delicately between his fingers.

"Fear."

Dr. Halloran stiffened, his breath caught in his throat.

Alaric let out a soft hum, tilting his head. Mock sympathy.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," he cooed. "You know it's true. You've felt it. Right now, in your chest, creeping up your spine. That sinking, gnawing thing clawing at your ribs."

He leaned down once more, voice dropping to a silken whisper.

"You see, love is fleeting. It fades, it dies. People stop loving each other all the time."

He grinned, his eyes dark and endless.

"But fear?"

He pressed the burning iron into the doctor's chest.

The scream was instant.

The scent of searing flesh filled the air, and Halloran thrashed wildly, his body arching off the table as the pain swallowed him whole.

Alaric laughed.

"Fear stays forever."