Chapter 130 - The Vampire’s Kiss

Blood!

Atlas's eyes shot open, his instincts screaming at him. Blood. A lot of it.

He quickly scanned his surroundings. 

Baldric was still there. Edrik sat a short distance away, calm but alert, and Morganna was now sitting upright. Her body was cloaked in a shadowy aura, faint tendrils of darkness curling around her.

Atlas glanced at his system clock. Still in the middle of the night. Damn it!

He groaned inwardly. He'd barely slept for a few hours, hoping he'd wake up to morning light, but no such luck. Worse, the temperature had plummeted further, now hitting -65°C (-85°F).

The air was merciless, cutting through even the best gear like a knife.

"What's going on? Morganna?" Atlas asked, his voice hoarse from the cold.

The Vampire Queen said nothing, her piercing red eyes locking onto him with an intensity that needed no words.

Edrik spoke up, breaking the silence. "I suspect there's a Lord and their forces nearby. Likely wounded."

Morganna's gaze shifted toward the distance, her crimson eyes narrowing. There was no mistaking her intent. 

She wanted to hunt.

Atlas met her gaze, sighing as he realized what she was silently asking for. 

"Can you handle it alone?" he asked.

Morganna didn't respond, but her sharp glance made him regret the question immediately. 

It wasn't just unnecessary—it was an insult to her pride as the Vampire Queen. She stood without a word, the shadowy aura around her pulsing slightly.

Baldric let out a rumbling laugh. "I'll go with her." He rose to his feet, turning to Edrik with a raised eyebrow.

Edrik nodded curtly. "I'll stay here and keep watch over the camp."

Baldric glanced back at Atlas. "My Lord?"

"I'm coming," Atlas replied without hesitation.

Before he could even rise fully to his feet, Baldric scooped him up with ease, hoisting him onto his broad shoulder as if Atlas weighed nothing.

"You sit here," Baldric declared with a booming laugh. "Enjoy the most comfortable ride on the shoulders of a giant dwarf! Ha! Ha!"

Atlas let out a sigh but didn't argue, though he adjusted his position slightly to keep his balance. As he glanced toward Morganna, he caught a glimpse of her shadow-cloaked form before she vanished into the darkness.

Though he couldn't see her anymore, somehow, he just knew where she was headed.

Baldric began to move, his body radiating heat as he charged through the deep snow with ease, plowing through the icy drifts that would have slowed anyone else.

The sound of Baldric's heavy footfalls was completely masked by the raging storm around them, and his fiery glow was muted by the constant onslaught of falling snow, leaving them practically invisible to anyone nearby.

Atlas raised a hand to shield his face from the biting wind and swirling snow, though he realized, somewhat surprisingly, that his vision in the dark was sharper than expected. Even in the pitch-black surroundings, he could make out details with relative clarity.

The journey stretched on in silence, broken only by the howling wind and Baldric's steady, purposeful strides.

How far had they traveled? Atlas wasn't sure.

Eventually, Baldric slowed, his fiery aura dimming slightly as he crouched low, finding cover behind a cluster of frozen trees. He gestured toward Morganna, who now stood nearby, her body completely shrouded in shadow, blending seamlessly into the environment.

They all turned their attention to the same point in the distance.

There, amidst the swirling snow, was a campfire.

But this fire wasn't like any ordinary flame. It burned steadily, unaffected by the raging storm around it. Around the fire sat a group of people, laughing loudly, eating, drinking, and talking as if the blizzard wasn't a threat at all.

Atlas narrowed his eyes, studying the scene. Whoever these people were, they were well-prepared, and their confidence wasn't something to take lightly.

As Atlas observed the group more closely, his eyes narrowed as recognition dawned on him.

"It's them," he muttered.

Yes, it was the Lord with the beastmaster ability and his troops—the same group they had encountered earlier in the day. The beasts still circled the camp, their massive forms partially obscured by the storm, but something was different.

"Their numbers have dropped," Atlas noted, scanning the group carefully.

Baldric, crouched beside him, chimed in. "They just finished a fight. You can tell by the wounds on their bodies—still fresh, not fully healed. And look at them—they're exhausted."

Baldric gestured subtly toward the group. "There are only thirteen of them left. Earlier, they had twenty. And four of them are injured pretty badly."

Atlas studied the scene further but frowned. "I can't hear what they're saying," he admitted, frustrated by the distance and the storm muffling their voices.

Suddenly, Baldric's expression shifted. "Ha ha ha ha! You should've seen the look on that Lord's face when I slit his throat!" 

Atlas turned toward him, raising an eyebrow. Baldric gave him a knowing smirk.

"What are you doing?" Atlas asked.

Baldric gestured toward the group ahead. "I can hear them clearly. I'm just dubbing it for you."

Atlas sighed and gave a nod. "Continue."

Baldric leaned in closer, and continued. "Oh, and then he begged for mercy! I tell you, his scream was better than the victory!"

"Ah, seriously," one of the men said. "I thought only idiot Lords would dare to set foot on this island. And, of course, I was right—a damn Rank-1 Lord decided to try his luck." He burst into laughter. "What did he think this was, a playground? Hahaha!"

Atlas continued watching them from a distance, noting their body language and expressions. Their laughter, their tone—everything aligned with the mocking words Baldric had been relaying moments earlier.

"But damn… we're low on troops now," another said.

"Take it easy," the Lord himself spoke up. "I'll summon more troops tomorrow morning. That fight should've been easy—it shouldn't have cost us this much. Next time, I'll tighten the standards for the combatants I recruit into my team. This… this is depressing."

Atlas's eyes narrowed as he focused on the Lord, studying his posture and expressions. The frustration in his voice was clear, and while he spoke confidently, there was an undeniable edge of irritation and exhaustion.

It was obvious—they were far from their full strength now.

This Lord had come to the island with a clear purpose: to slaughter anyone unaffiliated with an alliance. 

If their path crossed with Atlas and his team, a battle was unavoidable.

But what the beastmaster Lord didn't realize was that a Rank-1 Lord and his two elite subordinates were already watching them from the shadows—a Lord who also wasn't part of any alliance.

Atlas clenched both fists tightly, the cold biting into his skin.

Unnoticed, Morganna now stood in front of him, her crimson eyes glowing faintly as she locked her gaze on him.

"Kill them?" she said.

Morganna was a subordinate to Atlas, yet she was far from ordinary. In her past, she had been mighty, a force of terrifying power. Even now, her demeanor held that same strength, but over time, she had grown more open, her interactions with him shifting toward something almost familiar.

Even now, despite her bloodlust, she was able to voice her intentions clearly, waiting for his response.

Behind them, Baldric, still kneeling in the snow, added in a low voice, "They're weak right now. They weren't built for an environment like this. If we strike now, we have the advantage."

Atlas glanced back at Baldric, but as he turned his gaze forward again to Morganna, something unexpected happened.

She stepped closer.

And then...

Her lips pressed against his.

What?

Atlas froze in shock as Morganna's cold yet soft lips met his. His body stiffened as he felt her fangs pierce his lower lip, a sharp sting followed by a rush of warmth as blood began to flow.

He felt her drink, the sensation both foreign and overwhelming. 

It wasn't just the physical feeling—it was the way his entire body seemed to react.

A sudden jolt of energy surged through him, followed by a strange numbness that spread from his lips to his chest, down to his limbs.

His heart began to slow, each beat thudding heavily in his chest. The bitter cold of the environment seemed to fade, but not in the way he expected. 

It wasn't warmth replacing it—it was as if he was becoming completely desensitized to the cold, his body no longer recognizing it as a threat.

"What… is this…?"

[Morganna's Bloodlink has activated. You have entered Temporary Vampire Mode.]