Blood and Regret

Nerion sat on the cold wooden floor, his body aching, his mind racing. The ghoul stood near the door, watching him with an unsettling patience. He glanced around—on his left, a broken wooden chair; near her feet, a knife.

His thoughts tangled together in chaos. Should he try to run? Should he fight? Could he even win? But then, before his mind could fully decide, his body moved.

He grabbed the chair and hurled it at her with all his strength. It struck her square in the chest, knocking her back a step. That was all he needed. He dashed forward, grabbing the knife from the floor, and plunged it deep into her stomach.

The ghoul gasped, her lips curling into a twisted, almost amused smile. "Is that all you've got?" she whispered.

Nerion gritted his teeth, gripping the knife tighter. His arms trembled. He wasn't strong—he had never been strong—but this was different. This wasn't a test. This wasn't a sparring match. This was survival.

His hand twisted the blade. Flesh tore. Guts spilled onto the floor. The sickening squelch echoed in the room.

Then she lunged.

Her teeth sank into his shoulder. Fire shot through his body. His vision blurred with pain. He screamed, pure agony ripping through his throat.

Disgust. Panic. Rage. It all crashed into him at once.

He wrenched the knife free and stabbed her again. And again. And again. He didn't stop. He couldn't stop. His hands were slick with blood, but he kept going, driving the blade into her skull, her neck, her chest—anywhere he could reach.

Finally, she went still.

Nerion fell back, gasping for breath. His whole body trembled. He was covered in blood. His own. Hers. It didn't matter.

He had won.

A shaky laugh escaped his lips, but it faded as fast as it came.

"Was that cheating?" The thought struck him like a dagger. "She wasn't trying to kill me anymore… But if I hadn't done it, she would've killed someone else."

His chest ached, but he pushed the thoughts away. There was no time for regret.

He had to go home.

---

The journey back was slow, each step dragging like lead. The pain in his shoulder burned, his body screamed for rest, but he couldn't stop.

When he finally saw the village, relief flooded him—until he noticed the silence.

Houses lay in ruins, their walls torn apart. The air smelled of smoke and blood. Something had happened.

Dread settled in his stomach.

He ran.

His house was surrounded by villagers, their faces grim. They turned as he approached, their eyes widening in shock.

"Nerion?" one of them whispered. "You're alive?"

He barely heard them. "Where's my family?"

Their expressions darkened.

"A vampire attacked while you were gone," a villager explained. "It destroyed homes before we managed to kill it."

Nerion felt his chest tighten. "And my family?"

One of the older men hesitated before answering. "Your father… He was killed fighting it. Your mother… she was bitten."

His world tilted.

"We have to kill her before she turns," another villager added quietly.

"And my brother?"

"He's alive, but he's not here. He left to search for you. That's why we struggled against the vampire—your brother wasn't here to help us."

Nerion stood frozen. A heavy, suffocating weight settled on his chest.

This was his fault.

If he had just stayed home, his father wouldn't have died. If he had just been stronger, his mother wouldn't have been bitten. If he had been here, his brother wouldn't be wandering who-knows-where looking for him.

His fingers curled into fists.

"I need to see her," he said, his voice hoarse.

A villager led him to the small house where his mother was kept.

"Be careful," the man warned. "She's… not herself."

Nerion stepped inside.

His mother lay on a bed, her body trembling. She looked pale, sickly, her breath coming in ragged gasps. When her eyes met his, something inside them flickered—recognition, relief… then anger.

"You idiot!"

The slap came before he could react. His cheek stung, but the pain barely registered.

"You have any idea what you've done?" she spat, her voice raw with fury. "Your father is dead because of you. I'm dying because of you. Your brother is out there, searching for you, because of you!"

Nerion didn't flinch.

His chest ached, but not from the slap. Something deeper.

"You think I wanted this?" His voice was quiet, but his hands were shaking. "You think I had a choice?"

His mother's glare burned into him, but he didn't stop.

"I fought for my life out there. I was alone. I had nothing. No weapons, no strength. I've been struggling every second just to survive." His voice cracked. "And the first thing you say to me when I come back is that it's all my fault?"

His mother's rage faltered. She stared at him, her lips slightly parted, as if realizing something for the first time.

Then she sighed.

She reached forward, cupping his face with trembling hands. Her touch was cold.

"You've suffered…" she whispered.

Her arms wrapped around him, holding him close.

"I'm sorry," she murmured against his hair. "I shouldn't have said that."

Nerion stood stiff, his breath shaky. He wanted to stay in this moment, to let himself believe everything would be okay. But deep down, he knew.

His mother pulled away slightly, looking into his eyes.

"You know I love you, right?" she said softly.

Something cold pressed against his hand. A knife.

He stiffened.

"It has to be you, Nerion," she said. "Before I turn."

His fingers clenched around the hilt, his stomach twisting.

"If you don't do it," she whispered, "someone else will."

His heart pounded so hard it hurt.

Her voice dropped even lower.

"Be ruthless. Have no mercy on your enemies."

Tears slipped from his eyes, but he didn't wipe them away.

"Do it now," she commanded.

With a broken cry, he stepped forward.

The knife sank into her chest.

Her body jerked. Blood spilled from her lips.

But she smiled.

Then, she was gone.

Silence.

Nerion stood there, staring at her lifeless form. His hands trembled. His breathing was ragged.

His father was gone.

His mother was gone.

His brother was lost somewhere.

And he…

He had no idea what to do next.