Chapter 200: Threads of Control

The vampire’s pale eyes swept the room—Lilith crouched in the shadows, Viks with her silver blade raised, the bodies cooling on the floor. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Enough of this.”

She raised both hands, and the blood that had been pooling, spattered, scattered across the storehouse answered her call. It rose from the floor, from the walls, from the cracks between the stones. It rose from Dale’s remains, from the guard’s throat, from the shallow wound on her own arm. All of it spiraled upward, coalescing into a single mass that hung above her like a waiting storm.

“Blood Dominion.”

The word was soft, almost a whisper. The effect was not.

The blood exploded outward—a wall of crimson that swallowed the room whole. It slammed into the walls, the floor, the ceiling, drowning torchlight and shadow alike in a single, suffocating tide.

Lilith’s threads snapped up in a frantic web, weaving a cocoon of silk around her body. The blood struck it like a wave against a seawall—pressing, seeping, finding every gap. She could feel the threads dissolving where the blood touched, could feel the pressure building, the warmth of it seeping through the gaps in her defenses.

’Tch.’ Her teeth ground together. ’This is troublesome.’

Across the room, Viks had no silk to shield her. Her silver aura flared, the light condensing around her blade, her arms, her chest, forming a barrier that pushed back against the tide. The blood hissed where it touched the silver light, steam rising from its surface, but it kept coming—endless, relentless, a tide that had no end.

’Too wide.’ Viks’s jaw tightened as she poured more power into her aura, the strain already showing in the lines of her face. ’She’s trying to overwhelm us with sheer volume.’

The wave receded.

For a moment, there was silence. Lilith’s cocoon unraveled, her threads falling away in tatters. Viks’s aura dimmed, her breath coming hard and fast. And in the center of it all, the vampire stood untouched, her pale face expressionless, her hands still raised.

“You should have stayed back.” Her voice was flat. “Both of you.”

She brought her hands together, and the blood that had pooled across the floor answered.

It rose in a single, undulating mass—not a wave this time, but something worse. Spines. Dozens of them, hundreds, rising from the crimson tide like the teeth of some ancient beast. They rippled outward in concentric rings, each one longer, sharper, faster than the last.

“Crimson Tide.”

Lilith’s threads moved before her mind could catch up. They snapped out in every direction, anchoring to the walls, the ceiling, the rafters, trying to pull her up and out of reach. But the blood was faster. The spines tore through her web like it was paper, shredding silk and shadow alike. She twisted, dodged, contorted her body into angles that would have broken any human frame—but a spine caught her across the ribs, slicing through her sleeve, her skin, the shallow barrier of threads she had managed to layer across her chest.

She landed hard, one hand pressed to the wound, her smile finally gone.

Viks met the tide head-on.

Her silver blade moved in arcs too fast to follow, cutting spines out of the air as they came. Each strike sent blood spraying, the severed pieces falling to the floor, twitching, dissolving, only to be replaced by more. Her aura flared, dimmed, flared again. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her arms screamed with every cut.

’I can’t keep this up forever.’ The thought was cold, clear, the product of too many battles to count. ’She’s not even winded.’

She risked a glance toward Lilith—saw the spider crouched against the wall, her threads tangled, her face pale. Saw the blood still seeping from the wound on her ribs.

’She’s bleeding. The spider won’t last much longer. I don’t need to waste my energy finishing her—the vampire will do that for me.’

Her aura shifted. The silver light that had been blazing from her body condensed, sharpened, wrapping around her limbs like a second skin. Her grip on her sword tightened, knuckles white against the hilt. Her eyes never left the vampire’s pale face.

“Silver Flash: Serpent’s Path.”

The first cut was a feint—a horizontal slash that sent a crescent of silver light screaming toward the vampire’s left side. The second came before the first had landed, a diagonal stroke that carved a zigzag path across the blood-soaked floor, closing the distance between them in the space between heartbeats.

The vampire’s blood blades rose to meet the assault. Silver met crimson in a spray of light and dark, the sound of shattering steel ringing through the storehouse. The first crescent tore through three blood spines before dissipating. The second—the zigzag—cut deeper, parting the crimson tide like a blade through silk.

Viks was through.

Her sword came up, the silver aura blazing along its edge, and she drove it forward in a thrust aimed at the vampire’s throat. Her voice rang out, sharp and final.

“Silver Fang!”

The blade struck the vampire’s barrier—a wall of hardened blood that materialized in the space between them. For a moment, they hung there, silver against crimson, light against dark, two forces that should never have met grinding against each other in the silence.

Then the barrier shattered.

The silver blade bit into the vampire’s throat. Blood sprayed, dark against pale skin, and the vampire’s eyes went wide with something that might have been surprise. Or fear.

But the vampire didn’t fall. Her hand shot up, fingers closing around Viks’s blade, the edge cutting into her palm, her blood flowing freely now, mixing with the blood that already soaked the floor.

The vampire’s lips curved into a smile that held no warmth at all.

“Humans.” Her voice was soft, almost gentle. “You always believe yourselves superior. Even now, standing in blood, surrounded by corpses—you still think you are the predators.” She tilted her head, and the wound on her throat began to close, flesh knitting together, skin sealing over the cut. “How arrogant.”

Viks tried to pull back. Her blade wouldn’t move. The vampire’s grip was iron, and the blood that coated her fingers had begun to spread, crawling up the steel, reaching toward Viks’s hand.

’She’s regenerating.’ The thought was cold, distant. ’I can’t—’

The vampire’s other hand rose. Blood answered her call—from the floor, from the walls, from the wound on her throat—all of it spiraling upward, condensing, forming a shape that made Viks’s blood run cold.

“Blood Dominion: Crimson Rain.”

The room filled with needles.

Thousands of them, each no larger than a finger, each sharp enough to pierce steel. They hung in the air for a heartbeat, suspended, waiting. Then they fell.

Viks moved before her mind could catch up. Her body twisted, dodged, wove between the needles that filled the air like rain falling upward. Her blade came up, cutting a path through the crimson tide, silver light blazing as she carved a corridor through the storm.

But there were too many.

A needle caught her shoulder. Another sliced across her ribs. A third buried itself in her thigh. She kept moving, kept cutting, kept fighting—but she could feel herself slowing, feel the blood soaking through her uniform, feel the darkness pressing at the edges of her vision.

She stumbled.

The vampire raised her hand for the final strike. Her voice, when it came, was soft, almost kind.

“Now. Wallow in your arrogance, human.”

The needles gathered above her, condensing into a single, massive spear, its point aimed at Viks’s heart. She drew her arm back, ready to throw—

“I wouldn’t do that.”

The voice came from the shadows, light, almost playful. The vampire froze.

Her arm wouldn’t move. Her legs, her chest, her lungs—all of them locked in place by something she couldn’t see, couldn’t touch, couldn’t break. Her eyes darted down. Threads. Fine as silk, pale as moonlight, wrapped around her wrists, her ankles, her throat.

’Since when?!’ The thought screamed through her mind. ’When did she—’

Across the room, Viks’s body had gone still. Her blade hung at her side, her aura flickering, dying. Her eyes were fixed on the threads that now bound her as surely as they bound the vampire. She could feel them pressing against her skin, light as a lover’s touch, strong as iron.

’The spider…’ Her jaw tightened. ’She set her trap while we were fighting.’

Lilith stepped out of the shadows.

Her side was still bleeding, the wound the vampire had given her still fresh. Her threads were tangled, torn, hanging from her fingers in ragged strands.

“You forgot about me.”

The vampire strained against her bonds. The threads didn’t give.

Lilith tilted her head, watching her struggle with the same distant interest a cat might show a mouse that had forgotten it was caught.

“You see?” She took a step closer, her shoes leaving no prints in the blood. “This is why I prefer to work alone. Partners always forget the spider in the corner.”

Her threads pulled taut, and the vampire gasped as they bit into her skin.

Lilith’s smile widened.

“Now then…” She turned to Viks, still bound, still bleeding, still watching her with eyes that held no fear. “Where were we?”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep