My Fusion System: Fusing Weak Soldiers with Direwolves at the Start
Chapter 59: Bloodthirsty Night

Chapter 59: Bloodthirsty Night

Staring at a hundred Bloodkins, their crimson eyes pulsing with hunger and dark yearning, Kaelor remained still, unflinching. The scent of blood wafting from the rabbit would have driven lesser creatures into a frenzy, yet before his presence, they had no choice but to hold it in. His will shackled theirs.

"Never quench your thirst with the blood of my subjects," he said, his voice deep, deliberate, and firm. "Go into the forest and feed on any beast you lay your eyes on."

Kaelor raised his arm and pointed toward the dusky horizon, beyond the towering outer wall where the wilderness stretched in shadows. At his command, the Bloodkins began to stir, their wings stretching wide, membranes taut like obsidian sails.

Then, with a chorus of wingbeats, they soared skyward, blotting out the moon for a heartbeat as they surged toward the forest like a flock of monstrous birds.

As they flew off in disciplined waves, a presence emerged, Hound, striding out from the street below with four Guardsmen in tow. Their faces were tense, sabers already drawn from their scabbards, steel glinting in the dying light.

Upon seeing Kaelor, they halted and bowed their heads low in unison.

"Leave them," Kaelor commanded simply, his tone brooking no delay.

Without waiting for a response, his own wings erupted from his back with a sudden snap, vast and formidable, double the size of Mildred and Soren’s. Bone protrusions jutted from the upper ridges, gleaming like ivory blades.

With those wings unfurled, Kaelor looked both regal and nightmarish, an ancient predator reborn.

The moment he flapped them, a loud swoosh echoed through the street. Dust and pebbles burst outward as the wind lifted him clean off the ground. The Guardsmen shielded their faces with their arms, squinting behind their curved shields as he ascended with unnatural grace.

Mid-air, Kaelor’s body dispersed into swirling black mist, cold, eerie, and formless. In that shape, he traversed the skyline, vanishing from the inner town and sweeping into the wild canopy beyond the walls. The forest, shadowed and silent, awaited.

There, the mist coalesced once more, folding inward until Kaelor reformed, flesh, bone, and shadow. He landed softly between moss-covered roots, exhaling a sharp breath, the weight of his transformation catching up to him.

He tried again.

Once more, his body shattered into mist, slicing through the dense undergrowth, slipping past thorny brambles and tree trunks. But this time, the journey was shorter, his form reconstituting far sooner than before. Sweat glistened on his brow. His breath was heavier. Whatever this new power was, it strained his endurance.

Suddenly, a twig snapped to his left.

Kaelor’s head turned fast, eyes narrowing.

Lurking within the shadowy shrubs was a Sunmaw Prowler. Half-lion, half-kangaroo, with the stance of a predator and the legs of a monstrous kangaroo, its eyes glowed a feral amber in the dark.

The moment it sensed it had been seen, it leapt from the thickets. Its muscled legs slammed the earth as it lunged forward, scattering dry leaves in its wake. Its fanged maw opened wide, an abyss of flesh-ripping hunger, aiming to clamp down on his throat.

Kaelor didn’t move until the last instant. Then, with one smooth motion, he flexed his wings.

The sharpened edge of his scaled bone-wing sliced the beast’s face like a cleaver, ripping flesh from bone and staggering the Prowler to the side. It snarled, blood streaming from its cheek, but Kaelor was already in motion, inhumanly fast, blurring across the short distance.

He grabbed the beast’s head with one hand, and its shoulder with the other, powerful fingers digging in. Then he sank his fangs deep into its thick, veined neck.

The Prowler thrashed, legs kicking wildly, but it didn’t last long.

A short while later, the beast lay limp at his feet. Kaelor wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, black-red blood smearing across his wrist as he straightened up.

’I never thought I’d be drinking a beast’s blood,’ he thought grimly, his gaze settling on the fallen creature. But already, the tide of thirst inside him was receding, like a wave pulling back from the shore, leaving clarity in its place.

His ear throbbed, like a tuning fork struck by fate, and his eyes widened with sudden instinct. Without hesitation, he flapped his wings and soared through the treetops, gliding between beams of pale moonlight that pierced the canopy. The scent of fresh blood was faint in the air, like warm iron carried on a cool breeze. He followed it.

Moments later, he descended into a small clearing where Mildred sat slumped against the gnarled trunk of an old tree. Her black hair fell across her face. Beside her, a herbivore the size of an antelope lay dead, its throat torn open.

Crimson had stained her lips and chin, and even in the dim forest light, the scene looked painted in both horror and grace.

Kaelor landed with a thud, his wings folding behind him like a cloak of shadow. He walked to her and crouched, his gaze steady as their eyes met.

For a second, silence reigned, broken only by the distant chirp of night insects and the soft rustle of trees. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.

"It felt good," she whispered, her voice low and dreamlike. "I couldn’t resist the moment I perceived its blood. It was like drinking the best wine."

He studied her carefully, noting the way her hands trembled slightly, yet her eyes remained resolute. There was no fear. No self-loathing. Only calm acceptance.

"Stand," Kaelor said, his voice steady and deep. "We need to return to the town."

He rose first, relieved. Bloodkin were wired to relish blood, especially in the beginning. It was how they endured the change. Not that he felt it.

All he felt now was a sense of completeness. The kind that settled over a man after quenching a thirst that had lingered too long. She gave a nod, wiped her mouth, and rose beside him. Together, they turned from the corpse and vanished into the night.

....

The next morning, warm light spilled through the window frame, striping the stone walls with golden rays. Kaelor stirred. His bare chest rose as he drew a deep breath and opened his eyes, the memory of the night before flickering briefly in his mind.

Just then, the door creaked open, and Mildred stepped into the room. She wore a simple grey tunic and carried herself with quiet poise. Her face, once marred by desperate hunger, now bore its usual stoic grace. Calm and whole.

"I’ve heated your water, my Lord," she said, her voice clear and unbothered.

Kaelor remained seated on the edge of his bed, the sheets pooled around his waist. He raised an eyebrow, his brown eyes narrowing slightly.

"And you came to wake me up?" he said, his voice cool. "I have not seen a maid do such a thing. It’s punishable by detainment in the dungeons... if the lord is merciful."

Mildred didn’t flinch. She crossed her arms, her posture unwavering.

"The sun is up," she replied. "Your subjects are working. There’s no sign of their lord. Your duties await."

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the air between them taut with unsaid thoughts. Then Kaelor gave a small chuckle and rose from the bed, his feet touching the cold floor.

"A reminder that I am still needed," he murmured. "Very well."

She turned without another word and just as she was about to leave, a word left her lips. "Lady Vi is on the training field."