Reborn as a Vampire in a Dying World: Blood, Power, and Pleasure
Chapter 46: Bloodfracture

Chapter 46: Bloodfracture

"Hey, Leywin."

Corven’s voice cut through the chaos, ragged but laced with a smirk.

Leywin paused, narrowing his eyes. "What?"

Corven snickered through bloodied lips. "Next time... maybe don’t play with your food."

He raised his hand.

’Bloodfracture.’

– Blood (50 Units)

The ability triggered instantly. Corven didn’t fully understand the mechanics—he only knew that it disrupted control of other vampires. And if Leywin was truly the puppet master behind the gargoyles...

Then it would work.

It did.

A violent pulse burst out from Corven’s body. A blood-red shockwave spread in every direction, invisible to the eye but undeniable in effect. It washed over the gargoyles, the chained heir, and Leywin all at once.

Corven hadn’t wanted to include the heir, but he didn’t have a choice. There was no precision with this kind of power. It was all or nothing—and this was his only shot at survival.

He wasn’t sure if his ability worked on vampires themselves—he’d never tested it. That’s why he hesitated to use the ability just in case he hits the heir with it. But it should be fine... right?

Leywin still looked like his usual arrogant self, so maybe it didn’t affect her too badly.

Suddenly, the gargoyles paused. Their movements shifted. Instead of lunging toward Corven, they turned—stone faces locking onto Leywin with hostile intent, their stance aggressive, feral.

Corven’s grin widened. "Bingo."

"The hell...?" Leywin muttered, stepping back as the constructs now viewed him as the target.

Corven leaned on his cracked rapier, using it like a makeshift cane to hold himself upright. Blood still trickled from the corner of his mouth as he coughed, struggling to breathe.

"Sick ’em."

The words left his mouth like an execution order.

And they obeyed.

All eight gargoyles surged forward like beasts unleashed, sprinting straight toward Leywin with murderous intent, limbs smashing into the stone floor with every stride.

"Unloyal gnats!" Leywin roared.

BOOM.

He met the first with a crushing kick, the sheer force shattering its head in a single blow.

He was stronger than Corven had anticipated. Much stronger.

But Corven had never expected this to end with Leywin’s death.

This was the distraction.

’Break the chains!’

The mental command shot out like a bullet. Two gargoyles immediately veered off from the pack, diverting their attention from Leywin to the chained heir on the platform.

CLANG!

Their massive stone limbs slammed into the bindings. Sparks flew as the enchanted silver chains groaned under the force, metal screeching before snapping with a violent KRSHHT!

’Rip it off her wrist!’

Corven gave another command and launched forward, his regeneration just barely catching up—enough to let him sprint again.

The two gargoyles obeyed, grabbing the chains and tearing the remnants off her arms, metal fragments flying.

Corven didn’t hesitate. He rushed in, moved like a bolt of desperation, scooping the heir into his arms. She was cold, unresponsive—but alive.

And he ran.

As for Leywin—he destroyed another gargoyle, crushing its skull with raw power. But as he turned to check on the heir, his expression twisted.

She was gone.

"I’LL KILL YOU!" Leywin bellowed, rage distorting his voice as he turned just in time to see Corven vanish into the distance.

He tried to pursue. But just as he launched forward, two more gargoyles grabbed his ankles—dragging him down, slamming him to the ground hard enough to crack the stone beneath him.

"WE’RE NOT DONE HERE, YOU HEAR ME!?"

Corven didn’t look back.

He reached the cavern’s entrance and scanned the stone wall for another phrase that could get him out of here. The words glowed faintly—a phrase in another language he didn’t recognize, but can understand well.

The key to escape.

"Tryst!"

He shouted the name. He had no idea what it meant—probably another important player in this conspiracy—but he didn’t care. All he knew was that it worked.

In an instant, light enveloped him. And just like that—he was gone.

Leywin stood frozen on the far side, blinking. Stunned.

"How did he...? How did he decipher that so quickly!?"

He didn’t get an answer. Because the two gargoyles still active grabbed him by the arms and hurled him toward the far wall, his body smashing into the rock with a heavy crash.

Corven reappeared in the compound—the same one where the trapdoor first brought him to the underground hell. But now... it smelled like death. Ash. Fire. Blood.

He held the heir close, her limp body protected in both arms, and kicked open the nearest door.

BANG.

The doors flew off their hinges, crashing against the walls. Inside were five guards, already mid-scan of the area, clearly searching for something—or someone.

They turned instantly.

"Hello...?" Corven said dryly, chest still rising and falling in pained gasps.

"He’s got Heist’s brat!" one shouted.

Three rushed toward him immediately, weapons drawn.

Corven’s arms were occupied. He couldn’t fight—not like this.

But he didn’t have to.

SPLAT!

A wall exploded.

Irsted burst through, laughing manically, shoulder-smashing all three guards into the opposite wall like bowling pins.

"RUN!" he yelled.

He didn’t sound worried. If anything—he was enjoying himself.

Corven didn’t need to be told twice. He took off, using the gaping hole Irsted had made as his escape route.

The compound was burning. Flames licked at the walls and ceilings, smoke pouring through every crack. But the streets outside?

Empty.

Silent.

Not a soul dared approach the chaos. And that worked in their favor—no civilians, no reinforcements.

Corven vaulted the front gate, his legs screaming in protest. On the other side, his boots landed amidst a sea of vampire corpses—mangled, shredded, limbs scattered.

’Looks like Irsted did more than just stall them...’

He gave a pained chuckle.

Then spotted them.

Trish and Rose, waiting in an alley across the compound, waving him over.

He didn’t hesitate—bolting toward them.

But two vampires slipped past the chaos inside. They’d escaped Irsted and were now chasing him.

They didn’t get far.

THUNK!

A silver arrow pierced the first one’s head. The vampire dropped mid-sprint, lifeless.

He’d had no chance to react—his focus locked on the heir Corven was carrying. He hadn’t seen Trish hiding just behind the shadows, bow drawn.

The second?

Rose handled it.

She dashed forward with terrifying speed and ripped the vampire’s head clean off, the body crumpling like it weighed nothing.

Corven’s jaw dropped. "Were you always that strong!?"

Rose spun on her heel, falling into pace beside him. She laughed.

"I drank way too much blood and then this happened!" she said, clearly thrilled by the power surge.

They regrouped with Trish seconds later.

The mission was over.

Not clean. Not smooth.

But successful.

Leywin was still alive—no doubt crushing the remaining gargoyles even now.

But they had what they came for.

And thanks to this chaos...

They now had the Baroness’ good graces.