Tales of the Endless Empire
The Chapter 210: Thalion's Wrath

Thalion’s shoulder was in ruins—shattered beyond recognition. A normal wound would have healed in moments, but the cursed poison from the rapier had seeped into his veins, slowing his regeneration. He barely noticed the pain. There was no need to suppress it; the bloodlust of the Sanguine Thorn drowned it out, turning agony into fuel for his wrath.

The poison was potent, yet it was tied to blood—something the Crimson Virethorn could devour with ease. Even so, the damage to his shoulder was severe, requiring time to fully mend. He was already redirecting the Crimson Virethorn power to hasten the process, though a fleeting thought crossed his mind: Should I shift into the Crippled Eclipsari? That form lacked an arm anyway, sparing him the inconvenience of a useless limb.

But no. That would reveal his trump card, and the undead were not the only enemies lurking in the shadows. There was still one ace left in his hand—his armor’s fear effect. He had yet to unleash it, saving it as a final tool to prevent the vampires from fleeing. But now, with the mistake he had made, his chances of harvesting the Sanguine Thorns carried by the vampire before him had dwindled.

He noticed the change in the battlefield—the red veins sprawling across the ground had disappeared, severing their connection to the undead. The once-formidable horde was now nothing more than scattered prey, swiftly hunted down.

There were still powerful vampires within the city, but without their undead legions, they were outnumbered. His base, surprisingly, had a handful of fighters capable of slaying them.

It’s time to end this.

A cold, suffocating wave of power pulsed outward as Thalion released his aura in full force, unleashing the terror woven into his armor. To the vampires, it must have felt as though the Devil himself had descended upon them. Their eyes widened in sheer, primal horror, and he savored their fear.

The effect was even greater than expected—perhaps due to his injured shoulder. One vampire hesitated a fraction of a second too long. Before he could flee, the Crimson Virethorn lashed out, plunging into his chest. The vampiric creature let out a single, agonized scream before the vine coiled around his heart, consuming him along with the Sanguine Thorn he carried.

Another vampire—the female who had spoken to him earlier—managed to retreat, but not before his blade carved a deep gash across her stomach. These devil-spawn healed at an unnatural speed, but this wound would force her to keep her distance, if only for a short while.

Spinning toward his next target, he struck without hesitation. His shoulder was still repairing itself, Crimson Virethorn tendrils weaving over the broken joint to aid the process. With only one fully functional arm, he had to be more cautious—but that was fine. The vampires struggled against his aura far more than he had anticipated.

One of them dissolved into a mist of blood, reforming above him in an instant, claws poised to strike. Their eyes locked—Thalion triggered Crimson Gaze at full power.

The vampire froze midair. His mind shattered under the sheer weight of terror.

Before Thalion’s vines could impale him, another vampire slammed into his frozen ally, shoving him aside just as the lethal tendrils struck.

A ripple of danger prickled against Thalion’s senses. He twisted, narrowly ducking under a clawed swipe. In response, he lashed out with a powerful kick, sending the attacker hurtling into a stone building across the street. The impact cracked the walls, sending dust and rubble tumbling down.

A sharp pop resounded through his body—his shoulder had finally realigned. A dull ache flared and faded as his armor sealed over the restored joint.

Mist curled around him as he Mistform, vanishing in an instant.

The next heartbeat saw him reappear before the vampire he had kicked. The creature barely had time to react before Thalion’s blade cleaved through his midsection.

The force of the strike extended beyond the vampire—a crimson arc slashed through the air, cutting through the entire roof of the hovel behind him. With a groaning crack, the structure began to collapse.

But there was no time to relish the kill.

A monstrous figure lunged from the side—a vampire in its full demonic form. Clawed hands raked across Thalion’s chest, but his armor absorbed most of the impact. Shallow cuts stung his skin, yet the force of the blow sent him skidding backward.

The vampire he had bisected seized the opportunity, activating an escape token. In the blink of an eye, his form flickered and vanished.

A spike of fury surged through Thalion.

The Crimson Virethorn reacted instantly, sensing its prey slipping away. His aura darkened—deep, seething hunger taking hold.

Vines erupted from his body, one for each remaining vampire.

The Crimson Virethorn had already consumed four Sanguine Thorns and was on the verge of evolution. But that was something Thalion could not allow—not now. The pain alone would incapacitate him, and in this battle, losing control for even a second meant death.

The fight had turned in his favor. Some of the vampires were already showing signs of exhaustion. The added mental strain of his aura crushed their morale.

He gave them no time to recover.

Like a shadow of death, he pursued them relentlessly. The vampires still fought, still clawed and slashed at him in desperation—but they were too slow.

And he was only growing stronger.

The heart of the Sanguine Archon thundered like a war drum, pumping raw power from Thalion’s absurdly potent soul through every fiber of his being. His body pulsed with strength—not just his own, but the amplified might of the Crimson Virethorn, whose vines had threaded themselves around his bones and muscles like a living second skeleton. Every movement brimmed with power. Even though his mana and stamina reserves were only half full, he felt unstoppable. His health was nearly untouched, and with that alone, he saw no reason to slow down.

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Each time he moved, his crimson aura flared like fire licking at the wind. The vampires were beginning to falter. Their movements lost rhythm, coordination fractured, and panic crept into their eyes. Some, in a desperate bid, dared to turn their Sanguine Thorns against him. But the Virethorn responded with hunger and fury. Thalion felt the surge of killing intent as thick vines erupted from his body, intercepting and consuming the enemy thorns like a constricting serpent devouring its prey whole.

In this dance of blood and death, Thalion was perfectly suited to crush vampires. Their poisons were useless—blood magic only fed his power. Their gaze attacks failed before his Crimson Eyes, which turned their own instincts against them. Even the monstrous strength of their demon forms gave them no edge. While their claws could have torn through lesser blades, his weapon—the Blooded Templar’s blade—was no ordinary sword. It sliced through their black talons like hot steel through butter.

When the rapier-wielding vampire had still been in the fight, they’d had a chance to break through his defenses. But now? They were scattered, their unity shattered. Thalion had become the eye of the storm, and the battlefield was tilting further in his favor with every passing heartbeat. Undead were being purged from the base, and now even the towering ballistas on nearby ramparts joined in—launching bolts that tore through vampires who dared lower their guard. One unfortunate soul had a leg obliterated mid-dash, forced to teleport away before Thalion could strike.

The chaos extended beyond the central plaza. Screams echoed through the labyrinthine alleys as weaker humans fell to rogue vampires still hunting in desperation. But what once looked like a massacre was now shifting. Elite fighters from the base began to recognize that the true threat came not from the undead outside the walls, but from the vampire agents within. Slowly, steadily, they joined the fight, combing the streets and hunting down the fractured vampire cells like wolves tracking wounded prey.

The lead vampiress finally seemed to realize how dire their situation had become. Her eyes scanned the battlefield, her expression tightening with each fallen comrade. And when Thalion caught a glimpse of panic flickering behind her crimson irises, a feral grin spread beneath his mask.

She knows. She’s lost.

And she couldn’t run back to the undead horde without risking it all. The undead couldn’t be recalled without matching their speed, and if Thalion managed to force the vampires to use their escape tokens… the entire undead army would be stranded, ripe for slaughter.

To Thalion, the experience gain would be limited—undead yielded far less than living foes—but the opportunity to bathe in blood and glory? That was irresistible. The real objective, though, loomed close. The catacombs would soon open, and they had to destroy the pillars within. Knowing he could face the vampire elite and live only made him more eager to descend into that shadowed abyss.

For now, he pressed harder—relentlessly—giving the vampires no time to regroup or strategize. He kept them dodging, kept their minds clouded with fear. It was difficult to land solid hits on all of them at once, but the psychological pressure alone was enough to keep their formation in disarray.

Then, after several tense minutes of combat, the lead vampiress gave the signal. With a sharp, almost imperceptible motion, her allies broke off in all directions, sprinting toward breaches in the outer wall.

Thalion didn’t hesitate. His gaze locked on the vampiress who had spoken to him earlier, and he gave chase. She noticed him immediately. Realizing she wouldn’t make it through the crumbling wall with him so close behind, she activated her escape token.

But not before he caught her eyes—and with the flicker of a cruel smirk, he unleashed a final mental strike. Crimson Gaze. Her face twisted in hatred and fury just as she disappeared.

The battlefield was shifting, but the war was far from over. Thalion exhaled, his breath misting in the air as he forced his aura to recede. He turned, sprinting across the rooftops with supernatural grace, already searching for more fleeing vampires.

“Thalion… are you okay? Are those monsters gone?” This was Maike who was very worried.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, hidden beneath his mask. He took a breath, brushing aside the tension coiled in his shoulders.

“There are still a few in the city,” he answered, his voice calm. “But they’re running now. Kargul would be proud of me. You should’ve seen their faces. I scared them real good.”

He chuckled softly under his breath. The vampires had truly not expected to lose this fight.

A heartbeat later, he sent another message, this one more serious.

“By the way… how are Kargul and the others doing?”

No response came immediately.

His boots thudded quietly against the tiled roofs as he moved, scanning the darkened alleys for any last signs of movement. Despite his confidence, a sliver of unease crept into his chest. Surely, they were fine. They had interrupted the ritual. They were probably already on their way back to the city.

Then again… this was Kargul they were talking about.

The orc would probably try to pick a fight with the entire undead jungle if someone dared him. And Jack would follow without hesitation. But Evelyn and Josh were there too—more level-headed. They’d know better. They’d pull the others back before anything too stupid happened.

Right?