Chapter 61: Thrones of Blood and Shadow
Their battlefield trembled. Blood and soul energy collided like twin tempests. The air was torn, reality thinned. Philip's body was battered, cuts along his arms glowing faintly with etheric resistance, but he stood—breathing hard, unbowed.
The woman floated mid-air above the shattered rooftop, blood mist swirling around her like a throne of vapor. Her crimson eyes shimmered—then, suddenly, she giggled.
A light, haunting sound.
Then she clapped her hands once.
"That's enough," she said cheerfully. The blood mist coiled back into her body like obedient hounds. "Now that was fun."
Philip blinked, sweat trickling down his cheek.
"What?"
She floated down slowly, her feet touching the ruined stone as if gravity itself had to ask permission.
"I am Adeline," she said with a slight curtsy, her red coat flaring like wings. "Matriarch of the vampires on Earth. Queen of blood and undeath. Demigod of the Crimson Lineage. I run the hospitals."
Philip stared at her, heart still pounding. "Hospitals?"
"Of course," she said, eyes twinkling. "Where else would we have access to all that lovely blood? Entire networks under our control. Blood banks, plasma trade, research divisions. We've kept the peace. Healed the wounded. Hidden our fangs—mostly."
Before Philip could respond, a low growl rumbled across the balcony. The air darkened as something massive stepped forward from the far end.
He hadn't seen him before. It was like the man was shadow itself until he chose to be visible.
Lucius.
He towered—over seven feet tall, wide as two men, with thick cords of muscle flexing beneath battle-worn black furs. His skin was dark, scarred, and steaming with residual aura. His eyes glowed yellow like a wolf under a full moon.
His presence was oppressive. Bestial.
"I am Lucius," he rumbled, voice like grinding mountains. "Patraich of the werewolves. Earth's Alpha. Shadow Ogre of the North.."
Philip's instincts screamed. He felt like prey, cornered between predator and predator.
Lucius sniffed, then turned toward the horizon. "Hmph," he grunted. "Too many cockroaches."
Philip followed his gaze—then saw them.
Dozens of presences—faint, ethereal. Hidden in trees, clouds, rooftops. Cloaked with talismans and spells. Mystics. Watchers. Demigods. Espers. Outsiders.
All spying on the fight.
Lucius' aura flared like an eclipse. Pure, primal domination.
In an instant, the shadows scattered—one by one, the hidden figures vanished like dust fleeing a storm. No one dared remain.
Philip was stunned.
Adeline simply yawned, stretched, and leaned against the balcony.
"I wanted to meet you properly," she said, as if nothing had happened. "I've been keeping an eye on your aura for days. You're still raw, still unshaped. But the soul you carry... it's potent.
Philip didn't know what to say. His fists were still trembling. The fight had felt like death was breathing down his neck—now it felt like he'd walked into a political meeting for monsters.
Just then, a voice called out from behind.
"Well, well! What a show!"
A man in a flamboyant coat, tattered hat, and mismatched boots strolled up the ruined balcony like he belonged there. His grin was wild, his eyes sharp as blades.
The Wayward Pritchard.
The dark sorcerer. Mythical warlock.
He walked straight to Philip and slapped his shoulder.
"She always does that, you know," he said, chuckling. "Adeline's a battle junkie.. That was a welcome party."
Philip blinked.
"That... was a welcome?"
"Oh, definitely," Pritchard said. "You passed. She only blood-duels people she respects."
Still confused, Philip hesitated—then offered a hand.
Pritchard shook it.
Then his smile faltered.
His grip tightened slightly.
His eyes narrowed.
He glanced down at Philip's arm, then back up at his face.
"You're strong," he said, voice softer now. "Very strong. But…"
He leaned in.
"You haven't trained in body refinement. No known forging aura, no chi tempering signs, no cursed ink seals. Nothing. And yet..."
He touched Philip's shoulder again, gently this time.
"…your body feels like it was forged in a furnace ."
Adeline giggled again. "I like him he is fun"
Lucius just grunted.
Philip stood among them, heartbeat steadying, but the questions only growing.