"You're not going to cut me up?"

Axel was pretty amazed at the fact that he had not been dismembered, hacked apart, or otherwise brutalised for the past four hours once he arrived at Gertford on the dirigible.

"Yes. This is the fourth time I've told you that."

"Will you let me out?"

Magus sighed. "No."

"What a shame."

Axel sat in a small cell, recessed in to an alcove, underground of the White Tower in Gertford. There were multiple Towers in every city, the headqurters of the division of Vampire Hunters. Axel reckoned that this was the first time that a vampire went so deep into its vaunted halls.

Not that he wanted to go in or anything.

There was nothing good for a vamp beyond those doors. And he didn't expect to be let out either. If he wanted to be freed, it would have to be of his own actions, violent or not.

And he damn well wanted to be free.

If he was going to get out, however, he couldn't go out killing and biting. Axel was a vampire, but he was no fool. Everything required patience and planning. He had to wait, coiled like a snake, ready to strike at the first opening. But first there had to be an opening.

If the Circle was still there, Axel had a negative percentage of a successful escape plan.

Oh well, he could wait. Vampires were immortal, and humans, he figured, were not. He should know. He had been one himself.

"Vampire."

A guard had appeared outside his cell. "Put this on." In the man's hand was a silver shackle with spikes on the inside. If Axel tried to move with that on, it would tear into his neck, restricting blood flow and killing him.

Although immortal, vampires were not invincible. Enough hurt in the right place and they would die.

Axel put it on.

"Follow me." The cell door swung open, and Axel was dragged along, trailing behind the man to avoid getting gruesomely decapitated.

For all his hatred towards the world, Axel was still averse to dying.

Following behind, Axel walked through lightless corridors and tall, empty halls.

"Nice place you got here."

The guard ignored him.

They came to a stop at a normal oaken door. The guard knocked on it three times, pausing for a while between each knock. "Now, when you open the door, the only thing stopping the entire room from filling with silver shards is the mana presence of the Circle, so you better not try anything funny.

As if I could, Axel thought, glancing at his deadly restraints.

Walking into the room, Axel caught sight of his captor sitting behind a table. A totally normal room, with books and papers strewn on the floor and a bookshelf at the side. Resting in fron of Jorge Benson, Circle Number Six, was his sword.

"Well, good morning to you, vampire."

"Wish I could say the same, but I haven't seen the sun's rays in the half-year since you assholes left me to die."

The Circle's eyebrows shot up. "You used to be...I have heard rumours of a Dhampyre, but I never thought he would be right here, in front of me."

"I used to be human. That's right." Axel snarled. "Until your King's great military acumen," Axel spat the words venomously, "thought it best to send one light volunteer strike company against an entire squad of Zorne vampires!"

"We had no way of knowing." The Circle spoke mildly, which infuriated Axel to no end.

"Then answer me. Why was there no rescue? No backup squad?" Axel realised he had been straining against his chain, tiny pinpricks of blood appearing on his neck.

"Backup was slaughtered as they rushed to help. By one man."

"What?"

"The two survivors testify. They said he moved like a shadow, flitting in and out. In the first few second, a dozen men had their throats torn out."

"Monsters..."

"Are you not a Twilight Walker as well?"

Axel clenched his fists. "Say that again. I dare you."

The Circle leant back and observed Axel unhurriedly. "I'd advise you keep your cool. I did not want to leave you alive, and you are only standing here by virtue of the arcanist that happened to pity you."

"Don't lump me in with the insects in Zorne. I'm not a monster."

"Say that to Circle Seven."

Axel's head snapped up, muscles taut. In a low, dangerous voice, he asked, "Do you know what happened down there in the Greenmaw, old man?"

No response.

"That lying little shit came up to me. Tried to kill me, but I decided to spare her. Thought that she would actually be someone worth being with. Do you know what it feels like to be betrayed, hunter? You have never felt pain in your life, have you? You have never, ever been hunted and reviled, have you? And yet you sit up there on your throne of righteousness, callously deeming vampires evil and your own species good? Do you know," Axel paused, "What it feels like to be a pest, to be tossed aside and marked for death just because of what you are?"

Jorge raised a sleeve. His forearms were covered in crisscrossed, black scars. "I do. Do you know who did this to me?"

"..."

"I'm not discounting what happened to you. I am simply stating facts. You are a vampire. And that makes you the enemy of the Consortium."

"I'm not..."

"You are, like it or not. Just like how I am the heir of the Benson family. I didn't ask to be the son of the man who purged an entire vampire city. Look where it got me," Jorge indicated his mutilated flesh. "And look where it has gotten you. A boy, standing in a sea of blood."

"Shut up...shut up!"

Quick as a whip, the Circle flung something at Axel. Slicing past his cheek, the knife embedded itself into the wall behind him. The Dhampyre winced at the sting in his cheek.

"Watch. Your. Mouth."

Axel looked up and instantly quailed. There was a fire in the Circle's eyes, a calm one, but so hot that it burned into Axel's very soul. However, the Circle's demeanour never changed, a slight smile gracing his lips, sitting erect and still.

"I don't like you, vamp, and I'm sure you don't like me either, but you are a prisoner. And I can kill you when I want it, in the way I want to. And trust me, being a vampire itself warrants a very slow way to die by my hand."

What's this guy's problem? What did I do to him?

"There is something very important you have, however, that prevents me from ending you."

"And what is that?"

"When you are having your beauty sleep, I took the liberty of drawing your blood. We had it matched with the known vampire bloodlines in our archives. Du Vont. Crestique. Mordecai. That kind of thing."

"Yes?"

"You possess the blood of a vampire that has not walked this world for the past three thousand years, so terrible that even Zorne tried to kill him. Not a derivative, so not passed on through normal means. It was injected straight into your body, am I right?"

Axel grimaced at the memory. "Yes."

"Right now, the blood of the first vampire flows in your body. The blood of the Crimson Thirst himself."

Nightshade, capital of Zorne

"Would you like to tell me why you have not killed the boy?"

"S-sir, he is...too..."

"Too s-strong, sir. We simply are unable to best him."

"Then quit your probing and send more troops! Bombard him if you need to!" We have airships for a reason!"

"Yes, sir."

"Out! And kill him quickly! We can't afford to waste more time."

The chastened captain scrambled out hastily, eager to avoid further escalation and increase the chance of lost limbs. Lamiar slipped a cold hand under his robes and pulled out an item, taking great care not to let the icy rage coursing through him crush it.

It was one of the only objects retrieved from the unrecognisable carcass of Academician Delphurg. A simple glass phial, stained with a deep red liquid, sticky and viscous. Caustic, too. Old blood had that property and this was very old blood.

Cruore. The fell liquid that sustained the twilight life of the vampires. Getting stronger and thicker as it grew older, this particular phial had stains that were so spongy they were nearly solid, and so crimson that it was nearly black.

The blood of his former master, the one that he had worked for centuries to overthrow, toiling with his machinations and manipulations for unimaginable years. The blood of the one who had given all vampires life. The Crimson Thirst. The Hell-Bat. The Drinker. Many names were used over the ages, to obscure the terrible syllable that the ancient monster answered to.

Kain.