Lord of vampires

The forest was alive with the sounds of struggle—snarls, screams, and the wet tearing of flesh. Floyd stood in the shadows, his golden eyes tracking the battle unfolding before him. The scent of blood hung thick in the air, metallic and sharp, mixing with the damp earth and rotting leaves.

A group of four—two blood mages and two vampires—were fighting for their lives against seven lesser hounds. The beasts were wiry, their matted fur streaked with scars, eyes glowing like embers in the dim light. Their claws dug deep into the earth as they circled their prey, saliva dripping from jagged teeth.

The taller blood mage, a woman with auburn hair tied back in a messy braid, was chanting under her breath, her hands trembling as she summoned a weak barrier of crimson energy. The spell flickered like a dying candle, barely holding back the snapping jaws of a hound.

The second mage, younger and smaller, was on the ground, clutching her bleeding thigh where one of the beasts had torn into her. Her face was pale, her lips parted in a silent scream.

The vampires fought with more precision—one wielding a dagger, the other bare-handed—but they were outnumbered. A hound lunged, its teeth sinking into the arm of the male vampire, who roared in pain before ripping himself free. Blood splattered across the forest floor.

Floyd exhaled slowly, his fingers curling into loose fists.

'They can give me perfect opportunity to strike.'

The thought was clinical and detached. If he waited, the hounds would tire themselves out. The weaker ones would fall, and the survivors would be easier to finish off. 

But then the younger mage screamed again as another hound clamped down on her leg, shaking her like a ragdoll. The sound was raw.

His jaw tightened.

'Damn it!'

Floyd moved before he could reconsider.

His first strike was clean—a clawed hand slashing across the throat of the hound mauling the girl. The beast crumpled, gurgling on its own blood. The others turned toward him, their growls deepening.

The vampires and mages stared.

Then chaos erupted.

A hound barreled into Floyd's side, its weight slamming him into a tree. Pain flared through his ribs, but he barely registered it before twisting and driving his claws into the beast's eye. It howled, thrashing, but he didn't let go until its body went slack.

Another came from behind.

He wasn't fast enough.

A crushing weight hit his back, claws raking down his shoulders. He hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from his lungs. Teeth grazed his neck—

A boot connected with the hound's ribs, sending it flying.

Floyd blinked up at the male vampire, who glared down at him, lip curled in disgust.

"Useless, why the hell did you jump in if you were just going to get yourself killed? Weaklings like you should've run."

The words settled into Floyd's bones like poison.

This is how the world treats you.

In this life. In the last. Always the same.

Something inside him—something long buried, something he had kept locked away—shattered.

His blood burned.

The negative emotions; rage, futility, uselessness, mocking all he had gathered within his heart had spilled. It seems he was only a tiny drop before going to insanity.

A rush of heat flooded his veins, his vision tinting red. His claws lengthened, sharpening into deadly points. His teeth ached as they grew, his breath coming in ragged, animalistic pants.

The vampire took a step back.

Floyd didn't give him time to react.

He moved.

The first hound died mid-leap—Floyd's claws tore through its belly before it even hit the ground. Entrails spilled onto the forest floor, steaming in the cold air.

The second lunged. He caught its muzzle in one hand and crushed it, bone and cartilage collapsing under his grip. The beast's dying yelp was cut short as he ripped its jaw clean off.

The remaining five attacked at once.

Floyd didn't dodge. He let them come.

One bit into his arm—he barely felt it. His free hand speared through its chest, fingers closing around its still-beating heart before tearing it out.

The next died with its spine snapped over his knee.

The fourth and fifth came together. He grabbed one by the throat, slamming it into the ground hard enough to crack the earth beneath it. The last hound hesitated—its instincts screaming at it to run—but Floyd was already on it. His fangs sank into its neck, ripping out its throat in a single, brutal motion.

Silence.

Blood dripped from his hands, his mouth, his clothes. The forest was still.

Then—

Floyd turned.

The group was staring at him, wide-eyed. The male vampire—the one who had called him weak—was trembling. The others had fallen to their knees without realizing it, their bodies moving on pure instinct.

Like prey before a predator.

The air was thick with the scent of fear.

Floyd exhaled, the red haze receding. His claws retracted, his breathing steadying.

The girl with the wounded thigh was crying silently.

He looked at his hands, slick with blood.

Time to claim his reward.