Chapter 268: The War’s Final Battle Begins

With the Crimson Virethorn unleashing its full might, Thalion followed suit. His aura surged outward like a tidal wave of pressure, but he held back the fear effect embedded in his armor. His own soldiers stood behind him, and he wouldn’t risk their resolve faltering. Now was the moment to test himself against one of the monsters standing in their way.

The Sword of the Blooded Templar appeard in his right hand, its presence warping the air around it. Crimson flames ignited along the blade, licking at the edges of his armor as the crystals embedded within flared to life, drawing in and amplifying his mana. His entire body was alight with searing energy, his heart pounding in rhythm with the wild fury of the Crimson Virethorn. The air thickened as his aura clashed with that of the vampiress. Though he couldn’t overpower her entirely, his pressure forced hers to recoil. But she was still stronger. Much stronger.

The vampiress’s transformation began—nothing like the monstrous demon he had faced before. This time, her change was alien. Her neck elongated grotesquely as strands of black hair fell away. Her arms stretched unnaturally, and her fingernails warped into long crimson claws that would make Freddy Krueger blush. Her back remained wingless, but her height swelled past two meters. Her skin darkened to a deep, pulsing red, and her jaw unhinged to reveal needle-like teeth—fangs made for piercing hearts. From her shoulders sprouted thorny, blood-soaked vines, thrumming with power that dwarfed even Thalion’s Virethorn.

She wasn’t alone. The red orc beside her snarled, muscles swelling with rage as it absorbed the blood-fueled energy flooding the room. The undead wyvern behind it loomed with a rising growl, mist venting from its crimson maw as glowing runes shimmered beneath its scales. Its claws glowed a haunting red, sharpened for one purpose: slaughter. The Blood Witch stood silent and composed. Her aura alone spoke of death. She held a staff forged from bone, ending in a twisted crystal spike. No words. No chants. Just quiet, overwhelming menace.

Then came the lions—two monstrous beasts at least twice the size of Earth’s predators. Their fur had turned a dark, glistening red, eyes blazing with hatred. Even if their forms didn’t appear supernatural, their auras betrayed them. They radiated strength that no natural creature could contain.

Across the chamber, the lesser vampires responded in kind, releasing their auras or transforming into winged horrors. The massive chamber—far larger than Thalion had first estimated—shuddered with raw magical pressure. His allies began emerging from the corridor behind him, their own auras igniting in defiance. But they were outnumbered, and worse, funneled through a narrow tunnel. It was up to Thalion to carve a path.

He surged forward, activating Mistform, and his body dissolved into a stream of burning, crimson vapor. To onlookers, it must have appeared like a living jetstream of fire crossing the battlefield. He reformed midair, just as the vampiress mirrored his movement, hurtling toward him. Their collision lit up the center of the chamber.

Thalion brought his blade down with thunderous force, the Mana Slash rippling from it like a shockwave. The air sang with violent energy as crimson fire engulfed the steel. The vampiress’s claws met it, wrapped in bloody, flickering light—an ability similar to the Shadow Claw of the Eclipsari. A thunderclap echoed as their powers collided. The chamber rocked.

Behind him, the elite fighters began to move. One after another, they dashed from the corridor, using their movement skills to avoid enemy fire. Josh, now in his beast form, leapt high above, bypassing the orc entirely to strike down at the sniping vampires stationed on the high ground. It was a smart choice—the orc, witch, and wyvern were still holding back, biding their time.

The others followed. The monk and two mages flanked Josh, launching spells at the scattered vampires. Those without movement skills relied on the formation spell they got from Jim. It had since been baptized in battle, making even average fighters capable of surviving against the lesser vampires. Barriers shimmered into place, giving cover as more allies poured in.

Thalion no longer had the luxury of watching them. His attention was locked on the vampiress before him—an opponent like none he had ever faced. His Crimson Virethorn could not overwhelm her. The Sanguine Thorn under her heart was far stronger. He could feel the pressure it exuded—oppressive, primal, and unrelenting.

He gritted his teeth and pressed forward.

Whatever gift the Vampire God had bestowed upon her had transformed her Sanguine Thorn into something monstrous—so powerful, in fact, that the natural balance between predator and prey had reversed. Each time a vine lashed out from her arm to pierce Thalion, and he countered with his own Crimson Virethorn, his thorn was effortlessly shredded. The disparity between them grew more apparent with every clash.

There remained one advantage—one frail hope: her plant and the vampiress herself were not fireproof. Thalion summoned every ounce of mana he could muster, stoking the crimson flames surrounding his body and thickening the heat in the air until it shimmered. She tried to douse the fire with a surge of blood, but it only fed the inferno, making it burn brighter and wilder, if only for a moment. Still, it wasn’t enough. Her regeneration surpassed the fire's bite. The damage it dealt healed before it could matter.

She charged again, her speed blinding. Thalion threw up a mana barrier, deflecting a projectile that had arced toward him from above. She didn’t even flinch—rushing through the barrier like it was smoke. Her jaw unhinged as her gaping maw lunged for his head. Thalion ducked low, stabbing toward her foot while activating Telekinetic Dash. He veered right, momentum slinging him wide. It was an ideal dueling skill—allowing movement opposite of one’s leaning direction, often fooling enemies into misjudging the angle of attack.

The vampiress fell for it. A vine shot out from her flank, missing by inches. Thalion heard her jaw snap shut above him—sharp enough to end him instantly. He twisted mid-slide, planted a boot on her shoulder, and launched himself backward just as she began slashing wildly with her claws.

Thalion reached for his fireball technique, aiming to unleash it in its flamethrower variant, but was interrupted—he had to dash away again as the red orc barreled into the fray. The brute’s axe crashed into the stone floor with a resounding thud, sending shockwaves through the chamber. Thalion countered with a sharp kick to the orc’s knee, and the joint crumpled under the pressure. He aimed a finishing blow—a thorn to the skull—but a vine intercepted it, lashing from the vampiress like a whip.

He barely raised his blade in time to deflect her next attack, spinning with the force of her claws to absorb the impact. The hit shoved him back, but he managed to stay on his feet—until a red wyvern dove at him from above, its taloned foot outstretched to crush him like an insect.

Where were the others? They should’ve finished funneling fighters into the chamber by now. But there was no time to look. Thalion dove beneath the beast and unleashed a burning mana slash that sliced up through its chest. A sickening crack echoed as bone split and flesh tore. The wyvern howled, half its ribcage severed—but it wasn’t dead. Not yet.

The vampiress gave him no reprieve. Five blood thorns fired in quick succession from her outstretched arm—deadly, precise. They were creations of her empowered plant, and unlike his own, they couldn’t be fully redirected. Thalion dashed to the side, narrowly avoiding four, and summoned a vine to absorb the fifth. But the moment it connected, the enemy thorn burrowed into his vine and began feeding off his mana—trying to grow within him.

He could feel it: her will and the plant’s combined force pressing into his own. It enraged him how much stronger their bond was. Though in truth, most of the effort came from the Thorn. Still, he had no time to wrestle control. With a growl, Thalion severed the infected vine with a clean swipe of his blade.

A pulse of mana erupted from his core as he released a shockwave in all directions, hoping to break the wyvern for good. It lifted the beast briefly from the ground and knocked the vampiress back a step, but it wasn’t enough. The wyvern was simply too massive, and had already begun healing.

Still, the brief push gave Thalion room to move. He darted away, no longer pinned beneath the wyvern’s shadow. The vampiress, noting the effectiveness of the blood thorns, didn’t pursue immediately. Instead, she fired several more at him. These were more refined, more lethal—their power vastly eclipsed his own. It wasn’t just the plant’s strength. Its rarity must be on an entirely different level.

This complicated things. Most of Thalion’s tools in his human form were now ineffective. He wasn’t sure the Crippled Eclipsari form could withstand her onslaught either. Despite that, his human form still offered the best balance—for now. It granted near-total immunity to standard blood attacks, which none of the other vampires dared to try on him. That was his edge. And he needed to press it.

His flames still mattered, if only slightly. They increased his speed and strength and caused minor injuries that, while quickly healed, still disrupted her regeneration rhythm. Not enough to harm her severely—but enough to irritate. Hidden within the fire, he became harder to track, though she likely sensed blood the way he could with his vampiric vision.

Thalion had yet to use the Crimson Gaze—a skill he was saving for the right moment. A perfect opening. One that could maim, maybe even kill. Though he doubted it would end her, a well-timed strike might shift the battle’s momentum. His chance would come. It had to.

Even now, facing a foe far beyond him, Thalion didn’t waver. His regeneration was unparalleled, and time was on his side. His allies would win their battles. He simply had to hold the line—stall the vampiress long enough—for them to tip the scales.