Chapter 156: A New Enemy III
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But Selene was not foolish. She asked it because she knew Klaus wanted it asked. Power liked to be acknowledged publicly.
Klaus looked at her with a calm that could have been affection if he were capable of it.
"Because," Klaus said, "whoever takes that blood becomes stronger than the other originals."
The hall felt colder again.
That was the true reason.
Not safety.
Not in order.
Not in justice.
Power.
Klaus lifted one hand slightly, fingers relaxed.
A thin thread of red appeared in the air, as if blood itself had been drawn from the atmosphere. It twisted slowly, forming a symbol that looked like a spiral wound.
"This is Blood God’s legacy," Klaus said. "It does not belong to the weak. It does not belong to the accidental. It only belongs to us... the blood sovereign."
Selene’s eyes flicked to the symbol, then back to Klaus.
Klaus’s voice sharpened slightly.
"This new one somehow obtained the blood of the Blood God. Perhaps a relic. Perhaps a hidden vein. Perhaps a forgotten altar. It does not matter. It exists now."
He let the blood thread dissolve.
"And the first person to seize it," Klaus said, "wins the next century."
That made even the most disciplined subordinates shift.
A century.
To them, a century was not a long time.
It was a plan.
Selene bowed her head slightly.
"What are your orders," she asked.
Klaus stepped down from the throne platform slowly, his boots making no sound on the polished floor. Silence followed him like a cloak.
He walked until he stood at the center of the hall, directly under the highest point of the ceiling. He looked up briefly, as if listening for something.
Then he spoke, voice calm, almost casual.
"The shockwave came from the lower domain," Klaus said. "We will send hunters."
Selene’s eyes sharpened.
"How many," she asked.
Klaus’s gaze returned to her.
"Enough to find," he said. "Not enough to alert."
Selene understood instantly.
Too many hunters would create rumors. Rumors would create competition. Competition would create other Blood Sovereigns moving faster.
Klaus wanted stealth.
He wanted the kill to happen quietly, or the capture to happen quietly, before anyone else could reach the prize.
He turned slightly and looked toward a line of subordinates standing in shadow.
"You," Klaus said, pointing at three figures.
They stepped forward immediately.
One was a tall man with a face carved from scars. He wore no armor, but his skin looked like armor, as if it had been hardened by centuries of violence. His eyes were dull in the way a butcher’s eyes were dull.
One was a woman with long black hair and a calm expression that made her look almost peaceful. Her hands, however, carried faint stains that did not wash away. Blood stains that had become part of her.
The third was smaller, with a hood drawn over her face. Only the eyes were visible. Those eyes were too bright.
Klaus spoke to them without raising his voice.
"You will go," he said.
They bowed simultaneously.
Selene stepped closer, her voice quiet.
"Lord Klaus," she said, "what if the creator is protected by a local power."
Klaus looked at her as if she had asked whether water was wet.
"Then remove the local power," he replied. "Kill whoever tries to stop you."
Selene’s lips twitched faintly.
It was not humor.
It was recognition.
Klaus did not negotiate with obstacles.
He erased them.
Selene pressed further, because she was a strategist, not only a knife.
"What if the creator is not aware of what they are," she asked. "What if this was accidental."
Klaus’s eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment the hall’s torches dimmed as if they were afraid.
"Accidental does not matter," Klaus said. "Blood does not care about intention."
He took a step toward Selene, and the pressure of his presence made the air thicken around her. She remained steady, but her skin prickled.
Klaus’s voice was almost gentle now.
"Do you know why the old origin vampires hunted each other," he asked.
Selene did not answer with certainty. She answered with caution.
"Because they threatened balance," she said.
Klaus smiled.
"Because they created rivals," he corrected. "Balance is a polite word used by those who are losing."
He leaned slightly closer, not threatening physically, but threatening in the way a storm threatened a small boat.
"This new origin vampire is a rival," Klaus said. "Even if they do not know it yet."
Selene nodded slowly.
Then she asked the question that carried risk.
"And if the origin vampire refuses," Selene asked.
Klaus straightened again.
His voice returned to calm.
"Then we take the blood anyway," he said. "And leave the body."
A few subordinates shifted with quiet excitement, like wolves hearing meat promised.
Selene bowed slightly.
"As you command," she said.
Klaus turned away from her and walked slowly back toward the throne, not because he needed it, but because returning to it reminded everyone who owned the hall.
He sat again.
The throne accepted him like a wound accepting a blade.
Klaus lifted one hand.
A subordinate stepped forward instantly, holding a tray.
On the tray sat a cup.
Not metal.
Not glass.
Bone glass.
The cup was carved from a skull fragment, polished, lined with runes.
Inside it was blood.
It was dark.
It was thick.
It smelled like something alive, even though it was not.
Klaus took the cup and held it for a moment, staring at the liquid as if it was a memory.
Then he drank.
Slowly... and Deliberately.
His throat moved once, then again.
When he finished, he lowered the cup and smiled faintly, as if the taste had amused him.
Selene watched him closely.
She could not help it.
Even she, a strong vampire in her own right, felt a subtle pull in her mind whenever Klaus fed. A reminder of hierarchy.
Klaus spoke again, voice quiet but carrying.
"The lower domain will tremble soon," Klaus said.
One subordinate asked cautiously.