41 Birth of Our Lord: The Conquerer

Draig's forces arrived before the City of Elves with the Summoner's leading the charge, his eyes glowing dangerously while watching the rampage. Draig himself didn't realize his aggressive actions, the change sparked by dowsing that small bit of hope that had gone unnoticed.

Family, something he had longed for his whole life as a human.

Becoming a Vampire and having decisively set himself against humanity, Draig had thought he abandoned such notions. In actuality he had but unknown to him those words had rekindled a bit of hope in his heart, this was why he would always wonder about them.

Now with the self destruction of Zarra it had naturally killed that hope, the shedding of that bit of hope allowed for a fundamental change to begin occurring. Draig's claws and body were slowly becoming more refined, slowly but surely his form itself began to change into something far deadlier.

Hunger, Draig growled menacingly as he followed close behind the summons. As soon as they cleared the path Draig began grabbing the closest beings and devouring them while spreading his condition. As those husks rose from their deaths they began attaching themselves to their former brethren, the Elves watched in horror as their dead allies had risen from the dead.

They began believing that Draig was a necromancer, however never could they know that it was much worse. Their kin were being turned into the lowest form of Vampire, Ghouls.

These ghouls were nothing in the eyes of Draig, he merely abused his power over them to continue collecting the benefits of the slaughter without dirtying his hands. Essentially feeding through a special link he had over Ghouls he turned, they would continue to feast while the blood was turning into energy needed for his transformation and transferring to him.

Draig marched forward looking for the old Elf that had tried to poison him before using light, he would search for the source of longing after he repaid his defeat. Returning to the large cathedral that had brought the old Elf out before he began his siege, spell after spell and curse after curse. Spells and other skills kept going in a tireless onslaught, Elves who had been stationed in the cathedral died in groups unable to hold against the power they were facing.

Draig repeated his feat using the Bloodmancer Skill and began turning large amounts of bodies to husks, as they dried the blood began to collect into a giant funnel.

He wasted no time and began consuming the blood rapidly, his features becoming more refined the more he devoured. As his features started to settle a horrifying pressure dropped over the area. Draig's features had taken a stark change, his very demeanor demanded respect and his features spoke of nobility. His claws which had been a bit rugged had become uniform and elegant, his fangs a bit longer, and his eyes a royal crimson.

'System has mutated due to inherent change. Host is now Class Imperial Founding Vampire. Strength too great Advancing in response, Host is now Baron after mandatory advancement.'

Draig smirked, his very presence weighing down on those watching. His aura was like that of a supreme being, a presence that demanded respect, a standing as if his decision could change the world itself. This was the effects of progressing up the hierarchy of the Vampire bloodline, the more powerful a Vampire was, the more attractive they would look as to lure their pray in easier.

Given their were some rare cases where due to character flaws a Vampire held a repulsive appearance. This is what caused the saying that power is attractive among the Vampires, they were a strength based Hierarchy.

Draig controlled himself and stood waiting for the Old Elf, it wasn't long before he arrived. As he came closer his face remained solemn. He had realized that this is what would cause his death, accepting it with grace the Old Elf surrendered himself. Having put his hopes on a descendant of his the old Elf had lost his last hope, the boy had died the same way the other young Elves had been dying.

There was no more left to fight for, his people had been nearly wiped out and he was doomed to die anyway. Looking into Draig's eyes he felt as if he could see the future of the world, a cataclysm and army of thousands combating the races from the other Planes.

He closed his eyes and awaited his death obediently, but what he hadn't expected was a stinging pain to appear in his neck as a certain condition began to corrupt and transform the Old Elf.

"I saw potential" muttered Draig as he sent the Old Elf to join the elders.

Looking at the Ghouls he shook his head, he had been to hungry before and hadn't thought about the consequences of turning a husk. It had only left Ghoul as an option.

Looking over the number of corpses he decided this time he would use a bit of necromancy, his magic being formed into one skill had increased the power of his necromatic Spells to an incredible degree. The corpses rose up and acted surprisingly alive, these zombies would stay active until they died.

Gathering his people he had them loot the entire city of anything that could be used, a massive amount of enchanted weapons was a boon along with the armor. Draig smiled cruelly as he had the remaining survivors killed and then revived.

Looking over the entirety of his forces he was confident in the outcome of this war, he would be impossible to defeat if he just used corpses along the battlefield to supply his numbers and keep an an advantage.

Draig decided they would rest for the night before traveling further and trying to encounter more enemies.

Unknown to him in a far away place on the outskirts of the City a scorched hand was reaching from the earth.

"That was tricky" wheezed a familiar voice.

'You better make use of this feeling and go as far as you can' thought the figure.

His figure disappearing into the night.