The Pact: Bruno and the Crimson Veil

Back in the cave

Happy with the successful hunt, Astrel neighed something I couldn't quite understand. Both he and Ignis stared at me—confused, as if they knew something I didn't.

What was going on?

Then Ignis sent a message directly into my mind.

Spiritual Sense?

---

Somewhere far above it all

POV: King-Level Entities

Beneath the skies of Tenebris, between the vast frontier of Mount Sitron and three baronial territories, three figures sat on a closed platform, suspended above the clouds.

Their auras were terrifying—shattering the air around them, warping even the fabric of space.

Two of them radiated overwhelming power:

The first was an elegant vampire with jet-black hair and sharp eyes. His eyebrows were like blades, and he wore a cloak emblazoned with his family crest—an eagle with two heads. His gentle smile clashed with the weight of his presence. Though he looked about thirty, his energy betrayed millennia of life. His name was Fullhier, ruler of the domain called Sangraal, the Forgotten Domain. He was the only King-level being in that territory.

Seated before him was Krihar the Brutal, a Demon King of equal rank and sovereign of the Kalar Mountains. He had crimson hair and wore a royal purple robe that oddly matched his grotesque appearance. Three blood-red petals adorned his forehead, and his mouth—filled with far too many teeth—revealed an ancient hunger.

These two were anything but ordinary.

Between them stood Tang, a monk of Arkhat level—equivalent to a Vampire King. Tang, a friend of Fullhier, bore no prejudice. To him, all beings were simply beings.

Krihar broke the silence first:

"Seems your underlings have crossed into my territory, Fullhier."

His voice was heavy, like collapsing stone.

The vampire sighed and replied with disdain:

"So what? Your filthy beasts keep crossing into my land and killing my vampires."

Krihar's aura flared violently.

The sky around the platform darkened ominously.

Fullhier remained unmoved.

After millennia of conflict, the wars between vampires and demonic beasts had rules—limits and strategies. Most battles were confined to the Baron or Count level.

Tang stepped in.

With a single clap, golden light spread outward, crushing their auras like mist.

"Why not keep the war within its current limits?" Tang asked calmly.

The two kings fell silent. They respected Tang—and knew he did not speak lightly.

"The fighting will be limited to Arcane Barons and True Beasts of higher rank," Tang declared. "Furthermore, we will wager the fate on the artifact—the Coin of Opposing Sides. If the Varnhael family recovers it from the ruins, Fullhier wins. If the beasts stop them, Krihar wins."

They pondered briefly, then silently agreed.

Under Tang's watchful eyes, the pact was sealed.

And so, they remained—watching from above, while below, lives were gambled in an unseen game of fate.

---

Back to the cave

POV: Bruno

"Spiritual sense?" I repeated, confused.

The horse neighed softly, and Ignis growled as if to explain. Slowly, I began to understand.

When I used my vitae to observe my own body… he had sent me the idea. Clumsy, but clear enough.

Astrel neighed again, and Ignis responded.

They were trying to teach me.

The spiritual sense.

A sixth sense rooted in the flow of vitae, capable of helping me hunt with intuition and precision. I furrowed my brow. But how could I use it?

Too tired to figure it out, I let it go. There was something more urgent: food.

I approached the buffalo and sank my fangs into its flesh. There was so much blood—maybe three times what a goat would have. The taste was still awful, but it filled me deeply.

When I finished, I was full for the first time in days. I began carving the carcass, removing horns, separating limbs, and setting pieces to roast.

Suddenly, a sharp pain tore through me.

I blacked out.

---

In dreams and hallucinations

Flashes erupted in my mind.

I saw Ignis feeding me those purple bananas…

I saw the blood I drank—from the moon wolf, the red monkey, the black goat… and now, the buffalo.

In delirium, I saw inside myself. My vitae, once glowing like fire, was shifting. It turned violet, with black spots—like patches of corruption.

Maybe the buffalo was poisonous. Or had eaten something toxic.

The pain was relentless. The visions endless.

---

Two days later

I woke up.

Ignis lay peacefully beside me. Astrel snored softly across the cave. Only bones remained of the buffalo.

Two days…?

But I felt better.

The pain dulled. My control was stronger. My vitae thicker, richer. My broken arm was still fractured, but the flesh was healing. The wound in my leg was closing.

I felt stronger. More resilient.

Not fully healed—but closer.

The hole in the cave's entrance showed it was night.

Unable to hunt, I decided to work.

I grabbed my gear and began sharpening the buffalo's horn. I'd planned to reinforce my spear, but passing out delayed that.

The horn was keratin and tough to shape. I worked carefully—sharpening the tip without weakening the structure.

Then I pushed the wooden spear shaft into the hollow horn. The wood pierced through to the tip.

Crude, but effective. My spear now had two more uses.

---

Sitting down, I trained channeling my vitae. It was denser, easier to sense flowing.

I spent hours trying to push it outward.

Still hard, but I managed to strengthen my weapons.

That was enough for now.

When I finished meditating, Ignis bounced excitedly. Time to hunt.

He sent mental messages:

Hunger.

Hunger.

Pain. One day and a half.

I was recovering. If we hunted a few more big animals, I might heal completely.

Astrel was ready to join us too. Despite his injury, he understood our need. He neighed proudly, eager to help.

To my surprise, Astrel let me ride him.

That made carrying weapons easier—and saved my energy.

He moved faster through the snow than I could, with less effort. The snow wasn't deep enough to slow him much. His leg wasn't fully healed, so he didn't run at full speed, but it was enough.

After thirty minutes riding south, we found good targets:

A tapir.

A panda.

Several flamingos.

I wanted a feast.

I told Astrel and Ignis to attack and hold the tapir while I prepared the final strike.

I climbed down from Astrel and up a nearby tree for a better view.

Astrel charged proudly, facing the tapir head-on. The fight was fierce—neither backing down. The tapir was tough and strong, and Astrel, still hurt, wasn't at an advantage.

Ignis roared and jumped into the fight.

I realized there was no room for me to join in. They covered all angles. Any misstep could hurt them.

I waited.

Then a new predator arrived.

A huge, muscular, hungry puma.

Astrel, Ignis, and even the tapir flinched.

I had to act fast.

I threw my improvised vine chain at the puma. It dodged with cat-like grace and reached me in seconds.

No choice—I faced it head-on.

It charged fiercely. I pulled the vine tight and wrapped it around a tall tree ahead. Then I jumped, trying to reposition.

The puma anticipated and leapt after me.

Its claws tore deep into my arm, throwing me hard onto the snowy ground.

No time to think—I used the fall's momentum to get up. When I focused, the puma was less than a meter away—a death sentence.

I used the spear's shaft to push it back. It swiped, claws destroying about 30% of my weapon, but gave me room.

I spun and kicked its side, stepping back.

Unlike wolves, which hunted in packs, this puma was a solitary, lethal hunter. It gave me no breathing room.

Quickly, I grabbed my bone knife and threw it. It barely dodged, still furious.

I braced my foot against a tree, yanked the vine tight, and twisted my body—dodging a savage strike that shattered the tree.

The black puma roared, then flames of dark fire burst from its mouth.

Black fire.

The flames devoured the snow, burning everything as if hell itself had come.

Desperate, I pulled the vine and jumped over the fire.

But the flames chased me, burning trees and melting the vine behind.

At the base of the largest tree, the vine with the bone daggers fell, scorched.

Then I felt impact.

The puma used its speed to close in, trying to bite my jugular.

But as if guided by a sixth sense, I dodged at the last moment.

Still, a heavy paw ripped my chest, tearing my improvised goat-skin jacket.

I couldn't falter.

Pain burning, I moved and threw my spear straight at its chest.

No way to dodge at that range.

The spear sliced through the air—and hit.

But when it touched its skin, the area blackened, hardened like armor.

The spear shattered on impact.

I leapt toward my bone knife, unwilling to lose my last weapon, and ran for what was left of the vine's base.

Behind me, the puma roared with fury and chased.

Even at full speed, it caught me in two bounds.

Before I could reach the vine base, I heard it leap.

Under death's shadow, I threw myself to the ground, spinning like a gymnast.

As it lunged, my body twisted and I kicked up, hitting its chest.

It slammed against a tree, snow falling on its head.

Its bestial roar echoed.

I grabbed the vine base and climbed a tree.

As expected, a wave of fire followed, burning everything—including my tree.

With a swift jump, I moved beyond the flames and faced the puma.

We locked eyes.

I threw my bone knife from a distance too short to dodge.

Its skin blackened as before—the blade broke.

Then, quickly, I hurled the vine base with three daggers at its leg, piercing through.

Its roar of pain cut the air.

Apparently, concentrating resistance in one spot left the rest vulnerable.

I took advantage.

With its leg pierced in three places, it limped forward bleeding heavily.

It needed to feed to heal.

But its speed dropped 20 to 30%.

That gave me the opening.

I delivered a spinning kick with all my strength, hitting its side and sending it flying.

My plan was clear.

I'm sorry, I thought.

It charged again.

This time I stood my ground.

I put my broken arm out as bait.

Its claws tore a deep gash and its teeth clamped my forearm.

The pain was unbearable, almost making me pass out.

But it bought me time.

With my free hand, I plunged the bone dagger into its eye.

It went in like butter.

Not just the eye—it pierced deep inside.

The puma released my arm with a desperate roar.

I seized the moment, wrapping the remaining vine—still attached to the spear and my arm—around its neck.

It struggled, and I pulled out the daggers from its leg, causing heavy bleeding.

Fueled by rage, I advanced.

The furious beast opened its mouth, trying to unleash a final fiery roar that would kill us both.

But it wasn't going to happen.

The moment its mouth opened, I threw the dagger straight through its throat.

It pierced deeply, blocking the flame and drowning it in blood.

Dead.

It was dead.