Chapter 6: The Cry Beneath the Sun
Max learned quickly that hunger was no longer something he could ignore.
It came like a tide—slow at first, then violent. When it rose too high, his thoughts blurred, his heartbeat thundered, and the world around him began to smell like life itself. Blood. Warm. Calling.
So he created rules.
Whenever the hunger stirred, Max went deep into the wilds, far from roads and people. He hunted magical beasts—creatures born of corrupted mana and twisted evolution. After feeding until his body calmed, he would carefully collect the remaining blood, storing it in sealed flasks carved from bone and crystal. Emergency rations, he told himself. Insurance against losing control.
He refused to become a monster.
That morning, he had already fed.
The stream was cold as it rushed over his hands and face, washing away blood and dirt. Sunlight filtered through the trees above, touching his skin—not burning, not killing him—but leaving behind an uncomfortable, crawling sensation, as if his body rejected the warmth even while enduring it.
Then he heard it.
A scream.
Not the roar of a beast.
Not the cry of the wild.
A woman.
"Please! Somebody help me!"
The sound sliced through him sharper than hunger ever could.
Max froze.
Another scream followed—raw, desperate, breaking.
"I just need the plant! My child is sick! Please!"
He didn't think after that.
Water splashed violently as Max shot up from the stream, his body moving before his mind could catch up. He ran—faster than any human should—branches whipping past him, droplets of water flying from his clothes like shattered glass.
He arrived in seconds.
Four creatures surrounded her.
They were green gamblers—small, vicious magical beings with warped bodies and cruel intelligence in their eyes. One held a jagged stone. Another clutched a thick stick. The third wielded a crude axe, stone bound to wood with rope. The last circled behind her, blocking escape.
The woman was on her knees, dirt-stained hands clutching a bundle of glowing herbs to her chest. Her voice was hoarse from screaming.
"Please… my child will die without this…"
One of the gamblers laughed—a high, broken sound.
Max felt something snap.
He stepped forward.
The gamblers turned.
For a heartbeat, everything went silent.
Then Max moved.
He didn't draw a weapon.
He used himself.
Blood surged from his veins at his command, spilling from his palm like living blades—dark, sharp, impossible. It sliced through the air, cutting stone, wood, flesh. One gambler fell before it could even scream. Another tried to run—Max was already there, his strength crushing bone with terrifying ease.
Minutes passed.
When it was over, the forest was quiet again.
Too quiet.
The woman stared.
Max turned to her slowly, blood still dripping from his hand, his eyes glowing faintly red in the sunlight. He realized too late—he had exposed himself.
A vampire.
Walking beneath the sun.
She didn't scream.
She didn't run.
She simply went still, as if fear had stolen her voice.
Max stepped back, horror flooding him—not at what he had done to the gamblers, but at what he had shown her.
"I—" he started, then stopped.
There were no words.
After a long moment, the woman bowed deeply.
"Thank you," she whispered. "You saved my life."
Her hands trembled, but she said nothing more. She gathered her herbs and fled the forest without another glance back.
Max stood there long after she was gone.
He knew, deep in his chest, that this would not end quietly.
That night, in the nearby town, the woman spoke.
She told them what she had seen.
"A vampire," she said, her voice shaking. "One who walks under the sun like a human."
Fear spread like fire.
Whispers filled homes and streets.
"If such a creature lives among us—"
"—then none of us are safe."
"—we must report it."
By dawn, the town had decided.
They went together—men, women, elders—straight to the Church.
"We saw it," they told the clergy. "A sun-walking vampire. If it remains alive, it will be dangerous. We are afraid."
The Church listened.
And somewhere far away, something ancient and watchful opened its eyes.