Bloodbound Judgment (5)

Chapter 44: Bloodbound Judgment (5)

As Carl and Orlok clashed swords, the Lasombra Vampire began to gain ground, something that surprised even him because until now Carl was like a domineering tyrant not giving even an inch of ground to him. 

The arrogant smirk of the prideful Lasombra Vampire returned in a glorious fashion as his attacks grew more aggressive and relentless with each passing moment. With a fierce determination burning in his eyes, Orlok pressed forward, driving Carl back step by step.

"What's wrong, bastard? Finally your front is crumbling and the old wounds starts showing up? How could you recover in such a short time when there weren't any incidents of blood feeding in this City?" Orlok relished in Car's momentary weakness, finally having his moment to lash out with all the accumulated frustration and anger building up from his humiliation.

"And you acted so arrogantly against me? Damn you, motherfucker."

As Orlok's onslaught intensified, Carl found himself forced onto the defensive, his movements becoming more frantic as he struggled to parry the Lasombra Vampire's relentless attacks. Each clash of their swords sent sparks flying, illuminating the alleyway with bursts of light.

Despite his efforts to maintain his composure and not break his act, Carl barely held out his growing amusement. He wasn't even frustrated at Orlok calling him names, but he made sure to show his frustration in his new facial expression. 

Orlok's taunt only fueled the flames of his anger. "Is that all you've got, Krassius?" Orlok jeered, his voice laced with contempt. "I expected more from the so-called Blood Prince that made the Vampire Lords fear for their lives. Perhaps you're not as powerful as you think you are."

'Don't laugh. Please, stop saying those cringy lines.'

'Hah, I have to calm down. Pfff, this fucking moron, is so clueless and dense. Poor bastard. May God have mercy on your stupidity.'

[I told you it is not worth entertaining such ideas.]

'Let the madmen have his fun. Okay?'

Still in his act, Carl put on a frustrated act as he gritted his teeth, his crimson eyes flashing with fury. "You talk too much, Orlok. But I'll humor you for now." He also sprinkled some truth, aware that his foe wouldn't even figure out its true meaning.

With the battle unfolded before them, Jeanne, Irina, and Xenovia watched with bated breath.

They had seen Carl's power firsthand, witnessed the overwhelming might of his demonic aura, witnessed how effortlessly he dispatched Wisborg using his Blood Burst, and to see him now losing ground to Orlok made them feel uncertain.

'What are you doing, love? This isn't like you to show weakness.'

Jeanne's brow furrowed with worry, her gaze flickering between Carl and Orlok as the tide of battle shifted. She couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension that gnawed at her.

Irina's grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, her knuckles turning white with the strain as she watched Carl being pushed back by Orlok's relentless assault. 

"That scum still has a lot of mana to fight against that guy? So frustrating when I gave it my all to take him down. Am I really that weak?"

"You're not weak, Irina. Your growth has only begun. And to point out, this situation does feel strange."

Xenovia, however, remained surprisingly calm, her expression unreadable as she observed the battle unfolding before her. Though she felt the numbing presence of Carl's demonic power, she couldn't fathom how someone like him could ever be bested in combat, especially by someone she believed she could defeat herself.

As Orlok continued to press his advantage, his attacks growing more ferocious with each passing moment, Jeanne's worry deepened. 

'This is indeed strange. Carl wouldn't act weak all of a sudden if he isn't scheming something.'

'Ahhh, I think I get it. He is just playing around with that Vampire scum. Probably some payback for what he did to us.'

But just as panic threatened to overtake them, Jeanne's expression suddenly shifted, a glimmer of realization dawning in her eyes. She remembered some of Carl's darker tendencies, and a sense of calm washed over her.

"He's playing with him," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper but laced with certainty. "This is all part of his plan."

Irina's eyes widened in realization, a flicker of relief crossing her features as she understood Jeanne's words. "Of course," she agreed, suddenly figuring out the strange situation. "He looked just fine when he was beating up that scum, only to do a 180 and appear weak."

Xenovia remained silent, her gaze fixed on the unfolding battle, more specifically on Carl's handsome face and his crimson eyes that were filled with contempt, eventually she also nodded her head.

As Carl continued to feign weakness, allowing Orlok to believe he had the upper hand, a wicked glint danced in his crimson eyes. And as Orlok's attacks grew more frenzied and desperate, Carl knew that the moment of victory was drawing near. 

Out of nowhere, the delusion that Orlok allowed himself to believe finally came crashing down on him, as Carl finally decided that it was time for Act 2 of his play. 

Carl's demeanor remained calm and composed, his movements calculated and precise. With a keen eye and a deep understanding of his opponent's tendencies, Carl anticipated Orlok's strikes before they even came, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

As Orlok's blade sliced through the air, Carl deftly sidestepped the attack, his movements fluid, filled with newfound vigor that was lacking in Act 1. With a flick of his wrist, he redirected Orlok's momentum, using his opponent's own force against him in a seamless display of martial prowess.

Orlok's eyes widened in disbelief as Carl effortlessly countered his attacks, each movement calculated and precise. The realization dawned on him like a thunderbolt, shattering the illusion of superiority he had clung to.

"But... but how?" Orlok stammered, his voice tinged with disbelief. "I thought you were weakened. I thought..."

Carl's smirk grew wider, a predatory gleam in his crimson eyes. "You thought wrong. Huh, you humored me quite a lot in those couple of minutes. You gave your all."

With a swift motion, Carl launched a relentless assault, his blade a blur as he drove Orlok back with a ferocity that left the Lasombra Vampire reeling. Each strike landed with deadly accuracy, chipping away at Orlok's defenses and leaving him vulnerable.

Even when Orlok attempted to regain his momentum in the sword fight, Carl used precise counters to deliver nasty wounds on his body, and it felt that whenever he would attack first it would lead to him being countered. 

He exploited every opening in his defenses.

With each clash of their blades, Carl gained more ground, slowly but surely whittling away at Orlok's confidence and skill. But Carl wasn't content to simply defeat Orlok. He wanted to utterly humiliate him, to strip away any semblance of pride or dignity until there was nothing left but a broken shell of a man.

With a sudden burst of speed, Carl launched a series of lightning-fast strikes, each blow finding its mark with unerring accuracy. Orlok could do nothing but stumble backward, his demonic sword wavering in his grip as he struggled to keep pace with Carl's relentless assault.

As Orlok struggled to defend himself against Carl's onslaught, panic crept into his voice. "This... this can't be happening. I am a Pureblood. I am..."

"An utter failure," Carl interjected, his voice cold and merciless.

With a final, decisive blow, Carl disarmed Orlok, sending his sword clattering to the ground. The Lasombra Vampire stumbled backward, his confidence shattered, his pride in tatters.

Faced with such humiliation, Orlok's thoughts raced, desperation clouding his mind, then he reached for his final last resort to self-destruct, at least he would deal some wounds to Carl. 

He would be a Martyr.

With trembling hands, he summoned the dark energies within him, preparing to unleash a devastating explosion that would tear both himself and Carl apart.

But before Orlok could utter the final incantation, Carl was already upon him, moving with a speed and precision that left Orlok gasping for breath. With a flick of his wrist, Carl conjured a barrage of razor-sharp Blood Shards, each one striking Orlok's vital points, disrupting the process of self-destructing.

"Face reality, poor Vampire."

The shards pierced Orlok's flesh ruthlessly, causing him to cry out in agony as he stumbled backward again, his self-destructive spell forgotten in the face of Carl's relentless assault.

"You're not some Hero of the Vampires. You don't deserve such treatment from me."

And just when Orlok thought it couldn't get any worse, Carl conjured three massive Blood Spears, each one aimed directly at Orlok's heart. With a sickening thud, the spears impaled him simultaneously, pinning him to the ground like a writhing insect.

Orlok's screams echoed through the alleyway, a symphony of pain and despair as he writhed beneath Carl's merciless gaze. But despite the agony coursing through his veins, Orlok refused to give up. With one final, desperate effort, he tried to activate his self-destruct spell, but Carl was faster.

"You're doing something senseless again," Carl sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. 

"There's no worth in self-destructing when you can instead funnel my rise in power. This is why I'll give you the honor of dying under my blade."

Without further bullshitting that would attract bad karma for himself, Carl with a swift motion raised his Blood Longsword high above his head, the blade gleaming with a malevolent light as he prepared to deliver the final blow. 

And as Orlok's lifeblood spilled onto the ground, staining the earth crimson, he proceeded to also stab his beating heart since Vampires were akin to cockroaches, they were resilient creatures not willing to die so easily. 

The Lasombra Vampire's body convulsed with a final, futile struggle as Carl withdrew the blade, leaving Orlok lying motionless on the ground, his life extinguished in an instant.

But Carl's work was far from over. He activated his Blood Absorption ability, drawing forth the essence of Orlok's life force with a hunger that bordered on primal. The blood flowed into him like a river, suffusing his veins with newfound power and vitality

-[Absorption]

-[Absorption]

-[Absorption]

As the last traces of Orlok's essence faded away, Carl rose to his feet, his eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to pierce the very fabric of reality. He glanced around at the alleyway, the scene of his victory, and with a sense of grim satisfaction, he proceeded to clear up the mess.

Using his control over blood, he gathered the spilled blood from the ground, along with the remnants of Orlok's essence. Similarly the blood from Jeanne's home that belonged to him began to drift in his direction as he withdrew and absorbed them into himself. 

Akin to a mirage, there were no traces of blood behind, only the marks of combat left on the alley of Jeanne's home.

Meanwhile, Jeanne, Irina, and Xenovia watched in stunned silence at the gory display, their eyes wide with a mixture of shock and awe.

The silence was eerie for the girls, maybe not for Jeanne.