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“Dammit, Jeffrey, I told you rare!” Vermillion yelled. He took a deep breath to calm himself around these stupid cows. Honestly, it takes more effort to cook something longer! It’s as if he were trying to be incompetent!
Vermillion didn’t even want the filet mignon anymore, especially if it was cooked to medium like it was. Now, it was just clutter on his table. Vermillion cleared the clutter in front of him so he could think. He barely noticed the sound of the plate breaking on the floor.
Ever since reaching category 3, Vermillion had found it harder to think. He was just so angry, all the time. It surprised Vermillion, as moving from category 1 to 2 made him feel like a genius. Even moving from a normal to a vampire helped him organize his mind and streamline his thinking. There’s a word for that.
“FOCUS!” he roared. Jeffery looked up from the floor, soiled shards in hand.
“My lord?” Jeffery asked, a tremor in his voice.
He sounded afraid. When had Jeffery ever said ‘My Lord’ to him with fear in his voice? Vermillion hated the sound of it. He wasn’t an ancient vampire. He’d had more interaction with them than he’d liked. Vermillion remembered the feeling of the magic enhanced power saw removing a category 4 head from a category 4 body. Those manna lamps that Asano gave him are incredible. They suck magic in, making the area so low in magic that a category 4 is almost crippled. That category 4 head was still screaming when Vermillion stuffed it into the sound proofed case. Maybe it’s still screaming now. The thought brings a smile to Vermillion’s lips.
Vermillion stood suddenly, planning on seeing the head. His attention shifted to Jeffery due to his almost comically exaggerated flinch. The look on Jeffery’s face was anything but funny.
“Do you want me to hit you!?!” Vermillion roared, incensed. The way he’s acting is begging for violence. Vermillion remembered something from his past. His father standing over him, fists clenched. Vermillion standing over others in bloody battle. Vermillion, standing over Jeffery. If you can’t focus enough to think, Vermillion told himself, make a decision.
“Jeffery, call the house together. I’ve made a decision. Fifteen minutes in the living room. Have everyone stay seated. I don’t want a repeat of last time,” Vermillion ordered. He went to the study to meditate.
After 15 minutes, Vermillion felt calmer, if no more focused. The decision is made. Follow the decision.
He walked into the living room. Everyone stayed seated. There were only four left. There wouldn’t even be that if he hadn’t rescued Jessica from a monster.
“I’ve made a decision. Ascending toe category 3 was a mistake. There’s no going back, only forward. I’m going to Asano territory. You were all my friends in the past. I’ll send word if you can be my friends in the future.” As Vermillion turned to leave, he saw Jeffery burst into tears and Jessica comforting him. What really broke him into pieces, though, was the hope and relief that suddenly shone through every aura.
***
“I’m going to be a person again.” It was his mantra.
He repeated it to himself as he savaged a monster, trying and failing to slake his thirst on the monster’s blood.
“I’m going to be a person again,” he repeated while sneaking through a military checkpoint.
“I’m going to be a person again.” The hardest since he left, making his way through the crowd of homeless refugees. Not because he could read the misery, fear, and helplessness in the people’s auras, but because he knew that just one of two wouldn’t be missed. And he was so hungry.
“I’m going to be a person again!” he shouted into the air. He was in Asano territory. Vermillion knew this because he was wreathed in grey flame. It was painful, seeming to eat at his life force. There wasn’t much left. He laid down and waited for the fire to take him.
“I’m going to be a person again,” he said quietly into the void that slowly engulfed him. As the grey fire consumed the last of his life force, he felt sorrow.
***
A wonderfully warm, full bodied liquid entered his mouth. He’d heard the phrase, ‘Hunger makes a fine sauce.’ He’d lived it almost his entire time as a mortal. But this was a gourmet meal in front of a person two days from dying of starvation. He savored the taste as he woke up.
Vermillion recoiled as his mantra, his decision came to the forefront of his brain. I’m going to be a person again.
Vermillion’s eyes snapped open, his limbs already propelling him back from the potent category 2 aura in front of him and onto a couch in a small room. I’m going to be a person again. He locked eyes with the Clan Asano Matriarch, Yumi Asano.
“I’m told you are a friend of my wayward grandson. If not for that, I’d have let you starve. Your kind seems more animal that anything else.” Yumi said, her eyes hard and unforgiving.
“I’m going to be a person again. I’m trying so hard. Can you help?” Vermillion knew his sincerity was undercut by his licking his lips for the smallest trace of blood, his eyes flicking towards the crimson stain on Yumi’s wrist.
“No,” Yumi replied, her aura as hard as her eyes. “There’s no one here that will let you feed on them regularly. I did so now for three reasons: I needed to know if you could stop, I want information that you possess, and you’re my grandson’s friend. If any of these stop being the case, I will withdraw my protection and you will catch fire. Do you understand?”
“Yes, matriarch,” Vermillion said, his hope fleeing. “I live only as long as I have information to give, then I die. I didn’t expect this of you.”
“No!” Yumi snapped. “You are not a prisoner, but I also won’t hurt others to feed you. I will escort you to the astral space at the heart of the city. It hasn’t been explored. You might get lucky and find something that will let you live. If you do and are not an animal, I will visit you. Follow, now, before some idiot decides he’s a hero and wants to kill a monster!”
“Yes, matriarch,” Vermillion said, a touch less bitter but hope still a memory. As he stood up to follow, he took stock of his physical condition. His reserves had been gone when he'd passed out, and he’d only had a short drink. Even with that small of a drink, his life force was very nearly full. Craig raised an eyebrow at Yumi. “Blood magician?” he asked.
“Yes. I find I am able to change the properties of my blood. I can make it nourishing or poisonous. I understand I will someday infuse my blood with my aura, whatever good that does me.” With that, she turned and briskly walked through the door.
“A great deal, I assure you,” Craig said, watching her pass. “I look forward to showing you a great number of possibilities with blood magic.” Craig couldn’t help but put a bit of flirtation in his voice.
Vermillion felt a shift of momentum. Not until that moment did Vermillion realize that he was in a train car, the ride too smooth and the speed too constant when he woke up.
Yumi opened another door to expose a large portal rimmed in obsidian. “Goodbye, Mr. Vermillion,” Yumi said, her voice as hard as the portal rim. “Let me know when you’re ready to give me information. Also, you owe me 12 bronze spirit coins worth of magic.”
Vermillion flashed with anger and irritation before reciting his mantra to himself: I’m going to be a person again. Vermillion snarled as he lunged through the portal, ready to kill.
***
Vermillion emerged from the portal and into an eerie, empty city. After leaving the city, Vermillion finally let loose, knowing there were nothing but monsters nearby. He reveled in his category 3 power as the category 1 monsters fled his aura. He chased them down and ripped them apart, feeling like power made manifest. A thought crossed his mind and was quickly snuffed.
He needed more challenge, more power. Vermillion raced deeper into the jungle in search of better prey. He thought about the blood witch while trying to sate his thirst on some category two monsters. She has so much power in her blood and she can replace it with mere spirit coins. And here he is, starving to death with a feast just around the corner. By what right does she deny him, does she decide that a moment’s discomfort is more than his life? He starts back towards the empty city, back towards life.
Vermillion barely notices as the grey flame starts up again, patches dancing on his extremities, easily wiped away. The closer he gets to the city, the stronger the fire gets. Growling in frustration, he abandons the city and goes searching for something stronger than the category 1 toys around him.
***
Vermillion was heading further into the jungle. He had to go quite a ways before all trace of the grey fire dissipated, leaving his life force reserves dangerously low. The lower his reserves, the more feral he felt. He’d have had much more if he hadn’t talked himself into finding Yumi. If he hadn’t stopped repeating his mantra.
I’m going to be a person again.
I’m going to be a person again.
He didn’t know how, but he did know two things: he must stay away from the city; he must avoid killing. That’s why he came here, this little patch in the jungle. He couldn’t sense any monsters. Vermillion didn’t know why monsters didn’t come here, but he would take advantage of it to meditate. If meditation proved safe, he’d sleep.
I’m going to be a person again.
I’m going to be a person again.
Vermillion repeated his decision for a couple of hours before deciding to sleep. There were no monsters or people nearby, and plants weren’t exactly dangerous to anything except a building. He laid his head down on a nearby pile of verdant leaves, lulled by a sense of familiarity and missing the comforts of home. Maybe these plants reminded him of his house plants he’d cultivated.
Vermillion woke with his airways constricted, his arms and legs bound by loop upon loop of vine. He reached out with his aura to detect the plant mage that was about to have a very bad day. He would crush their aura, escape, and finally, Finally, have a real meal.
Vermillion sensed a category 2 aura, but not from a person. Not even from an animal. It was a plant.
As Jason was wont to say, there’s no escaping the tyranny of rank. Vermillion easily bit through a vine close to his mouth. He couldn’t get his arms and legs free by flexing his category 3 strength, so he tried something a little different. Vermillion crouched until he could reach the vines around his feet with his hands. He grabbed ahold and straightened, pitting his category 3 strength against the vine’s category 2 toughness. The vines at his throat constricted even more, but Vermillion didn’t need to breath. The vines around his feet snapped.
Once Vermillion had his feet free, the danger had passed. It still took him an embarrassingly long time to untangle himself from this category 2 plant. He hadn’t even realized the vines were thorned until he pulled the last of the vines away and saw a drop of crimson fall to the Earth, only to disappear moments later.
Perplexed, Vermillion found a stick that could be used as a makeshift shovel and started digging. The vines made several more attempts at him, but they were laughable. Awake and alerted to the plant’s nature, there was no escaping the tyranny of rank.
Vermillion finally reached the root of the plant to find it red and slightly pulsing. Blood red. It called to him in a way only the blood of humans did. This plant was a living entity, not a bit of magic made manifest in a monster. Its roots contained blood.
Vermillion drank.
He stopped himself from drinking the plant dry. This plant was the key.
Vermillion rushed off to find a monster. One with lots of blood to feed his plant.
I’m going to be a person again.