Reborn as a Vampire in a Dying World: Blood, Power, and Pleasure

As Corven returned to the undercity, forced to wait out the daylight hours before heading to the surface, his sharp eyes caught sight of a familiar figure among the crowd.

It was the same man he had hired days ago to deliver silver to the widow.

The mercenary was pacing the busy streets, stopping random passersby, clearly searching for someone.

That someone was Corven. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

But something felt off.

The pouch of silver that should have been delivered was still in the mercenary’s hand.

Corven’s brows knit together. Without hesitation, he stepped forward—yet in the blink of an eye, he was already behind the man.

"Hey."

His hand landed firmly on the mercenary’s shoulder.

"Holy—!" The mercenary spun around in alarm, nearly stumbling back as his body twisted away from the sudden voice and contact.

But the tension in his frame loosened as soon as he recognized Corven.

"Oh... it’s just you, boss," he muttered, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck.

Corven’s voice was low but edged with irritation. "Why are you here with the pouch? Weren’t you supposed to deliver it?"

He had made the task simple—there was no way the man could have misunderstood.

"Well, that’s the thing," the mercenary said, tossing the pouch toward him. "Apparently, the person you wanted me to deliver this to was abducted a day before I arrived."

Corven caught the pouch without breaking eye contact. His pupils thinned into something dangerous.

"...What?"

The silver coins inside clinked softly as his grip tightened. "What do you mean?"

The mercenary’s gaze sharpened, sensing the danger behind Corven’s tone. If he answered poorly, he had no doubt the baron might end him here and now.

’A vampire caring this much for a human?’ he thought. Strange.

"I asked around," the mercenary explained carefully. "Locals didn’t know anything, so I started my own investigation.

Lucky for you, they’re still in Underzen—they didn’t bother to cover their tracks."

Corven’s expression eased just enough to show the mercenary he wasn’t about to be cut down.

"Details. Now."

The man nodded. "Follow me, I’ll lead you there."

"That won’t be necessary. I’ll handle it myself," Corven replied.

"No," the mercenary countered, "I’d like to join."

Corven narrowed his eyes. "Because I haven’t paid you yet?"

"That’s part of it. But technically I haven’t finished my job for you yet as well, and I’m a man of my word." The mercenary’s grin was small—subtle enough not to be mistaken for enjoyment. He knew if Corven thought he was treating this like entertainment, he’d be dead before the next breath.

Without another word, they turned off the main street into a shadowed alley.

"Give me a moment."

The mercenary bit his thumb, pressing the bleeding digit to the wall of a worn stone building. He began drawing a rough pentagram. It wasn’t pretty, but the lines were clean enough to function.

"What are you doing?" Corven asked, his tone flat.

The man didn’t answer. He murmured something under his breath, his voice so low that even Corven’s vampiric hearing couldn’t make it out.

The pentagram glowed with a dark violet light, and in its center, a sleek black blade began to materialize. The mercenary gripped its hilt, pulling it free in one smooth motion. The blade shimmered faintly, its sheen carrying an unsettling, almost otherworldly hue.

The bloody lines of the pentagram melted away, vanishing into the cracks of the cobblestone.

"Preparation," the man said with a faint smile. "At first, I planned to raid the place alone and tell you afterward. But I decided it was better to bring this to you directly."

"And why is that important for me to know?" Corven asked, unimpressed.

"So you’ll remember to pay me after I help," the mercenary replied evenly.

"I was already thinking about that," Corven said with a short nod.

"Good."

He sheathed the new sword opposite his usual one, then stepped back toward the bustling street.

"Care to explain why this widow matters so much to you?" the mercenary asked, walking ahead. "I can see it in your face."

Corven’s gaze darkened. "I made a dumb decision back then. And with everything good that’s happened to me lately, the regret hit hard. Out of nowhere."

For a split second, the memory bled through—her eyes the night she lost everything, wide with shock, glinting like silver through flesh. He had turned away back then, letting the moment rot into silence through a stupid excuse. Now it gnawed at him, sharper than any blade.

"Sounds reasonable enough," the mercenary said, letting it drop.

It didn’t take long for them to reach their destination—a medium-sized pub with the mixed scent of ale, blood, and sweat spilling from the open doorway. Inside were mercenaries, locals, and a few wandering tourists—both human and vampire.

"We’re here," the mercenary said as they stepped inside.

The barkeep glanced up, a pair of crimson eyes revealing his vampiric nature. But his aura was weak—nothing like the opponents Corven had faced recently.

"Need anything, gentlemen?" the barkeep asked, gesturing toward the menu above the counter.

Before Corven could respond, a voice entered his mind.

’Want to do this the sneaky but long way? Or the loud but fast way?’

It was the mercenary, speaking directly into his head. Telepathy.

Corven’s eyes narrowed slightly. The man was more capable than he had initially guessed.

’Blink twice for yes, thrice for no.’

Corven considered. He didn’t want to cause unnecessary commotion, but he was the baron now—legal immunity, to a point, was his. And the longer he delayed, the greater the risk to the widow.

He blinked twice.

’Good choice, boss.’

The room hummed with low chatter, the clink of mugs and the smell of cheap ale. A pair of card players argued over a bet, a drunk human laughed too loud in the corner, and for one fragile heartbeat, the pub felt almost ordinary.

But in the next second, blood sprayed across Corven’s cheek before he even registered the movement.

The barkeep’s head hit the floor with a dull thud, severed by the mercenary’s eldritch blade.

"Everyone! Leave if you want to live!" the mercenary bellowed, his voice carrying enough weight to send customers scrambling for the door.

And for the first time in this whole encounter, Corven found himself smiling faintly.

He was starting to like this mercenary.