Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?-Chapter 313: Will You Help Me?
Alaric sat on the mountain peak, legs dangling over an edge.
Below, the Drakenfell fortress sprawled across the mountainside like a scar carved into stone.
It was massive. Even from this impossible vantage point, the scale was staggering. The main structure had been built directly into the mountain itself, as if some ancient architect had decided the best fortress was one that couldn’t be separated from its foundation without destroying both.
Black stone walls rose hundreds of feet, reinforced with essence formations that glowed faintly even in the dim light.
Towers jutted at irregular intervals, each one positioned to provide overlapping fields of fire.
The main gate was currently sealed behind layers of defensive essence that shimmered like heat haze.
And everywhere, vampires worked.
Thousands of them. Moving supplies. Reinforcing walls. Installing additional defensive formations. Building killing fields in the approaches.
The eight surviving Ancient Houses had consolidated here over the past three days, and the result was organized chaos on a scale Alaric had never witnessed.
He watched a team of House Eternal vampires install what looked like crystallized essence cores along the outer walls, each one pulsing with power that would detonate on command, turning sections of wall into improvised essence bombs.
Near the main gate, House Crimsonveil specialists wove layers of defensive formations.
It was impressive.
The coordination alone was achievement enough. But the sheer scale of what they were building...
Alaric sighed and shifted position, propping himself up on one elbow.
"Their plan isn’t bad," he said aloud.
"Teaming up against a common enemy before he can pick them off individually. Consolidating resources and forces. Smart. Probably their best option given the circumstances."
His eyes tracked another group.
"But..."
The word hung there for a moment.
"Malachai isn’t stupid. He’s strong. Really strong." Alaric’s expression became more focused. "I watched him drain House Ashenvale’s matriarch completely. Just... absorbed her entirely like drinking wine. And that was days ago. He’s destroyed two more houses since then."
He shifted again, sitting up properly now, his attention fully engaged.
"Each bloodline he exterminates, he takes their power. Not just their territory or resources." His jaw tightened. "By the time he attacks here, he might be as strong as four or five Houses combined. Maybe more."
Below, the defensive preparations continued. Walls reinforced. Formations layered. Killing fields prepared.
"Will it be enough?" Alaric asked quietly. "Eight houses working together, fortified in the strongest stronghold remaining, with every defensive advantage they can create..." He paused. "Against Malachai with absorbed power from five Ancient Houses, backed by twenty-three coalition houses?"
He didn’t have an answer.
Just watched as vampires swarmed across the fortress like ants preparing for war.
Near the eastern wall, Lady Valeria Bloodmoon stood coordinating defensive placements, her crimson hair catching the dim light. Even from this distance, Alaric could sense the grief radiating from her. The fury. The desperate need for vengeance that drove her to perfect every detail.
"She’s going to die," Alaric said flatly.
"When Malachai comes, she’ll throw herself at him. Abandon tactics for revenge. And he’ll kill her."
It wasn’t prophecy. Just cold assessment based on what he’d observed of her character during the council meeting.
Some people could compartmentalize their grief. Channel it into useful rage.
Valeria wasn’t one of them.
In the central keep, Lord Erebus was likely coordinating with his generals, finalizing strategies, ensuring every contingency had backup plans. The patriarch had impressed Alaric with his combination of pride and pragmatism, willing to admit vulnerability while refusing to accept defeat.
"He might actually hold," Alaric murmured. "If anyone can unite the Houses long enough to weather this storm, it’s him."
But will it matter? 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮
That was the real question. Even if they survived Malachai’s assault, even if they held the fortress and bloodied his coalition badly enough to force retreat, what then?
The old order was broken. Forty lesser houses had already defected. More would follow if Malachai survived. The ancient hierarchy of bloodline and tradition had been shattered beyond repair.
"There’s no going back," Alaric said quietly, watching the preparations continue below. "Win or lose, everything’s changed."
Then he frowned, his attention shifting from the main fortress preparations to a section of the outer courtyard where two figures stood conspicuously apart from the organized chaos.
"But what are those two doing?"
---
Lord Thaddeus Crimsonveil stood with his back to a partially collapsed wall, his auburn hair catching the dim light. His copper eyes scanned the surrounding area constantly, checking for observers, for listeners, for witnesses.
Beside him was Lady Serana Nightveil.
The last surviving member of House Shadowveil’s leadership. Her silver hair moved in wind, and her completely black eyes reflected nothing.
They’d positioned themselves away from the main work crews.
Not so far as to be obvious, but distant enough that conversations wouldn’t be overheard by the thousands of vampires swarming across the fortress.
Thaddeus spoke first, his voice low.
"What do you think?"
Serana’s black eyes tracked across the fortress, taking in the defensive preparations.
"It’s nonsense," she said flatly. "They can’t win. Malachai will kill them all."
Her voice carried absolute certainty. No doubt. No hope.
Just cold assessment of reality.
Thaddeus didn’t look surprised. His eyes continued their scan of the surroundings.
"I think so too." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Malachai is stronger than they imagine. Stronger than even our intelligence suggested possible."
"You have new information?" Serana’s attention shifted fully to him now.
"My scouts." Thaddeus’s jaw tightened. "The ones I sent to observe his coalition’s movements. Three returned. Seven didn’t." He paused, letting that sink in.
"The three who made it back... they were terrified. And these are vampires who’ve survived centuries of conflicts without flinching."
"What did they see?"
"Malachai absorbed House Silverthorn’s patriarch completely. Not just killed him. Absorbed him. The process took ten minutes. When it was done..."
He trailed off, his expression troubled.
"When it was done?" Serana pressed.
"The scouts said his eyes were glowing, bright enough to cast shadows. His presence was so intense that lesser vampires in his own coalition couldn’t approach within fifty feet..."
"The patriarch wasn’t any vampire. He had blood of Primordial running in his veins. Yet he..."
Serana absorbed the information, jaw tight, fists clenched, then looked back at the fortress preparations.
"They’re dead," she said quietly. "All of them. They just don’t know it yet."
"Yes." Thaddeus agreed without hesitation.
More silence.
Finally, Serana spoke again. "So what do we do?"
Thaddeus’s eyes found hers. Held them.
"I have a plan."
He extended his hand toward her.
"Will you help me?"
Serana stared at his extended hand.
Her eyes shifted, looking at the hand, then back at the fortress, then at Thaddeus’s face. Back and forth. Calculating. Choosing.
Around them, vampires continued their work.
All of them believing. Hoping.
Serana’s expression was conflicted, duty warring with survival instinct, loyalty struggling against cold pragmatism.
She’d already watched her house destroyed. Watched her family executed. Survived only through accident, being elsewhere when Malachai struck.
Did she owe the other Ancient Houses her death? Her loyalty to a system that had failed to protect her own bloodline?
Or did she owe herself, and the remnants of House Shadowveil, survival?
Her jaw tightened.
She looked at Thaddeus’s extended hand one more time.
Then, with a sigh she reached out and clasped it.
Their hands met, pale skin against pale skin, copper eyes meeting black ones.
"What’s the plan?" Her voice was quiet.
Thaddeus’s grip tightened slightly.
