Chapter 190: The Dark King Awakens

Chapter 190: Chapter 190: The Dark King Awakens

Three months had passed.

The only way he tracked the passing days was through the system’s internal clock and the occasional meal — a bottle of beast blood slid through the bars twice a day by a silent, faceless servant.

His hair had grown. Silver strands hung past his shoulders, tangled and unwashed. A beard had started growing — rough, patchy, making him look older than his years. His body was leaner.

He was eighteen now.

The system space had been his salvation. Eight hours of training for every hour that passed in the real world. He had spent what felt like years inside that white void — comprehending his abilities, refining his Mental Power, drilling his sword forms, meditating on his Star Palaces. His Mind Palace had grown denser. His control over his abilities had sharpened. He had even made progress on the Third and Fourth Forms of the Eclipse Sword Art that Allistar had left for him.

But none of it mattered while the collar was on. While the chains were locked. While his mana and Blood Energy were sealed.

The cell door screeched open.

Seth al-Apep stood in the doorway.

"Time to go, fucker."

Lucian opened his eyes. He looked at Seth with a cold expression.

"You should know," Lucian said. His voice was rough from disuse. Quiet. Steady. "If I somehow get out of here — if I somehow escape — I’m coming for you first, Apep. Because I know where you live. And believe me, I will find you."

Seth snorted. "You’re full of shit, kid."

He stepped forward and brought his fist down on the back of Lucian’s skull. CRACK. Lucian’s vision went black. His body slumped forward as Seth raised his hand and dark serpents released the chains. Seth then caught him, slung him over his shoulder like a sack of grain, and walked out of the cell.

Declan appeared beside him. His eyes scanned Lucian’s unconscious form briefly. "Ready?"

Seth adjusted the weight on his shoulder. "Ready."

Declan touched Seth’s arm.

They vanished.

They materialized in a tomb.

The tomb was enormous. Cathedral-sized. The walls were carved from a black marble covered in intricate relief carvings that depicted scenes of conquest. Armies. Battles. Beasts. A figure standing above them all — a tall, dark-haired figure radiating immense power. The details had softened with age, but the imagery was unmistakable.

Pillars lined the chamber — each one ten meters tall, carved from the same black marble, covered in runes that glowed with faint, pulsing dark energy. The floor was a single continuous formation — concentric circles, geometric patterns, symbols. The mana in this room was dense and oppressive.

At the center of the chamber was an altar. And on the altar sat a stone coffin.

The coffin was simple. But the aura that emanated from it was suffocating.

Around the altar, figures stood in a loose semicircle.

Tariq al-Khamsin. His amber eyes burned with hatred as they locked onto Lucian’s unconscious form. Two of his children — dead. By Lucian’s hand and by Lucian’s accomplice.

Louisa Du Maurier. Her dark hair was pinned up elegantly. Her violet eyes watched the coffin with reverence and awe. The look of a disciple standing before her god.

Hassan Bakir stood apart from the vampires — his scarred face and wild eyes marking him as different even in this company. His explosion mana hummed beneath his skin, ready.

Declan Rhys stood beside Hassan. His hand rested on the altar’s edge. His eyes were on the coffin.

And behind them — six more figures. Powerful vampires from the three families. Their auras ranged from Mid Grand Core to Peak Grand Core. Guards.

Declan spoke. "We may begin."

Seth dropped Lucian’s body on the altar — in front of the coffin.

Tariq stepped forward. His voice was tight with barely contained fury. "I should do this. After all, that motherfucker killed two of my children and two other vampires of my family."

Declan gestured. "Come."

Tariq walked to the altar. He stood over Lucian’s unconscious body. His hand extended — palm down, fingers spread. Blood mist gathered at his fingertips.

He pressed his palm against Lucian’s chest.

The blood mist seeped through Lucian’s skin — infiltrating his bloodstream, his meridians, his organs. The poison was designed to do one thing: wake him up. Painfully of course.

Lucian’s eyes snapped open.

His body convulsed. The poison burned through his veins like liquid fire. His mouth opened in a silent scream as he looked at Tariq’s face with hatred, "Damn you, fucker."

Tariq didn’t care. He leaned down. "Die, you son of a bitch."

His hand drove into Lucian’s chest.

CRAAACK.

Tariq’s fingers punched through his chest. His hand closed around Lucian’s heart. Lucian’s eyes went wide. His mouth opened. Blood erupted past his lips in a thick.

Tariq squeezed. Lucian’s heart ruptured.

Blood poured from the wound. The Ancient Vampire blood in Lucian’s veins flooded outward, pouring through the wound and onto the altar.

The formation beneath the altar activated.

The runes blazed. Dark crimson light erupted from every symbol, every circle, every line carved into the floor. The light intensified — spreading outward from the altar in waves, illuminating the entire tomb in a pulsing, rhythmic glow.

A blazing beam of light shot upward from the coffin. FWEEEEEESH! The beam punched through the tomb’s ceiling and erupted into the sky above. The column of dark crimson light was visible for kilometers. It pierced the clouds. It split the sky.

Tariq ripped his hand free from Lucian’s chest. He grabbed the boy’s body and flung it. Lucian’s corpse hit the tomb wall with a sickening CRACK. His body crumpled to the floor. His crimson eyes were blank.

Nobody looked at him. Every eye in the chamber was fixed on the coffin.

The coffin slid open.

A suffocating aura filled the room.

A hand emerged from the coffin. The hand gripped the edge of the coffin.

A figure slowly stood up.

A beautiful tall, lean figure with dark hair and crimson eyes.

He exhaled.

The tomb’s dust stirred. The runes on the walls flickered.

"The air smells so nice." His voice was smooth. Carrying an accent that didn’t belong to any modern language. "What a pleasant day."

He climbed out of the coffin.

Every vampire in the room knelt.

Tariq. Seth. Louisa. Hassan. Declan. The six guards.

"WELCOME BACK, DARK KING."

Their voices echoed through the tomb in unison.

The Dark King ignored them.

He walked past the kneeling figures without a glance. His red eyes swept the chamber — studying the carvings on the walls, the cracked pillars, the formation on the floor. His expression was mild.

He stopped in front of Hassan and Declan. His gaze settled on the two humans.

"Well, Hassan. Declan." He said. Then he turned to Louisa. His red eyes studied her face. "You must be a Du Maurier."

Louisa raised her head. Her violet eyes shone with devotion. "Yes, my Lord."

The Dark King turned back to Hassan. "How much time has passed since my slumber?"

Hassan bowed his head. "Five hundred years, my Lord."

The Dark King was quiet for a moment. His red eyes drifted to the ceiling.

"Five hundred years." His voice was soft. Contemplative. "How fast time has flown. I wonder what this planet has become."

He turned to Seth and Tariq. The two patriarchs kept their heads bowed, their bodies rigid. The Dark King’s gaze settled on them.

"From your weak bloodlines, you must be from the Apeps and the Khamsins." His tone wasn’t insulting. It was observational. Clinical. "Still the same — even after five hundred years. Disappointing."

Seth’s jaw tightened. Tariq’s fists clenched. But neither raised their heads. Neither of them dared to speak. The shame in their postures was absolute — the shame of children being told they had failed to meet expectations they didn’t know existed.

"Well, no matter."

The Dark King’s aura blazed.

The roof of the tomb exploded upward. Stone fragments launched into the sky like shrapnel from a grenade. BOOOOOM! The entire hillside above the tomb ruptured — earth and rock and grass flying outward in a perfect circle. Sunlight poured into the chamber for the first time in five centuries.

The Dark King rose into the air. His dark hair caught the wind. His red eyes scanned the horizon. Below him — the sprawling outskirts of Athens. Buildings. Roads. Cars. People. A modern city that hadn’t existed when he last drew breath.

"This must be Athens."

He looked at the bustling streets in the distance. At the buildings. At the tiny figures of humans going about their daily lives — completely unaware that something ancient had just opened its eyes beneath their feet.

He looked down at the vampires below — still kneeling in the ruined tomb, looking up at him.

"We’ll start our conquest here. And awaken my other apostles."

Hassan and Declan responded in unison. "Yes, my Lord."

The Dark King’s red eyes turned to the three family heads — Tariq, Seth, Louisa. His voice carried the weight of absolute authority.

"Go back to your domains. Await my orders."

Tariq, Seth, and Louisa pressed their foreheads to the broken stone. "Yes, my Lord."