Cassius howled, more in outrage than pain. Pain was regulated in vampire nobility, an inconvenience to be managed by internal systems. But Sebastian knew exactly where those systems were located.
His fingers dug into the junction of Cassius’s elbow, finding the pain regulator embedded there. With a brutal twist, he tore it free. Blood and mechanical fluid sprayed from the wound.
Raw pain flooded Cassius’s system, perhaps the first unregulated pain he had experienced in centuries. His scream held genuine agony.
The other vampires surged forward, but a warning shot from the wall, an arrow landing at their feet, made them hesitate.
Sebastian didn’t pause. He drove his fist into Cassius’s chest, targeting the central control node that coordinated the vampire’s enhancements. His fingers punctured flesh and broke through the protective casing, closing around the device embedded against Cassius’s sternum. With a savage twist, Sebastian ripped it free, bringing chunks of bone and tissue with it.
The device pulsed once in his hand, still connected to severed tubes that leaked a mixture of blood and copper-colored fluid. Cassius’s eyes widened as his systems cascaded into failure, the carefully calibrated network of enhancements suddenly without coordination.
Cassius stumbled backward, his movements now jerky and uncoordinated as his systems failed. He swung his sword wildly, but Sebastian easily avoided the blow.
“You’ve gone mad,” Cassius gasped, mechanical fluid leaking from the corner of his mouth. “You’re as broken as you look.”
Sebastian smiled. “No. I'm seeing quite clearly.”
He moved forward with terrible purpose, grabbing Cassius’s sword arm and breaking it at the mechanical joint. The distinct sound of metal tearing through flesh accompanied the break as augmented bone splintered and hydraulic tubes ruptured. The weapon fell to the ground. Sebastian kicked it away, then systematically began disabling his opponent.
A precise strike to the knee, crushing the balance enhancer embedded there. The kneecap collapsed inward, exposing brass gears and copper wiring that sparked as they short-circuited.
A brutal twist of the shoulder, dislocating it from the mechanical socket with a wet popping sound. Sebastian didn’t stop there. He dug his fingers into the wound, finding the strength amplifier nestled against Cassius’s shoulder blade and yanking it free. The vampire’s arm hung useless, dangling by strips of flesh and severed wires.
A targeted blow to the throat, shattering the vocal modulator that gave vampire nobles their projected voices. Sebastian’s fingers closed around the broken device and extracted it through the front of Cassius’s throat, leaving a gaping hole that whistled with escaping air.
Each strike was calculated to disable a specific enhancement, informed by Sebastian’s intimate knowledge of their design, knowledge gained from tearing identicalcomponents from his own flesh. He moved with methodical precision, each wound exposing the unnatural marriage of metal and flesh that defined vampire nobility.
When Cassius lay on the ground, broken and leaking both blood and mechanical fluids, Sebastian stood over him. The vampire lord looked up with genuine fear, perhaps the first unregulated emotion he had experienced in centuries.
“Sebastian,” he gurgled through his damaged throat, mechanical parts clicking and whirring as they tried to compensate, “we’re of the same blood. Show mercy.”
Sebastian studied him dispassionately. “We were never the same.”
Then, with deliberate slowness, Sebastian placed his bare foot on Cassius’s face. He gradually increased pressure, feeling the mechanical reinforcements in the vampire’s skull resist, then buckle. The first crack was subtle, a hairline fracture in the orbital socket. Then the cheekbone collapsed inward, revealing the brass mesh beneath that had been grafted to Cassius’s skull centuries ago.
Sebastian shifted his weight, pressing harder. Cassius’s jaw shattered next, metal fragments puncturing through his skin. His eyes bulged as pressure built inside his skull, one rupturing in a spray of vitreous fluid that coated Sebastian’s foot.
The final collapse came with a wet, crunching sound, bone, brain, and brass compressing into an unrecognizable mass beneath Sebastian’s heel. Fluid and tissue oozed between his toes as he ground down, ensuring nothing remained intact that could possibly be salvaged.
When he finally stepped back, Cassius’s head was a flattened ruin of organic and mechanical parts, indistinguishable from each other in death as they had been inseparable in life.
Sebastian stepped back from the body, turning to face the remaining vampires. They stood frozen, witnessing somethingunprecedented, a vampire noble killed by one of their own, in a manner that violated every code of their society.
“Tell my father,” Sebastian said, his voice carrying to them, “that his son is dead. I am something else now.”
From the walls came the distinctive sound of bowstrings being drawn taut. Sebastian raised his hand, signaling, and arrows rained down on the vampire contingent. Most fell immediately, pierced through vital organs or control nodes. Several were only wounded, their bodies twitching on the ground as systems malfunctioned and internal components sparked and smoked.
Sebastian walked among them methodically, finishing each one with precise brutality, a stomp to a skull here, fingers digging into a chest cavity to extract a core component there. Each kill was efficient, without ceremony or hesitation. With each death, he seemed to move more fluidly, as if reclaiming something long denied.
Four vampires managed to evade the volley entirely, turning to flee into the forest darkness. Sebastian paused, his body tensing like a predator sensing prey. He tracked their movement, calculating trajectories. His hands, slick with blood and mechanical fluids, flexed in anticipation.
He took three rapid steps in pursuit, his movements no longer human or vampire, but something between, predatory grace unhindered by mechanical precision or human limitation. His bare feet barely seemed to touch the ground, and for a moment, it seemed he would vanish into the darkness after them, a hunter pursuing wounded prey.
“Sebastian!” Boarstaff’s voice cut through the night. “Let them go.”
Sebastian paused, turning to look up at the warchief. Boarstaff’s expression was unreadable at this distance, but his voice had carried authority without judgment.
Sebastian considered the tactical situation. Allowing survivors meant Cornelius would receive a report sooner. The attack would come faster. The strategic choice was clear, eliminate all witnesses.
