The Last Blood Mage

Xander's Death

Intense pain surged through Xander's body. It was a sensation unlike any he'd felt before—an overwhelming hunger for blood. His surroundings seemed to lose color, replaced by a haunting black and white. His vision honed in on the pulsing red dots that symbolized beating hearts. Panic gripped him, and fear threaded through his thoughts.

"Need to get off the streets," Xander muttered, staggering away from the people around him. He moved unsteadily, his gaze catching sight of a metal gate leading into the sewers. As he stumbled in that direction, a group of sailors and port workers jeered at his disoriented state.

"Look at this fool,"

"Hey, where's he headed?"

"Probably scavenging for more coin to buy more drinks,"

Their taunts were like nails on a chalkboard, amplifying the agony he felt. Clenching his fists, Xander fought the maddening urge to lash out and satiate his bloodlust.

Xander pressed on towards the sewer gate, the sunlight feeling like fire against his skin, intensifying his torment. This level of anguish hadn't gripped him since he'd gained his powers from Lucious eight months prior. Each step stretched into an eternity, the rhythmic sound of the ocean waves turning into a torturous symphony. 

"You can run and hide, Kid. But destiny will always find a way to turn you into what you are," Lucious's voice echoed in Xander’s mind, both astonishing and unsettling.

"Shut up," Xander growled, his thoughts clouded by a surge of conflicting emotions, as he staggered towards the sewer gate.

Amid the shock of hearing his deceased mentor's voice, Xander had more immediate concerns. He knew that a slight loss of control would unleash his bloodlust, overtaking his mind and body, and the consequences would be catastrophic. Giving in to this primal urge would result in the deaths of nearby sailors and citizens. Beyond that, the duke's judgment would likely mean execution; the mages might subject him to something far worse.

After what felt like an eternity, Xander finally reached the metal gate that led to the underground sewer. Unfortunately, luck wasn't on his side as he found the gate locked.

"Damn it," Xander growled, his frustration growing. He seized the lock hanging from the gate and exerted all his strength, snapping the lock under the weight of his desperation. Without hesitation, he pushed the gate open and stumbled down the stairs, his steps awkward and unsteady, leading him into the darkness below.

The sewer welcomed him with its noxious odor, a repulsive scent that twisted Xander's nose in disgust. Flickering torches dimly illuminated the walls, casting unsettling shadows on the damp, mossy stones. Drips of water echoed through the narrow passages, adding to the eerie ambiance.

The pain from his tumble down the stairs momentarily distracted him from his bloodlust, and the repugnant stench of the sewer jolted his senses, restoring a semblance of clarity. He took a deep breath and leaned against the wall for support.

“What is happening to me? This bloodlust, I never felt it before. My condition is getting worse by the day," Xander muttered, talking to himself as he looked at his shivering arms.

“I need a cure, or I'm screwed," Xander cursed, surveying his surroundings. Except for water droplets from the leaky ceiling and distant rat squeaks, silence enveloped him.

With no choice but to wander, Xander explored the labyrinthine paths, his footsteps echoing in the eerie tunnels. An orphan in Gredor's City Movian, he often used sewers for navigation.

Bloodlust slowly waned as he wandered. Relief blossomed, but footsteps shattered it. Xander pressed against the wall, peeking around the corner, observing shadows cast by flickering torchlight.

“Remember this path. We'll meet here later," a muffled voice echoed.

“What if we're caught, boss?" a submissive voice questioned.

A slap resounded, emphasizing authority.

“You fool! We won't be caught. Doubt has no place now. Fortune's within reach," the boss's voice declared. Hidden, Xander strained to catch every word, unease settling. He needed to distance himself from their scheme.

“AH!”

Just as he was about to retreat, a sudden jolt of pain shot through his leg, forcing a sharp cry from his lips.

"What was that? Someone's here!" Panic tinged the boss's voice, and the conversation halted as they searched for the source of the disturbance. Frustrated by the rat's bite, Xander attempted to flee. However, his escape was cut short as he collided with a blockade of black-robed figures—two in front, three behind.

Cloaked in black robes, their identities concealed by hoods and masks, the figures exuded mystery and menace. Xander searched for an escape, only to find himself trapped between the enigmatic assailants, like a cornered animal.

With his options diminishing, Xander shifted against the damp wall. The approaching figures closed in, their presence casting an ominous shadow that seemed to suffocate him. Their eyes bore into him, their tension palpable.

"Who are you?" The man in the center growled, demanding answers.

"I'm an adventurer. I'm here to deal with the rat infestation," Xander lied, his words a mix of truth and deception, though the thugs weren't easily convinced.

"He could be a spy," one of them suggested suspiciously.

"He might have overheard our plans. Killing him is the safest option," another chimed in with a malicious tone.

"No, wait! I swear I didn't hear anything!" Xander pleaded, desperation evident in his voice, but he knew it was a long shot.

"We're running out of time, Boss. We need to act," another thug urged urgently.

"Hold him down. We can't risk exposing our plan," the leader ordered, his voice cold and calculated.

As the two thugs closed in on him, Xander's bloodlust surged, the dark temptation whispering in his mind.

"Kill them. Consume their blood," the voice taunted, pushing him towards the edge.

"Shut up!" Xander shouted in anger, startling the thugs.

"Boss, he's acting crazy," one of them whispered to the leader, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

"I don't care. Just get rid of him," the boss ordered with cold determination.

Xander fought desperately, but the thugs easily overpowered him. They grabbed his arms and delivered a painful blow to his knee, forcing him to the ground.

He struggled in their grip, fear and desperation gripping him. He had to escape, not for his sake, but to protect them from his dark powers.

Xander's struggles only tightened the thugs' hold on him. One of them pulled his hair back, exposing his throat.

"People make mistakes every day, and some mistakes can cost them their lives. Don't let this be yours," Xander implored, his voice desperate as he locked eyes with the boss.

"Words won't save you now," the boss retorted, drawing a dagger stained with ominous red. The blade glinted ominously in the torchlight as he pressed it to Xander's throat.

With cold precision, the boss dragged the dagger across Xander's throat, blood spurting out in a horrifying gush. Xander convulsed in agony, fighting for his life. The pain was unbearable, consuming him entirely.

As his life ebbed away, Xander's body fell to the ground, twitching in its final moments. The thugs showed no emotion; they were ruthless killers, accustomed to death. Their eyes held no mercy, only the hardness of true criminals.

"Let's go. The rats will take care of the mess," the boss said nonchalantly, turning away. They left, leaving behind a scene of death and despair in the dark, damp sewer.