The Sky Was Never Young: Vampire System Apocalypse

The dungeon’s deep shadows stretched across the wet stones as the mechanical rigidity in Cassius’s neck held fast. His gaze remained locked on the trembling figure before him, his voice echoing flatly in the enclosed space.

"Who are you?" Cassius said, his tone completely robotic, stripped of any human cadence or warmth.

The stranger paused mid-breath, blinked rapidly, and reached up with two fingers to adjust a pair of slightly crooked glasses balancing precariously on the bridge of his nose. A deeply confused, yet intensely concerned look washed over his face. He leaned forward, inspecting the fallen sorcerer with an exaggerated air of disbelief.

"What do you mean... Are you out of your mind?" the man replied, his hands flying up in a dramatic flurry. "Did you get beaten up on your head too? Show me."

The stranger was wearing a peculiar outfit- a brown, human-like T-shirt that had seen far better days. It was dusty, stained with layers of cellar grime, and torn in multiple places, though someone had meticulously sealed and stitched the largest rips back together with coarse grey thread. Matching, muddy trousers hung loosely from his thin frame. Acting entirely on a frantic, mothering instinct that completely bypassed common sense, the man raised his hands to check Cassius’s forehead for any unusual fever or radiating heat.

The moment his fingers drifted within an inch of the pale skin, Cassius’s dormant survival instincts flared violently.

The ancient, volatile bloodline within him revolted against the casual touch. Cassius’s human eyes violently dilated, the iris boundaries dissolving until they were on the verge of turning pitch black. His upper lip curled upward, exposing a row of lethal, razor-sharp fangs that hissed outward in a burst of mild rage.

A low, guttural roar rumbled from the depths of the sorcerer’s chest, vibrating off the damp brickwork.

"OH MY MOTHER- !" the man screamed.

Caught in a wild, panicked reflex, the coward’s sheer terror weaponised his hands. Instead of pulling away safely, his arm whipped forward in a blind, frightening reflex, and he delivered a resounding, open-handed slap right across the legendary sorcerer’s cheek.

Crack.

The sound echoed sharply down the corridor. For a solid three seconds, the dungeon went dead silent. The man froze, his hand still suspended in mid-air, his chest heaving as his own glasses slid crookedly down his nose again. He looked down at his own palm, then at the terrifying entity he had just assaulted, utterly horrified by his own actions.

Cassius’s head remained tilted slightly to the side from the impact. The pitch-black ink in his eyes slowly receded, replaced by sheer, unadulterated shock. No one had struck him like a common disobedient child in over three centuries. The sheer absurdity of the slap seemed to act as a bizarre reset switch for his rising dark magic, forcing the fangs to slip quietly back beneath his gums.

"You..." Cassius muttered, his voice losing its robotic edge, replaced by an incredulous rasp. "You slapped me."

"I- you growled at me!" the man shrieked in a harsh whisper, frantically rubbing his hands on his dusty brown trousers as if trying to erase the memory of the contact. "You made a sound like a demonic water pipe! What was I supposed to do? Let you chew my face off? My face is my only redeeming quality, quite frankly!"

He scrambled backward another foot, his boots squeaking against the slick floorboards, though he didn’t run toward the door. Despite his obvious cowardice, he remained within arm’s reach, his eyes darting anxiously to the heavy iron grating at the end of the hall, then back to Cassius’s bruised temple.

"Listen, if you’re going to turn into a giant bat or melt into a puddle of sentient goo, please give me a five-minute head start," the man stammered, pulling a small, lint-covered cloth from his pocket to frantically clean his glasses before shoving them back onto his face.

"I am entirely too young, too pretty, and far too poorly paid to die in a basement smelling of old cabbage."

Cassius slowly lowered his chin, the sheer physical exhaustion crashing back over him like a tidal wave. The dark veins along his neck pulsed faintly, but the lethal tension had left his shoulders. He looked at the strange, trembling human in the patched T-shirt. The man was a fool, a loudmouth, and an undeniable coward- but he hadn’t left him to rot.

The man kept staring at Cassius, his chest heaving as his panic slowly boiled down into a tense, conspiratorial focus. He glanced toward the cell door, then leaned in close until his breath stirred the stray hairs near Cassius’s ear.

"Did you infiltrate the court with your blood or not?" he whispered frantically, the gravity of the secret turning his voice paper-thin.

Cassius glared at him, slowly turning his heavy head to fix the stranger with a dark, unamused look. He let out a long, exhausted sigh, shifting his weight just enough to rest his palms flat against his blood-stained thighs.

"Are you the boss now?" Cassius asked, his voice entirely tired, simple, and drained of any theatrical malice. "The one who can just investigate me and hand out tasks whenever it pleases you?... Why should I even tell you?"

"Boss? Of course!" The man threw his hands up in a small, sharp gesture, maintaining his fierce whisper. "I am the only person standing between you and a very permanent execution right now, and you know it. That makes me the management!"

Cassius’s lips twitched. A faint, sarcastic smirk broke through his expression. Instead of arguing, he slowly shifted his weight downward, preparing to lie flat on the hard stone ground. He folded his bruised arms beneath his head, settling into the dirt to rest as if the damp cell were a luxury suite.

"Then I resign," Cassius muttered into his sleeve.

The man’s jaw dropped. A flash of genuine fury crossed his face, his exasperation finally overcoming his fear. He abruptly stood up, his boots stomping softly against the wet floorboards. He marched into the deepest, dustiest corner of the cell, where an old, splintered broomstick lay leaning against the weeping mortar. Shaking with anger, he snatched it up, marched right back over to Cassius, and smashed the wooden handle violently against the stone floor right beside the sorcerer’s head.

THWACK.

"YAA!" the man yelled, his voice cracking as he adjusted his glasses with a look of mild, hilarious outrage. "I am not a bird like you, at least! You don’t just get to tuck your wings and go to sleep when things get difficult!"

A low, unexpected sound rumbled in Cassius’s chest. He began to laugh- a slow, genuine, scraping sound that shook his shoulders.

"Hahaha."

The brief amusement sparked a flicker of stolen adrenaline through his veins. Pushing off the stone, Cassius stood up from his resting position, his tall, imposing silhouette uncoiling like a shadow. He took two deliberate steps forward, closing the distance before the stranger could even think to raise his broomstick in defense.

With a sudden, fluid movement, Cassius crowded the man backward, pinning him firmly against the rough, cold stones of the cell wall.

The stranger gasped, his spine slamming flat against the mortar. He froze instantly, his breath hitching in his throat as the legendary sorcerer leaned down, hovering mere inches away. When Cassius spoke, his voice was so low and quiet it felt like nothing more than a chilling whisper brushing against the man’s face.

"You cannot even multitask properly, even after being a human," Cassius murmured, his dark grey human eyes locking onto the stranger’s wide pupils with terrifying intensity, "...and you want to be my boss?"

The man went entirely rigid, trapped in a state of absolute shock by the sudden, dramatic confrontation. His heart hammered visibly against his torn shirt. For a second, he looked completely terrified, but his stubborn, coward’s pride refused to back down entirely. Trembling, his fingers rose automatically to his face, frantically adjusting his glasses once more as he stammered out his defense.

"I- I can MULTITASK!" he squeaked, his voice pitching higher in a desperate attempt to sound authoritative while completely pinned to a dungeon wall.

Cassius leaned directly toward him, stepping so deep into the man’s personal space that his pale face hung mere fractions of an inch before the stranger’s lips. He paused, casting a slow, calculated look over the man’s frozen features. Then, in a low, airy whisper that practically vibrated against the man’s skin, he delivered a sudden challenge.

"What’s two plus two minus four times zero?"

The man’s chest hitched. He started to shiver violently under the weight of the dark sorcerer’s proximity. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut as if bracing for an explosion, his brain scrambled wildly through the sudden mental math.

"Z-z-zero," he stammered out, his eyelids fluttering with terror. "Zero- yes..."

Cassius let out a quiet, humoured breath. He smoothly removed his hands from the wall where he had pinned the stranger just moments before. Backing away with a subtle, mocking smirk playing on his lips, he slowly whispered over his shoulder, "Can’t even multitask a few symbols... dumb."

The heavy, suffocating pressure instantly lifted from the wall. The man opened his eyes, blinking rapidly, watching in sheer bewilderment as Cassius turned his back and began to casually pace across the damp floorboards of the cell, moving with a fluid, dark elegance despite his injuries.

Staring at the pacing sorcerer, the man immediately brought his hands up and started to furiously count on his fingers, his brow furrowing as he replayed the equation in his head.

"Two plus two equals four..." he muttered aloud, pointing a shaking index finger into the air. "Minus four is zero... then anything multiplied by zero is ZERO..." He stopped, a sudden wave of defensive confusion washing over his face as he realised he had ignored basic mathematical order of operations. He threw his hands wide, yelling across the cell, "Hey! What’s wrong?"

Cassius paused his casual stride. He slowly turned around on the slick stone, fixing his gaze directly onto the man’s bewildered face.

"Something in your brain," Cassius replied smoothly, his tone deadpan and completely flat.

The man’s mouth fell open, utterly insulted by the ancient entity’s nonchalant sass. Before he could launch into another frantic, high-pitched argument to defend his honor, the distant sound of heavy iron hinges groaning at the far end of the outer corridor cut through the damp silence of the prison. The bickering vanished instantly. The reality of their shared danger crashed back into the room, freezing them both in place as a cold, oppressive draft began to crawl under the cell door.

With a surge of pure, petty fury, the man started walking toward Cassius again, tightly gripping his splintered broom like a knight charging into battle. He halted right in front of the tall sorcerer, threw his shoulders back, and pointed the frayed bristles of the broom directly at Cassius’s nose.

"I am absolutely correct!" the man shouted, his chest puffing out with an absurdly misplaced sense of intellectual dominance.

Cassius closed his eyes, a ripple of pure, unadulterated frustration drawing a sharp line across his pale forehead. He let out a long, heavy breath, speaking aloud with a voice thick with exhaustion.

"Ever heard of BODMAS? Idiot..." Cassius muttered, opening his eyes to pierce the stranger with a scathing glare.

"Multiplication comes first. Four times zero is zero. Then two plus two is four. Four minus zero is four. Four isn’t the answer for you, right? It’s some bird?"

The man’s triumphant expression froze. The broomstick slowly lowered as the acronym hit him like a physical blow. His eyes went wide behind his glasses, and his jaw dropped slightly as his mind went deep down to calculate the mathematical order once more. Multiplication before subtraction. The realization hit him with the force of an avalanche.

Cassius paid him no further attention, turning on his heel to resume his casual, pacing stride across the damp stones of the cell floor.

"IT’S FOUR! YES, IT IS!" the man suddenly shouted in a wild, frantic hurry, throwing his hands in the air and scrambling after the sorcerer.

"I just got a bit confused! You know, it’s a natural human trait! Panic under pressure! Cognitive delay due to proximity to a terrifying blood-sucking magical entity... It’s perfectly normal!"

Cassius opened his mouth, about to deliver another devastating, deadpan insult to the human’s fragile intellect-

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

The sudden, heavy resonance rattled the thick iron gate of the cell. The wood and metal groaned under the force of the strike, the sound echoing through the small space like a crack of thunder.

The bickering died instantly. The man’s defensive rambling vanished into a choked gasp, his arms freezing mid-gesture. Cassius’s head snapped toward the entrance, the smirk completely melting from his face as his muscles locked tight. The playful atmosphere evaporated, replaced by the freezing reality of the kingdom’s deepest prison.

Someone was standing directly outside their door.

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