Chapitre 26: Chapter 26:A Promise of Violence
Chapter 26
Elias held his ground, forcing himself not to react, even as every hair on the back of his neck stood on end. The weight of Alaric's presence was overwhelming—his rage simmering just beneath the surface, tangled with something else—something hungry and dark. But Elias refused to flinch. He had seen the monster behind the beauty—and for now, that monster was still in chains.
Elias gave one final yank on Alaric's hair before releasing him, watching with grim satisfaction as the vampire's head snapped forward. "You don't scare me," Elias said, his voice sharp and defiant. "You're nothing but a tool now. And I know exactly how to use you."
Alaric let out a low, dangerous laugh, the sound curling around the room like smoke. "We'll see about that."His smile lingered, cold and predatory, but the flicker of anger in his black eyes gave him away—the game was no longer amusing to him.
"Enjoy this while you can, hunter," Alaric whispered, his voice silky with promise.
Elias stared down at him, his heartbeat loud in his ears, but he forced himself to smirk. "I look forward to it."
Alaric's grin stretched wider, as if Elias had just sealed his own fate. The air between them thrummed with unspoken tension.
As Elias turned to leave, he could feel Alaric's gaze on his back—hungry, predatory, and filled with the promise of violence. The vampire might be in chains for now, but Elias knew it wouldn't last forever.
And when the day came... he would be ready.
But so would Alaric.
_____
As soon as Elias stepped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him, he staggered to the side, pressing a hand against his chest. His heart was hammering wildly, each beat a painful reminder of the tension that had coiled through his body like a vice. He inhaled sharply, trying to steady his breath, but the ache in his chest wouldn't ease.
Fear. The realization hit him harder than he expected. He hadn't felt fear like this in a long time—not in all the years he had hunted down monsters, witches, and beasts lurking in the shadows. Elias was no stranger to supernatural creatures. He had fought them, tortured them, and killed them without a second thought.
But Alaric...Alaric was something else entirely.
The man's beauty had been one thing, disarming in its own right. And the worst part? That smile—so cold, so pleased—remained burned into his mind.
Elias leaned against the wall, trying to collect himself, but his hand trembled against his ribs. He clenched his fist to hide the weakness from himself, as if that would be enough to banish the memory of those black, soulless eyes.
And then he heard it.
Laughter.
It started low—just a ripple of sound from beyond the door—but it grew quickly, filling the hallway like a sickening melody. Alaric's laughter wasn't just amused; it was raw, psychotic, and far too genuine. It carried through the air, sliding into Elias's ears like cold steel dragged across stone.
The laughter slithered into his bones, taunting him, pulling at the edges of his sanity. It was the sound of someone who knew he was going to win. Someone who didn't just enjoy the game—they lived for it.
Elias sucked in a breath, his heart skipping painfully again, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to move. He wouldn't let himself crumble here—not in front of that monster. But with every step he took away from the door, the lingering sensation of Alaric's presence clung to him like a shadow, cold and heavy.
He had encountered werewolves that could tear a man apart in seconds, witches who could reduce entire villages to ash, and creatures from realms beyond his understanding. He had survived them all. But nothing—nothing—had ever felt as deeply wrong as Alaric.
And worst of all, he was still smiling.Even now, as Elias stood just outside the door, he could feel it. The man's grin lingering in his mind like a brand, as if Alaric had already carved a space for himself inside Elias's thoughts.
With a final deep breath, Elias straightened his posture, forcing the fear deep down where it wouldn't show. He couldn't afford to let this rattle him—not now.Not with the witch watching his every move, not with Alaric waiting for the moment her grip slipped.
But as he stepped deeper into the dim corridor, his chest still aching with the memory of that encounter.
As Elias steadied himself, still gripping his chest, a soft, mocking voice drifted from the shadows behind him.
"I told you," the witch whispered, her tone lilting like a lullaby laced with venom. "Alaric is not an ordinary creature."
Elias spun, eyes narrowing as she emerged from the far corner of the corridor, where the shadows clung to her robes like ink. Her dark eyes gleamed beneath the hood, glinting with amusement.
She stepped closer, her movements unnervingly silent, as if the darkness itself obeyed her. "He's killed more than you can imagine, hunter. Millions. Men, women, children—he doesn't discriminate. When he's unleashed, Alaric is an extinction event wrapped in a smile."
Elias's jaw tightened, but he stayed silent, the witch's words pulling him deeper into a story far bloodier than he had bargained for.
"Would you like to know," she continued softly, "how I know all this?" Her voice lowered, dripping with bitterness. "I saw it. Every. Last. Bit."
Elias stayed still, his heart still thrumming painfully in his chest, but something in the witch's tone made the air around him feel heavier, like the world itself had shifted under the weight of her memories.
"I was only a child," she said, her gaze distant now, fixed on something far beyond the darkened corridor. "Too young to understand what my mother wanted when she invited him. She thought she could steal his power, you see—the magic of something demonic like him. Alaric didn't take kindly to that."
A bitter smile curled her lips as she continued, her voice steady despite the horrors she was recounting. "He didn't just kill my mother. He killed *everyone.* My coven—thirty-five of us, all trained witches, powerful in ways most can't even imagine. We thought we were prepared. We thought the wards we cast, the spells we whispered, and the knowledge passed down through generations would be enough to protect us. But it didn't matter. He tore through us like we were nothing. Like weeds pulled from the ground—root, stem, and all."
Her gaze flicked to Elias, cold and unwavering, her eyes gleaming with a strange mixture of sorrow and venom. "He started with the weakest. They were barely at the age of an adult —just old enough to understand fear but too young in power to fight back." Her voice dropped, dark and hollow, as if the memory still tasted bitter on her tongue. "He didn't kill them quickly, no. He wanted us to watch, to learn, to understand what happens when you think you can control something that was never meant to be controlled."
She paused, her expression hardening, as though the memory had carved itself into her soul. "You need to understand, hunter. Alaric isn't just some creature that hunts to feed or survives out of instinct. No—he's something far worse. What he does isn't survival. It's *calculated,* deliberate. He breaks you before he spills your blood. He doesn't just take your life—he takes your hope. Your will. He strips everything away and leaves you hollow."
Her lips curled into a grim smile that didn't reach her eyes, shadows deepening in her gaze. "And the worst part? He enjoyed it. Every scream, every sob, every plea—it only seemed to *amuse* him. As if suffering was a gift he was offering us. As if pain itself were sacred."
She turned toward Elias, her voice dropping into something harsher, like a warning wrapped in ice. "I've seen the way you look at him. Heard the way you talk to him—like he's just some other monster, another beast to cage. Stop taunting him, Elias. Whatever you think you're doing, whatever game you think you're playing, *you need to stop.* You're not clever enough to outwit something like him.
She gave a bitter laugh, low and humorless. "Alaric doesn't forget insults. He remembers—and he waits. His patience is endless, and when he finally comes for you, it'll feel like the gods themselves have turned their backs."
Her voice grew quieter, as though she feared speaking the truth too loudly might summon him. "When he began, he didn't lash out in frenzy. There was no chaotic rage, no bloodlust driving him wild. No... he took his time. He wanted us to know that he was in complete control. Like a god playing with mortals—or a devil savoring the torment of damned souls."
Her lips twisted bitterly, the memory weighing heavy on her tongue. "He wanted me and the other children to live with it. Wanted us to carry the knowledge of what he did. To understand that nothing—not even the strongest magic—could cage a thing like him."
Her gaze burned into Elias's, her next words sharp and unforgiving. "You think you've met monsters, hunter? You think you've fought creatures born from nightmares? Alaric isn't a monster. He's the nightmare itself. He's not bound by hunger or desire. What he wants—what he *is*—is destruction in its purest form. He is ruin, Elias. A force that cannot be reasoned with. A thing that wears a human face but walks with the patience of eternity."
She took a step closer, her voice a low, venomous murmur that clung to the air like smoke.
Elias stood frozen, the weight of her words sinking deep into his bones. He had hunted beasts, fought creatures from the darkest corners of the earth, and stared death in the eye more times than he could count.
Elias shifted uncomfortably, but the witch continued, relentless, as if each word dragged her closer to the memory.
"I remember the sound," she whispered, her voice almost reverent. "The way the bones snapped under his hands. He ripped their heads clean off their bodies. And then—oh, he didn't stop there. He gathered us, those of us still alive, and lined their severed heads at our feet. Blood soaked the ground, and the air smelled like copper and rot."
Her eyes darkened, her lips curling in disgust.
"My mother begged him to spare me," she said, her voice low and bitter. "She thought she could bargain with a monster—a creature that doesn't know mercy.He just laughed. And then... he made her watch while he drained the life from the rest.One by one, he snapped their necks, slit their throats, crushed their skulls. And when he was done, he slit he neck too."
She exhaled slowly, her gaze flickering to the door Elias had just left. "I've spent my entire life preparing to put chains on that monster. And now... now I have him. But don't fool yourself, Elias." Her voice turned cold, cutting through the tension like a blade. "He belongs to me. I shall make him suffer for the cruelty he has brought onto this world ."
"I've dealt with monsters before," Elias muttered, more to himself than to her.
The witch's dark smile deepened. "Not like him."
For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of her words settling between them.
She tilted her head, the flicker of a twisted smile playing on her lips. "Do you know what makes him impossible to stop? Even if you disintegrate him, if you burn every piece of his flesh down to ash—he will return. If you cut off his limbs and scatter them across the ends of the earth? They will regrow, piece by piece, wherever they land."
She gave a humorless laugh. "And if his head is cut off? It'll simply find its way back to his body, like a dog returning to its master. The moment it reattaches, he's whole again. No hesitation, no delay. As if death was merely an inconvenience."
Elias's pulse thudded in his ears as she leaned in, her voice soft and laced with satisfaction. "No matter what you do to him,what u do to his body, he will always come back. On the twelfth month of the third year, he will return. The earth will give him back, as though it owes him a debt it can never repay."
Elias's stomach churned at the idea—a being that could not die, not truly, no matter what was done to it.That thought was terrifying.
The witch's smile widened as if she could sense his discomfort. "You see, countless people have their little theories about what Alaric is. Some say he's a vampire. Others whisper that he's a demon—a spirit born from pure chaos." Her gaze darkened. "But none of them are right."
Elias clenched his fists, trying to steady himself as her words sank deeper, like hooks dragging into his mind. "Then what is he?" he asked, though part of him already dreaded the answer.
The witch's voice dropped to a whisper, as if sharing the most forbidden of secrets. "He is neither, and yet he is all of them at once. Something ancient, something that predates all our stories. A force of destruction, given flesh and bone, wearing the face of a man. He is a storm in human form, chaotic and eternal.And that, Elias… is why I vouched to my ancestors to bring this being to utter ruin."
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle.
"That face of his," she continued, "that perfect smile, the way he looks at you like you're a toy he hasn't decided whether to break or cherish… You're not the first to fall under that spell." Her red lips curled knowingly. "But he doesn't love, Elias. Not like you think. He only knows hunger, amusement, and destruction.
Elias exhaled sharply through his nose, dismissing the chill creeping up his spine. "I'm not under any illusions."
The witch tilted her head, studying him with a sly, skeptical smile. "Aren't you?" she murmured. "That's what they all say, you know—until it's too late. They think they can control their fascination, manage his beauty like it's just a distraction." Her voice dropped lower, more venomous. "He is a distraction. But not the kind you survive."
She took a deliberate step forward, her red hair swaying, the firelight catching the glint of malice in her eyes. "You look at him and see temptation, something dangerous and beautiful. But don't forget, Elias—he is not a man. He is a storm. And storms don't care if you desire them. They only destroy ."
Elias remained silent, but the ache in his chest deepened, and he hated how easily her words sank into his mind. The memory of Alaric's dark, psychotic laughter gnawed at him, stirring something primal—both fear and a strange pull he couldn't quite ignore.
The witch let her words linger, watching him like a cat watching prey. "He's tasted hunters before, Elias," she said softly. "And from what I've seen, he never gets bored."
Elias clenched his fists at his sides, determined not to let her get inside his head. "He can't control who he hurts anymore. You do.That's the arrangement, isn't it?"
The witch's smile grew colder, her expression unreadable. "That's right. As long as I hold the chain, Alaric can only do what I allow him to."
But Elias could see something flicker in her gaze—a shadow of doubt, perhaps, or the recognition that even she knew her control was a delicate thing, a thread that could snap at any moment.
"Don't get comfortable, though," the witch whispered. "He's waiting. He likes to let you think you have the upper hand... just before he rips it away."
Elias's heart thundered in his chest, but he refused to show it. He squared his shoulders and stepped toward the door.
"Good," he muttered. "Then I'll make sure I take the upper hand before he does."
The witch's laughter followed him, a dark, mirthless sound that echoed in the shadows. "Oh, Elias..." she whispered behind him. "We'll see how long that lasts."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone