CH 60 - Playing in the Shadows

CH 60 - Playing in the Shadows
“Don’t attack them out in the open,” Gabriel said without turning, his voice calm but laced with sharp intent. “Let them think it’s just an outbreak. A strange virus. Mass anemia. Whatever works. The modern world worships logic. They’ll look for a scientific explanation, not monsters like us.”

“So we become shadows?”

“Shadows are always scarier than what’s in plain sight,” Gabriel replied. “Fear grows from what people don’t understand. We let them weaken slowly—their bodies fading, their spirits drained. And when the time is right, we attack directly."

Kael let out a quiet hiss. “And if someone starts getting suspicious?”

Gabriel finally turned, a sly smile cutting across his face. “Let them. This world is drowning in conspiracy theories. Even if one or two humans figure it out—who’s going to believe them?”



On the edge of the city, in a long-abandoned colonial watchtower, the night wind carried the smell of damp earth—and something else, fainter… blood.

Gabriel stood at the edge of the balcony, his long black coat rustling in the breeze. Below, the city flickered with dim lights. Ambulances passed one after another, their sirens becoming the lullaby of the city’s last peaceful nights.

Kael stepped out from the shadows behind him, soundless as ever. But Gabriel already knew he was there—he didn’t need to see him.

“More victims,” Kael said flatly. “Thirty-two tonight. Same symptoms. Fatigue, pale skin, crashing blood pressure. No wounds.”

Gabriel said nothing at first, just stared into the heart of the city.

“There won’t be any wounds,” he finally said. “We don’t need blood spilling. Not yet. They have to believe it’s just an illness. Let them panic for the wrong reasons.”

Kael raised an eyebrow. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

Gabriel turned toward him, eyes gleaming with something dark. “This isn’t enjoyment—it’s strategy. The modern world has blinded humans with science and screens. They think they’re untouchable. But look at them now—how many have already been rushed to the hospital with empty bodies and half-dead souls?”

Kael walked up beside him, leaning on the rusted railing. “And when they’re all too weak to fight back?”

Gabriel smiled, slow and sharp. “That’s when they’ll open the gates for us—without even knowing it. And by then, Aurelion and his loyal pets won’t have time to stop what’s coming.”

There was a pause. Kael’s expression tightened as he weighed every word.

“This could trigger the Ancient Pact. You know that.”

Gabriel’s smile didn’t fade. “The Pact? You still believe in those old laws written by a council that hasn’t mattered in decades? Don’t be naïve, Kael. Even Aurelion’s grip on the world is slipping. And with the return of the pureblood… the balance is shifting.”

“This is about Elara, isn’t it?” Kael asked, his voice sharper now.

Gabriel let out a dry laugh. “Not just her. She’s a key. Break her, or claim her—and the door opens. I don’t care who holds the key, as long as it’s not Lucien.”

Kael fell quiet, narrowing his eyes. He was part of this plan, but not without doubts. He knew the world would never be the same if the pureblood ended up in the wrong hands—and he wasn’t sure anymore if any of them had the right ones.

“There’s something else,” he said, changing the subject. “Some of the lower-class vamps are starting to lose control. They’re hungry. Not all of them are as good at holding back as you’d like.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Let them loose. A little chaos helps. If humans see something strange, they’ll get even more confused. And confusion leads to fear. And fear…” He grinned, sharp as a knife. “Fear makes blood taste sweeter.”

Kael turned to leave, melting back into the shadows. But before disappearing, he looked over his shoulder one last time.

“If you make me choose sides, Gabriel… make sure you’re not on the wrong one.”

Gabriel just laughed—cold and full of destruction.

“I don’t choose sides, Kael. I build the battlefield.”

Kael gave a slow nod, his gaze unreadable. “One thing I don’t get. Do you really want the pureblood to rule the human world… or are you just obsessed with destroying Lucien? Everyone knows how deep your grudge runs.”

Gabriel stared at him in silence for a moment, then let out a low chuckle.

“Why not both?”



The sky over the city that night was a deep, smoky gray, as if the stars were too wary to show themselves to a world slowly tilting off balance. The streetlights flickered dimly, some blinking now and then like they too shivered under the weight of something unseen.

On the rooftop of an old eight-story building, a man stood still. His dark coat billowed slightly in the breeze, long enough to brush the air behind him. A rounded hat cast a shadow over his face, hiding most of his features. He didn’t move. His sharp eyes cut through the gloom, watching the city below—or more precisely, watching the quiet chaos creeping in like a silent fog.

In the distance, another ambulance sped past, slicing through the night with its siren. But the sound no longer promised help—it was more like the echo of fear settling in. Through the hospital windows, shadows rushed back and forth, lifting limp, unconscious bodies with a sense of urgency and dread.

The man took a slow breath, letting it out like a whisper carried off by the wind—soft, barely audible, but heavy with unease.

“No wounds... no blood... and yet their bodies look drained. Like life itself was stolen from them.”

He narrowed his eyes. In the corner of his vision, he saw a teenager collapse in front of a convenience store, falling like a puppet with its strings cut. His lips were turning blue, eyes shut tight. People around him panicked, unsure what to do.

“This isn’t some regular virus. Not the flu. Not one of those modern diseases. This is…”

He tilted his head slightly, recalling something—an old story. Faded. Forgotten.

“Could it be true…? That the ones who walk in shadow… have returned?”

Silence wrapped around the rooftop. The wind blew colder, almost as if the world was listening.

His gaze shifted toward the city’s main hospital, where the ER overflowed. Doctors rushed in every direction, overwhelmed and confused. No visible injuries. No poisons. No signs of infection. Just bodies slowly losing their strength… as if their souls were being quietly drained.

“I’ve heard this story before,” he muttered. “About creatures that move in the dark… dancing through the night, stealing life without a trace. People used to call them legends. Myths.”

His hand gripped the rusted railing in front of him, his eyes now lit with a faint resolve.

“…but if they’re real, if this is their doing, then the world needs to know. This isn’t an outbreak. It’s a warning.”

The wind picked up. Lightning flashed across the sky, and for a split second, his figure was revealed—eyes filled with conviction, a face shaped by old scars, and a presence that wasn’t quite human.

He turned, slipping back into the darkness beyond the rooftop door. No sound. No trace. But one thing was certain—he wouldn’t stand by and do nothing.