The vampire prince stood tall, his mind razor-sharp as ever, calcuting the odds. In theory, a single vampire like him could wipe out hundreds of lycans without breaking a sweat. The sheer power of his species made them nearly indestructible to the human eye. But these weren’t just any lycans—they were organized, deadly, and the numbers were on their side. Almost 10,000 lycans, all transformed from men who had fallen under their cursed leader’s command.

  And then there was their general.

  A leader lycan, an ancient beast that had revived from the darkest depths of time. Val knew of their kind, knew their strength. A leader lycan could command up to a hundred regur lycans, their power vast and nearly unstoppable in the right hands. But even still, that didn’t make the situation any less grim. A single leader lycan could not deal with the vast horde of 10,000.

  Val’s eyes narrowed. His army was no match for this force, especially since his soldiers were human and, while capable, were nowhere near as strong as the lycans in their transformed state. As a single lycan can deal with 100 human warriors.

  He scanned his forces—30,000 men stood before him, ready to fight, but each one was as mortal as the st. With lycans that could tear through a hundred men in a matter of moments, how could he win this?

  The tension was palpable as the lycans advanced, their cws clicking against the hardened earth, their growls reverberating through the air. The earth itself seemed to shift as the wolves' army closed in.

  “Valerius,” Lysara’s voice was barely a whisper against the backdrop of the chaos. She was standing next to him, her eyes wide with shock and fear. The battle had taken a terrible turn—she could feel it, the immense pressure in the air, the darkness that the lycans brought with them.

  “I won’t let you die here,” Lysara said, gripping the sleeve of his armor, her voice trembling with concern.

  Val turned to her, his expression cold, unreadable. “I won’t die.”

  But even as the words left his lips, he couldn’t shake the cold dread that gnawed at him. It wasn’t about whether he would die—it was about what would happen if he didn’t win. What would become of his kingdom? His people?

  He gnced at his army again, the realization settling heavily in his chest. No. They didn’t have the numbers to win. And he wasn’t willing to lose everything. Not yet.

  The lycans were now within striking distance, and Val’s generals shouted commands to the troops. Spears were raised, swords drawn, but Val knew, deep in his gut, that it wouldn’t be enough. Even as they fought with all their might, the lycans’ ferocity was unmatched. Men fell left and right, their bodies ripped apart by the monstrous creatures.

  The first wave of lycans collided with Val’s soldiers, and the air was filled with the sickening sound of tearing flesh. Val’s eyes flickered, calcuting, watching, but he couldn’t find an opening. They were swarming too quickly.

  A loud, guttural roar echoed through the battlefield. The lycan leader appeared—a hulking beast of muscle and fury. He stood taller than the others, his eyes glowing with an unnatural ferocity as he charged toward Val, his enormous form cutting through the battlefield like a dark shadow.

  Val's grip on his sword tightened. He was a vampire—unmatched by any mortal. But against the power of this many lycans, even he could only hold off so many before the tides would turn.

  Lysara’s eyes were fixed on the battlefield, her expression unreadable. She was calcuting, observing, trying to figure out how to turn this battle in their favor, but there was no pn now that could save them. Val was right. The numbers alone were enough to overwhelm them.

  And yet, as Lysara gnced back at Val, her thoughts became clearer. The man she had fought against, the one who seemed untouchable in his power, was now fighting a losing battle. The weight of it was too much to bear. She had believed, despite everything, that they might somehow survive—but the numbers of lycans were too great.

  Lysara turned toward him, her face pale, her heart heavy. “You can’t win this, Valerius,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the chaos.

  Val said nothing, his eyes cold as ever, as though he had already come to the same conclusion. He wasn’t one to grieve, not like a human, not like a mortal. Emotions were a luxury he didn’t afford. But in the face of defeat, something inside him shifted—something he could never quite pce, but it was there. The feeling of helplessness. The feeling of watching everything slip through his fingers.

  Lysara stared at Valerius, her chest tightening as the realization sank in.

  They had lost.

  The invincible Valerius Dracul, the st of his kind, the apex predator of the world—had been forced to retreat.

  She had never imagined this moment. Never thought she would witness the downfall of the man who had once seemed untouchable. And yet, here they were, standing at the edge of ruin, surrounded by the bodies of fallen warriors, the howls of victorious lycans echoing in the distance.

  Her gaze flickered to him. He stood eerily still, crimson eyes locked onto the battlefield, his expression unreadable. His sword was still in his grip, slick with blood, but he made no move to raise it.

  Lysara bit her lip. Is he… grieving?

  It made sense. His pride, his kingdom—everything he had built—was crumbling before his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, this was the one thing he couldn’t recover from. Maybe this was the wound that would finally break him.

  And if that was the case…

  Her throat tightened. He’s going to leave me.

  It was the logical choice, wasn’t it? She was nothing but a political tool, an enemy he had captured. With his empire in ruins, what use was she to him now?

  She had seen it before—rulers abandoning what no longer served them, letting go of their burdens when the weight became too much.

  Would he do the same? Would he simply turn his back and walk away?

  She should have been relieved. Lysara thought that she could just die here.

  And yet, as she stood there, watching him, she felt a pang of something strange. Something she didn’t want to name.

  Then, he moved.

  Before she could react, she felt his iron grip close around her wrist.

  “What—?”

  “We’re leaving.” His voice was calm. Too calm.

  Lysara blinked up at him, stunned. “You’re… taking me with you?”

  Valerius gnced at her, his gaze sharp, assessing. “Of course.”

  Her breath caught. “But… why? You’ve lost everything. I’m no use to you anymore.”

  His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Don’t be foolish, Lysara. Losing a kingdom doesn’t mean losing everything. I can rebuild. Conquer another. Power shifts, but those who know how to wield it remain.”

  His fingers tightened slightly around her wrist. Not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her that she wasn’t going anywhere.

  “And you,” he continued, eyes gleaming, “are still a valuable piece in this game.”

  Lysara felt her heart pound against her ribs.

  He wasn’t leaving her.

  Not because he cared. Not because he was broken by his loss.

  But because Valerius Dracul was never ruled by emotion.

  And in his mind, taking her was the logical thing to do.