I stood in front of the squad of vampire hunters and looked at the army of the empire and then at the army of zombies, skeletons, vampires, and more things.
I thought we had the advantage. The undead were many, but they were also disorganized, and vulnerable to our firepower. But then came the vampires—the Von Carstein nobles—who appeared from the shadows, each one more terrifying than the last.
[Vlad von Carstein]: You… you dare challenge the might of the Von Carstein dynasty?!
His voice, cold as death, echoed over the battlefield as he and his vampire knights descended from the castle gates. The undead hordes parted like the sea before them, and the vampires moved with terrifying speed, their swords and claws flashing in the dim light.
I gripped my pistol, eyes narrowing as I sized up the vampire lord. This was no longer just a battle for land. It was a war for survival, and only one side would emerge victorious.
[Grey]: I've had enough of you, Vlad.
I activated my [Consumer of matter and space] and ate his and all the vampire nobles then I used the [Flame of the Forgotten] to burn the undead army and the necromancers and apparently the vampire magic that was in the land well hope my help won't get me in a problem.
[One month later]
The weight of a kingdom pressed down on my shoulders—but it wasn't fear or doubt that filled me.
It was disbelief.
One month ago, I was cleaving through vampire lords with a power that bent reality. Now I stood on the marble dais of the Grand Cathedral in Altdorf, surrounded by Imperial banners and the highest nobles of the Empire.
The council chamber was packed. Elector Counts, Grand Theogonists, Wizards of the Colleges, Dwarf Lords, even Halfling delegates from the Moot. And at the center of them all, Emperor Karl Franz, seated upon his gilded throne, Deathclaw resting just behind him, eyes glowing with primal fury.
He stood, his voice ringing out like a hammer striking steel.
[Karl Franz]: From this moment until the end of his line or the will of Sigmar himself, I name Grey of House Walpurgis the Elector Count of Sylvania—warden of the east, defender of the veil, bane of the undead.
A stunned silence settled over the chamber, followed by murmurs of disbelief. Some nodded in approval. Others scowled—uncomfortable with the rise of an unknown, a strange figure with power no one truly understood.
But none dared challenge it. Not after what I'd done.
The vampires of Sylvania were gone. Vlad von Carstein and his cursed nobles, devoured in an instant. The undead hordes, consumed by searing blue flame, their necromantic anchors scorched from the earth. The cursed fog had lifted, and the people of Sylvania—long silent, long afraid—were starting to return to a land once lost.
[Dwarf Lord]: Aye! The lad earned it. Who else would take that cursed land an' make it live again?
[Bright Wizard]: He carries the flame of judgment… and mercy. Just hope he never turns it on us.
I stepped forward, accepting the silver-and-ebony Elector's Blade, forged in ancient tradition and freshly inscribed with my new crest—a black sun wreathed in silver fire, well hope nothing bad happens.
[Later – Sylvania, Capital Ruins of Drakenhof, Reclaimed and Rebuilt]
A great forge burned in the castle's heart. Dwarven engineers and Imperial craftsmen worked side by side, erecting towers of blackened steel and enchanted stone. Hunter barracks had been built, while vampire wards and sanctified runes glowed from every doorway.
From above, gunships—a fusion of steamcraft and sorcery—patrolled the skies. The land wasn't just surviving. It was evolving.
Inside the grand war room, I stood over a massive map of the Empire, surrounded by my council: the Dwarf Lord, a former Vampire Hunter Captain, a Halfling diplomat, a Magister from the College of Light, and a scribe with too many quills and not enough patience.
[Hunter Captain]: Chaos stirs again in the north. Scouts report strange movements past the Kislev border. Something's coming.
[Dwarf Lord]: Lad, if it's the tide again, we'd better get hammerin'. I've got new runes ready to burn through daemon hide.
I nodded slowly, my clockwork eye scanning the glowing red marks on the map. Chaos. Again. It never truly ends.
But this time… I had an army, a city, a title, and a purpose.
And when darkness came next, it would find Sylvania reborn—not a graveyard of the past, but a forge for the future.
[Grey]: Then it's time we remind the world… monsters don't own the night anymore. We do.
[Five Months Later – Castle Drakenhof, Sylvania]
I sat back in my chair, boots propped up on the long oaken table, a beer mug in hand and a stack of reports in front of me. The grand hall of my castle, once a den of bloodsuckers and horrors, now smelled of roasted meat, dwarven forges, and gunpowder. It felt… strangely normal.
I flipped through the latest reports, taking a sip from my drink.
[Grey]: Let's see… ratmen tunnels collapsed—check. Chaos cults in the south purged—check. Beastmen tribes wiped out—check. Demons repelled at the border—check. Marienburg dragged kicking and screaming back into the Empire—double check. Spies being hunted and gutted in the streets—triple-check.
I set the paper down, rubbing my temples.
[Grey]: Gods above… did we just fix the Empire?
A booming laugh filled the hall as the Dwarf Lord, now wearing a finely crafted coat of runed armor, stomped into the room. He carried a tankard big enough to drown a lesser man.
[Dwarf Lord]: Aye, lad! Ye keep this up, and the bloody Elector Counts will start sendin' ye letters askin' when ye'll be Emperor next!
I scoffed, waving the thought away.
[Grey]: No thanks. I already have an entire haunted province to run. That's headache enough.
Across the table, the Hunter Captain, an old veteran with a scar across his jaw, leaned forward. His gaze was sharp as ever.
[Hunter Captain]: Maybe. But don't think for a second that the nobles aren't watching you, Grey. You're too useful. Too dangerous. Too… unknown.
I smirked, swirling my drink.
[Grey]: Let them watch. If they want to play politics, they'll find I play a much meaner game.
Before anyone could respond, a scout burst into the hall, his face pale, his breath ragged.
[Scout]: My lord! Urgent news from the east!
I slowly set my mug down, already feeling a headache forming.
[Grey]: Of course. What now?
The scout swallowed hard before speaking.
[Scout]: An Elven delegation has arrived from Ulthuan. They seek an audience… and they say it concerns you personally.
The hall went silent.
I raised a brow, exchanging glances with my advisors. The Empire was one thing. The Elves? They never got involved unless something big was happening.
I stood up, cracking my neck.
[Grey]: Well then… let's see what our pointy-eared friends want.
[Chapter end]
[Note Hello this is the Author, I'm here to tell you that I have been working on another book titled {A Game of Twins} go check it out if you want]