Chapter CIV: The Zombotan Tan
The echo of battle still hums in the stone.
The Crypt of Vitae trembles faintly, the air thick with the scent of crushed bone and ozone. The torches burn low, their red flames licking shadows against the cavern walls. Steam rises from the shattered remains of skeletal warriors, curling into pale ribbons before vanishing into the darkness above.
Dracula's voice breaks the silence—smooth, deep, and oddly calm.
"Impressive. Ninety-eight out of one hundred."
Theo blinks, halfway through catching his breath. "Wait—what did we lose the two points for?"
Dracula's crimson eyes flick toward him. "For style."
Kingsley laughs weakly from the floor. "Bro, I literally summoned a lightning storm in an underground crypt—how is that not stylish?"
The Count's lips twitch. "You slipped."
Edison bursts out laughing. "He's not wrong! You did faceplant into a ribcage."
Kingsley groans. "I hate everything."
Nathaniel leans against a cracked pillar, sweat trailing down his temple. The faint blue gleam of his immobilization spell still flickers across the stone. His eyes have dimmed to a soft gray now, the afterglow of power fading. "We're getting better," he says quietly. "Faster."
Dracula folds his hands behind his back, his cloak rippling with unseen wind. "Better, yes. But perfection is a ghost that hides in arrogance. You will hunt it for eternity and never catch it. That is why the hunt must never stop."
Theo mutters under his breath, "Bro, he's like the final boss and the motivational speaker."
Dracula's gaze cuts to him. "I heard that."
Theo straightens instantly. "Respectfully, sir."
The Count allows himself a thin smirk. "You have one hour to recover. Hydrate, sharpen your blades, and steady your minds. The next simulation begins when the clock strikes the hour."
Pauline exhales, dropping to the cold floor beside Maisie. "Please tell me it's not more bones."
Dracula turns slightly, eyes gleaming faintly. "No. Flesh."
Edison grimaces. "That sounds way worse."
The Count gestures toward the dark archway beyond the training ground. "Zombies. They are slower, yes—but crueler. They do not stop when broken. They learn. They swarm. They remember."
A low murmur passes among them. Nathaniel's jaw tightens. Theo raises an eyebrow. "So... a one-hour break before we die again?"
Dracula nods once. "Exactly." Then, in a blur of smoke, he vanishes.
The cavern falls silent but for their breathing and the soft crackle of torches.
For the first time in hours, there's peace.
They set up a small camp near the edge of the training field. Edison conjures faint cold from his palms, creating makeshift ice seats. Kingsley uses a controlled spark to light a circle of candles scavenged from nearby crypt shelves. The glow flickers gently over their tired faces.
Maisie opens her rations. "I swear these taste worse every day."
Theo eyes her sandwich. "Trade you for mine."
"Yours looks like a crime."
"It's called gourmet field cuisine, thank you."
Pauline sighs, laying back on the cool stone. "I miss sunlight."
Nathaniel glances upward. The ceiling above glows faintly with the runes Dracula used earlier. "We'll see it again soon. Maybe."
Theo pulls his bag closer and rummages inside. "Speaking of seeing things—check this out." He pulls out a stack of comic books, edges slightly torn. "Got these from a vendor in Cluj before we got here."
Edison perks up. "Comics? Bro, you're a lifesaver."
Theo grins, flipping through the pile—until his expression freezes.
"Uh..."
Maisie tilts her head. "What's wrong?"
Theo laughs awkwardly. "Nothing! Just... adult material."
Pauline sits up immediately. "What kind of adult material?"
Theo hides the second comic behind his back. "The kind that would scar Kingsley for life."
Kingsley leans forward, mock-offended. "Excuse me—I am emotionally stable."
"Exactly why I'm sparing you," Theo replies quickly, shoving the questionable magazine deep into his bag. "Anyway! Let's focus on the art form."
Maisie grins. "Sure. We all totally believe that."
Edison snickers. "Man's studying anatomy, leave him alone."
Theo tosses a pebble at him. "You're one ice cube away from extinction."
Kingsley leans back, chuckling. "I needed this. The banter, I mean. Almost makes me forget the undead we're about to fight."
Pauline nods softly. "It helps... pretending we're just normal travelers for a while."
Nathaniel's voice comes quieter, thoughtful. "We're not normal anymore. But maybe that's not a bad thing."
Theo looks at him. "You say that like you've accepted it."
Nathaniel stares into the flickering candlelight. "Maybe I have. Power's not a curse unless you let it own you."
Edison whistles low. "That's deep. Did Dracula whisper that to you in your sleep?"
"No," Nathaniel says, a small smile tugging at his lips. "My own thought. Shocking, I know."
Maisie throws a small pebble his way. "You're finally loosening up."
He catches it midair with magic—freezing it solid. "Progress."
They all laugh softly.
After a while, conversation drifts naturally into lighter things. Theo starts a debate about which anime character would survive in a vampire crypt.
"Obviously Saitama," he declares. "One punch, end of story."
Kingsley scoffs. "Dude, he can't punch what's already dead."
Edison leans forward. "Nah, nah, it's Levi from Attack on Titan. The man thrives in nightmare situations."
Maisie smirks. "I'm voting for Megumin. She'd blow up the entire cavern in one spell."
Theo points dramatically. "Exactly! She'd say 'Explosion!' and Dracula would be like—'Finally, a challenge.'"
Pauline laughs so hard she nearly chokes. "You're all hopeless."
Nathaniel listens quietly, though the corner of his mouth lifts in amusement. For once, their laughter fills the crypt without fear, echoing warmly against the ancient stone.
When conversation shifts to memes, Kingsley takes over.
"You know what we should do?" he says. "Next time Theo blinds an enemy, yell 'Skill issue!'"
Theo grins. "And when you fry one, I'll say 'Voltage check failed.'"
Edison adds, "And when I drop hail, it's 'Free ice samples!'"
Maisie groans. "We're fighting undead, not running a comedy club."
Pauline sighs fondly. "Let them have their fun."
For a while, they just sit together in silence, the calm before the storm. Nathaniel looks at each of them in turn—their tired faces, their quiet laughter—and feels something stir in his chest. Gratitude. Purpose. Maybe even hope.
The hour passes like a whisper.
Dracula reappears without sound. His presence drains the warmth from the air, though his tone remains composed. "Time's up."
Theo hops to his feet. "Round two?"
Dracula gestures, and the floor begins to tremble. The runes along the chamber's edge shift from crimson to sickly green. The temperature drops; the air thickens with rot.
Then, the sound begins—wet, dragging, hungry.
Shapes emerge from the ground—arms clawing through cracks, torsos pulling free from soil and stone. The scent of decay fills the crypt. Eyes glow faint yellow in hollow sockets.
Edison groans. "Yup. Definitely worse than bones."
Dracula raises one hand, almost lazily. "You know the rules. Destroy them all. One hundred for full marks."
Kingsley crackles his knuckles. "Let's make it one hundred and one."
Theo taps his phone, and from the tiny speaker, a playful tune bursts forth:
🎵 There's a zombie on the lawn... There's a zombie on the lawn... 🎵
Maisie stares. "You didn't."
Theo smirks. "Mood music."
Even Dracula looks vaguely offended—but he says nothing.
The zombies lurch forward, groaning in unison. The first wave charges.
Nathaniel reacts first—his eyes flashing bright silver as his immobilization magic ripples outward. Ten zombies freeze mid-motion, their bodies encased in shimmering light. Theo darts in, his twin blades of radiance slicing clean through their torsos.
Kingsley raises both arms. Lightning crackles between his palms before launching into the horde, striking one, then splitting into five more. The air smells of burnt flesh and ozone.
Edison lifts his hands, summoning shards of ice that spiral through the mist. Hail pelts the undead relentlessly, each impact breaking bone and rotting flesh alike. "Ice to meet you!" he shouts.
Pauline and Maisie move in tandem—Pauline's spiked orbs whirling through the air, shattering skulls, while Maisie's knives find soft targets in the chaos. "Left flank!" Pauline calls.
"On it!" Maisie flips forward, blades flashing. She lands in front of a cluster of zombies, spins, and cuts three cleanly in half. The sound is wet, visceral, final.
Dracula observes from the shadows, unmoving but keen-eyed.
Nathaniel gestures sharply, channeling his energy into the earth itself. Cracks ripple across the floor, swallowing several undead whole before sealing them in ice. He exhales, steam curling from his lips. "Theo—light them up!"
Theo twirls his blades, crossing them together. A burst of golden light floods the crypt—like sunlight piercing a tomb. The frozen zombies vaporize in the glow.
Edison raises his voice over the roaring chaos. "We're actually doing it!"
Kingsley grins, hurling a bolt that arcs across ten corpses. "No—we're winning."
But then—the floor shakes violently. From the center of the arena, a massive hand bursts through the stone, blackened and burning with green fire. The zombies stop, as if listening.
Nathaniel's eyes widen. "That's not part of the simulation!"
Dracula's expression sharpens slightly—but he doesn't intervene.
The creature emerges—a colossal corpse draped in tattered armor, its jaw hanging loose, eyes blazing with unnatural light. It roars, the sound shaking dust from the ceiling.
Theo mutters, "Okay, mini-boss. Got it."
"Correction," Kingsley says grimly, lightning building in his fists. "Mid-boss."
The beast swings its arm, sending a wave of force that throws Edison and Maisie back. Nathaniel catches them mid-air with telekinetic force, setting them down safely. "Focus fire!" he orders.
Pauline hurls a spiked orb directly into the monster's mouth—it explodes, shattering teeth and spraying ichor. Edison summons a hailstorm that slams into the wound, freezing the gore solid.
Theo leaps onto the creature's arm, light radiating from his feet. "Go for the core!"
Nathaniel channels every ounce of his will. "Immobilize!"
Chains of blue light lash out, wrapping around the creature's limbs, halting its movement. "Now!"
Kingsley roars, hurling a thunderbolt that crashes into Theo's light burst. The fusion detonates like a sun being born underground. The shockwave rips through the crypt, scattering what remains of the undead army into ash.
When the light fades, the beast is gone—only a smoking crater remains.
For a long moment, no one speaks.
Then Edison lets out a shaky laugh. "Tell me we get bonus points for that."
Dracula steps forward, his boots silent against the stone. He surveys the ruin, the six warriors, the faint scorch marks still glowing.
"Ninety-nine," he says finally.
Theo blinks. "Ninety-nine?! Why?!"
Dracula's mouth curves slightly. "Because perfection would end the lesson."
Kingsley drops onto a nearby stone. "I'll take it."
Pauline grins, breathless. "So... what now?"
Dracula looks at Nathaniel, eyes gleaming. "Now? You rest. Tomorrow, the simulation changes. Flesh learns; so must you."
Nathaniel nods, feeling something new stirring inside him—not exhaustion, but control. His powers respond faster, his will sharper, his fear smaller. Progress.
He glances around at his team—Theo wiping sweat from his brow, Kingsley laughing softly, Edison leaning back in relief, Pauline and Maisie exchanging proud smiles—and feels the quiet certainty that they're no longer students.
They're becoming something else entirely.
Dracula turns away, cloak billowing like a shadow given purpose.
"Enjoy your victory," he says. "The next one may demand more than strength."
The torches dim again. The music fades.
And somewhere deep beneath the Crypt of Vitae, something ancient stirs at the sound of their triumph—listening, learning, waiting for the next test to begin.
To be continued...