Sword of Vengeance (Bjorn and Zyro #2)[COMPLETED]

20: The Ashwood Stake

The catacombs were cold, the kind of cold that seemed to seep into their bones as Bjorn, Zyro, Conrad, Spike, and Violet ventured deeper into the underground labyrinth. The air was thick and damp, filled with the stench of decay and the oppressive weight of centuries-old death. Their footsteps echoed faintly in the narrow passageways, barely cutting through the eerie silence that seemed to stretch endlessly before them.

The walls around them were lined with ancient, weathered bones, neatly arranged in macabre patterns of skulls and femurs. Each hollow eye socket seemed to watch them as they passed, a silent reminder of the countless lives that had been claimed over the centuries. Dim torchlight flickered in sconces along the walls, casting grotesque shadows that danced and twisted with every movement. The catacombs stretched far beyond what they had initially imagined—an intricate maze of death and silence beneath the streets of Manila.

"This place gives me the creeps," Spike muttered, his voice breaking the stillness as they moved through another chamber. His usual Deadpool-like banter was tempered by the sheer eeriness of their surroundings. "It's like we're in some twisted version of a Halloween haunted house."

Bjorn shot him a glance but said nothing, too focused on the task at hand. His eyes scanned the walls, looking for any sign of what they sought. The Ashwood Stake. A weapon of legend, said to be the only thing capable of killing a vampire elder. And if Godfrey's information was correct, it was here—hidden somewhere in these twisted tunnels of death.

They pressed forward, deeper into the catacombs. The narrow tunnels opened up into a larger chamber, and there, at the center, stood a stone altar covered in thick dust. An eerie, low hum filled the air, as if the very space around them was vibrating with an ancient power.

"Is that it?" Zyro asked, his voice low as they all stepped closer.

Bjorn's eyes locked onto the object resting atop the altar—a wooden stake, sleek and black, glinting in the faint light. It was smaller than he expected, unassuming at first glance, but there was a strange, dark energy emanating from it. The Ashwood Stake.

"That's it," Bjorn whispered, stepping forward cautiously. His fingers trembled slightly as he reached for it, the weight of what this stake represented settling heavily on his shoulders. The power to kill an elder vampire. The power to take down Vanong.

As his hand closed around the stake, the humming intensified, and a cold, pulsing energy shot up his arm. He gritted his teeth, pulling the stake free from the altar. It felt light in his hand but radiated a deadly aura.

"We've got it," Bjorn said, turning to the others.

But before anyone could respond, a slow clapping sound echoed through the chamber.

"Look what we have here." came a voice from the shadows. 

They all spun around to see Luke standing at the entrance to the chamber, a smug grin plastered across his face. Behind him, the shadows moved—Vanong's vampire assassins, silent and menacing, their eyes glinting with malice as they spread out, blocking the exits.

Luke stepped forward, casually running a hand through his hair. "You really thought you could just waltz in here and take it without anyone noticing?"

Bjorn tightened his grip on the stake, his eyes narrowing. "Get out of our way, Luke."

Luke chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Oh, I don't think so, Bjorn. You've caused enough trouble as it is. And now, you're playing with powers far beyond your control."

The air in the chamber grew tense, thick with the promise of violence as the group slowly readied themselves for whatever came next. Spike's hand hovered over his weapon, Zyro's eyes were fixed on the assassins, and Conrad's muscles tensed, ready to shift at any moment.

 Bjorn barely had time to process Luke's smug grin before the vampire assassins launched themselves at them with terrifying speed. The air was immediately filled with the sounds of hissing and the clash of steel as daggers met fangs.

Conrad, standing just behind Bjorn, was the first to react. His eyes darkened, and his body trembled as he summoned the power within him. Shadows swirled around him, thick and menacing, like a growing storm. With a guttural growl, he stretched out his hands, and the dark spirits erupted from his body, their wraithlike forms swirling around the chamber like a cyclone. They lashed out at the assassins, disorienting them, their icy touch draining the strength from their enemies.

The spirits howled, circling Luke and the assassins, who fought to keep their ground, but the advantage was shifting. Conrad's newfound power was chaotic, and it sent waves of dark energy through the chamber.

"Well, that's one way to party," Spike quipped, slicing through an assassin's throat as he ducked under a vicious swing. Blood splattered across his face, but he grinned like he was enjoying it. "Just when I thought things couldn't get any weirder."

Bjorn and Zyro fought back to back, their movements fluid and in sync as they dispatched the assassins coming from both sides. Bjorn's daggers moved like flashes of silver in the dim light, while Zyro used his fangs, tearing through their enemies with precision. Every time one assassin fell, another seemed to take their place, though Conrad's spirits did their best to keep the odds in their favor.

Luke, however, remained unfazed, watching them with an infuriating calmness as he dodged the attacks from the dark spirits. His eyes were locked on Conrad, clearly recognizing the power he wielded.

"You've got some new tricks," Luke said with a smirk as he deflected a wraith that lunged at him. "But you're still just a puppet. You don't even know the full extent of your own power."

"Shut up!" Conrad growled, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and fear as he unleashed another wave of spirits. They surged forward, nearly overtaking Luke, but he dodged, just narrowly avoiding them.

"Come on, Conrad!" Bjorn called out as he drove a dagger into the heart of an assassin. "We have to get out of here!"

Conrad nodded, his eyes flicking toward the nearest exit. He tightened his control over the spirits, using them as a shield to carve a path for the group. The assassins faltered, their movements becoming sluggish under the assault of the dark energy.

"Let's move!" Zyro shouted, grabbing Violet, who was still shaken from earlier.

Together, they pushed through the chaos, following Conrad's lead as the spirits carved a path through the remaining assassins. With one final burst of energy, Conrad summoned the spirits to form a massive barrier of shadows, temporarily holding back their enemies.

The group raced out of the catacombs, their feet pounding against the ancient stone as they made their escape. Behind them, the eerie wails of the spirits and the enraged cries of the assassins echoed through the tunnels.

They burst out into the cool night air, breathing heavily, but there was no time to rest. Conrad's face was pale from the strain, but he led them through the winding streets of Manila, heading for one place where they might find temporary refuge—an underground club, nestled deep in the heart of the city.

As they entered the neon-lit club, the heavy beat of music thrummed through their bodies, momentarily overwhelming the echoes of battle still ringing in their ears. The crowd was thick, the flashing lights disorienting after the dark and eerie catacombs.

Spike wiped the blood from his cheek, looking around with a smirk. "Well, this is definitely an upgrade from that crypt," he joked, eyeing the partygoers dancing around them. "Who knew escaping death could be this stylish?"

Bjorn glared at him, but there was no hiding the relief on his face. They had made it out alive—barely.