Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate
Chapter 215: The Door of Wisdom

Chapter 215: The Door of Wisdom

The use of dark magic, especially when done recklessly, could summon dangerous spirits. However, it was very rare for actual demons to appear.

"Oh, you bet you would! This is Ol’gaz we’re talking about, not just some minor threat," said Drazar, the eighth ancestor.

He had once worked in the temple. Though naturally timid, Drazar knew more about dark magic and demons than most people knew about their own names, thanks to his past job.

Frustrated, he raised his voice slightly as emotions began to take over. "Trivial dark spirits can’t upset the balance of the world, but Ol’gaz can—and he will."

Ordinary dark spirits were weak. They needed sacrifices from humans to survive. Even if they caused chaos in the mortal world, they mostly just harmed the people who summoned them and their vessels.

But Ol’gaz was different. He had once ruled over hell. After losing a major battle to the angels, Ol’gaz was defeated but not killed. Instead, he was trapped in an invisible dimension.

Sorina, the third ancestor, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "Isodle must have been desperate. Only a strong will could summon a demon and break through the barriers between worlds to enter the mortal realm."

Gritting his teeth, Drazar added, "And even then, the chances of the vessel surviving a possession for more than five minutes were basically zero."

The fact that Florian had survived for years after the ritual wasn’t just extraordinary—it was a disaster waiting to happen. It meant he was the perfect vessel for Ol’gaz, which only made things worse.

It’s not like the ancestors had been rooting for the young bat to meet his end early, but his compatibility with the demon made it terrifyingly possible for Ol’gaz to take over completely.

If Ol’gaz managed to take full control of Florian’s body, it’d be game over. The kid’s soul would get a one-way ticket to the invisible dimension to take Ol’gaz’s place.

Meanwhile, Ol’gaz would gain free reign to destroy the mortal world—all while parading around in a teenage vampire’s body.

"That mistress did an excellent job locking Ol’gaz away and keeping the boy alive," Drazar snapped. "And yet here you are, foolish enough to remove the one seal that kept this demon from tearing the earth apart!"

His words were directed at the Fallen One, who had no choice but to stand there and take it. He knew full well his blunder had thrown the mortal world into grave danger.

"That darkness was never meant to be awakened," Drazar continued, his voice trembling, thin with despair. It was clear he was running out of hope as if he could already see the inevitable outcome of their failure.

A heavy silence fell over the room. Even those who usually enjoyed mocking the Fallen One held their tongues. Because when the apocalypse is on the line, apparently even sarcasm has limits. The stakes were too high for petty jabs now.

"What do we do now?" Isharka asked, cutting through the tension with a focus on solutions rather than dwelling on the irreversible past.

The Fallen One finally looked up. His eyes burned with determination as he answered, "I will fix it."

...And redeem myself.

***

Not every vampire could score a golden ticket to ancestor status after death. It wasn’t handed out like snacks at a ball.

To even be considered, a vampire had to achieve something big—like, saving-the-mortal-world big. Only those who left a major impact could make the cut.

But being nominated was just the beginning. After that, the nominees had to compete against one another for a coveted ancestor seat. The prize was determined by mortal worship.

That’s right—ancestor status was basically a popularity contest. Apparently, leading future generations into greatness required a healthy dose of clout.

The first ancestor was almost crowned the king of Vonstein, but the Nightshade Coven decided to pull a last-minute change of mind and ship him off to be king of the Kingdom of Eira instead.

He turned out to be an exceptional king, so much so that when he passed away, his followers were heartbroken. They used magic to let him stay in contact with living vampires, creating what became known as the Spiritual Circle.

This was how the Fallen One became the first ancestor. However, maintaining this connection required a limited amount of magic, so only twelve ancestors could exist on the High Table at any time.

These positions weren’t permanent, and while no ancestor was truly irreplaceable, it was usually the Fallen One who decided who stayed or left.

Fast forward, and—oh, the irony—it’s now the Fallen One who had lost his place. The first seat sat empty, as no one dared to fill it, even though the Fallen One was already treated like an outcast.

Why? Because Isharka, the Fallen One’s friend a.k.a loyal follower, refused to give up on him. Isharka was convinced the Fallen One was just taking a dramatic sabbatical and would swoop back in one day to reclaim his glory.

But his sins were far too heavy to be balanced out by small, meaningless gestures. With his latest blunder, reclaiming his former glory seemed like a distant dream—practically a mirage.

The Fallen One was nothing if not stubborn. This time, he wasn’t going to sit around moping and letting everything turn to ash. He was determined to fix it.

Even if it was far too late, he was going to give it his all. Call it desperation, call it optimism, call it a mid-afterlife crisis.

When the meeting ended, he lingered in the silent chamber. Once the room cleared, he slipped through the Door of Wisdom. He waited, biding his time, until he found her—the Blood Moon child.

Back when he had been the first ancestor, crossing over into the mortal world had been as easy as stepping through a curtain.

There were rules and limits, of course, carefully crafted to prevent ancestors from upsetting the delicate balance between the two realms. But rules were different when you sat at the top. And for a time, that was where he had ruled.

Clenching his jaw, he fixed his gaze on the silver-haired girl, her fiery blue eyes wild with rage. She was tearing through the forest, shouting at the trees, slamming her fists into them, gasping for breath. Then, in a surge of power, she set the whole forest ablaze.

The Fallen One couldn’t shake the feeling that this chaos was his fault. One mistake—and everything was unraveling again. Memories of his past mistakes surfaced, unbidden, but he refused to fall into the same passivity this time. No more standing by.

This time, he would act.

"Kid... it’s me," he said, his voice tight as he swallowed the weight of his regret. "I’m sorry."