Epic of Vampire: The Crippled Vampire Prince Is Actually The Strongest

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Within the confines of an endless sea of sand, farther into the northeast lands of the dark dunes of the poisonous canyons, where the darkest and meanest of assassins and beasts dwelled within the Realm of Ennead, there was a huge black temple, surrounded by a large village, completely dark, and only illuminated by faint purple-colored flames.

Surrounded by black walls, the people inside of this village were not normal; their bodies were tattooed with black and purple, and their eyes were all crimson red.

Having undergone a special transformation and awakening since birth, these people within the Realm of Ennead had only worshiped a single being, a being not of this Realm, not of Ennead, but of far away into the stars.

Hundreds of years ago, he contacted their former leader, their first apostle and paladin of darkness, an assassin of unparalleled strength within Ennead known as the Never-Ending Night. In this dark, poisonous, and dangerous land within an already dangerous realm, he made his home.

This is where he heard his new master’s orders; his enlightenment, accompanied by his powerful curses, granted him the power to become known as a Soul Artifact Overlord, someone who built a dark, secret empire in the underworld.

Assassins, rogues, thieves, criminals, bandits—they all came to him, and he taught them how to be better at what they did. He formed a strong bond with these monsters of society and made them his family as he was told and as he desired.

Their descendants, and the descendants of their descendants, were all born in these dark lands and taught since birth the art of assassination, smuggling, scamming, and more. For the first time in Ennead, a Sect exclusively born for the worst people in society was created.

And it created the deadliest assassins that even the rest of the Realms have ever seen before. With the wondrous and dangerous powers of Soul Artifacts, rare objects that are the only way for someone to grow powerful in Ennead, they gained a name; they didn’t call themselves assassins.

No, to them, they were doing this because of their God, the Desecrated Shadow King. An entity from beyond whose entire being represents darkness, curses, shadows, and the broken, rotten heart of humanity.

They became the [Desecrated Shadow King’s Templars].

Templars indeed, not assassins, not rogues, not bandits, not thieves—to them, this was all due to a religious cause. Their smuggling, their acts of violence, their kidnapping, their murders—it was all for their God.

Hence, they were his dark templars, who sowed chaos everywhere and then reaped the benefits once everything was gone.

To continue their doctrine across the Realms, they expanded their forces and continued spreading their influence in Ennead, becoming one of the most dangerous Sects in the entire Realm.

Feared by most small nations and respected by the strongest of Empires, the Templars of the Outer One desired to gain more influence and let the World of Genesis learn about their Lord of Shadows and Curses.

Of their King beyond the stars and of his endless mourning, sorrow, and hatred.

Today, the strongest Templars of the Sect gathered within the largest Prayer Room of their Dark Temple, built eons ago, to both pray and train new recruits.

A single, tall man with gray skin, covered in black scales, with a long tail, small wings, and long black horns growing upwards stood in the middle of them.

Wearing black, purple, and red robes that covered most of his body and face, except his hands and feet, which resembled sharp bird-like talons, he held a huge black staff, a Soul Artifact of tremendous power.

Behind him, there was a huge altar. As a giant statue built out of black diamond stood, overflowing with a powerful aura of darkness and abyssal curses, this was a statue of an outer one that has existed for over five hundred years.

In front of him were over ten other figures of all shapes and sizes; some were as small as children, others were towering beings of over three meters in height.

Among them, Shamir stood in silence, his sharp eyes glancing at the man in front of him with a slight boredom and indifference.

It has been two days since his fight against Vlad, so he was able to cool down and relax, although he felt more bored than relaxed.

He had been fantasizing about meeting him again, but it would be too soon.

Vlad has to first grow stronger; the most delicious of fruits can only be enjoyed when completely ripened.

“I’m glad all ten of you could make it here,” said the Apostle of the Outer One in front of everyone, the current Leader and Religious Head of the Cult, the great grandson of the {Never Ending Night}. “Shamir in particular, I’ve heard you had a little visit over Obscuritas…”

The other nine Templars eyes all landed over Shamir, who remained in silence, then nodded without making any expression.

“Yes, it was an entertaining visit, Sect Master,” he said. “I learned a lot of new things.”

“Is that so…”

The Sect Master and the Apostle of the Desecrated Shadow king walked across the floor, looking at the rest of the templars in silence.

“I’ve called you all here to discuss our expansion plans towards the other Realms,” he said. “As you can see, Fantasia’s growth is steady. Their defenses against our invasion were not the best. So successful infiltration has been going smoothly.”

“Ooh! Is that so, master?”

“Interesting…”

“Isn’t Fantasia a Realm full of boundless resources? Compared to our Realm… they are very privileged.”

“Indeed, if we could reap even a ten percent of what they have, the situation in Ennead could change forever,” nodded the Apostle. “Therefore, we must do as our King orders… We shall continue the expansion, and I am planning on sending a few of you there. Volunteers?”

Quickly, several of the Templars raised their arms, speaking loudly.

“Please send me there, Sect Master! I’ll get it done for you singlehandedly!”

A young man with a fiery gaze and spiky red hair, long fur-covered ears, and huge lion-like claws and legs spoke; his red, spiky hair grew around his neck, resembling a lion’s mane.

His body was covered in purple, black, and red tattoos, and he wore nothing but a black robe and loose white pants.

“Efret, I see you’re eager,” nodded the Apostle. “But you’re too reckless… I’ll need you to go with someone who is more... well, composed.”

“I’ll keep this in check then,” said Shamir, smiling. “Let me go, Sect Master. After my battle against that vampire… I’ve been itching for a fight.”

“Hmm, no, Shamir, you can’t go yet,” the Apostle said. “After all, you went against the orders of the Sect and decided to not kill your targets, instead fighting them for fun and then not killing any at the end.”

“What?”

“Is that true?!”

“Shamir, what’s wrong with you?”

“Hah! Is this really the same Shamir we know?”

The other Templars reacted in similar ways, awestruck by Shamir’s compassion.

Or, well, what they thought was mercy was instead just his own way of playing with his prey.

“Don’t misunderstand,” he said. “I wasn’t merciful; I was simply having too much fun with my prey. It would be a pity if they died. I’ve been really bored lately, you know? Being an assassin is a good job, but it makes me feel quite dull… I want a thrilling battle once in a while.”

“And that’s the only reason why you just…?”

Shamir’s eyes glared at the woman who was about to talk back to him; her body froze instantly.

“If anybody has a problem with how I handle things, you’re free to come at me and show me the ropes,” he smiled. “I’ll gladly take you all at the same time.”

The templars felt slightly shocked at how hostile he was being!

Most of the Templars held a strong bond of brotherhood and family, yet Shamir was different.

Although he was raised here, he was different from the beginning—someone with incredible talent who was always sent on faraway missions.

With little time to interact with the rest, he grew distant and in his own world.

“Enough with your jokes, Shamir,” a tall woman with dark brown skin and a very muscular body sighed. Her entire body was covered in black tattoos and purple jewels, and her long, white hair cascaded to her hips. Her crimson eyes glared at Shamir, her face covered in white tattoos, giving her a tribal and wild appearance. “We templars must not fight against one another... We serve the same god after all.”

“Hah… Right, my bad,” Shamir shrugged. “It was just a joke; I apologize.”

Although he apologized, the rest of the templars didn’t know what he truly meant or if he was really being serious or not.

“Haahh…”

The Apostle sighed, as if he were dealing with a bunch of kids instead of assassins feared across the entire Realm.

“Okay, Shamir, you may go, but kill your targets and don’t play around,” said the Apostle. “This is your last chance before I’ll have to administer some punishment to you.”

"Punishment, you say?” Shamir laughed a bit. “Alright~ Thank you, Sect Master.”

The rest of the Templars sighed, glancing at Shamir. Doing whatever he wanted really made them quite mad, but they held back and decided that it wasn’t worth it.

“But what about Obscuritas?” The fiery young man named Efret asked this question as he crossed his muscular arms. “Now that Shamir ended up failing to even take down the Vampires, we pretty much lost all our footing at Elderbridge, right?”

“Not completely…” said the Apostle. “He did take down the largest branch, but there’s another smaller one hiding right now; he hasn’t targeted them all; this’ll be our opportunity.”

“Hey, you can’t do that; leave my prey alone,” Shamir suddenly said. “If anybody dares go there and try to kill him, you’ll die by my hand.”

The rest of the assassins all gasped again.

“Shamir! Are you serious?!” Efret asked. “You can’t just go around saying who is your prey or not; I also want to fight that guy!”

“You’ll have to go against me first, Efret,” Shamir unsheathed his daggers.

“Y-You bastard!” Efret roared as two huge, fiery red metallic gauntlets materialized on his two hands. “I’ll crush you!”

As the two were about to fight…

BAAAM!

Suddenly, a giant hand hit the ground, their two auras instantly fading away before the immense pressure. The Apostle had not done a single thing, but it was once more that woman, that enormous, muscular giantess of over three meters of height.

Her aura surpassed Shamir and Efret combined, and her sharp, crimson eyes glared into the two templars very souls. Her body, aside from her many tattoos, also revealed countless scars, showing how many battles she had gone through.

Her fist hitting the ground was enough to cool them down.

“I’ve already said so... No fights between Templars!” she roared. “If you don’t obey, I’ll MAKE you obey. Understood?”

“D-Don’t get so mad at me, big sis Ashira! I’m sorry!”

Efret panicked, not because of her strength but because he admired her, and thinking that he would disappoint her was more painful than risking his life fighting Shamir.

“My apologies… However, my warning remains the same. Please leave them to me.”

Shamir sighed, sheathing back his weapons, as he glared at Ashira.

Ashira glanced back at him; her aura didn’t recede.

For a moment, the two only stared at one another, measuring their power, or perhaps their wills.

But then, she nodded.

“Very well, Shamir,” she smiled. “You’ve done a lot for the Sect, isn’t that right, Sect Master? I suppose we can give him that.”

“I guess so,” the Apostle sighed. “Seriously, you’re all such troublesome kids… Shamir, Elderbridge is yours. I shall not send the ten, but everything else is fine, right? The other branch won’t just stay there to get slaughtered.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s fine with me,” Shamir nodded with a smile. “If he dies against trash, then he was never worth my time… It’ll be a nice trial for him.”

As the Desert Elf smiled, the Apostle nodded.

“But remember, Shamir. I want exceptional results once you transfer to Fantasia, understood?”

“Yes, Sect Master. I will not disappoint you.”

“Very well…”

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