Arcane Warfare: From the Ashes of a Disposable Soldier

 The crimson glow flickered at the edges of Cedar's vision, faint and ominous.

 His body began to tremble. His heart thundered in his chest, each beat more frantic than the last.

 He knew the signs all too well: The Red Eye Fever!

 It had come unbidden, as it always did, in moments of dire peril, when death loomed so close he could taste its bitter edge.

 The fever, a monstrous force buried deep within him, had always been his darkest secret. 

 No one had ever seen it; no one had witnessed what it did to him, at least no one who is still alive.

 Each time it awakened, it consumed him entirely, transforming him into a mindless, bloodthirsty beast.

 Each time the slaughter ended, it left Cedar collapsed and comatose, haunted by the devastation it brought.

 The nature of his condition had to remain an absolute secret as if discovered, a threat like him would be eliminated without hesitation.

 In the suffocating darkness of the ancient cave, standing before a power older than time itself, the fever surged forth again.

 Cedar clenched his fists, his breathing ragged as he struggled against it.

 This was not the moment for it to take over.

 He knew no human strength, no matter how enhanced, could possibly defeat the entity before him.

 To this being, he was less than an insect, a fleeting speck of life that could be extinguished with a thought.

 Perhaps the entity would kill him the very next second, yet it was already too late to stop the fever.

 It clawed at his mind, its presence growing stronger with each passing heartbeat, demanding release. It hungered for the overwhelming magic saturating the air around him, a craving so primal and insistent that Cedar could barely hold himself together.

 The entity's aura, vast and unrelenting, acted like a beacon, its power a feast too tempting for the fever to resist.

 His grip tightened on the staff in his hands, the smooth wood suddenly heavy, as if it had been forged not as a tool for defense but as a weapon for slaughter.

 Cedar's vision blurred further, the crimson glow intensifying.

 A voice, not the entity's, but something deep within him, whispering, urging him to strike, to consume.

 Then came the laughter.

 Cold and sharp, it sliced through the air, rattling the very walls of the cave.

 Unlike before, when the entity showed little emotion, this time he could feel pure joy emanating from it.

"Interesting!" the voice boomed, echoing with a force that made the ground tremble. 

"Right at the moment of my awakening, I am greeted by not only Asterius's descendant but a bloody vessel!"

 In an instant, the oppressive weight of the entity's magic crashed down on Cedar like a tidal wave. 

 It cut through the fever's bloodthirsty haze with a crushing finality, extinguishing the wild hunger that had begun to consume him. 

 The crimson glow in his eyes flickered, then died entirely, leaving him gasping for breath. 

 His knees buckled, and he stumbled, struggling to remain upright.

 The fever vanished as quickly as it appeared.

 The voice hummed with satisfaction, its presence filling every corner of the cavern.

"Ah, I see it now," it murmured as if savoring the revelation. "That primal hunger... you are not just any mage, are you? No, no, you're something far more dangerous...and precious. A vessel of blood, of chaos, of war. How delightful. Tell me, boy, how many times have you tasted death and lived to tell the tale?"

 Cedar's mind reeled, his thoughts a chaotic whirl. 

 The Red Eye Fever which he had always believed it to be a curse tied to his magic, an uncontrollable force that surfaced only in moments of extreme desperation.

 But this entity, this thing of ancient power, had seen it for what it truly was.

 Beside him, Ivan stood frozen, his face pale and taut with fear. He couldn't understand what a bloody vessel was, but he sensed there was something more to it, a level of mystery neither of them could comprehend.

 The pressure in the cave, the suffocating weight of the entity's presence, had pressed down on them both, but it was clear the focus had shifted.

 The entity's gaze, whatever form it took, was fixed solely on Cedar now.

"I... I don't know what you're talking about," Cedar stammered, his voice hoarse as he struggled to steady himself, his body trembling under the weight of exhaustion.

"Oh, but you do," the voice purred, its tone laced with sinister amusement. "That hunger, it is no mere curse but something ancient, something carved into the very marrow of your being. Buried deep in your blood, waiting to awaken. Bloodthirst is not an affliction but it is the essence of what you are. A bloody vessel is born, not made. No matter how you were raised, your nature will always betray you, an insatiable craving for bloodshed, for chaos, for war. It is written into your existence, and it cannot be denied."

 The cave pulsed faintly with the entity's presence, its voice curling around Cedar like a suffocating shroud of shadows. The air itself seemed heavy, charged with the weight of ancient power.

"But fear not," it continued, its tone sharpening with a cold, calculating edge.

"A bloody vessel is not a mere mage, not simply a killer. No... you are the perfect weapon for me, a vampire's ultimate creation. Your existence has been forged for this singular purpose. There's no need to hide it, because a true bloody vessel doesn't merely crave blood, it hungers for war, for slaughter, for devastation. And when the time comes, you will become exactly what you were always meant to be."

 Cedar's fists clenched at his sides, his anger flaring like a firestorm within.

 The thought of being nothing more than a tool for this ancient, insidious creature churned his stomach.

 But what could he do?

 The power within him was an enigma, an uncharted chaos he barely understood. A threat to himself.

 And now this entity, this thing, knew more about it than he did.

"You are both bound to me now," the voice continued, its words heavy with finality.

"Whether through blood or chaos, your lives are entwined with mine. Do you not feel it? The ritual is complete. My essence courses through your veins as surely as your own blood. You are no longer free."

 The glowing runes surrounding the pool flared briefly, casting long, flickering shadows that danced across the cave walls.

 A crackling surge of magic hung in the air like a storm about to break, and Cedar's heart sank as he realized the truth.

 Whatever had just transpired, some dark, arcane ritual had sealed their fates. Ivan's pale, wide-eyed expression confirmed that he felt it too, the tether, the invisible thread linking their very beings to this monstrous entity.

 The voice shifted, growing deeper and more resonant as if speaking from the very bones of the earth.

"You stand before Lenarion Von Schattenkranz de Nocturne III, a vampire emperor. From now on, you will refer to me as Master Len."

"The Mage Wars may have ended, but the world has merely slumbered in its ashes. A greater battle is on the horizon, and when it comes, you, my bloody vessel, and you, Asterius's descendant, will bring me the fragments I require to reclaim my throne. Together, you will serve as my eyes, my hands, and if needed, my blades in this broken world."

 A surge of raw magic rippled through the cavern, a force so intense it sent Cedar stumbling back a step.

 He felt the oppressive presence begin to recede, yet its power still lingered like a phantom in the air.

 The glowing runes dimmed to faint embers, their light flickering weakly.

 Len's final words cut through the silence like a blade.

"You may leave. For now. But know this: you belong to me. Your strength, your lives, your fates—they are mine to command."

 The weight of the entity's words pressed down on Cedar like an iron shackle as the cavern fell silent once more.

 The echo of Len's proclamation lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the invisible chains that now bound them.

 Cedar's body sagged with exhaustion, his limbs trembling as he struggled to stay upright. The fever's aftermath left him hollow, his mind a blank slate, his emotions dulled.

 He turned to Ivan, who stared back at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"What... what do we do now?" Ivan asked, his voice whispered.

 Cedar's gaze shifted to the cave entrance, now partially collapsed but passable.

 His voice, when he spoke, was steady and detached, a tone he barely recognized as his own.

"The Hundred Years War is far from over," he said. "And now, with these ancient entities stirring, a greater war is brewing. We don't have a choice but to participate as Len's servants." The word tasted bitter on his tongue, but he swallowed it down and turned to his usual emotionless self.

"We need to gather power and knowledge. I'll find out what 'bloody vessel' means and uncover the truth about your ancestor, Asterius."

 Ivan nodded slowly, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "You're... adapting to this pretty fast," he remarked, his voice hesitant.

 Cedar gave a small, mirthless smile. "It's the fever," he explained. "Every time it's triggered, I'm left in this calm, focused state for days. Emotionless. At first, it was how I cope with the aftermath. But every time it happens... I change. A little less of me comes back."

 Ivan's expression softened, and he placed a steadying hand on Cedar's shoulder. "We'll figure it out," he said firmly.

"Together."

 Cedar nodded, his gaze hardening. "First, we head to the nearest camp. We'll regroup, resupply, and start digging for answers."

 Together, they gathered their belongings and made their way toward the cave's exit, stepping into a world that now felt far more dangerous than it had before.

 The war outside was no longer their only concern.

 Ancient powers were stirring, and the storm ahead would demand everything they had—and more.