It was only a matter of time for it to happen, and once it did Valvatorez had to keep himself from cackling from his hiding spot. Outside he could hear the fighting, the screaming and shouting as the party of human 'heroes' stormed through the castle and ripped through the puppets who's dead hearts held bewitched loyalty to the Master. He and a few others ignored the call to arms and hid themselves, listening to the battles raging. But the only things the Master had protecting him were his puppets, for his 'allies' were either killed by his own hands or too embittered to come to his aid.

Valvatorez leaned his head against the board of the wall he hid within, half smiling and whispering to himself, "I told you so," as he heard the Master's booming voice echo in the halls.

The voice held little confidence. How could it? The idiot never believed the humans would gather the courage to brave the Netherworld, never mind his palace. He was so enamored by the idea of his own false power, that he was some glorified Tyrant in the making, that the Master could never fathom the idea he would fall to the very prey he feasted on.

Valvatorez wished he were out there, watching the battle take place. He wanted to see the Master struggle, to see the look on his face when he realized a puppet was right. That he should have kept his word, that he should have treated his allies better… that he was wrong.

Most of all though, Valvatorez wished he could go out there, ally himself with the humans just long enough for him to stab the bastard in the face.

It felt like hours, listening to the clashing of blades, the profanities and the screams of pain as some human heroes were found weak and wanting. Yet the Master was just one man, and a pathetic one at that—however long it took, Valvatorez waited with bated breath for the final wail, the last echo of flesh being sliced apart. When it came Valvatorez felt his heart stop and his smile nearly devoured his entire face, easily recognizing the Master's voice as he shouted in denial of his defeat.

There was some cheer amongst the human party, the palace looted of its obvious goods and the heroes parading their trophies of treasures and demon body parts. The fools departed before too long, off to enjoy their so-called hard earned happy ending and endgame stage. When the silence settled and the other puppets too stricken to move, Valvatorez carefully pried the wall apart to creep out.

The room was totaled and the marionettes who fought for the Master had their body parts strewn over the bloody floor. Valvatorez didn't bat an eye at the carnage, just stepping over limbs and gray matter to make his way to the Master's inner sanctum. Did he think he'd be safe in there?

Down the winding stairs and through the elaborate archways, Valvatorez made his way to the final battlefield. The double doors were barely hanging on their hinges, and when he ducked under their ruin, the half-destroyed room made him smirk. A few more bodies were here, and the smell of human blood was thick in the air.

Yet Valvatorez could ignore that when he saw the Master's body in the center of the room, flayed on his own coffin, a sword embedded in his chest. The humans were so damned stupid—a stab through the chest didn't kill a vampire. It merely immobilized them if it went completely through the heart. But so long as no one removed the sword, the Master would starve and waste away in a slow, agonizing death that befitted him.

The Master's eyes opened and looked, widening as he saw Valvatorez nearby. "Pet," he whispered hoarsely, his fingers twitching in an effort to reach out to him. "Come… assist your… Master. Give me… your blood…"

There was no compulsion. For a terrifying second, Valvatorez froze and waited for that forced obedience. Yet there was none, not a twinge in his mind, and Valvatorez found himself slowly grinning. He walked to the Master, hurrying to his side and taking up that twitching hand.

"I told you so," Valvatorez gloated as the Master's eyes widened further, his pupils dilating. "I told you you'd need those demons. I told you the humans would find you. A puppet was right over you, you bastard. You should have kept your promises."

"You… bitch…"

"Oh no. I do believe it's you who's the bitch now." Valvatorez idly rolled down the Master's ruffled sleeve, baring his wrist. He'd go for the neck, but that was too close to the bastard's own teeth for his liking.

The Master's hand twitched, but he couldn't pull away. "Do not… dare…!"

"What was it you said?" Valvatorez mocked, raising the wrist up a bit. "Oh. That I may take blood only from you. Why, Master, I'm merely following your order!"

Valvatorez cackled, abruptly cutting it off when the anticipation proved too great. He bit down hard at the wrist in his grasp, enjoying the gasp of pain from the vampire. It was a slow bleed compared to the neck, but Valvatorez drank deeply of what blood remained in the demon, swallowing every drop and marveling at the pulses of power he felt vibrating through him.

When he pulled that last drop from the Master Valvatorez ripped his longer fangs free from the flesh, dropping the dying vampire's arm and stumbling back a bit. A fiery sensation ripped through his entire body, igniting him from his toes to the ends of his hair. It felt like he was morphing physically—perhaps he was. Valvatorez groaned, wrapping his arms around himself and dropping to his knees, head bowed down close to the ground.

He wasn't sure how long he felt like he was on fire. It reminded him of the first time he stepped into the sun, but when the pain ended and he sat up, his skin wasn't melted. His clothes weren't burned, but they were smaller than he remembered them being. His tongue ran over the fangs, sharper than before, far more suited for piercing skin.

Valvatorez ran his hand through his slightly longer hair, an odd look to his face. He had done a taboo thing… a puppet feasting off the Master. He glanced to the coffin, finding a gaunt, almost dried out corpse laying there now.

He was still alive. Wouldn't a puppet perish with its string holder?

Valvatorez laughed, getting to his feet unsteadily. Laughing hurt in a sense, his tight clothes constricting and making it hard to breathe, but he couldn't contain his glee. He wasn't a puppet, not anymore! Now, Valvatorez was the master. He was the vampire.

But just because he consumed the last life of his sire didn't mean he had the bastard's power, not that he wanted it. No. He would work for his power in the ways he wanted. Valvatorez straightened himself the best he could, grabbing the sword from the corpse and pulling it free. He might as well take a trophy, something to get him started.

He'd attain his own name and greatness. This mess he could leave behind in the dust—the sooner he forgot it all, the better. He was the master now, and he had his own rules to start enacting. It was time to do everything he ever wanted to do, to obtain the things he wanted and believed, and to do it his way.

It was time to become Fear itself.