The war didn't knock politely on the door. It kicked it down, tossed a grenade into the hallway, and marched in wearing vampire boots and cultist robes. The Eastern Continent hadn't been ready—not even close. One moment people were enjoying tea and training exercises, and the next, Red Chalice lunatics and bloodsuckers were holding an impromptu apocalypse.
Of course, it wasn't just the surprise attack. That would've been forgivable. No, the bigger issue was that vampires—at equal mana rank—were stronger. Not a little stronger. Stronger in that annoying, unfair, nature-rigged way that made humans look like they were playing at war while the vampires had been born for it. They healed faster, hit harder, and had the kind of combat experience that comes from centuries of not dying.
