Upon hearing the words in the Gori, Dormon responded, then turned around to look at his kinsmen behind him and nodded.
The Vampire all knelt down, heads bowed, like a group of soldiers awaiting orders.
The Gori expresses a hand, closes its eyes, and extends its attention outward, like an invisible hand reaching into the bodies of those kneeling figures.
A crimson mist began to emanate from the Vampire, drifting erratically and casting a dark red glow in the dim cave.
It is a mixture of blood, magic, and life force; it is the primal power of Vampire.
The Gori focuses on the cloud of blood mist, preparing to absorb this power into its body and use the purest vampire magic to break through the restrictions set by Dumbledore.
Although these people were not of his own clan's bloodline, and there was some resistance to controlling their power, it wasn't a big problem given that they were offering themselves up voluntarily.
He slightly spread his fingers, and the cloud of blood mist began to gather towards him.
Just then, Dormon's figure suddenly moved.
His movements were incredibly fast, like a longbow that had been drawn taut and then suddenly released. He sprang up from his kneeling position, and with his right hand, he pulled out a piece of object that gleamed with a dark light from inside his robe.
It was a huge tooth, sharpened to an extreme point, with its base flattened and fitted with a rough wooden handle—a crude yet deadly dagger.
Dormon gripped the dagger and thrust it straight at Gori's chest. Gori reacted quickly; almost at the same moment Dormon made his move, he raised his left hand, and a thin yet solid crimson shield rapidly formed in front of his chest.
The tip of the dagger struck the shield with a dull thud, and a ring of fine cracks appeared on the shield's surface, but it did not shatter immediately.
The gaze in the Gori turned cold. "Foolish fellow, you think you can hurt me with a dagger? Can you afford the price of betrayal?"
Before he finished speaking, he began to activate the Bloodline Curse. Even if they were not from the same clan, higher-ranking Vampire still had a natural way of suppressing lower-ranking ones.
But before he could finish casting the spell, a layer of black light suddenly shone on the blade of the dagger, as if something had been awakened from within.
Immediately afterwards, as if imbued with extra strength, Dormon's arm holding the dagger pushed forward, and the dagger pierced through the remaining part of the shield, embedding itself in Gori's chest.
Gori's body jerked backward, the dagger almost completely embedded in his chest. He looked down at the dagger, then looked up at Dormon.
The previous respect had vanished from Dormon's face. A smile played on his lips, a triumphant ease tinged with almost ruthless indifference. "Old man, Elder Ulric Kris sends his regards. Farewell."
As he spoke, black smoke continued to billow from the blade of the dagger, spreading like a living thing into the internal organs of the Gori.
Gori's body seemed to be frozen by something. He tried to mobilize his magic to fight back, but wherever the black energy went, his magic melted away as quickly as snow encountering a raging fire, leaving him no room to resist.
Gori stared at the dagger embedded in his chest, the red light in his pupils flickering, as if something deep within his memory had been suddenly illuminated. "This is the Progenitor Dagger of the Werewolf... You've cooperated with the Werewolf? What is that old madman Ulric planning?"
Dormon had already taken two steps back, standing at a safe distance, his gaze fixed on Gori, as if confirming that he was heading towards his end. "Not all of our kind want to say goodbye to the gifts of our ancestors, Elder Gori. What's wrong with immortality?"
His voice in the Gori was much hoarser than before, as if something was eroding his vocal cords from within. "Hmph, no smell, no taste, unable to savor delicious food, even emotions are slipping away—is this what you call immortality? This is an endless curse!"
The low-level Vampire henchmen who had been cowering in the corner just moments before finally reacted, as if startled by something, and rushed forward to stand in front of Gori Gori.
However, their numbers were too small, and they dared not rush forward against the men Werewolf brought by Dormon. They could only stand there, their eyes nervously scanning back and forth, as if they did not know which direction to run in the next second. Clearly, their loyalty was also limited.
Gori glanced at his trembling underlings beside him, then looked down at the dagger in his chest and the spreading black mist. His mind raced, trying to think of any way to save him. He even considered calling Dumbledore to come back quickly, or telling Hagrid that his pet was dying.
As he thought this, he reached out and pressed down on the shoulder of a Vampire next to him. The Vampire quickly shrank, like an old sack that had been drained of moisture. But Gori's condition did not improve; the dark aura continued to spread in his body, like a net that was closing in.
Just as he had almost given up resistance and was preparing to face the end, an unexpected force surged up from the depths of his body.
It was a scorching, golden power, like a spark buried deep within that had been ignited by something.
Gori quickly realized that this was something he had been deeply resentful of all this time: the restrictive magic that Dumbledore had placed on him.
The restrictive magic erupted from the depths of his body like a beast awakened from its slumber.
Golden flames burst forth from his skin, and upon contact with the black smoke, they ignited fiercely as if hitting gasoline. The flames swirled and devoured the black smoke layer by layer, pushing it back along the blade of the dagger, and even began to burn on the surface of the dagger itself.
A burning sensation spread throughout his Gori; he winced in pain, but couldn't help but twitch his lips upward.
He was actually thanking Dumbledore at that moment, because he could still feel pain, which proved that he was still alive, instead of being swallowed up by the black mist and almost unable to feel his own existence like before.
Dormon's expression finally changed at that moment. He took a step back, as if he hadn't expected this turn of events. One of the Werewolf in the group reacted even faster, swinging his wand and pulling the dagger from Gori's chest. The moment the dagger left his body, it brought with it a puff of black smoke and dark blood.
The Gori's body swayed violently, and he staggered a few steps. If he hadn't already run out of blood, he probably would have spat out a mouthful of blood by now.
He steadied himself, slowly raised his head, and looked past Dormon and the Werewolf, landing on the clearing in the woods outside the cave entrance that was darkening.
The vines that had been blocking the view were now cut into pieces, with only a few broken vines hanging in mid-air. Occasionally, a gust of wind would pass through the canopy, creating a soft rustling sound.
The first thing that comes to mind when thinking about the Gori is thanking Dumbledore!
He then looked at the Vampire in front of him and said with a cold smile, "It's time for you to pay the price!"