Yamen gazed at the child, his initial pursuit of a mere thief escalating into a lethal confrontation. Compelled to invoke fourth circle magic, he nearly depleted his mana reserves and came close to losing his life to the girl. Despite his efforts, she persistently rose after each fall, outmaneuvering him and devising ingenious threats to his existence. Her resilience was reminiscent of a cockroach, stubbornly surviving all attempts on her life. Even after multiple slashes, being disarmed, and forcefully repelled, she continued to stand.
The blow to her head should have rendered her unconscious, not to mention the severe blood loss and her arm, now barely more than a dangling shred of flesh. However, something changed when she rose this time; she had transformed. Her eyes shone with a purple hue, and her teeth had grown into elongated points. Yamen pondered in silence, "It has been ages since I last encountered a vampire; that explains her remarkable endurance against my assaults. But why purple eyes? The crimson red of a vampire's gaze is usually unmistakable, and why did her teeth morph into fangs rather than being naturally present?"
"To my knowledge, vampires cannot retract their fangs, yet she seems capable.' Everything about her emanated an aura of aberration. As these thoughts crystallized in Yamen's mind, he locked eyes with Willow. No longer did he see a desperate thief fighting for survival; instead, he beheld a monstrous beast fixated on its prey. Her newfound aura was chillingly formidable. Recoiling in fear without conscious thought, Yamen drifted backward. Sensing his trepidation, Willow charged at him with astonishing velocity. Caught unprepared by her sudden burst of speed, Yamen's reaction lagged. Willow was upon him in an instant, her fist hurtling toward him. In retaliation, Yamen summoned his claymore, unleashing icy slashes towards Willow.
With agile movements, Willow evaded each attack, barely slowing down. This brief respite allowed Yamen to rise and brace for the oncoming vampire. As he thrust his claymore to impale Willow, she leapt aside, deflecting the blade with a kick that also propelled her forward. Yamen unleashed a flurry of ice daggers, hoping to hinder the beastly Willow and slow her advance, while simultaneously swinging his sword in a wide arc behind her, aiming to bisect her and conclude the battle.
However, Willow executed a backflip over the claymore, landing atop its edge. Utilizing this elevation, she soared above the ice daggers. As she cleared them, Yamen's gaze lifted in horror; the vampire was descending upon him with divine fury. Willow's landing drove Yamen back against the pillar he had previously collided with, trapping his functioning arm beneath her. Yamen's mouth opened wide as if to scream, yet no sound emerged. Engulfed in despair and desperation, he pounded Willow's side with his fractured arm, further shattering it until it detached from the bone entirely. Despite his arm splitting into halves, covered in flesh, Yamen continued to strike at the vampire that was draining his lifeblood. Even as his bone pierced through the skin and began to tear away with each successive blow, he did not relent. As he prepared for another strike, drawing back his arm, the remaining sinew connecting the limb's halves tore apart, sending it flying across the cathedral. Yet even then, he didn't cease his assault on Willow, using a mangled mix of broken bone and bloodied flesh.
***
After consuming Yamen's blood, Willow gradually regained her senses. A wave of realization swept over her, prompting her to resist, but an inexplicable urge urged her to continue. If Willow was to place her trust blindly in anyone, it had to be in herself. Moments later, she witnessed her mangled arm convulsing, contorting back into its proper alignment. The excruciating pain of bones realigning threatened to overwhelm her, driving Willow to sink her teeth deeper and drink faster. Gradually, warmth flooded through her as her injuries began to mend, one by one.
As the flow of blood from Yamen ceased, Willow withdrew, gazing down at her victim—the man she had inadvertently killed. Half of his arm lay discarded across the room, his once vibrant form now desiccated, resembling a sun-baked prune. He appeared as though he had withered away under the relentless gaze of time, his hair fallen out, his once fair skin now a pallid gray. Willow confronted the reality that she had stolen from someone and taken a life in the process, yet she found herself unable to grasp the full weight of her actions.
After a period of contemplation, Willow rose to her feet, casting a glance towards the door barricaded by unyielding ice. Though the snow had melted away, the ice remained steadfast. Willow entertained a plan for escape when a sound caught her attention—the ominous creaking of beams and pillars, strained beyond their limits by the recent battle. With a resounding crash, a beam collapsed before her, narrowly missing Willow. Cursing silently, she realized that without swift action, she would share Yamen's fate.