The battlefield was chaos incarnate. Trees lay shattered, the ground scarred with deep gouges, and the air thrummed with residual energy from clashing spells and auras. Amidst the destruction stood a lone figure, tall and imposing, with an air of deadly grace. His height, a commanding 187 centimeters, coupled with his strikingly beautiful features, made him an almost otherworldly presence. Silken white hair cascaded to his shoulders, catching the dim light as it swayed with his movements, and his crimson eyes glowed with an intensity that sent chills through even the bravest souls. A predatory smirk tugged at his lips—this was Max. Around him, the remnants of their enemies—mercenaries and rogue mages hired to protect a forbidden artifact—lay scattered, defeated but not without a fight.
Across from him stood the final opponent, a towering warrior clad in obsidian armor, his aura pulsating with raw strength. This was their leader, a veteran of countless battles. The man's greatsword glowed faintly with runic energy, and his eyes, filled with fury and desperation, locked onto Max.
"You…" the warrior growled, wiping blood from his mouth. "You think a boy like you can take me down?"
Max's smirk deepened. "You're welcome to try."
With a roar, the man charged, his greatsword cleaving through the air. Max didn't flinch. His movements were a blur as he sidestepped the attack, the sheer force of the swing splitting the earth where he had stood moments ago. His old faithful friend huntsman knife flashed in his hand, enhanced by a dark crimson aura that seemed to hum with hunger.
Max darted forward, his blade seeking the gaps in the man's armor. Each strike was precise, calculated, designed to wear down his opponent's defenses. The warrior swung wildly, his frustration mounting as Max evaded his every move with effortless grace.
"Too slow," Max taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.
The man roared, unleashing a wave of energy from his sword. The blast tore through the clearing, uprooting trees and sending debris flying. Max raised his hand, a shimmering crimson barrier materializing around him. The energy shattered harmlessly against it, though the force pushed him back a few steps.
"Not bad," Max admitted, rolling his shoulders. "But still not enough."
He activated his bloodline ability, a nascent trait tied to his vampiric nature but far from mastered. Sliding his huntsman knife into a spatial ring on his finger, Max extended his hand, and a blade formed from his own blood materialized in its place. The weapon pulsed faintly, its surface shimmering as if alive, radiating an unstable energy that betrayed his incomplete control over the technique. The air around him grew tense, though the aura lacked the overwhelming force it might one day hold. Even so, the sight of the crimson blade was enough to give the warrior a moment of pause, his confidence faltering at the unknown."This ends now," Max declared, his voice cold and final.
With a burst of speed, he closed the distance between them, the crimson blade already in hand. The weapon pulsed with unstable energy, its jagged edge shimmering menacingly as he darted around the warrior's defenses. The blood blade sliced through the gaps in the obsidian armor, each strike precise and deliberate. With a final, calculated motion, Max drove the weapon deep into the man's chest, piercing the runic protection with a sickening crack. The warrior let out a choked gasp, his strength fading as his aura dissipated.
As the man collapsed to the ground, Max stepped back, his aura dissipating. The forest grew silent, the only sound his steady breathing.
...
Kaera's voice broke the silence. "Well done, Max."
Max turned to see his team emerging from the shadows, their expressions a mix of awe and satisfaction. Kaera's green eyes sparkled with pride, while Garrick gave an approving nod. Thram let out a hearty laugh, clapping Max on the shoulder.
"You've come a long way, kid," Thram said. "Seven years ago, you were green as grass. Now you're out here taking down captains like it's nothing."
"Don't inflate his ego too much," Lyria teased, her platinum hair catching the fading sunlight. "But… he's not wrong. That was impressive." She added with a sligh smile.
Max shrugged, though a faint smirk played on his lips. "I aim to please."
Calen, standing a bit apart from the group, crossed his arms. "We wouldn't have completed this mission without you. Credit where it's due."
"Speaking of celebrating," Kaera interjected, her tone light. "We just completed a major mission, got promoted to C-rank as a team, and… it's someone's birthday today." She looked pointedly at Max.
Max raised an eyebrow. "You remembered?"
"Of course," Kaera said with a grin. "We're celebrating tonight. No arguments."
Thram let out a cheer, already heading toward the village. The rest of the group followed, their spirits high as they discussed the night ahead. Max lingered for a moment, his gaze drifting to the fallen warrior.
'Another step forward,' he thought, before turning to join his team.
...
The tavern was alive with music and laughter, the air thick with the scent of ale and roasted meat. The group had claimed a corner table, their drinks clinking as they toasted their success. Kaera and Thram regaled the others with exaggerated tales of the mission, their animated gestures drawing laughter from everyone.
Max leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at his lips. For once, he allowed himself to relax, the weight of the past few weeks momentarily lifted.
As the night wore on, the crowd began to thin. Garrick and Calen excused themselves first, followed shortly by Kaera and Thram. That left Max alone with Lyria, who sipped her wine with an amused glint in her eye.
"Looks like it's just us now," Lyria said, her voice low and teasing.
Max smirked. "Seems that way."
Lyria leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "You've been full of surprises lately. Taking down that warrior, climbing the ranks… it's impressive. Almost enough to make me curious."
Max arched an eyebrow. "Almost?"
She chuckled softly, her emerald eyes locking onto his. "You tell me."
Max's smirk widened. He reached out, his fingers brushing against hers. "I think I can manage that."
The air between them grew charged, a palpable tension crackling like lightning. Lyria's teasing demeanor faltered for a moment, replaced by something deeper, more primal. Max leaned closer, his crimson eyes glinting with intensity.
"Lyria," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
She didn't pull away. Instead, she met him halfway, their lips brushing in a kiss that started slow but quickly deepened. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and he pulled her closer, their breaths mingling as the heat between them grew.
When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together, their eyes locked in a gaze filled with unspoken desire. Lyria's lips curved into a sly smile.
"Happy birthday, Max," she whispered.
Max chuckled, his voice low and rough. "Best one yet."