Grant surged forward, eyes locked onto the silver-haired vampire. His muscles tensed as he pushed off the ground, launching himself like a bullet toward his target. His blade came down in a brutal arc.
"RAHH!"
A flash of crimson. The vampire conjured a sword from her own blood at the last moment, steel clashing against the shimmering red weapon with a deafening clang. Sparks scattered into the air as their blades met again and again, the two locked in a deadly rhythm. Grant struck with relentless precision, but she deflected each blow effortlessly, her expression smug.
Then, movement from the side—fast. Too fast.
Grant twisted just in time to see another vampire, a red-haired male cloaked in black, closing in. Twin daggers flashed as he lunged, forcing Grant onto the defensive. He pivoted on his foot, parrying one strike, then another, his sword weaving a steel barrier around him. Each deflection was met with another ruthless attack, the daggers aiming for his ribs, throat, heart.
The silver-haired vampire smirked. "Too slow, Shining Star."
Then she was gone—vanishing into a swirl of black mist just as Grant brought his sword across in a powerful slash. His eyes widened—
She reappeared at his flank.
A sharp impact. A vicious kick slammed into his ribs, launching him backward. Grant gritted his teeth, twisting mid-air. His boots hit the ground, skidding across the dirt as he forced himself to a stop, sword still gripped tight in his hands.
He exhaled sharply. "Hmph."
The two vampires grinned, their confidence bleeding through their predatory stances. Grant took a quick glance at the rest of the battlefield. Tyrus was holding his own against the other two, longsword flashing under the moonlight. Even at his age, the man was a force to be reckoned with, holding his ground with unwavering precision.
Grant rolled his shoulders, eyes locking back onto his foes. "Alright," he muttered. "Let's see what you've really got."
The red-haired vampire vanished in a swirl of black mist, reappearing behind Grant with his twin daggers poised to strike.
Grant barely had time to react. He spun, bringing his sword up just in time to catch the first blow. A brutal flurry followed—slashes from the left, the right, high, low—each strike a deadly blur. The vampire moved like a rabid beast, his eyes gleaming with savage hunger, his attacks unyielding.
"Grhh..." Grant gritted his teeth, every muscle in his arms straining as he blocked and deflected the storm of blades. His feet dug into the ground, refusing to be pushed back.
Then—an opening.
Grant parried a downward strike, twisting his wrist at the last second to send the vampire's blade wide. The sudden shift in momentum threw the vampire off balance, his body stumbling backward.
Grant didn't hesitate.
With a swift, brutal movement, he lunged forward, seizing the vampire by the throat with his left hand. The vampire's eyes widened in shock, his hands clawing at Grant's grip—but it was too late.
Steel flashed.
With a powerful thrust, Grant drove his sword straight through the vampire's stomach, the blade piercing clean through his back. The vampire gasped, blood dripping from his lips as his body convulsed.
Grant's golden eyes burned. "Not so fast now, are you?"
Grant released his grip on the vampire's throat, his face impassive as he twisted the blade still buried in his enemy's gut. Then, with a powerful yank, he tore it free in a brutal sideways arc, cleaving through flesh and bone with a sickening slash. A crimson spray painted the air as the vampire's body crumpled lifelessly to the blood-soaked dirt.
Without missing a beat, Grant flicked his sword downward in a sharp motion, sending a splatter of dark blood across the village ground. His golden eyes scanned the battlefield, his grip on the hilt unwavering. There was no time to breathe—three more remained.
"Kallius!" The silver-haired vampire's voice broke as she watched her comrade collapse. Her crimson eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her expression torn between shock and devastation. But the sorrow didn't last.
Her face twisted into something far more terrifying—pure, unfiltered rage. Blood-red energy crackled around her like lightning, distorting the air with heat and fury. Her fangs gleamed as she bared them in a vicious snarl.
"You'll pay for this!" she spat.
Then, in the blink of an eye, she vanished into a swirl of shadows. A gust of wind whipped past Grant as she reappeared, her blood-forged sword already swinging straight for his throat.
Kaizer flipped backward, narrowly evading the vampire's blade as it sliced through the space he had just occupied. He landed with practiced ease, his stance firm, his eyes locked onto his opponent.
"You started this fight, Vampire," he said, his voice cold and steady. "I'm just doing what I must—protecting my family."
The silver-haired vampire let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Protecting?" she sneered. "You humans are the hunters! The Crescent Moon Knights slaughtered half my kin!"
Kaizer's expression didn't waver. "And half of my brothers fell to the fangs of your kind. So tell me—why Arcwind? Why attack this village? Did you come all this way just for me?" He lifted his blade, his grip tightening. "If that's the case, you picked the wrong man to come looking for."
The silver-haired vampire laughed, her voice cruel and mocking. "Oh, you're an idiot if you think I owe you some grand explanation," she sneered. "We're vampires, Grant. We came to feed. To wreak havoc. To drink the blood of humans and destroy your little world. It's what we do. What we always do."
Her eyes glinted with malevolent amusement as she continued. "And besides... our King requested slaves. Not that you'd understand the significance. But that's why we're here. To take what we want and leave nothing behind."
Grant's blood ran cold as realization hit him. Vampires... a King? He remembered what Tyrus had told him, about an underground society of monsters, ruled by vampires. Was this what they were after? Did they come from that world beneath the surface?
But it didn't matter now. The only thing that mattered was stopping this monster from continuing her rampage.
"Yeah, we'll see about that," Grant said, his voice cold and unwavering.
He glanced at Tyrus, who was in the middle of a fight. But it didn't look good. The other vampire, sneaky and ruthless, was about to ambush him from behind. Grant's instincts kicked in.
"Commander!" he shouted.
With a burst of speed, Grant sprinted across the battlefield, moving faster than the vampire could react. In the blink of an eye, he was upon the attacker, and his sword cleaved through the air. The blade carved a clean arc through the vampire's neck, severing its head with a sickening spray of blood.
The vampire's body crumpled to the ground in a heap, and the lifeless head rolled away, leaving a trail of crimson behind it. Grant stood over the fallen corpse, his chest heaving with exertion, his gaze already turning back to the silver-haired vampire.
"That's one less to worry about," he muttered under his breath, eyes steely and determined.
Tyrus was moving with the precision of a seasoned warrior, his blade a blur as he clashed with the other vampire. The creature, armed with twin daggers, was fast, darting in and out with lightning strikes, but Tyrus was unfazed.
The vampire slashed again, aiming for Tyrus's chest, but with a swift twist of his body, Tyrus parried the blow and countered with his own strike. His sword whistled through the air, and with a brutal swipe, he cleaved off the vampire's arm at the elbow. The severed limb hit the ground with a sickening thud, but Tyrus didn't give the vampire a chance to react.
Before the creature could even stagger back in pain, Tyrus lunged forward with terrifying speed. His sword flashed once more, this time decapitating the vampire in one clean, decisive motion. The head spun off its shoulders and landed with a grotesque thud at the vampire's feet. Blood sprayed from the stump of its neck, splattering across the ground in a gruesome spray.
The vampire's body collapsed to the dirt, twitching briefly before going still. Tyrus stood over the fallen corpse, breathing heavily but with the calm demeanor of a man who had seen and done much worse. The battlefield fell silent for a moment. Tyrus wiped the blood off his blade with a swipe of his arm, his eyes narrowing as he turned to Grant.
"And another," he said flatly, his voice cool and detached as ever.
The silver-haired vampire's cackle echoed through the village as she twirled her blood-forged sword in her hand, her eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "They were weaklings. You think you're going to kill me as easily as that?" she sneered, her gaze flicking from one man to the other, confident that they were no match for her.
Grant and Tyrus turned to face her, their expressions hardened and focused.
"Together, then?" Grant's voice was a low growl, filled with the weight of the fight ahead.
"Together... nngh..." Tyrus grunted, a sharp wince betraying the pain he was in as he shifted his weight. His usual composure faltered, and he staggered slightly, but his resolve remained.
Grant's eyes narrowed as he glanced at his comrade. Tyrus was covered in cuts and stab wounds, the remnants of his brutal fight with the vampire wielding daggers. Blood soaked his cloak and stained the earth beneath him. The damage was worse than Grant had first realized. Tyrus was barely holding on.
"Damn it," Grant muttered, his voice tense. He took a step toward Tyrus, his brow furrowing in frustration. "Tyrus, you go. Leave this place with Alessia and the kids."
Tyrus's eyes widened, and a rush of indignation shot through him. He straightened, his voice hoarse but firm. "No, Commander, I won't leave a comrade behind. I'm offended you'd even ask that of me!" His chest heaved with exertion, and he coughed, a spatter of blood staining the ground. "I'm fighting with you. I'm a soldier, damn it."
Grant's jaw clenched as he saw the blood trickling from Tyrus's mouth. He knew his old friend was more stubborn than any warrior he'd ever known, but he wasn't about to let him die here today. His gaze flickered toward the silver-haired vampire, who was watching their exchange with barely contained amusement, clearly relishing the suffering of her enemies.
Grant's jaw tightened as he watched Tyrus struggle to stand. His comrade's stubbornness was legendary, but right now, Grant had no time for it.
"Tyrus," Grant said firmly, sheathing his sword with a swift motion. "I'm ordering you to leave. Go with Alessia and the kids. Find safety, get a healer. You're in no condition to fight."
Tyrus's eyes flared with defiance. "Sir, I understand you're the Commander, but I—"
"No," Grant interrupted, his voice cold and commanding. "You're ripe in years, Tyrus. You and I both know it. You've sustained severe injuries, and if you don't get a healer, you're going to bleed to death. Stop trying to die like a war hero. It's not your time yet."
Grant took a slow step forward, his gaze hard as steel. He locked eyes with Tyrus, his face softening ever so slightly. "Let me handle this. I'm the Shining Star. I will win."
Tyrus's expression flickered—something between frustration, acceptance, and regret. He opened his mouth to protest, but the weight of Grant's words settled over him like a heavy cloak. He knew his friend was right.
With a deep sigh, Tyrus lowered his sword, the fight draining from his posture. "Damn you," he muttered under his breath, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He saluted Grant, the gesture slow but respectful.
"Take care of it, Commander," Tyrus said, his voice strained. "Don't let that damn vampire get the better of you."
Grant nodded sharply, his expression unchanging. "Get going. That's an order."
With one last glance at the battlefield, Tyrus turned and hobbled toward the village outskirts, his steps slower than usual but steady. As he disappeared from view, Grant's resolve hardened.
The silver-haired vampire was the only one left, and she wouldn't survive for much longer. Not if he had anything to say about it.
Grant's grip tightened on his sword, the steel gleaming in the dim light of the battlefield. His eyes flared with a new, dangerous intensity, the golden hue of his irises shining with a power that only moments ago seemed like a distant memory.
"Now come on, you monster!" he bellowed, his voice steady.
The silver-haired vampiress tilted her head, her smile widening into something predatory. "Finally done with your little play?" she teased, her voice dripping with amusement. "I swear, humans are so entertaining to watch when they're in fear. Their faces, the scent of fear... It's truly a delight."
Grant's lip curled in disgust. "You're sickening."
His body coiled like a spring, muscles tensing in preparation. He bent his knees, a sense of calm determination taking hold of him. His sword was held before him with both hands.
The vampiress chuckled, unfazed by his newfound resolve. "Ready to fight now?" she purred, her voice tinged with mockery.
Her blood sword materialized in her hand, its crimson glow casting an eerie light around her. With a fluid motion, she held it elegantly in front of her, her body twisting sideways in an almost regal posture. Her other arm rested languidly by her side, poised like a serpent ready to strike.
Grant's eyes never left her, his focus razor-sharp. The air between them was thick with the anticipation of the coming clash.
The silver-haired vampiress's smirk deepened, her eyes glinting with malevolent amusement.
"I hope you said your final goodbyes," she purred, her voice dripping with venomous delight. "This is your last day in this world."
"You're wrong," Grant said flatly. "I'm not done yet."
Her blood sword pulsed with a red light as she closed the distance between them. Grant met her head-on, dashing forward with a roar.