One soldier fell to the ground with a thud. "One hundred," Zack muttered under his breath.
"Hm?" I glanced at him, puzzled. "Why'd you suddenly say that?"
He grinned, twirling his knife lazily. "That's your hundredth kill. Congratulations. Should we throw a party or something?"
I could tell—Zack was just trying to break the tension. Typical.
"You've passed a hundred already, haven't you?" I asked, yanking my blade from the soldier's body, the blood still fresh on the edge.
"Hah! Honestly, I didn't expect there to be this many soldiers in the palace," Zack chuckled, shaking his head.
"Well, it is a massive palace," I sighed, plopping down onto a nearby step to catch my breath.
Zack joined me, his back leaning casually against the cold wall. "Yeah, let's take a breather. Still a long way to the top…"
He exhaled deeply. "Haaah…"
"Tired?" I offered him my water bottle.
"Pretty much. But that's not it," he said after a sip. "I was just thinking… I kinda wish I could've watched all our fights."
"After this is over," I replied with a smirk, "we can trade stories—talk about the ones we beat, the close calls, the insane ones."
"Yeah… That sounds fun." He smiled faintly, then tilted his head toward me.
"So, out of all the fights we've had, which one are you most curious about?"
That caught me off guard. I hadn't really thought about it.
After a short pause, I muttered, "Maybe Valeria? Her powers were impressive."
"Oh? Her?" Zack raised an eyebrow. "Yeah… I'm curious about that one too."
Elsewhere, high above the halls of the palace, two shadows danced in the moonlight—Valeria and Mirara, both in their bat forms, weaving through shattered windows and splintered doorways.
Valeria pursued her prey relentlessly, wings slicing through the air.
Mirara knew this place well—far better than Valeria did.
The chase led them outside, into the open night sky, where both hovered weightlessly beneath the stars.
With a sharp motion, Valeria shifted back into her human form. Her blood-red eyes locked onto Mirara, glowing with venomous fury.
"I hate humans," she hissed.
"They're all the same. So predictable it sickens me." Her voice trembled, not with fear—but with contempt.
"I admire the unique ones. But when someone steals that uniqueness from another…"
Her eyes narrowed. "How dare you—a vampire as rare as I am—steal my ability?!"
Mirara shifted into her human form mid-air, expecting to hover like Valeria… but gravity betrayed her.
"Ack—!"
She plummeted, barely managing to revert into her bat form before crashing, wings flapping erratically as she regained altitude.
Her mind spun—Why can Valeria fly like that in human form?
Before she could gather her thoughts, blood coalesced around Valeria's hand, twisting and solidifying into a massive crimson hammer.
With a roar, she brought it down, aiming to crush Mirara beneath its weight. Mirara barely dodged in time, spiraling behind her attacker.
In one swift motion, she shifted back into her human form and snapped her fingers.
A sudden explosion burst through the air—Valeria took the hit head-on.
"Gh—!" The force sent her crashing backward through the sky, flames licking at her cloak.
"Damn it… I should've taken this seriously from the start," she growled, wiping blood from the corner of her lips.
From her back, something began to shift—her blood shimmered and twisted into form, spreading wide like wings forged from crimson steel.
They had been there all along, folded tightly and compact, just enough to keep her afloat.
But now, they extended fully, each beat sending shockwaves through the air. Mirara watched from above, eyes wide in fascination.
Without hesitation, she mimicked the transformation—her body shifted into human form mid-flight, and blood pooled at her back.
Wings sprouted. They weren't as grand or menacing as Valeria's, but they worked.
She hovered with a wobbly grace, her expression proud… and defiant.
The sight made Valeria's eyes blaze with rage. "You dare copy these too?!" she spat, voice trembling with fury.
"I'll kill you!"
Valeria's fingers curled into the shape of a gun. Without warning, she fired a crimson bullet of compressed blood with a deafening crack, the projectile tearing through the air like a sniper round.
Mirara raised her hand to deflect it—but it was too late. The bullet pierced straight through her palm.
A clean hole burst open, spraying blood. Her eyes widened in horror as pain lanced up her arm.
Blood? She had assumed it harmless—just a trick. But now, her own flesh betrayed that illusion.
"You can imitate," Valeria sneered, lips curling into a wicked grin, "but a copy will never match the original!"
"Rewind," Mirara whispered under her breath.
The hole in her hand sealed up in an instant. Flesh reknitted itself. No trace remained—like it had never happened at all.
Valeria's eyes narrowed. "You can use Chronia's ability too?"
Mirara nodded, calm but cautious. "I saw Chronia use it once—back when she was still with the organization. Only the rewind, though."
Valeria's grin widened, but now it was laced with calculation.
So that was it. Mirara could only mimic what she'd seen—nothing more.
"I see..." she chuckled darkly. She remembered something—Chronia's ability had a weakness.
When overused, it faltered. And if that happened now…
"I'll make sure you never move again," Valeria snarled, her voice rising like a war cry as she lunged forward.
Mirara mirrored Valeria's technique, summoning her own blood into a bullet and firing it straight at her enemy.
But Valeria had seen it coming.
It was her ability, after all.
With a swift sidestep, she dodged effortlessly, her body weaving through the crimson projectile like a dance. But Mirara wasn't done.
Without hesitation, she triggered a secondary move—an explosion erupted mid-air, aiming to catch Valeria off guard.
The blast sent Valeria crashing downward—yet her descent was far from uncontrolled.
Just before impact, her body slowed and hovered, blood trailing in the air like red silk. She smirked.
She'd let herself fall—all part of the trap.
From her fingertips, Valeria forged a whip of hardened blood and hurled it through the smoke.
It coiled tightly around Mirara's ankle before she could react.
Then, with a vicious spin, Valeria swung her like a ragdoll—slamming her into one of the palace rooftops with bone-jarring force.
Mirara let out a grunt of pain, body aching, ribs screaming—but she focused.
"Rewind..."
Time peeled back slightly. Her wounds stitched just enough for her to keep fighting.
Then her form shimmered. Wings tore from her back as she shifted into a bat-like creature and burst free from the crimson bindings.
Blood scattered as she flipped midair, returning to her human form—this time with blood-forged wings beating behind her.
Still airborne. Still defiant.
Valeria hovered opposite her, eyes gleaming.
"Still standing, huh?" she chuckled darkly. "Good. Let's see how long that lasts."
Valeria conjured a blade from her own blood, its edge gleaming with malice.
"That kid, Arthur, taught me a thing or two about swordplay," she said with a crooked smile. "Think you can keep up?"
"There's nothing I can't do," Mirara replied coldly, forming an identical blade in her hand.
Her silver eyes locked onto Valeria's with piercing intensity. Without another word, the two surged through the air, blades drawn.
Valeria struck first—a brutal overhead slash meant to cleave through Mirara.
But Mirara raised her sword in time, steel clashing with blood-forged steel, sparks raining down between them.
With a sharp grunt, Mirara shoved forward, forcing Valeria's blade off balance.
In a fluid motion, she twisted her sword and went for a piercing thrust aimed at Valeria's abdomen.
But Valeria was faster.
She blocked the stab, her blade vanishing in an instant—only to reappear in her opposite hand.
In one smooth swing, she slashed across Mirara's shoulder, drawing blood.
Mirara hissed in pain and darted backward, wings flaring. "Not bad… you're smarter than you look," she muttered under her breath.
But Valeria gave her no time to recover.
She drew a blood bow in one motion, summoning a barrage of crimson arrows—and unleashed them without mercy.
Mirara deflected them all mid-air, spinning and weaving as her blade danced—but she didn't notice the shift in the wind.
Suddenly, Valeria was beside her.
A massive blood-forged axe already raised.
Mirara flinched and burst away just in time—the blade narrowly missing, slicing through empty air where her torso had been a second earlier.
"You made a mistake," Mirara growled, panting. "Showing all your tricks too early."
Valeria licked a drop of blood from her lip, grinning wickedly. "Hm? Did I?" she said, eyes glinting. "Or are you just too slow to see what comes next?"
Mirara unleashed a volley of blood arrows, firing relentlessly at Valeria from above.
"You're not creative at all, are you?" she spat. "You're nothing but miror—fragile and predictable."
Valeria didn't even flinch.
A blood-forged shield emerged in her hand with a sickening squelch, absorbing every arrow like it was nothing. Her crimson eyes narrowed.
"Shut up."
Before Mirara could prepare her next attack, a sudden wave of dizziness slammed into her.
Her chest tightened. Her heart raced violently, pounding against her ribs.
Then her wings—her precious, blood-crafted wings—vanished.
Without warning, she plummeted from the sky like a broken doll.
Far below, Valeria watched with a slow, creeping smile. She had been waiting for this exact moment.
Just before impact, Mirara's body shimmered into a bat form and landed shakily on the ground. She stumbled, confused, barely upright.
"What… what's happening to me?" she gasped and turn into human form again
Valeria descended gracefully, laughing coldly. "That's what happens when an idiot tries to use my ability," she said, mockery dripping from every word.
"Oh, forgive me—I haven't properly introduced myself."
She raised a hand, as if presenting herself to an invisible, applauding audience.
"The name's Valeria—The Crimson Devil. I'm not an actual demon… just a vampire," she said with a theatrical bow, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
"My ability? I can create and control blood—as much of it as I want." She could barely contain her laughter now.
"You've been using the blood inside your own body to summon those pathetic little wings!" she shouted, then burst into uncontrollable laughter.
"Oh, gods! That's rich!" she cackled. "You thought a mere human like you could pull off a vampire blood technique?!"
Valeria clutched her stomach, nearly doubled over. "Ah, my ribs! This is the funniest thing I've seen in my entire life!"
Mirara stood frozen. Her breath hitched. Her body trembled—not from the cold, but from fear… and shame… and growing fury.
"Then… why am I still alive?" she demanded, voice barely steady.
"I've used this technique for a while now—why didn't I collapse sooner?"
Valeria's laughter tapered into a smug smirk. "Because of Rewind," she said.
"You've been subconsciously activating Chronia's ability again and again to keep yourself alive."
Then her smile turned sinister.
"But here's the catch—Chronia's power fades with overuse."
"And since you're just a cheap imitation… you didn't even know that, did you?"
She leaned in, eyes glowing with cruelty.
"That means your Rewind is gone now."
The words hit like a hammer. Mirara's eyes widened in horror. Her knees buckled slightly.
She was vulnerable. She was exposed.
Valeria saw it all.
"Scared?" Valeria whispered, grinning wickedly. "Good. You should be scared… of a devil like me."
Mirara trembled, her pride splintering. She slammed her fist into the ground with raw desperation.
Blood spilled from her knuckles, but she didn't care.
She hadn't expected to be brought to her knees like this—so pathetic, so exposed.
"I'll end this right now," Valeria growled.
Blood coiled around her like a living beast, forging itself into a massive war hammer.
The weight of it cracked the ground beneath her feet. She raised it high, aiming to crush Mirara into the dirt.
But before the hammer could fall—boom.
An explosion engulfed the space. A fiery blast sent dust and blood flying.
Valeria shielded her face instinctively, stumbling back. Boomera's technique?
She had used it—barely breathing, barely standing, yet defiant.
"Haah… h-hah…" Mirara gasped, hunched and shaking.
Then the air around Valeria shifted. Reality bent. The battlefield melted into something else—something wrong.
The scent of roasted meat and warm bread wafted in.
She blinked.
She was no longer standing in ruins and chaos—but sitting at a dinner table.
With them.
Her mother.
Her father.
Her older brother.
"What's wrong, Valeria?" her father asked, a kind warmth in his voice.
"You don't look well," her mother added, placing a hand on hers.
"Hah, did the little devil have a nightmare?" her brother teased with a chuckle.
The softness in their voices, the mundane joy, the flicker of familial love—it all disgusted her.
Valeria's breath hitched. Her skin crawled. Her stomach turned. How dare this illusion toy with their memory—mock them like this.
"They're dead," she muttered, voice cracking. "This isn't real…"
It made her sick. The warmth. The laughter. The illusion of a life that had been ripped away long ago.
Then—a sharp pain.
A blade pierced her back.
Her eyes went wide. She spun in a flash, grabbing a fistful of hair, lifting the attacker—Mirara—and slamming her into the floor with a sickening crack.
The illusion shattered like broken glass. The battlefield returned, cold and crimson.
Valeria staggered back, panting, rage twisting her face. Her eyes—once glowing—were now seething, bleeding red with fury.
"…You bitch…" she hissed.
There was no more amusement in her voice. Just fury. And pain. She had been dragged, even for a moment, into a memory she never wanted to see again.
And she would make Mirara pay for that.
With a snap of her fingers, Valeria summoned her wings of blood once more.
They burst out violently from her back, sharp and alive, slicing through the wind as she ascended into the sky.
She needed a moment—just a moment—to breathe, to recover. After all, she had thought her blood wings were no longer an option.
But then—a surge of cold.
Mirara rocketed upward after her—not with blood, but with wings sculpted from jagged, gleaming ice.
Zepharion's ability.
Valeria's eyes widened for a split second… then narrowed into a predatory grin.
"Oh? You're so desperate to beat me at my own game, you forgot you had your own wings all along?"
"Shut up." Mirara's voice was ice itself.
A frozen arm shot out from her shoulder, and she swung it with brutal force toward Valeria's head.
Valeria twisted midair, narrowly dodging, the frost grazing her cheek.
Their battle exploded across the sky.
Mirara pressed forward relentlessly—ice forming into fists, blades, and shards, launching strike after strike with ruthless precision.
Valeria twisted and darted through the air, blocking where she could, parrying with blood-forged gauntlets, retreating just enough to bait another reckless move.
Mirara wasn't falling for it.
With every heartbeat, her attacks came faster—colder—sharper.
Valeria paused for just a breath—just one—and that's when Mirara struck.
BAM—BAM—BAM!
Ice-wrought fists hammered in from all directions. The sky itself seemed to freeze as the barrage closed in.
Valeria's eyes darted. Nowhere to block. Nowhere to run—
No.
There's always a way.
With a flare of dark energy, she dissolved into a swarm of bats—her vampiric form bursting free in a shriek of shadow.
The icy onslaught smashed into itself, missing her by inches.
She reformed behind the storm, breathless but smiling. "Nice try."
Both hovered now, suspended in the twilight sky.
Breathing hard.
Hearts racing.
Evenly matched once more—but one mistake, one slip, and it would all come crashing down.
The sky held its breath.
Valeria shot through the sky like a crimson comet, but Mirara instantly retaliated, launching a barrage of ice shards in rapid succession.
Each one was mercilessly slashed apart by Valeria's blood-woven net, the crimson threads singing through the air like a deadly hymn.
Just as she closed in, the world around her shifted.
The battlefield melted away, replaced by an endless rice field—hauntingly silent, littered with lifeless scarecrows swaying in the breeze. Valeria narrowed her eyes. Illusion.
Without hesitation, she conjured a blood arrow and pierced one of the scarecrows. The illusion shattered like broken glass.
Reality snapped back—revealing Mirara, bloodied, a crimson arrow lodged in her side.
"Is that all you've got?" Valeria sneered, her voice like a blade.
Mirara clapped her hands once. An explosion erupted behind Valeria.
Clap—boom.
Clap—boom.
One after another, each clap brought a new detonation, forcing Valeria to dodge, to stumble, to gasp for breath.
"You're really not that creative, huh?" Valeria taunted between heavy breaths, swaying but defiant.
Mirara didn't answer.
She raised her hands—and a sphere of ice encased Valeria. In an instant, it shot skyward—then plummeted.
The impact shattered the ice into a storm of shards.
Amid the debris stood Valeria, barely able to stay on her feet, blood trickling down her chin.
"Tch…"
"Done with your little monologue?" Mirara asked coldly, eyes glinting with frost.
Without responding, Valeria muttered under her breath, just loud enough, "As long as she doesn't use poison... I'll be fine."
Mirara's eyes widened. That was all she needed to hear. "So poison is your weakness..." she whispered, a wicked grin spreading across her face.
Without hesitation, she launched a hailstorm of toxic projectiles—vials, darts, clouds—raining venom upon her opponent.
They struck Valeria with deadly precision. She screamed, staggered back, and collapsed, writhing in pain.
Her body trembled violently as a sickly purple spread across her skin.
"That easy?" Mirara blinked, stunned.
Still suspicious, she summoned a massive orb of pure venom and hurled it at the broken girl on the ground.
It exploded on impact, covering Valeria in a deadly mist.
Silence.
Valeria lay motionless.
Mirara approached cautiously, watching the still figure. No movement.
No sound. A chuckle bubbled in her throat, then turned into laughter.
"That's all it took?" she scoffed. "How pathe—"
A hand grabbed her ankle.
Mirara froze.
Slowly, she turned her gaze downward—and what she saw shattered every certainty she held.
Valeria's eyes were wide open. She was smiling.
No. Grinning.
Taunting.
She stuck out her tongue. "Wlee~ I lied."
Mirara's breath caught. Her limbs wouldn't move. "What…?"
"I'm immune to all poisons," Valeria said, standing up with eerie calm, brushing the dust from her clothes. "Every last one."
Before Mirara could react, Valeria yanked her off her feet and slammed her into the wall with bone-cracking force. The room shook.
Valeria tilted her head, mock pity in her voice. "You really are stupid, huh?"
She leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "Who the hell tells their weakness in the middle of a fight?"
Cornered and with no other option left, Mirara resorted to the one thing she could still rely on—illusion.
Valeria blinked.
Suddenly, she was no longer on the battlefield. She was in her room.
"Another illusion?" she sighed, irritated. "I'm getting tired of this game."
The door creaked open.
And there he was.
Oswald.
The man she had once called family. A mentor, a guardian... the closest thing she'd ever had to a father.
"Valeria?" His voice was warm, familiar. "Why are you staring like that?"
But Valeria didn't smile. Her brows furrowed. Anger welled up in her chest.
She hated this. Hated when people used the dead like puppets.
"Oswald," she said coldly. "You're dead."
Oswald paused—then smiled softly, almost peacefully. "Yes. I am. I lived a long life."
"And I know you cried for me," he added, his voice gentle. "But you're not the kind of vampire who breaks down that easily. That makes me proud."
His smile held a quiet warmth.
That hurt more than anything.
"Can you get out of my sight?" she asked, voice trembling with restrained fury. "This… this just pisses me off."
"I understand, Valeria." He turned to leave.
But her hand caught his.
He turned back—surprised.
"Thank you," Valeria whispered.
His eyes softened. "You're welcome... princess."
He gave her one last smile before walking out the door.
And just like that, her expression hardened. With a flick of her wrist, a blade of blood formed in her hand.
She hurled it at the grandfather clock in the corner. The moment the blade struck—crack.
The illusion shattered.
The room dissolved. The warmth faded. The silence returned.
And Mirara was gone.
Valeria stood in the cold remnants of a memory. Her voice was low, dangerous.
"Where is that bitch?" she growled, eyes scanning the emptiness, heart still aching.
Valeria felt it—an overwhelming surge of power cutting through the air like a silent scream.
Drawn to its source, she approached cautiously… only to find Mirara, seated in stillness, as if meditating in the eye of a storm.
"What are you doing, kid?" Valeria stepped forward, her tone dismissive.
But in that instant—Mirara's eyes snapped open. A radiant silver aura erupted around her body, crackling with raw energy.
In the blink of an eye, she vanished—only to reappear directly in front of Valeria.
The movement was so fast, Valeria's instincts didn't even have time to scream.
A devastating fist slammed into her gut.
The impact launched Valeria through the air like a ragdoll, blasting through not one, but two solid walls before she tumbled across the ground like a discarded doll. Dust and debris followed in her wake.
Shocked, breathless, and disoriented, Valeria struggled to rise. Her legs trembled beneath her—betraying the fear she would never admit.
What the hell was that power?
Mirara didn't wait.
She was already walking, her steps unnervingly calm. And then, with a flicker, she reappeared before Valeria once more—who hadn't even fully regained her footing.
"Curious, are you?" Mirara whispered, voice low and venomous.
Without hesitation, she grabbed Valeria by the arm and flung her into the sky. Valeria's body spun midair, eyes wide with disbelief.
Her flight ended as she crashed into a tree, the impact uprooting it entirely.
Gritting her teeth, Valeria managed to mutter, "You damned brat…"
But before the insult could land, Mirara was already in front of her again, face emotionless, gaze like sharpened steel.
"Yes," she said coldly. "I've fused every ability I've ever copied—into one perfected form."
Valeria clicked her tongue, the realization dawning too late. "So that's what this is…"
Mirara's hand clamped tightly around Valeria's ankle.
Without a word, she swung her up and hurled her into the sky like she weighed nothing. Valeria's body twisted helplessly in the air, a blur against the clouds.
From the ground, Mirara extended her arms—and a pair of jagged ice wings burst from her back with a piercing crackle. She shot upward, a silver-blue streak in the sky, and in a flash—
Her foot drove down hard into Valeria's abdomen. The force sent Valeria crashing to the ground like a meteor, the earth roaring beneath her.
A crater exploded open upon impact, dust and debris raining in every direction. Her body didn't move.
Mirara descended slowly, hovering over the destruction she had wrought, then landed beside the broken woman.
Without hesitation, she began striking.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Each blow thundered through the crater, driving Valeria deeper into the ground.
The earth split and crumbled, unable to withstand the relentless force. Blood spilled from Valeria's mouth, her eyes empty—unmoving.
Satisfied, Mirara paused—watching, waiting.
No breath. No resistance. Nothing.
"It's over," she whispered to herself, voice laced with cold finality.
She leapt from the pit, landing with quiet grace. With each step away, the wind seemed lighter. A long exhale escaped her lips—relief… and triumph.
The dark of night twisted into something unnatural.
The air turned heavy, suffocating. The stars above dimmed, swallowed by an ominous hue, and then—red.
A deep, bloodstained red.
Mirara froze, her breath caught in her throat. The entire sky was shifting, like the world itself had begun to bleed.
"What…?" Her voice barely escaped her lips as she slowly looked up.
The moon… it was no longer pale. It pulsed with crimson, like an eye staring down upon the battlefield with malevolence.
She turned—and there she was.
Valeria hovered above the ground, suspended like a god of vengeance.
Enormous wings, formed entirely of living blood, unfurled from her back.
Two curved horns, glistening red, jutted from her skull. A tail—razor-sharp at the tip—swayed behind her like a serpent ready to strike.
Mirara's eyes widened in disbelief. "No... this can't be…"
Before her floated not a vampire.
But a demon.
Valeria's glowing scarlet eyes locked onto Mirara's. No words were exchanged. No taunts. No mercy. Just silence—and the unbearable pressure of her gaze.
Mirara's hands trembled.
For the first time, she felt it—true fear. The kind that clawed its way into the bones and refused to let go.
But she gritted her teeth, forcing her body to move. She leapt into the air, wings spread wide, hurling herself toward the demon before her.
She didn't get the chance to strike.
A hand—cold, unrelenting—gripped her skull mid-flight.
And then—Boom.
Her head was slammed down into the earth with brutal force.
The ground shattered beneath her, chunks of dirt and stone erupting outward like shrapnel.
A crater formed on impact, blood splashing across its jagged surface.
And inside it, Mirara lay still—her world spinning, her breath shallow, her pride broken.
Above her, Valeria floated without emotion—like a queen watching a disobedient subject fall.
Zack and I were catching our breath, resting against the cold wall, when a crimson glow spilled through the window beside us.
We turned.
"What the hell…?" I muttered. "The sky… it's red?"
Zack rushed to the window. "The moon—it's bleeding."
My heart skipped a beat. I stood beside him, eyes locked on the sky outside. "Valeria…"
"This is Valeria's doing?!" Zack's voice was strained with disbelief, eyes wide with something between awe and dread. "She can do something like that?"
I let out a slow breath. "I know Valeria's strong—but this? This feels like something more."
"Something… unnatural. I doubt she has the power to turn the entire world's night sky crimson."
Zack leaned back, still staring upward, his voice a murmur. "Incredible… I'm going to have so many questions after this."
Then he turned to me again, more grounded, more human. "You okay?"
I nodded once. "Yeah. I'm good."
We exchanged a brief look—unspoken understanding in the tension between us.
"Let's move," I said.
In the blink of an eye, Mirara found herself surrounded—an array of Uzis, forged from congealed blood, hovered in midair around her, summoned with a single flick of Valeria's wrist.
The silence shattered.
The blood-forged weapons roared to life, unleashing a deafening storm of bullets.
Mirara reacted instantly, conjuring a wall of ice to shield herself.
The barrage was relentless, merciless, like a thousand screams condensed into metal.
Time stretched.
The storm ceased.
Breath shallow, Mirara pressed her ear to the cold surface. No sound. No movement.
Cautiously, she carved a narrow slit in the ice, peeking through—and saw nothing. Valeria had vanished.
She dispelled the barrier and stepped forward, eyes scanning the quiet battlefield.
Then she felt it.
Not pain. Emptiness.
Her gaze fell to her abdomen—there was a hole. A perfect, grotesque void. She had glimpsed something—maybe a flash, maybe a blur—but whatever had pierced her, it had struck too fast for the mind to register.
A shadow descended.
Valeria landed like a specter of death, the ground cracking beneath her heels.
The moment her feet met the earth, hands—twisted, malformed, and dripping—shot out from the blood-soaked soil, clutching Mirara's wrists and ankles, pinning her like a specimen beneath a scalpel.
Valeria approached slowly.
Each step radiated quiet malice.
Mirara couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Her body trembled violently, eyes wide with primal terror. And Valeria watched.
Enjoying every second of her fear.
Mirara gasped for air, her breath ragged and shallow. "I've always... pissed people off… even my own team..." she muttered, blood coating her lips.
"All this time... I only ever won by turning their own powers against them—"
She didn't finish.
A blade—curved, jagged, and forged from living blood—sliced across her chest, silencing her instantly.
"Shut up," Valeria hissed, her voice low, guttural, and monstrous.
Without pause, she drove her hand into Mirara's chest with a wet, sickening crunch.
Fingers tore through bone and sinew until they wrapped around the still-beating heart.
In one swift, merciless motion, she ripped it free.
Mirara's eyes went wide with horror.
Shock overtook her body. Limbs trembled, then collapsed. Her consciousness shattered in the face of raw agony.
Valeria stood over her, watching the life drain from her enemy's body. No satisfaction. No remorse. Only silence.
She dismissed the blood-forged limbs holding Mirara down, letting the mutilated body slump to the ground like a broken doll.
Her wings, horns, and demonic tail disintegrated into a mist of red.
In a blink, Valeria reverted to her childlike form—innocent in appearance, monstrous in truth.
She stared at the heart pulsing weakly in her palm... then crushed it without emotion, letting the remains splatter to the dirt.
Above them, the blood-red moon faded. The sky, once bathed in crimson, returned to its normal black.
Valeria trembled. The adrenaline faded, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. She sank to her knees beside Mirara's body.
Then, slowly, like a predator savoring its final kill, she pressed her lips to the corpse—and drank.
She drank until there was nothing left.
Until the body was dry, pale, and hollow.
Until there was no blood left to spill.
Rain began to fall.
Cold. Heavy. Cleansing nothing.
Valeria stood in silence, soaked in blood not her own. Her small figure trembled beneath the downpour, but her eyes remained fixed on the sky above—dark, endless, and indifferent.
Water washed over her body, mixing with the crimson that stained her skin. It couldn't cleanse what she had done. Nothing could.
"I won," she whispered, voice hollow.
There was no triumph in it. No joy. Just the truth. Cold and final.
"A copy... can never surpass the original."
She turned, bare feet slapping against the wet stone, leaving faint traces of blood in her wake.
Step by step, she walked toward the looming palace—the rain fell harder.
In the quiet of the dimly lit chamber, she found him.
Oris lay unconscious, slumped against the cold stone wall, his spear resting loyally at his side.
His chest barely moved—each breath a whisper, a thread pulling him between life and death.
Valeria stepped closer, her expression softening. "Hm..." she exhaled gently, kneeling beside him.
He was pale—far too pale. The color had drained from his face, his body starved of the blood it needed to survive.
She could hear the fading rhythm of his heart. A flicker of life… but fading.
With a small sigh, Valeria leaned in. Her voice was almost a whisper. "Be sure to thank me later, you brat..."
Then, with a breath of quiet resolve, she bit the tip of her tongue.
Warm blood filled her mouth—thick and bitter. It wasn't pleasant. It never was.
But it was life. And life was what he needed.
She leaned in, closing the space between them. Her lips met his—gently at first, trembling with care.
Then firmer, as purpose guided her. The blood passed from her to him in slow, deliberate rhythm.
Each drop carried more than just life—it carried trust, memory, a quiet promise.
When their lips finally parted, the silence hung between them.
Then—his chest rose.
A soft, shaky breath escaped his lips, and he stirred. His eyes blinked open, blurry and slow.
"...Old brat?" he murmured, his voice hoarse.
Valeria let out a breathless chuckle and sat down beside him, brushing damp hair from her face.
"Heh. Don't move too much. Just stay there," she said quietly, almost tenderly.
"I'll tell you a story now, Oris."
He looked at her, weary but warm. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Alright, Valeria."
And there, in that silent room, beneath the sound of distant rain and fading pain, he listened—his heartbeat growing stronger with every word she spoke.