After Lucius summoned his domain, the air itself seemed to twist. A suffocating pressure fell over the ruined city, the crimson hue of his power bleeding into every corner. Both his physical strength and magic surged, intertwining into a force that felt unstoppable. Each swing of his sword, forged entirely from his own blood, tore through the air like thunder, the weight of every blow shaking the ground beneath them.
Leo met every strike head-on, his body trembling with the strain. Thorn, his sword, was wreathed in continuous arcs of crimson energy, Blood Slashes forming and fading with every motion. Sparks of scarlet light burst between their blades each time they collided. He was using every ounce of strength, every drop of mana, every fragment of will he had left, just to hold his ground.
Lucius pressed forward, relentless. He didn't even look tired. Leo had seen him fight once before, and he knew, with a sinking certainty, that Lucius still wasn't using everything. The S-rank vampire hadn't drawn on the full power of his domain or the ancient items of power in his possession.
But Leo… Leo was already at his limit. His ring glowed with a deep crimson radiance, its energy fully unleashed, feeding the torrents of magic coursing through his veins. His breath came heavy and ragged, each inhale scraping against his throat like fire. Still, it wasn't enough.
With every swing, with every blocked strike, frustration grew into fury, and that fury boiled into something darker. Rage. It pulsed through his veins as strong as his mana, burning him from the inside out.
Lucius's next attack came like a hurricane. His sword slashed downward, and the sheer force sent Leo flying back a hundred meters through the air. Before he even hit the ground, the blood around Lucius surged and twisted together, forming a colossal hand that clenched into a massive fist.
It launched toward him like a meteor.
Leo's boots hit the cracked earth, dust exploding beneath him. He gritted his teeth, shadows flickering across his eyes, and roared. "Blood Explosion!"
He leapt forward, swinging Thorn with all his strength. The blade connected with the incoming fist, and the world erupted in red.
A sphere of blood blossomed outward, a roaring explosion that devoured the air. The shockwave flattened the broken ruins nearby, leaving only a crater of steaming red light.
Leo's body was thrown back again, skidding across the ground. He coughed blood as he forced himself up, his legs trembling. His mind was a storm, rage, exhaustion, desperation, all mixing together until thinking became impossible. He needed a plan, but every attempt at reason vanished beneath the pounding of his heart.
He stopped trying to think.
If he couldn't win with tactics, he would win with fury.
He lifted Thorn again, its edge dripping with his own blood. He tightened his grip, ready to charge, but froze as pain tore through him.
A cold shock ran through his body. His eyes dropped slowly, disbelieving. A blade had emerged clean through his stomach, the steel slick with his blood.
The world narrowed. His breath hitched, his vision shaking. He turned his head over his shoulder, and his eyes went wide.
Standing behind him, wearing a infuriating calm smile, was Nikolaus Graf.
"You…" Leo's voice was a growl, his anger shaking the air itself.
But before he could turn, before he could strike back, Lucius was already in front of him. The S-rank vampire's expression was cold and absolute. His sword drove forward, straight into Leo's chest, piercing where his heart beat.
Time seemed to stop.
The impact numbed everything, the sound, the heat, even the pain. Leo's breath caught in his throat. Blood spilled from his mouth in slow, heavy drops, hitting the ground like falling bells. His vision darkened, the crimson light of the domain blurring into black.
And then, everything went silent.
Everything went dark.
…
Lucius and Nikolaus pulled their swords free at the same time. Blood sprayed in an arc as the steel slid from flesh, and Leo's body collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the quiet drip of blood pooling on the stone floor.
Lucius's gaze lingered, cold and calculating, before he finally turned toward the other man. "What the hell are you doing here, Nikolaus?"
Nikolaus gave a faint smirk, resting his sword against his shoulder. "Is that the way you thank me?"
Lucius's expression didn't change. "You think I needed your help to kill this kid?"
"You were struggling," Nikolaus replied casually, his tone almost teasing. Then his eyes drifted down toward Leo. "Still… I have to give it to him. He's become a lot more powerful in a short time." His lips curved into a grin.
Lucius frowned, unmoved. "You still haven't answered my question."
"I have my orders," Nikolaus said, brushing invisible dust off his coat. "Kill the Pope's son."
Lucius's eyes narrowed. "Arthur isn't here."
"I know," Nikolaus replied, the smirk returning. "He's busy fighting your dog."
Lucius let out a quiet sigh and turned away, his long coat swaying with the motion. He began walking toward the center of the room, his boots clicking softly on the stone floor. Nikolaus followed behind him, still wearing that same faint smile.
After a few steps, Lucius stopped.
Nikolaus tilted his head. "What is it?"
Lucius didn't answer immediately. His head turned slightly, his eyes fixed on Leo's motionless body. "I'm making sure he's dead."
Nikolaus arched a brow. "He's dead."
Lucius crouched, closing his eyes as he focused. "He's surprised me more than once," he muttered. "I'm not giving him another chance."
For a few seconds, he listened. Only silence.
Then he stood, brushing his hands together. "No heartbeat."
"I told you," Nikolaus said, smiling faintly. "What are you doing here anyway?"
Lucius's tone was sharp. "None of your business."
Nikolaus gave a mock sigh. "You're rude."
Then
Thump.
Lucius froze.
Thump-thump.
His head turned slowly, disbelief creeping into his expression. "What?"
Another heartbeat echoed through the air. Faint. But there.
Both of them turned toward Leo.
He was standing.
Blood still dripped from his wounds, but his body moved as if nothing had happened. His eyes gleamed faintly red, his expression twisted into something unrecognizable, something wrong.
"How the hell are you still alive?" Lucius demanded.
Nikolaus took an involuntary step back, eyes wide.
Leo's mouth curled into a wicked smile. His voice was deeper now, layered, echoing with something that wasn't human. "It's been a while, Lucius Dimont."
Before either of them could react, Leo vanished.
A flash, then he was right in front of Lucius. Thorn slashed upward, cutting clean through Lucius's chest.
Lucius hissed in pain, leaping back. Blood spilled from the wound, sizzling where it hit the air. Nikolaus reacted instantly, vanishing into a flash of blue light, a portal snapping open and spitting him out several meters away.
Lucius pressed a hand to his wound, glaring at the figure in front of him. His eyes widened. That mana, it was dark, ancient, familiar.
"No…" he whispered. "Nemesis."
The smile on Leo's face widened, unnaturally. "Ahahahaha…" His laughter rang through the hall, cold and manic.
"I have to thank you, Lucius," he said, voice trembling with mock gratitude. "You weakened this kid just enough… for me to come out."
His grip on Thorn tightened. The blade pulsed once, then the steel dissolved, twisting into a long, liquid coil of red.
"Now…" he murmured, his tone dropping into a feral growl, "let me show you how to use this sword."
The weapon in his hand cracked apart, reshaping into a living whip of blood and mana, pulsing like a vein, like the heart of something alive and monstrous.
…
Lecia's head rose, pale as marble. Blood spurted from the wound at her neck, a bright, hot fountain against her skin. For a moment it flowed freely, then, almost imperceptibly, the edges of the cut drew together. Flesh knitted, satin skin closing over the gap until only a faint scar remained. Her eyes cleared and returned to their usual, cold focus.
They locked on Elna. "You had to sever my head," she said. "You threw away your only chance."
A low tremor ran through the city. For an instant everyone froze as a wave of mana rolled outward from the center like an ocean sweeping across sand. The air tasted metallic; windows chimed on their panes. Lecia's face went slack with shock. She turned toward the city's heart, pupils widening.
"That's not possible," she breathed.
She spun to leave, flee toward the source, but Luciana appeared in front of her.
"Where do you think you're going?" Luciana's voice was low and steady.
"You felt that too," Lecia snapped, fury curling in her words. "You know who came. We must kill her now or…"
"Or what, Mother?" Luciana cut in, calm as a blade. "That she kills us all? That's why I came."
Lecia's jaw tightened. "Even if she spares your friends, she will kill you."
"If that means your death, so be it." Luciana's tone held neither bravado nor fear, only iron resolve.
"Foolish child. Then I will end you quickly." Lecia's voice became a promise of violence.
She lifted a hand; a single bead of blood separated from her finger and fell, suspended as if hanging on a thread of mana. It trembled, then plunged toward the ground like a crimson tear.
Luciana's eyes widened. She recognized the move, knew the attack and the horror it promised.
"Jump, now!" she shouted to Elna and Edgarth.
They didn't hesitate. Both vaulted upward, driven by training and instinct, leaving the courtyard before the drop could touch their boots.
The ground answered. The bead struck the stone and the city exploded in red. Blood surged out of cracks and drains and street gutters in a roaring tide, bubbling up and racing outward until the entire square, the alleys, and the bases of buildings were flooded. The torrent rose fast, swallowing steps, decorative statues, and fallen banners, turning everything it touched the color of fresh wounds.
Luciana hovered above the swell, watching the surface churn. "Don't let the blood touch you for even a second," she warned. Her voice was sharp; panic threaded through it. "It will dry you."
Before they could react further, something immense broke the surface, a dragon-shaped mass of blood. It rolled up from the flood like a leviathan, its neck coiled, maw opening in a pouring of viscous crimson. The creature's form blurred at the edges, but its size was clear, easily large enough to swallow the three of them whole.
Edgarth's gaze narrowed and then let out a dry, humorless breath. "That's going to be harder than you think," he said.
…
Ryan watched the chaos unfold around him. Two battles raged across the fractured plain, one between Briva and the massive new werewolf whose presence alone bent the air around him, the other between Arthur and the S-rank beast, Ed.
Briva was holding her own, her arrows cutting through the air like streaks of moonlight, each shot sharp enough to wound even a monster of that tier. That gave Ryan a little comfort, enough to turn his full attention back to Arthur.
Arthur was barely recognizable anymore. His aura flickered and warped, half light and half darkness, a volatile mix that seemed to consume itself every second it burned. When his sword met Ed's claws, the impact split the air, and shockwaves rippled through the cracked streets. The ground itself shuddered with each clash, splinters of stone and dust rising like smoke around them.
Ryan clenched his fists. He had to help. Arthur was powerful, but his mind was slipping, his movements were too wild, too feral. If he kept burning through mana at this rate, he'd collapse long before the werewolf did.
He summoned more power into his domain, the energy pressing against the edges of reality itself. His usual use of it wasn't enough anymore. Against an S-rank, subtlety was meaningless. That left him only one option.
Just as he began to shape the spell, the ground shook again. But this time, it wasn't from Ed or Arthur. The tremor was deeper and it rolled through the battlefield like a heartbeat from the center of the city.
A wave of mana washed over them, violent and thick. It felt ancient, divine.
Ed froze mid-swing, his fur bristling, pupils narrowing to slits. He turned his head toward the city, confusion and alarm mixing on his face.
"How is that possible?" he growled.
Arthur didn't even pause. The pulse of foreign mana didn't reach him. He was too far gone in rage. With a shout, he brought down his forty-third sword, the energy roaring in gold and shadow.
Ed caught it with his bare palm. The impact cracked the air, but the werewolf barely flinched. "Sorry, kid," he said, almost regretful. "Looks like I'm short on time."
He shifted his stance, claws glowing with raw killing intent, and drove his arm forward, straight for Arthur's chest.
But something tugged at Arthur's waist. A thick, dark branch burst from the ground and coiled around him, yanking him backward just before the claws could pierce his heart.
Ed blinked, thrown off for a single instant, just long enough to notice the shadow above him. His head tilted up.
A colossal fist, made of compacted wood and stone, was descending from the above.
For a moment, he thought it was still far enough away to dodge. He started to move, then less than a second later, he understood, the fist was already there. It slammed into him with world-shaking force.
The ground split open beneath the impact. Dust and debris exploded outward in a violent shockwave, swallowing everything in its path. When the air cleared, Ed was gone, buried beneath a mountain-sized mass of the fist.
Ryan stood still, his breathing steady but his brow slick with sweat.
He hadn't misjudged the range of his attack, Ed had.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. With Real Illusion, he used a trick that made his projections appear slightly offset from their true position. A simple trick, but a very useful one.