The Fourth Vampire Elder, the leader of the group, his gaunt face twisted into a sinister grin. Shadows coiled around him like living tendrils, pulsing with malevolent energy. The power of his fallen brethren flowed through him, their combined darkness shaping the battlefield into a realm of nightmare.
"You've done well," the Elder said, his voice tinged with arrogance.
"But you will fall, just like the rest of your comrades."
And now, at the center of the battlefield, the final Elder stood. With a flick of his wrist, a burst of shadow erupted from his hand.
My instincts screamed. I barely had time to react before the darkness morphed into massive jagged constructs, spears of solidified night lunging at me from all angles.
I twisted, my scythe whirling in a defensive arc, the Antimagic slicing through the nearest ones. But the moment they shattered, more formed in their place, moving with deadly precision.
Sending Yuna and me slamming against the broken walls of the Empire's entrance. Yuna gets knocked unconscious while I fall off the wall onto the ground.
I am exhausted beyond measure, however, I stood tall, my body battered, but my spirit unwavering. I had to finish this. I had no choice.
From the ground, living shadows surged upward, clawing at my legs. They coiled around me, tightening like iron shackles. I gritted my teeth and used Antimagic to tear off the shadows, breaking free just as a wave of shadow clones descended upon me.
The clones were identical to the Elder, each one wielding a lesser but deadly form of his magic.
Some manipulated the darkness into illusions so vivid they twisted reality itself, while others wielded shadow weapons, their attacks burning through his mind, trying to drown me in hallucinations so intense they inflicted real pain while having to defend against actual attacks.
The final battle raged on. I fought with the fury of a man who had lost everything, each blow fueled by the memory of my fallen friends.
My movements were relentless, every strike a testament to my grief and determination.
I was fast—but not fast enough to block them all. The illusions disoriented me for the briefest second, enough for a shadow to strike.
Agony flared in my side as a blade of darkness slashed across my ribs. I staggered, rolling out of the way as a second clone thrust a spear of shadows at my back.
I spun my scythe in a deadly arc, cleaving through one clone, then another. But they kept coming, endless, relentless.
I adjusted accordingly. Focusing on analyzing their magic structure.
Optimizing my Antimagic to each of the clones and their magic, pushing it through my weapon, and adjusting its frequency.
The moment I struck the next clone, the Antimagic didn't just dispel it—it erased it, completely severing its connection to the Elder.
The clones wavered. Their forms flickered, weakened.
The Elder clicked his tongue in irritation.
"You're quick to adapt. But you're still only human."
Darkness swirled violently around me.
The battlefield shifted—no, reality itself twisted. The shadows gained a will of their own, moving not just with the Elder's command, but with instinct.
The ground became treacherous, shadows rising like grasping hands, anticipating my every step.
I lunged, but the shadows coiled around my limbs yet again before I could land my strike.
A fist of darkness slammed into my gut, hurling me backward. I barely recovered before another clone appeared, slashing at my chest. Blood sprayed.
Yuna stirred, her vision hazy. Her body ached, but through the pain, she saw me amidst my battle with the Fourth Elder, desperately trying to keep myself together while also protecting her from the barrage of attacks coming her way.
Her body was weak, but her eyes were fixed on me, her heart racing as she witnessed my struggle.
She tried to move, but her strength was failing her. She could only watch in horror as the Elder raised his hand, his grin widening.
The battlefield trembled. The Elder inhaled, and the very shadows were drawn into him. His wounds sealed. His magic surged, stronger, more refined.
My grip tightened around my scythe. My body screamed for rest, but I ignored it.
Then the Elder whispered, "Let the Void take you."
And the world turned black.
"VOID'S EMBRACE!"
A rift tore open in the sky. Pure darkness spilled forth, engulfing everything. It wasn't just shadow—it was nothingness. A consuming abyss. I could see only a few feet ahead, my Antimagic cutting through the darkness but unable to dispel it entirely.
Then they came.
Abyssal Servants.
Wraith-like creatures, grotesque and formless, emerged from the void. Their bodies were resistant to magic, their strength immense. They swarmed me.
I moved, my scythe a blur. But these creatures were different—resistant to magic, even Antimagic. Only pure physical force could harm them.
I fought viciously, slashing through their ranks, but their numbers were endless.
The Elder appeared behind me in an instant, clapped his hands together. Then the flow of time slowed for me, while the Elder moved unhindered.
A clawed hand grasped my throat.
"Void's Touch."
Agony, unlike anything I had ever felt, surged through my body. It wasn't just pain—it was erasure. My very existence was being unmade.
I roared, flooding his body with Antimagic, severing the connection. I twisted, slashing upward. My blade struck the Elder, cutting through flesh.
But the Elder only laughed.
"You fight like a cornered beast," he mused.
"Desperate. But this is the end."
I could barely stand. My body was failing me. The battlefield was a nightmare of shifting reality and living darkness. My every movement was slowed, my strength fading.
The Elder raised his hand one final time.
"VOID'S JUDGMENT!"
The darkness condensed into a single, devastating attack, a blast of void energy designed to erase me completely.
I raised my scythe, pouring everything I had left into it.
The two forces collided.
The explosion shook the battlefield.
I was hurled backward, my body crashing against the shattered stone of the kingdom's entrance once again. Blood splattered the ground. My scythe fell from my grip.
I tried to rise. My arms trembled. My vision blurred. My body betrayed me.
The Fourth Elder grinned, watching me crumble before him.
"Pathetic," he sneered.
"No one can escape their fate," the Fourth Elder hissed, his voice dripping with malice.
"You thought you could change your fate. You thought that, somehow, your strength would be enough to defeat us. But do you know what you are, Tatsuo? You are nothing but a pawn in a greater game, a mere human struggling against forces far beyond your comprehension."
He stepped closer, circling me as I bled on the ground, my breath ragged.
"You've always been told you could change the world. You believed you could defeat us, the Elders, and reshape the course of history. But in the end, you're just like the others. Your defiance is pointless. We are eternal. We've shaped this world for millennia. And you—"
The Elder leaned down, his voice a low hiss,
"—You could have been the one to change it. You could have joined us, Tatsuo. You could have become one of us. You had the power, the strength, the will, the courage. Together, we could have taken over this world and remade it in our image. The world would have bent to our will. You could have ruled beside us. Together, we would have created a new order, one where humans and immortals like us reigned supreme. But you never understood your true potential."
My mind was spinning, but through the fog of pain and grief, the Elder's words dug deep into my soul.
"You could've had it all, Tatsuo. You could have been more than just a soldier fighting for some fleeting ideal. You could've been a king, the one who brought the world to its knees, shaping it to our will."
The Elder's voice was almost seductive now, his tone coaxing.
"But instead, you chose to fight against us. You chose to die for a world that would never change."
I, weakened and barely conscious, clenched my teeth in defiance. My body ached, and my spirit threatened to break, but I wasn't done yet.
My voice was low and filled with loathing:
"Join you? I'd rather die than become one of you!"
As the Elder raised his weapon to strike the final blow, a blur of motion intercepted his attack. Yuna, using the last of her strength, sprinted toward me. She reached me just in time, placing her hands over my wounds as she channeled the last remnants of her mana to heal me, trying desperately to save me.
But before she could finish—
The Elder's blade descended.
My eyes widened in horror as Yuna threw herself in front of me, wrapping her arms around me in a final embrace.
The blade cut deep.
Blood splattered across my face.
The Elder's expression twisted with delight.
Then, with a sadistic laugh, he slashed again.
And again.
And again.
His blade tore through Yuna's back, ripping into her flesh without mercy. With each strike, he cackled, reveling in the pure agony of the moment.
"Look at this!" he sneered, his voice filled with sick joy.
"She clings to you like a broken doll, thinking she can protect you!"
Another slash.
Yuna shuddered, her grip on me weakening.
"What a waste!" the Elder roared with laughter.
"You think throwing yourself in front of him will change anything?! You are NOTHING! Just another useless, weak human dying for a hopeless cause!"
His blade descended again.
I screamed in rage, my voice raw with pain and fury.
"STOP!!"
Yuna's body slumped against me, her breath shallow, her vision fading.
But even now, she smiled through the pain.
With the last of her strength, she whispered, her voice a mixture of pain and hope:
"Tatsuo… survive…"
Her body went limp.
"YUNA!! NOT YOU TOO!!" My scream ripped through the battlefield.
The Elder laughed maniacally as he saw me, the strongest warrior, in pain and in tears.
Something inside me snapped.
Grief and rage surged through me like wildfire, consuming me entirely. I laid Yuna down gently, brushing the hair from her face, and closing her eyes with a trembling hand.
My heart shattered.
Tears blurred my vision, but they did not fall.
My sorrow boiled into fury.
With a final, broken glance at the woman who had sacrificed everything for me, I stood, my fists clenched around Nocturnis, my scythe. The sorrow in my heart transformed into a burning fury, a rage so pure and unrelenting that it consumed every inch of me.
My head lowered, my shoulders shaking with uncontainable rage.
Then—
I roared.
A scream of pure fury and despair, shaking the air with the unrelenting force of my grief.
"YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME… I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!"
I surged forward, moving faster than the eye could follow. My strikes were a blur of speed, precision, and sheer wrath. The Fourth Elder blocked and countered with manic laughter, clearly enjoying the spectacle of my desperation.
"You think you can defeat me?" the Elder taunted, grinning as he effortlessly parried the scythe's strikes.
"You're too weak!"
The Fourth Elder barely had time to react as my scythe tore through his defenses, the force behind the strike shattering the very air between them. The Elder skidded backward, his twisted grin faltering for the first time. A deep gash ran across his chest, dark ichor oozing from the wound. His hands trembled as he touched the injury, his expression twisting in both disbelief and exhilaration.
"You dare—" the Elder hissed, but before he could finish, I was already upon him.
The battlefield trembled under the weight of their clash. My movements became a storm of rage-fueled precision, my every strike carrying the weight of his grief. Shadows twisted violently around the Elder as he called forth his magic in desperation. The very air thickened with oppressive darkness as it took full effect, the world around them bending and warping to the Elder's will. The ground turned traitorous beneath my feet, shifting and twisting to throw me off balance, while phantoms of the Elder lashed at me from all angles.
I countered with instinctual mastery. My Antimagic flared, negating the illusions and distorting the fabric of the Elder's domain, creating pockets of resistance where I could maneuver. I dodged left—my scythe cut through a shadow clone before it could fully materialize. A tendril of darkness lunged at me—I severed it mid-air with a single swing. The Elder growled in frustration, realizing that I was adapting too quickly.
"Then let's see how you handle this!" the Elder snarled, stretching out his arms. The shadows around them writhed violently before collapsing inward, merging into a singularity of absolute blackness.
"Void's Embrace."
Darkness swallowed the battlefield whole once again.
A chilling abyss spread outward, consuming everything in its wake. My vision was stolen from me, the world reduced to pure, suffocating black. No sound. No light. No presence beyond the overwhelming force of the Elder. This wasn't just an absence of light—it was the void itself.
For the first time, the Elder's laughter faltered. I should've been lost. I should've been drowning in the abyss.
But instead—
A surge of Antimagic flared from my body, burning like an unseen beacon within the void. My scythe pulsed with energy, cutting through the oppressive darkness, granting me sight—if only a few feet in front of me. It was enough.
The Elder snarled as I emerged from the consuming black shadows, my scythe raised. I swung, and the Elder barely managed to twist away, but not before a deep wound carved itself into his side.
The Elder's fury boiled over.
"Enough!"
He raised both hands, calling forth the power of Abyssal Servants.
From the blackness, twisted wraiths emerged—howling, shrieking entities of pure malice, their forms shifting and writhing as they lunged for me. Unlike the Elder's shadow constructs, these creatures resisted magic's influence. Antimagic wouldn't work.
I pivoted. My body screamed in protest, my wounds burning with every movement, but I forced myself onward. The first wraith swiped at me—I ducked and drove my scythe upward, cleaving through its form with sheer physical strength. Another lunged from behind—I twisted, bringing the pole of my weapon up just in time to block before spinning into a counterattack.
For every wraith I cut down, more emerged.
My breathing grew ragged. My muscles burned. My vision blurred at the edges.
The Elder smirked.
"Losing your edge, are we?" He drawled, a cruel amusement in his eyes as his voice dripped with condescension.
"Where's that unbreakable warrior spirit now?"
I growled, gripping my scythe tighter. I couldn't afford to stop. I couldn't let this monster win.
The Elder lifted his hand once more, calling forth.
"Void's Wrath"
A sickly, unnatural energy crackled at his fingertips, black tendrils reaching for me. But instead of forming typical shadow weapons, the darkness crackled with energy, condensing and morphing into bolts of black lightning that arced across the battlefield. If it touched me, it would drain me completely, consume my very essence, and kill me on the spot.
I met the attack head-on.
As the black lightning lashed out, I unleashed my Antimagic at full force, disrupting the void's corruption before it could reach me. The Elder gritted his teeth, forced to retreat a step, his smugness cracking.
"Impossible," the Elder spat.
"You shouldn't be able to counter the Void itself!"
I panted, my grip tightening.
"You… talk too much."
With a final push, the two warriors clashed once more.
Blades met, shadows writhed, magic flared, and the battlefield trembled under the weight of their battle. But despite my injuries, despite the overwhelming odds, I kept fighting.
And for the first time since the battle began…
The Fourth Elder knew fear.
Yet in the end, even as I carved through the darkness, even as I pushed myself beyond my limits—
The Elder was faster.
A final, devastating slash tore through my chest.
I staggered. My vision blurred. My scythe slipped from my grasp once again.
The Elder exhaled, a slow, satisfied sigh escaping his lips. His body ached, his wounds stung, but it was over. Finally.
I took a knee and stayed motionless, my scythe slipping from my grasp, my body collapsing into the blood-soaked ground. The Elder allowed himself a moment of respite, rolling his shoulders as he smirked.
"That was entertaining," he mused, licking the blood from his lips.
"But in the end, even the strongest are bound by their limits."
His gaze drifted from me, already thinking of his next move. Perhaps he'd raise the fallen warrior as an undead, twist his broken spirit into something useful. Or maybe—
A chill crawled up his spine.
Something was wrong.
The battlefield, once filled with the crackling energy of his void magic, had fallen eerily silent. The oppressive darkness flickered as if uncertain, as if responding to something unnatural.
The Elder's smirk faltered.
Where was the sound of breathing? The ragged, dying gasps of a warrior moments from death?
The question clawed at his ancient mind.
His eyes snapped back to where I had fallen—
The body was gone.
A split second of realization struck him—
Then—
A faint shift in the air. A presence behind him.
The Elder's eyes widened in horror as he whirled around, but it was already too late.
A cold whisper brushed past his ear, a voice like a death chime—
"You let your guard down."
Tatsuo's form solidified behind him, his grip firm around his scythe.
A single, fluid arc cut through the darkness.
For the first time, the Elder felt true pain.
The world seemed to slow as a clean, precise slash cleaved through his body, splitting him from shoulder to waist.
The Elder gasped, his smug confidence shattering into disbelief. He tried to move, tried to speak, but his body—his very existence—was unraveling.
Dark ichor sprayed across the battlefield. His severed form staggered, the remnants of his magic flickering in chaotic desperation. His arms trembled as he reached for his wounds, but there was no stopping it—
His body collapsed in two.
The world tilted. His vision blurred. His own severed lower half crumpled before him, and for the first time, the Elder felt fear like a mortal.
His mouth moved soundlessly.
How?
I stood over him, breathing heavily, eyes shadowed with a cold, merciless glare. Blood dripped from my scythe, and for the first time in his wretched, immortal existence—
The Elder felt small.
My voice, quiet and filled with absolute finality.
"Die."
Before I could swing down the final blow, the Elder moved.
In a grotesque display of survival, his severed upper body twisted unnaturally, rolling away just as the scythe came down. The blade struck the ground where his head should have been, sending a shockwave through the battlefield.
But the Elder wasn't finished.
With a snarl, his clawed hand lashed out.
I barely had time to register the movement before searing pain tore through my legs. The Elder's jagged, shadow-infused claws ripped deep into my flesh, carving through muscle and tendon with sickening precision.
A sharp, agonizing cry tore from my throat as my body buckled. My legs gave out instantly, collapsing beneath me.
The Elder rolled further away, his wounded form a gruesome mess of dark ichor and torn robes. He coughed, spitting black blood, his expression a twisted mix of agony and triumph.
"D-Did you really think… it would be that easy?" he wheezed, his voice gurgling. Despite his grievous wounds, his lips curled into a bloody smirk.
I gritted my teeth, trying to move—but my legs refused to respond. I couldn't stand.
The Elder let out a raspy chuckle, propping himself up with his remaining arm. His breath was ragged, his body failing, yet his malice burned brighter than ever.
I glared at the Fourth Elder, my breathing ragged, my vision hazy from blood loss. My legs were ruined, my body broken, yet I still gripped my scythe with trembling fingers. I watched as the Elder, barely holding himself together, let out another rasping chuckle.
"Y-You…" The Elder's voice was hoarse, filled with bitter amusement.
"Even now… you think you've won?"
I said nothing. I simply stared, my fury burning even as my body failed me.
The Elder's smirk widened.
"This… isn't the last you'll see of me…"
With a sickening crack, he forced himself upright, his body trembling violently. Black blood spilled from his wounds in dark rivers, yet his malice had not dimmed. With his last strength, he began to chant.
The ground beneath him trembled as a massive magic circle ignited with ominous energy. The runes pulsed violently, twisting and contorting reality itself. The air became heavy. A dark wind howled across the battlefield, carrying whispers of something unnatural.
My instincts screamed danger. I knew this wasn't ordinary magic.
The Elder's voice rang out, a chilling mixture of triumph and hatred.
"If I cannot rule this world… I shall conquer the next! Reincarnation will grant me eternity!"
My grip on my scythe tightened, but my body refused to move. I was drained, broken—my will strong, but his flesh shattered.
Then—
The Elder's smirk vanished.
A choking gasp tore from his throat as his own body betrayed him. His skin cracked, his flesh crumbled. He had overestimated himself. His wounds were too severe. His life force was gone.
"No—this isn't—"
His words cut off as his entire being began to disintegrate.
I watched as the Fourth Elder, once so arrogant, so sure of his immortality, fell apart before my very eyes. His flesh peeled away, his bones turned to ash, and his existence ceased.
It was over.
The Elder was dead.
I closed my eyes for a moment, my breath shaking. I had no strength left, but even now, my lips moved— soft, but unyielding.
"For Kenta…"
My vision flickered, memories of my barbarian comrade laughing, fighting beside me.
"For Sora…"
My mind echoed with the image of the sharp-eyed assassin who had always had my back.
"For Akari…"
The cunning, fearless blade-dancer who fought with a smirk even in the face of death.
"For Ryo…"
The noble paladin who had never hesitated to protect them.
Finally—
My eyes fell upon Yuna's lifeless form.
My chest ached. My fingers curled into the bloodied dirt beneath me.
"For Yuna."
I exhaled, my rage, my grief, my vengeance settling into something deeper. Something unbreakable.
But then—
The battlefield shook.
My eyes snapped open as I felt it—the spell was not stopping.
The massive magic circle, meant for the Elder's reincarnation, had not vanished.
It had lost its master, but it was still active.
And it was out of control.
A sudden pull seized my body. The magic surged, dragging at my very existence.
My breath hitched. I clawed at the blood-soaked ground, trying to get away, but it was useless.
The magic was pulling me in.
"No…" I rasped, forcing myself onto my stomach, crawling toward Yuna. My trembling fingers reached for her, barely brushing her sleeve.
"I won't… leave Yuna behind…my team!"
My arms trembled. My entire body was failing.
But I kept crawling.
"I have to bring them back… I have to give them an honorable funeral…"
But the battlefield betrayed me.
My blood-soaked hands slipped.
My strength failed.
And the pull intensified.
I felt myself yanked backward. My body skidded across the dirt, my fingers scrambling for any anchorage—but there was nothing.
A sharp gasp tore from my throat as I was dragged into the circle's center. My body was swallowed by light, the battlefield vanishing from sight.
The last thing I saw—
Was the Fourth Elder's ashes scattering into the wind.
The vampire's ambition to reincarnate had failed.
But Tatsuo had been caught in the spell's chaotic aftermath.
Then—
Everything went dark.
I awoke with a sudden gasp, a gasp tearing from my throat as my heart raced, pounding painfully against my chest. My body was drenched in cold sweat, my breathing ragged, each inhale sharp and desperate. I was not on the battlefield. I was… somewhere else. Somewhere familiar, but foreign at the same time. My small hands clenched into fists, and my eyes shot open, only to be met with a ceiling made of rough, wooden beams.
I was confused and panicked:
"W-What happened? This… isn't right. What… is going on?"
I looked down at my hands, the smaller, youthful frame shocking me.
I was… back. Back in my childhood body. The memories of my past life flooded my mind—my comrades, the battles, the Vampire Elders, Yuna's death… It all came rushing back to me.
My hands shook, clenching the thin blanket beneath me as I tried to steady myself, to remind myself that it was just a dream.
But it wasn't.
It never was.
Every time I closed my eyes, the nightmare returned—relentless, merciless. It dragged me back to that battlefield, to the blood and the screams, to the faces of my comrades as they fell. As they died.
Sometimes, I saw it through my own eyes, felt every cut, every burn, every shattering blow. Other times, I watched it unfold from above, like some cruel spectator, powerless to stop it. I saw myself fight, saw myself fail. Saw them fall, one by one.
Kenta, roaring in defiance as his body was crushed under the weight of his enemies. Sora, his movements slowing as blood poured from wounds too deep to heal. Akari, surrounded, fighting desperately before the darkness swallowed her whole. Ryo, protecting me until the last second, his holy light fading as his body crumpled to the ground.
And Yuna…
Yuna, smiling even as she healed me, her body growing weaker, paler, until she was nothing but a lifeless shell. Her hands slipping away, cold and still. Her eyes closed for the last time.
I shut my eyes, my nails digging into my palms as I tried to banish the images, but they clung to me, burned into my memory. It was always the same. Always the same nightmare.
No matter how many times I saw it, no matter how many times I relived it, the pain never dulled. The guilt never lessened. It haunted me, every night, every waking moment. A cruel reminder of my failure.
A reminder of my curse.
I let out a shuddering breath, forcing my hands to unclench, feeling the sting of crescent-shaped marks on my palms. I had to calm down. I had to breathe.
It was over. That world was gone.
Reincarnation magic. The words whispered through his mind like a distant echo. It is a rare and forbidden form of magic that transcends time, space, and the cycle of life and death. Unlike conventional resurrection spells, which restore the dead to life in their current state, Reincarnation Magic forcibly rewinds an individual's soul and consciousness to an earlier point in their existence. It does not simply revive; it recreates, rewriting fate itself.
It was a spell that had ripped me from my body and sent me back to the past, but at what cost?
I had been given a second chance. A chance to protect Yuna. To prevent the disaster that had come to pass.
I slowly rose from the bed, my limbs weak from the sudden return to my younger form. I stood on shaky legs, my gaze falling to the simple, worn clothes I wore as a child in the orphanage. I was just an eight-year-old boy again. But inside, I was still the same warrior. The same man who had fought and lost everything.
And then I heard it—a soft voice, familiar and comforting.
"Are you awake, Tatsuo?"
I turned to see Yuna Okamoto, still a young girl, standing by the door with a warm smile on her face. Her long black hair was tied in a simple ponytail, and her bright eyes held a curiosity that I hadn't seen in years.
My chest tightened. She was here. She was alive.
"Yuna…" I whispered her name, feeling the weight of the past settle heavily on my shoulders. I couldn't let history repeat itself. I couldn't let her die again.
Yuna tilted her head in confusion.
"Are you okay, Tatsuo? You look a little… out of it."
My hand gripped the edge of the bed, my mind racing. This was my second chance. My only chance. I would protect her. I would protect them all.
"I'm fine," I said, forcing a smile. "I'm fine."
This was my second chance. And I would make sure it didn't slip away. I would protect them all. But first, I had to stop the coming darkness.