The crimson forest of Blood Valley trembled with tension. Aamir stood in the middle of a clearing, surrounded on all sides by masked vampires. Their bone-white masks gleamed faintly in the blood-red mist, their silence more unsettling than any roar of a beast.
Aamir tilted his head, hands in his pockets.
"Hm. What is happening? Why are vampires attacking me?"
No answer came—only the sound of claws unsheathing and steel glinting.
Far away in another part of the valley, Syran was locked in combat with a pack of savage blood-beasts. His blades flashed, cutting down two in a single swing. But then—shadows flickered around him.
Masked vampires.
"Tch." Syran's eyes narrowed. Dozens of them appeared, their killing intent suffocating the air.
Before they could strike, Syran melted into darkness. His form blurred—Shadow Step.
WHOOSH!
