Chapter 13

A terrified scream tore through the air, swallowed almost instantly by the chaos consuming the village of Verstiek. People ran in every direction, tripping over one another in a desperate bid to escape the horrors descending upon them. The source of their terror? Demons.

A drakorath loomed over a trembling woman who clutched a young boy against her chest, its twin blades slick with fresh blood. Not far from them, three imps cackled as they dragged a struggling man toward the village center, their jagged claws digging into his flesh, his cries of agony lost beneath their shrill laughter. But the worst of them stood at the heart of the carnage—a towering, ten-foot-tall figure with a grotesquely skinless humanoid body, its exposed muscles pulsing. Its head was that of a massive deer skull, wicked antlers stretching outward like twisted branches, and in the voids of its sockets, two glowing red dots burned like embers.

The creature ground a lifeless guard beneath its clawed foot, relishing the sickening crunch of bone and armor. Another guard dangled helplessly from its grip, his sword shattered, his body trembling. The demon lifted him higher, bringing its skeletal maw closer to his face.

"Ahh… I love the scent of fear," it rasped, its voice a twisted blend of hunger and amusement.

The guard squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable, but just as the demon's teeth came close—something shifted in the sky.

Five thin streaks of silver whistled through the air before striking true.

The imps let out shrieks of agony as knives embedded themselves deep into their skulls. The drakorath let out a guttural snarl as a knife pierced the back of its neck, its clawed hands instinctively snapping up to grasp at the weapon. The deer-skulled demon, unfazed, merely tilted its head in mild curiosity—right before another knife stabbed into its forearm.

"Hmm?" The towering demon hummed, then loosened its grip on the guard, letting him fall to the dirt. It turned its gaze toward the direction of the attack.

That was when the kick landed.

A blur of motion, and then—CRACK.

A boot connected with the side of the demon's skull, sending it hurtling backward like a ragdoll, its massive form crashing through a wooden fence that exploded into splinters upon impact.

The guard, still shaking from the near-death experience, blinked up in shock as a figure stood over him—a man with pale skin, red eyes, and slicked back black hair.

"You alright?" the man asked.

The guard swallowed hard and gave a shaky nod. "Wh-who are you?"

Instead of answering directly, the man glanced toward the center of the square. "Could you please get to safety while we handle this?"

The guard followed his line of sight just in time to witness a fully armored knight, clad in black plate, drive a greatsword straight through the drakorath's chest.

"Take care of the imps!" the black knight barked.

The pale man nodded and vanished—too fast for the guard's eyes to follow. A moment later, the three imps were nothing but bloodied husks, their bodies severed cleanly in an instant. The man reappeared, flexing his fingers as he flicked the blood off his claws.

"Oh wow," he mused, crouching beside the man the imps had dragged away. "You do not look good."

The knight let out a breath, kicking the drakorath's corpse off his blade before turning to the woman and her child. "Are you two alright?"

The woman, still shaking, nodded quickly before grabbing her child's hand and running toward safety.

The shaken guard finally found his voice. "Who… who are you two?"

"Lennix." The pale man said as he gestured to himself. Then, pointing at the knight beside him, he added, "And this guy? Just call him the black knight."

The black knight's gaze swept over the devastation around them. "Sorry we didn't come sooner… so many dead."

Lennix rolled his eyes and gave him a hard smack on the shoulder. "Alright, enough with that. How were we supposed to know?"

"How interesting."

The words slithered through the air, an eerie, unnatural sound that made all three of them snap their heads toward the source.

The deer-skulled demon lay sprawled on its back, exactly where Lennix's kick had sent it crashing. Yet despite its motionless form, its voice echoed as though spoken from the very air itself, its skeletal maw unmoving.

"That kick… far too powerful for a mortal of this generation."

Lennix narrowed his eyes. ""Did… did that thing just talk?" he asked, pointing at the demon.

"But I didn't sense any mana," the demon continued, its clawed feet slowly pressing against the ground. In a single, unnervingly smooth motion, it lifted itself upright using only its legs, its elongated body slumping forward as a chorus of sickening cracks echoed from its joints.

"Yeah," the black knight muttered, gripping his greatsword tighter. "Yeah, it did. This might be a bit harder than usual."

The demon tilted its head, those burning red dots for eyes locking onto Lennix. "Those red eyes. That pale skin." Its voice remained hollow, detached, as if speaking from a place far beyond the physical. "You're a vampire."

Lennix looked a bit taken aback.

"Not just any vampire," it mused. "You're standing in the afternoon sun. No signs of burning. And I see no enchanted trinkets, no relics of protection. That means one of two things—you are either from a bloodline immune to sunlight…" It paused. "Or you are a soul-drinker."

Lennix opened his mouth, but no words came out. He swallowed, glancing at the black knight. "Uh… this one's… really smart," he muttered, his previous bravado faltering.

The black knight sighed, lifting his sword. "Yeah… it really is." His voice took on a resigned edge. "Welp. Get ready, because despite how sharp it is, I don't think we're talking our way out of this one."

And he was right.

The deer-skulled demon crouched low, its claws flexing against the dirt. With a sudden, violent burst of movement, the demon lunged, its massive form surging toward them in a blur of raw speed.

Lennix and the black knight took their stances, ready to meet it head-on.