When Mathias saw the approaching light, a realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. He finally understood why the sky was black, why the air crackled with energy. But before his mind could process it fully, his body reacted on instinct.
Instead of dodging, instead of retreating to minimize the impact, he moved. No, his body threw itself in front of Miguel, acting as a shield. A wall of crimson flames burst forth from his body, forming a barrier between them and the incoming attack.
Then—
BOOM!
A deafening explosion consumed the world. Heat, pressure, and destruction coiled together, swallowing everything in its path. The very ground trembled, and the sky itself seemed to roar in agony.
Darkness.
Silence.
Then, pain.
Mathias opened his eyes, his vision blurred, his head ringing like a thousand bells tolling at once. He tried to move—
And collapsed.
"Shit..." He barely recognized his own voice. It was hoarse, broken.
He forced himself to look down.
Both of his legs were gone.
His right arm, shattered beyond recognition, hung limply at his side. A searing pain pulsed in his abdomen—when he glanced down, he saw the sickening sight of flesh missing, exposing torn muscle and bone. Even his face, he could feel it, was destroyed beyond recognition.
"Why... why isn't it healing?" he muttered, his vision spinning. But just as the words left his lips, a familiar sensation returned. A cold, tingling pulse ran through his veins.
Flesh twisted. Bone cracked. Muscle reformed.
His body, ravaged beyond comprehension just moments ago, was restoring itself at a monstrous pace. First, his legs. Then his arm. His skin crawled as it pieced itself back together, erasing the horrific wounds as if they had never existed.
A sound.
Boots against rubble.
Mathias looked up, his crimson eyes narrowing as his surroundings came into focus. The explosion had left devastation in its wake—debris scattered across the ruined ground, flames licking at the edges of what once stood. Smoke coiled into the air like the breath of a dying beast.
And within that chaos stood them.
A group of figures, clad in hooded robes, their presence like a stain upon the battlefield. The emblem on their garments—a cross embedded at the center—marked their allegiance.
Then, he saw her.
A small figure, no taller than 1.60 meters. Her silhouette was slim and her hair was blond, yet the aura surrounding her was suffocating. A short sword rested in her grasp, its blade engraved with five crosses, emanating an energy so vile that Mathias felt his instincts scream in warning.
She took a step forward, her boots crunching against the ruined ground. "So, you survived."
Her voice was cold, feminine.
Mathias smirked, despite the lingering pain in his body. "You thought that would be enough to kill me?"
The woman didn't react, only tilting her head slightly. "It would have been disappointing if the son of the King of Vampires—Mathias Alejah Têpes—had fallen so easily."
Mathias' smirk faltered. A simple attack?
She continued, her tone devoid of emotion. "But I must say, I'm surprised. I didn't expect you to shield that human."
At those words, Mathias froze. His mind snapped back to Miguel. Panic surged through him like wildfire. He stretched his senses outward—searching, reaching for Miguel's vital energy.
He felt nothing.
His stomach twisted, a rare fear clawing at his chest. No… he can't be dead.
"If you're looking for him," the woman continued, raising her sword and pointing behind him, "he's right there."
Mathias whipped around, his heart pounding. His gaze landed on a still body sprawled a few meters away—Miguel. He lay motionless, his chest eerily still.
Why don't I feel anything?
He had taken the full brunt of the attack. Miguel should have been fine—perhaps injured by the shockwave, but nothing fatal.
Then why? Why did he seem… lifeless?
The woman took another step forward, her presence a looming shadow of menace. "It seems this human is quite important to you. Who is he?"
Something snapped.
Mathias turned, his crimson eyes burning with fury. His fangs lengthened, a growl escaping his throat as the temperature around him rose.
"Don't come any closer, you damned vermin!" he snarled, his voice filled with murderous intent.
The woman remained unfazed. "You think you scare me?" She tilted her head slightly. "Haven't you noticed that you're trapped?"
Mathias' eyes flicked upward. The sky—black, but not from nightfall. A veil, a barrier. An artificial dimension sealing them within this battlefield.
His expression darkened.
"How much?" he asked, his voice suddenly eerily calm.
The woman stopped a few meters away, as if amused. "Excuse me?"
Mathias' gaze bore into her. "I asked how much it cost you to create this barrier."
She remained silent for a moment before responding, "I don't know, and I honestly don't care. This barrier is necessary—to avoid innocent casualties."
A cold chuckle escaped Mathias' lips. "Innocent? You didn't seem to care about that when Miguel was with me."
The woman didn't respond.
Mathias' gaze swept over the figures surrounding them. Twenty-five hooded figures. Twenty-six, including her.
His fists clenched.
His rage boiled over.
He turned his head, one final glance at Miguel's motionless form. His expression hardened, his mind making a decision.
"Very well."
A crimson aura exploded from his body, flames igniting around him in a raging inferno. The ground cracked beneath him, unable to withstand the sheer pressure of his power. His smirk returned, but it was different now—colder, more menacing.
His burning gaze locked onto the enemy.
"I'll slaughter every last one of you."
The flames coiled around him like a demonic cloak.
"And then—"
He bared his fangs, his voice a whisper of death.
"I'll save my friend."