BANG!!
The silver round streaked across the space, hitting Dracula’s shoulder with a dull, brutal impact. For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
And then, Dracula didn’t flinch.
Instead—
His body flickered, crackling with crimson sparks, the wound glowing red-hot.
The very air around him snapped like tearing fabric, the force of his presence distorting reality itself. The temperature in the streets seed to drop, shadows stretching, as three magic circles exploded into existence around him—one hovering above his head, another rotating at his waist, and the last spinning beneath his feet.
Each circle rotated in a different direction, arcs of crimson and violet lightning crawling along their edges.
Bloody runes flared to life within each circle. The script pulsed dangerously, each glyph throbbing with a dark light, bathing Dracula in an unholy glow.
Leo’s breath caught, heart nearly stopping as mory and dread collided. He rembered this fucking thing—the nightmarish magic that only a true vampire Lord could wield.
"...Raphael, Azrael—move!" Leo yelled.
But it was already too late.
Dracula’s blood... the blood dripping from every cut, every wound, every bullet hole—suddenly lifted into the air. It defied gravity, swirling upward in impossible streams, shimring like liquid rubies as it rose.
It moved with its own life.
The blood slithered upward, twisting in the air, snaking around Dracula in swirling ribbons, coiling tighter and tighter like hungry serpents. The streams thickened, condensed, and sharpened until each was a weapon born from agony.
Not re swords or spears forged by mortal hands.
But... Grotesque and alive, each weapon pulsed with Dracula’s heartbeat:
A whip of clotted blood, barbed and writhing, snapping through the air with a predator’s hunger.
A bone-like spear, forged from congealed crimson, its tip glistening with wet malice.
A jagged, curved axe, veins pulsing along its blade, the entire weapon flexing as if eager to cleave flesh.
A halberd with a glowing, hellish edge that humd, almost screaming, vibrating with death.
A swarm of tiny crimson needles, orbiting him in a frenzied miniature storm.
And all of it, every horror, was made from his blood—the life stolen from countless victims, now shaped into Dracula’s arsenal.
Dracula lifted his head, eyes blazing with unholy crimson light. His features were twisted in a rictus of power and hate, fangs bared, blood running down his jaw.
His voice ca, cold and soft—a death sentence.
"Let show you the true nature of a vampire Lord."
The blood-forged weapons shot outward, screaming toward them, a crimson tempest unleashed.
The world turned red around them. For an instant, everything was bathed in the colour of blood and rage, the sky darkened by swirling magic,
Boom!
The axe slamd into the ground with thunderous force, carving a gaping crater that swallowed half the cracked asphalt and sent chunks of earth flying like shrapnel. The impact shook the very street, tremors rolling through the broken city.
The whip lashed out, carving a deep, smoking gash through a nearby building, splitting stone pillars and masonry as if they were nothing but paper.
The swarm of needles ripped through the air like a demonic sandstorm, whistling with murderous intent, shredding everything in their path—stone, tal, even air itself.
Leo barely rolled aside as the halberd swept down, cleaving through the road where he’d just stood a heartbeat before. The blade left a glowing, molten line in the ground, steam rising from the scorched stone.
Raphael scread, "Azrael! Move!" with panic and fear.
But Azrael was still aiming, refusing to back down, her eyes locked on Dracula—
Whaddd!
She only felt the sudden, brutal impact.
The whip wrapped around her torso with impossible speed, coiling tight and ripping through her side as it passed.
"ARRRRRHHH!!!"
"AZRAEL!" Raphael shouted, sprinting through the chaos.
Raphael reached her just in ti, catching Azrael’s limp, falling body before she hit the broken ground. Azrael gasped for air, eyes wide and trembling, blood pooling beneath her, her skin going pale.
Raphael fell to her knees, cradling Azrael in her arms, hands shaking violently as she tried to stanch the bleeding. "No, no, no—please—Azrael—Azrael, stay awake—!" as she crushed the white rune stone over Azrael’s wounds, forcing healing magic into her friend.
Leo threw himself between them and the incoming storm of blood-forged weapons, sword trembling in his grip, sweat and blood mingling on his face.
"Get back!" he shouted, voice ragged, catching a blood-slick spear with his blade. The impact sent a brutal shockwave through his arms, driving him several steps backward, knees nearly buckling from the force.
The blood axe descended again, faster and harder.
Leo blocked it—barely! The shockwave from the strike flung him sideways, his body slamming into a broken column with bone-jarring force. He rolled, coughing up blood, every muscle screaming, but forced himself upright, refusing to fall.
He couldn’t shield them both.
He couldn’t even slow Dracula down.
Was this truly the end?
Valra tried to move, desperate to help, but Essa held her tightly, refusing to let her go. Fear and helplessness mingled in their eyes as they watched from a little distance, powerless.
They could only watch the blood-drenched fight!
"We have nothing to help them!" Essa shouted in frustration. Valra’s tears rolled down her cheeks, helpless, as she watched Leo’s battered and covered in bloody wounds and slashing weapons. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw what ca next—
The blood needles sward again, a cloud of crimson death ripping through stone and steel, tearing the ground to pieces as they converged on Leo and his group.
Raphael clutched Azrael’s trembling body as healing magic worked slowly. Azrael’s breathing hitched, face contorted with pain. "L-Leave ," she whispered through gritted teeth, but Raphael shook her head fiercely, tears streaking her dirty face as she hugged her wounded friend tightly, refusing to let go.
Leo planted his sword in the ground, body screaming in protest, every muscle trembling with exhaustion.
Mana burned through his veins like molten fire, threatening to tear him apart from the inside. He had already used the healing stones far too much—every ti knitting his wounds, but each ti making him weaker.
Outwardly, he looked almost unhard, but inside, everything hurt; there were fractures, bruises, torn muscles, and aches from the fight with Fallen Pride that no magic could truly erase.
Now, he could barely keep himself upright, every heartbeat a test of his willpower.
He looked up at Dracula, hovering above the battlefield like a dark god, his magic swirling, blood dancing around him in impossible shapes.
Leo finally saw the truth: this was the real power of Dracula, the Monster none of them could ever face head-on and survive.
The legendary vampire lord!
Yet, Leo had no choice.
He had to protect them all—Raphael, Azrael, Valra, Essa—every soul behind him, everyone who still had hope.
Even if it killed him.... Even if it cost him everything he had left, he would not let them fall.
Dracula floated effortlessly above the shattered earth, blood magic writhing and twisting around him like living nightmares. "I am done playing," Dracula declared, his tone flat, drained of all rcy and humour.
The blood halberd spun through the air, its blade so sharp it seed to split the light itself, locking onto Leo’s chest with a hungry, vibrating hum that rattled the broken stones.
Dracula raised one pale hand, and the weapon responded instantly, like an extension of his own malice.
The halberd launched with a crack of thunder, splitting the air... a sonic boom so fierce it made the ground tremble and Leo’s heart jolt in his chest.
Leo only had ti to clench his teeth, the swirling mana blazing around his chest, igniting his nerves. His chest bulged with effort, pain stabbing so deep he nearly blacked out. It felt like his ribs were about to burst.
He summoned every last scrap of strength, willing his battered body to move, to survive.
The halberd reached him—
Tssshhhkkk!!
Leo twisted at the last possible second, the blade carving a brutal path across his shoulder instead of his heart.
Blood sprayed violently, splattering the broken ground, and the impact hurled him backwards. He crashed to the earth, skidding across jagged stone, fingers scraping desperately for anything to stop his slide.
Leo gasped, choking on dust and blood, the taste tallic in his mouth. He could barely breathe, every rib shuddering, his whole body screaming in agony.
His shoulder was nearly split open, muscle torn, bone nearly visible through the blood.
Dracula’s voice echoed above,
"Hmph. Not bad," he mocked, eyes narrowed.
Already, another weapon was forming... this ti a long, sleek blood lance, its point glistening with crimson energy, as deadly as any mortal spear.
It hovered above him, tip aid straight at Leo’s heart, vibrating with anticipation.
Leo forced himself up, his left arm refusing to move.
Every inch of his body begged for rest, but he grabbed his sword with his right hand, breath hissing through clenched teeth. He scraped the blade’s tip along the ground, carving a desperate, shaky half arc.
The blood lance shot downward with impossible speed... a blur of red!
Leo threw himself sideways with the last reserves of his strength.
The lance buried itself into the ground where he had lain monts before, detonating the stone floor into a fiery shower of red-hot debris. Shards slashed across Leo’s face, cheek, arms...
Above him, Dracula extended his remaining arm, a cold, imperious gesture, and every blood-forged weapon hovered for an instant—then began to converge again, a relentless, unstoppable crimson storm, ready to erase everything in its path.
The whip curled, its barbed length writhing through the air like a living serpent, seeking flesh.
The axe rose, head gleaming, shadow flickering along its jagged edge as it drew back for the killing blow.
The swarm of needles tightened, circling, their deadly points all aid at a single target.
The spear levelled, its tip glimring with blood magic, vibrating as if it hungered for a heart.
The halberd tore itself free from the stone with a deafening screech, shards of rock tumbling away as it spun, eager for violence.
All of them pointed at... Leo!
He felt death in every direction. He panted heavily, each breath sharp with pain. His eyes turned hazy and misty, the world dissolving at the edges. Blood dripped steadily from his hand, sliding down his trembling arm to the battered katana sword he clung to like a lifeline.
"Die."
Dracula muttered in a voice as cold and final as a grave, every blood-forged weapon lurching forward, lunging at Leo.
Everyone clenched their eyes shut in horror, unable to watch the mont Leo would be pierced from every side—when,
Thuck!
A sharp sound rang out.
The fifth and final petal of the relic creaked open with a blooming, ethereal glow. In a single heartbeat, a powerful wave of energy surged through the battlefield—a force both beautiful and terrifying.
SSSSSSSNNNNNNNGGGGGGGG!
The air vibrated.
Dracula, still surrounded by his spinning magic circles, suddenly flared with alarm. His form wavered, the blood weapons shuddered—and in a split second, all of it vanished. Dracula’s magic circle disappeared, along with every conjured weapon that had been monts away from cutting down Leo.
The shockwave rolled outward, almost knocking everyone off their feet. Raphael’s hair fluttered wildly as she twisted, shielding Azrael and squinting her eyes against the relic’s blinding brilliance.
For a mont, the world stood still, the battlefield filled only with the relic’s pure, radiant glow.
Leo frowned in bewildered, temporary relief, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. He turned, barely able to keep himself upright, and stared at the relic as it fully revealed itself.
Dracula spun around, eyes wide with longing and triumph as he glimpsed the relic’s true form finally flourishing... each petal opening, shining like the heart of a star.
A feral grin stretched across Dracula’s face. "Finally!" he cried, his voice wild with ecstasy.
He clenched his fist in pure, desperate bliss and shot toward the relic, flying like a thunderbolt, reaching out to seize it in his grasp.
But just as his fingers were about to close around the relic’s shining heart—
In four junctions... The remaining path, the fourth road, before everyone... shuddered!
Every streetlight flickered once, twice, then went dark.
Pure darkness swept over everything, swallowing colour... hope, and sound. For an instant, all that remained was the pulse of the relic and,
"H..."
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