So wise man once said that the true nature of people cos out during extre tis.
Extre tis such as this.
This apocalypse of a vampire outbreak.
The auditorium of the Academy had beco a crude sanctuary, not by design, but by desperation. A place ant for lectures and stage plays now served as a refuge for trembling souls. The stone floor was littered with families huddled close, eyes wide and voices low. Children whimpered beneath ragged blankets, clinging to mothers who no longer had warmth to offer.
And in that place, you could see it—the unraveling.
One noble woman, dressed in silk now stained with ash, slapped a servant who tried to take a sip from her water flask.
"This is mine, you dog," she hissed, forgetting entirely that they were both refugees now.
A rchant, once jolly and plump, now hoarded stale bread beneath his coat, bartering slices for secrets or favors.
"I have a child," soone pleaded. He turned away, eyes hollow. "So do I."
People whispered that the water was running low. That the barrier wouldn’t hold. That monsters disguised as n could already be inside. Panic began to spread like rot.
One man accused another of being infected. The accused denied it. Scread it. Begged.
But fear doesn’t need proof. It just needs a spark.
The mob didn’t ask again.
Philosophers say morality is a structure—a palace built by laws, order, and the presence of consequence.
But in the dark, that palace crumbles. And what remains is raw, unshaped.
So turned savage.
So turned selfish.
And a few—very few—held firm, choosing to share, to calm, to protect.
But even those few...
Their hands trembled.
Their eyes looked toward the shaking walls.
And their hope... was dying.
***
Dustin huffed.
His beastification technique, a hereditary mana technique of the Croft family, uses electrons naturally present, to control electricity.
The attacks of the thralls on the barrier had already dimd, as most of the thralls near the barrier had been immobilized by his power.
His action has given them so more tis to strengthen the barrier even more.
He stood in front of the rest of the army of thralls, his beast form radiating electricity, covering his entire body like an aura.
It was definitely strange though.
It’s not like he is immune to the attacks of those thralls.
It’s not like he was aware of their weakness.
It’s not like he had number advantage in front of an entire army at all.
It’s not like Dustin Croft is an easy going subordinate of the student council president, to obey her orders truthfully.
So, why did he risk his life, without a single thought?
Why did he jump in alone to fight those things, even if he was clearly in a disadvantageous position?
Dustin didn’t know why he ran in.
He really didn’t.
For most of his life, he had been the one who looked away.
He had seen people suffer before—on missions, on the streets, in the grey zones between noble families and common lives.
And every ti, he chose not to get involved.
Not because he was heartless.
But because he was smart.
He told himself: Don’t waste energy on what you can’t control.
He told himself: Stay alive. That’s what matters.
He told himself: Heroes die fast. Survivors live to win.
So he stayed quiet. Calculated his moves. Took orders. Waited for the right mont.
Even when he saw blood. Even when he heard cries.
He always... looked away.
But Aster didn’t.
Dustin had watched Aster jump into danger without hesitation—saving students, standing between the infected and the weak.
No hesitation. No second thoughts.
Foolish, Dustin had thought at first.
What’s the point of dying for people who wouldn’t even rember your na?
But sothing about Aster’s eyes—the fire, the certainty—had lingered.
It made Dustin wonder.
And Alicia... she never once doubted him.
She gave him orders, yes, but more than that—she trusted him.
Not because he was the strongest.
But because she believed he would act when it mattered.
That trust had weighed on him more than any armor.
Now, standing before the swarm of thralls, lightning dancing on his skin, he could feel all those monts crashing down.
He could still turn back.
He could still run.
But he didn’t.
Because for the first ti... he didn’t want to look away.
He grit his teeth as lightning wrapped around his body, wild and unstable.
He raised his arms, sparks blazing across the field.
Then ca the scream.
Not a cry of courage.
A cry of fear, pain, and choice.
Electricity burst outward in a massive ring, flashing through the enemy ranks. Dozens of thralls dropped at once, limbs paralyzed, jaws frozen mid-snarl.
His knees buckled.
The world spun.
And darkness swallowed him whole.
---
The guards rushed out as the barrier flickered, retrieving his fainted body.
Inside the gates, Alicia stood waiting.
She knelt beside him, brushing a strand of hair from his bruised cheek.
"Even cowards can be brave," she whispered, eyes soft.
"...Well done, Dustin."
***
"Hey, you okay?", I asked the girl, still holding tightly.
She didn’t answer.
Her body was shivering, the fear of the horror unfolding in front of her still haunting her.
"Um...", I tried asking again.
"...W-wait.", she finally answered, "Let stay like this for a bit longer."
"....Alright.", I replied, embracing the small, pitiful figure of the terrified girl.
The shop owner didn’t know , but she saw regularly, visiting this shop.
I have seen how she treats people too, despite her business not being that flourishing.
And this girl was her sister, I heard from soone, who helped her around.
Now, a tragic fate has befall upon them, the shop owner being dead.
This terrified girl’s shivers cald down a little, as I asked her na.
"Can you say your na?"
"...Trisha.", she replied, maybe feeling a bit better from her tone.
As I weighed down the consequences of my late actions, the pitiful reasons behind them, and the future course of action I have to take, footsteps could be heard from the alleyway near this street.
It was faint, but beca louder and louder.
The girl’s face turned pale, as she shivered even more, and hugged tightly from behind, closing her eyes.
I glanced at the alleyway, preparing for impact at any mont, I unsheathed my sword.
If it were a thrall, then the sound of the footsteps would have been irregular and there would have been hissing sounds, as I have encountered them on the way.
But from the sounds of it, the one approaching was most probably a human.
As I was recollecting the other behaviours of the thralls, a familiar voice cut my line of thought.
"Dorian?", there appeared Monica with a sword in her hand.
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Author’s Note:
Please comnt down your thoughts on this Chapter.
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