[Vampiric Ascension Activated]
[Condition: Kill your Sire]
The words pulsed in Corven's mind like a war drum, each letter searing itself into the edges of his vision. His breath hitched. His bow remained nocked, the string thrumming with tension.
'Guess I have no other choice.'
He loosed the arrows with deadly intent—both aimed directly at the true vampire's neck, the fastest, most vulnerable point he could reach.
But the vampire only laughed—a low, guttural sound laced with amused contempt—as he snatched one of the arrows mid-air, fingers closing around the shaft like a steel trap.
"Really? Think that's gonna harm me?" he sneered, his eyes glowing with malevolent light.
"You're lucky you're interesting… so I'll capture you alive." He bared his claws—long, obsidian-black talons gleaming in the moonlight like knives dipped in ink.
With a swift crack, he shattered the arrow in his grip and lunged, closing the distance in a blink.
His claws swept forward, a precise arc aimed to tear through Corven's throat.
Corven bent his body backwards, spine arching like a bowstring under pressure, narrowly slipping beneath the strike.
'Shit… that was close!'
Without hesitation, he twisted and kicked forward with all his strength, his boot slamming into the vampire's chest. There was a deep thud as the vampire was knocked back, skidding across the dirt and scattering soil and decayed leaves into the air.
"Lucky hit!" the vampire snarled, snarling as he recovered, his eyes blazing with fury.
Then—another blur of motion. A second lunge, far faster than the first.
Corven's eyes widened in panic. The difference in strength was monumental. Overwhelming. He could feel it in his bones.
He wasn't just weaker. He was prey.
'I got lucky… once. That won't happen again.'
'Tactical retreat seems like the only strategy!'
The thought screamed through his mind like a survival instinct.
He turned on his heel and took off through the graveyard, the cold night air whipping against his face as he sprinted past tilted gravestones and crumbling monuments.
All around him, the ground writhed.
Corpses—half-rotted, eyes vacant—clawed their way out of graves like puppets awakened by the chaos.
And thus, the hunt began.
"Fight me like a true vampire!" the vampire bellowed behind him, his claws cleaving through the air, slashing dangerously close to Corven's back.
Corven darted through the terrain with relentless urgency, weaving between obelisks and leaping over freshly disturbed soil.
He vaulted over tombstones, using every obstacle to slow his pursuer.
As the undead rose around him, he shoved them in the vampire's path, letting the spawns serve as shields and distractions.
"Irritating, aren't I?" Corven shouted, glancing over his shoulder with a mocking grin.
He stuck his tongue out, an exaggerated gesture of defiance that lit a fire in the vampire's eyes.
'If I can just get him to mess up, I win!'
The idea echoed like a lifeline.
With a sudden pivot, Corven grabbed a cracked gravestone, veins bulging as he hoisted it over his head with raw, supernatural strength. With a roar, he hurled it straight at the vampire, the stone spiraling end-over-end through the air.
The vampire's lip curled in disdain.
"How many times do I have to tell you… it's useless!" he snapped, his claws cleaving straight through the gravestone, splitting it in half with a deafening crack.
But what awaited him—beyond the debris—wasn't air.
It was Corven.
Waiting. Smirking.
His fist already drawn back, coiled with explosive strength.
A perfect ambush.
The vampire's eyes widened in the split-second before impact.
Corven's fist came forward like a hammer of vengeance, aimed straight for his skull—no hesitation. No mercy.
"Surprised?" Corven mocked, voice sharp as a blade's edge.
The punch landed.
Clean. Brutal. Unforgiving.
The blow collided with the vampire's face—flesh distorting around the force like rubber beneath a hammer, the impact folding his features inward as if struck by a divine anvil.
The vampire's head jerked back violently, neck snapping at an unnatural angle, and then—his body took flight.
He soared through the graveyard like a broken doll, crashing into a line of gravestones with a sound like shattering bones. Dirt erupted. Stone cracked.
When he rose, his once-arrogant face was grotesquely warped, teeth cracked, one eye already swelling shut.
"Dishonorable gnat!!" he roared, voice a gurgling mixture of rage and blood.
He prepared to charge.
Muscles tensed.
Fangs bared.
But—
He was already dead.
It happened in a flash of darkness and movement.
A single slash.
Clean.
Lethal.
Final.
His head fell from his shoulders, severed cleanly at the neck, body collapsing lifelessly to the side—like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Not by Corven.
By someone else.
Another vampire stepped into the moonlight.
And this one was different.
He was tall. Calm. Effortless.
Golden-blonde hair flowed behind him like spun silk, eyes glowing yellow like a serpent beneath torchlight. His pupils were slits, inhuman, sharp, predator's eyes. And they locked instantly onto Corven.
This one felt wrong.
Stronger.
Colder.
Worse.
And far, far more terrifying.
"What a disappointment," the new vampire said with a bored sigh, dragging his tongue slowly across his hand—licking the blood from his palm as if it were honey.
He flicked the severed head aside with his foot like trash.
Then, he turned fully toward Corven.
The fledgling stood motionless, bow nocked once more, string drawn tight, but his fingers trembled slightly—from pressure, not fear.
His instincts screamed louder than his thoughts.
'Another one… and this time, I'm not even sure I can face him.'
The vampire's expression didn't change. He only tilted his head, eyes narrowing with a mixture of curiosity and mirth.
Then—
He smiled.
A small, cruel thing.
"How… funny," he murmured, chuckling under his breath.
Then he vanished—disappearing in an explosion of black smoke, the mist curling in the air like a living shadow.
Gone.
As if he were never there.
And just like that—Corven was alone.
Except, of course… for the undead.
They were still rising.
Still clawing out from the graves with rotting hands and hollow eyes, dragging their broken bodies toward the village in the distance.
Toward the living.
Corven lowered his bow slightly, breath catching in his throat as he stared at the horizon—lit only by moonlight and the flicker of distant torches.
"This is going to be a long, confusing night…" he said breathlessly, voice hoarse with weariness.
The pressure still lingered on his chest, like a phantom weight. Just the presence of that second vampire had made his lungs forget how to breathe.
And the night… wasn't even over yet.