"So where are we headed?" Corven asked, eager to earn some coin and shake off the tension still lingering from earlier.
"We're heading topside," Irsted replied with an easy grin, adjusting the strap of his greatsword. "Client's waiting there. Let's not waste time, shall we?"
"Right up my alley," Corven said with a smirk.
And with that, the four of them set off.
They retraced Rose and Corven's earlier path—moving through the narrow streets of Underzen, then up the winding staircase that led back to the surface. The steps were steep, and the further they ascended, the more musty the air became, like old parchment and rusted metal. Finally, they emerged into the open night air.
Cool wind greeted them. The sky above stretched wide and ink-dark, stars scattered like shattered diamonds across velvet.
"Quite odd, huh?" Irsted chuckled as he glanced between the two vampires. "You just got down there… and now you're already back up."
"It's fine," Corven said, rolling his shoulders. "We barely explored Underzen anyway."
"Nice to hear," Irsted replied, his voice light but with a trace of something unreadable behind it.
They kept walking, boots tapping against uneven stone roads.
The city above was eerily quiet. Only a few flickering lanterns lit their path, casting long, thin shadows that danced across the walls. The silence was thick—unnatural even. Not a tavern in sight. No idle chatter. Just the occasional flap of wings in the distance and the rustle of the cold night breeze.
"Is it always this empty? Even with the night still being young?" Rose asked, glancing around at the desolate streets.
Trish, walking just behind her, responded simply, "Hard to have a nightlife in a city crawling with vampires—and a fully operational underground beneath it."
"Fair…" Rose muttered, folding her arms.
"So where do we come in?" Corven asked, glancing toward Irsted. "You said it's easier with vampires around. What did you mean?"
"Yeah, makes us less suspicious. That's about it," Irsted replied, eyes forward. "People are less likely to look twice when we've got a couple of bloodsuckers tagging along."
The four of them walked in silence for a beat, the night air brushing past them, biting and clean. The city slept uneasily around them.
"You don't mind, do you?" Irsted asked suddenly, shooting Corven a smirk.
Corven grinned back. "Of course not. Coin is coin."
They rounded a corner and entered a much darker street—one that looked half-forgotten by time. Broken stalls leaned against cracked walls, their canopies torn and fluttering weakly. The stone beneath their feet was damp, and a faint metallic scent lingered in the air.
"This should be the drop-off point," Irsted murmured, his golden eyes glinting as they adjusted easily to the dim.
They continued forward—until the sharp scent of fresh blood stopped them cold.
Lying in the middle of the street was a body, face down, blood pooling out in thick, dark crimson. The victim was still warm.
Irsted stepped forward without hesitation and kicked the corpse over, revealing a young man with slack features and a gaping wound at the base of his neck.
"What the fuck…" Irsted growled under his breath.
"Something wrong…?" Corven asked warily, already scanning the surrounding alley for movement.
"The client's dead," Irsted replied grimly. Without another word, he reached for the hilt of his greatsword, drawing the massive blade with a soft metallic whisper.
Trish was already moving, sliding behind him with fluid precision. She drew her bow in a single practiced motion, her fingers hovering near her quiver.
Corven chuckled dryly, eyes narrowing. Rose mirrored his stance, her presence shifting, sharper—ready.
"Knew this wasn't going to be that easy," Corven muttered.
"Trish. Anything?" Irsted asked, still surveying the shadows.
She crouched beside the corpse, her amber eyes scanning the wound. After a moment, she answered.
"Dagger to the neck. Quick, clean. Not a vampire's work."
Corven frowned. "Who was the client anyway?"
Irsted exhaled through his nose. "Since he's dead, I guess it doesn't matter now. He was—"
But he never got to finish.
A voice cut through the darkness. "A random, ambitious bloodsucker."
A figure stepped from the far end of the alley, emerging into the weak light of a hanging lantern. He wore all white—from his cloak to his silver-plated armor—each piece gleaming faintly in the gloom. Another paladin.
But unlike the one Corven and Rose had encountered before, this one was clearly different. Weaker. But still dangerous.
"Your client violated the Blood Pact with the baroness," the paladin said coolly, as if reading from a report.
Irsted squared his shoulders. "So what, you planning to kill us? Tie up loose ends?"
The paladin laughed softly. "Of course not. You were only hired. I don't kill the ignorant. I'd be no better than the vampires I hunt."
Corven stepped forward, voice low and cold. "Watch your tongue."
"I meant no offense," the paladin replied smoothly. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed a pouch toward Irsted.
Irsted caught it, opening it with practiced ease. Inside, the coins glinted silver under the moonlight.
"Payment for the job," the paladin said. "You did your part."
"Hand over the pouch, and we'll call it even," he added, holding out a hand. "You get your coin, I finish my task."
Corven tilted his head. "Can we at least know what's in it?"
The paladin shrugged. "Doesn't matter much now. Mana stones. They enhance potential—temporarily, but effectively."
Irsted gave a half-laugh, shaking his head as he retrieved the pouch from his cloak. With a casual flick, he tossed it back toward the paladin.
The man caught it and tucked it beneath his cloak. "Pleasure doing business with you."
"Give our regards to the baroness," Irsted said, voice dry with sarcasm.
"Sure, why not," the paladin replied, already turning to vanish back into the shadows.