Arin and his companions crossed the boundary into the Monster Realm with a single resolve—to end the conflict without letting any innocent be harmed.
The land welcomed them.
Too warmly.
Before they could react, figures emerged from the shadows. Pale skin, crimson eyes—vampires.
"Hanase," Arin said calmly, "speed buff. Now."
Magic surged through his body as Neblaheim charged from the side, shield raised, axe ready. His assault drew their attention just long enough.
Arin vanished.
He reappeared behind one of the vampires and cleanly severed its head in a single motion. Before the body hit the ground, flames erupted.
"Inferno."
The corpse burned to ash.
Neblaheim slid forward, shield angled upward, and hurled his axe. It tore straight through another vampire before embedding itself into the ground behind it.
A sharp pain flared.
A blood-red ray shot toward Arin's back—but Neblaheim stepped in, blocking it with his shield. Arin leapt upward, twisting midair to strike from the attacker's blind spot—
—but a kick slammed into his side.
He was thrown violently into a rock formation, the impact driving the breath from his lungs.
Neblaheim turned to assist—
Too late.
A blood ray pierced his arm. The shield fell from his grasp, his hand shaking violently. He could no longer hold it.
Hanase cried out as a vampire lunged toward her.
Neblaheim stepped in despite the pain, parrying the attack with his axe. Arin rose unsteadily, killing another vampire and shouting, "Hanase—heal Neblaheim!"
She rushed to him as Arin forced himself between them and the remaining enemies. His movements slowed. His breathing grew heavy. Every strike demanded more strength than he had left.
Then—
A voice echoed in his mind.
Concentrate.
Feel their bloodlust.
Those who wish to kill release it.
Sense it—and you will sense their attacks.
Arin closed his eyes.
He breathed.
And suddenly, he felt it.
Intent. Direction. Killing will—sharp and unmistakable.
It was as if the battlefield unfolded before him even in darkness.
He opened his eyes.
The world moved slower.
Arin stepped forward, predicting strikes before they happened, blades passing inches from where he had been moments earlier. One by one, the vampires fell—clean, precise, relentless.
When the last one collapsed into ash, silence followed.
Neblaheim and Hanase stared in disbelief.
Arin tried to move.
His body refused.
He collapsed where he stood, utterly spent.
Neblaheim lifted him onto his shoulder without a word and carried him into a nearby cave, laying him down so he could rest.
The Monster Realm had welcomed them—
with blood.