Chapter 05: The Monster(1/2)
In that instant, Bastian's pupils darted to the side, catching the barest hint of movement in his peripheral vision—a displacement of air, a shadow where none should be.
His weight shifted instantly to the balls of his feet. Without a word of warning to the others, his feet pivoted precisely to the right, his hips swinging the saber in a wide defensive arc as a blurred figure materialized beside Elara, moving with such supernatural speed that it seemed to phase into existence rather than approach.
CLANK!
Sparks flew through the air like golden fireflies as the saber clashed against the long claws of the towering vampire—who had suddenly reappeared, poised for a sneak attack on Elara.
The impact reverberated up Bastian's arm, rattling his teeth and sending a jolt of pain through his aging shoulder.
The collision sent dust and fragments of plaster swirling from the nearby wall, forming a chaotic halo around the combatants.
Elara found herself squinting, wide-eyed in shock as those glaring red eyes now stared at her on even level, close enough that she could feel the unnatural chill radiating from the creature's skin.
The vampire's breath—smelling of grave soil and copper—washed over her face as his clawed hand remained frozen inches from her throat, intercepted only by Bastian's timely intervention.
"GRR!" The towering vampire growled, a sound that originated from somewhere deeper than his chest, vibrating the very air around them.
Then he stepped back, coiled muscles rippling beneath his torn clothing as he reassessed his opponents.
White smoke curled from his claws where they had contacted the blessed silver of Bastian's blade, the smell of burning flesh adding to the miasma of scents in the chamber.
Two fangs—longer than a tiger's—gleamed wetly in the moonlight as he sized up Bastian, who struggled to steady his trembling hands after the last exchange.
Bastian shifted his stance, widening his base to better absorb the next impact.
His breathing was controlled but labored, each exhale carefully measured to maintain his focus.
Behind him, Lyra resumed her incantation with renewed urgency, the light between her fingers pulsing brighter with each syllable.
CLANK!
The sound of steel colliding with claws rang out again as Bastian parried a second attack from the vampire—this one coming from above as the vampire leapt with inhuman grace, descending like a bird of prey.
The impact sent vibrations through the floor beneath them, causing the chandelier to sway slightly overhead, its crystals tinkling like distant wind chimes.
Elara stumbled back a step, her hand flying to her throat in an unconscious protective gesture.
It's heavy! Bastian thought inwardly, frowning as his wrist and forearm burned with the strain of deflecting such force.
The glasses dangling from one ear reflected the sparks as they danced through the air like miniature shooting stars, his hand still shaking from the first clash.
Decades of combat experience told him this was no ordinary vampire—the creature's strength surpassed anything he had encountered in his long career.
SWOOSH!
Once more, the towering vampire flickered like a blur, circling with such speed that he left afterimages in his wake—spectral echoes of movement that confused the eye and mind.
He darted between the columns that flanked the grand staircase, using them as cover between strikes, each impact of his feet leaving small cracks in the marble floor.
But with practiced precision, Bastian's feet mirrored the vampire's movements, his body pivoting with economy of motion that belied his age.
CLANK!
His sensory perception, honed by countless battles, allowed him to anticipate rather than merely react.
CLANK!
He intercepted and blocked each slashing strike aimed at his chest, his blade singing through the air as it traced arcs of silver light.
"GRR!" The towering vampire growled in frustration, spittle flying from between his fangs to sizzle against the cold marble floor.
His red eyes locked on Bastian with predatory focus, narrowing as he reassessed his strategy.
The creature's nostrils flared wide, drinking in the scents of his opponents—the tang of Bastian's sweat, the floral perfume of the sisters, the metallic odor of the weapon—cataloging them like a hunter memorizing prey.
His massive chest expanded as he drew in a deep breath, muscles tensing visibly beneath the tatters of his clothing before he suddenly raised his leg for a kick.
The movement was deceptively casual—almost human in its telegraphing—until the limb blurred into motion with bone-shattering force aimed at Bastian's midsection.
BANG!
The vampire's casual kick—a blur of inhuman speed and power—connected with Bastian's crossed arms with the force of a battering ram.
The impact created a shockwave that rippled through the air, disturbing the dust motes and causing the nearby candelabras to flicker wildly.
Bastian's polished shoes squealed against the marble floor as he was sent sliding back, leaving twin trails of scuffed stone in his wake. His teeth gritted audibly against the strain, the veins in his neck standing out like cords as he absorbed the tremendous force.
For a split second, time seemed to resume its normal flow—this entire brutal clash had taken less than ten seconds, though to Elara it felt like an eternity compressed into a heartbeat.
Elara, still stunned with wide eyes, her pupils dilated to dark pools in seas of emerald, realized Bastian had already regained his stance, crouched low with bent knees and lowered posture despite being pushed back.
His tailcoat was torn at the shoulder, revealing a glimpse of reinforced padding beneath, and a thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, staining his silver mustache with a crimson streak.
"Give me holy water!" she shouted, panic sharpening her voice to a pitch that cracked on the final syllable.
Her throat constricted with fear, making the words emerge more command than request.
Even Bastian, a Tier 4 being, couldn't stand toe-to-toe with this towering vampire—in fact, he seemed overwhelmed, his chest heaving with exertion and his grip on the saber noticeably tighter, knuckles white with strain.
Elara gripped her saber as she prepared for the worst, but then—
SWOOSH!
Two blurry figures raced past each other in a flash, displacing the air with such violence that candle flames bent horizontally and papers scattered from a nearby desk.
The sound of their movement was like fabric tearing—the very atmosphere protesting such unnatural speed.
"Cloud Piercing Strike!" Bastian called out as he lunged, his voice taking on an otherworldly resonance as he channeled power into the technique.
His silhouette turning into a blur of black and silver as he thrust forward, the saber's tip glowing with concentrated energy that left a phosphorescent trail in the air—only to find the towering vampire had already vanished, leaving nothing but disturbed air where he had stood.
The energy of Bastian's strike dissipated harmlessly into the space where his opponent should have been, the remnants of power crackling through the air like dying lightning.
Then, a shriek shattered the moment and chaos erupted—
"Kyaa!" One of the maids was being attacked—her body lifted partially off the ground, her heels drumming helplessly against the floor as the towering vampire was already upon her, one massive hand entangled in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat, while the other clamped around her waist like an iron vise.
His fangs—now fully extended and glistening with saliva—were buried deep at her neck, the sound of his greedy swallowing audible across the room.
The others screamed and scrambled in blind panic, some tripping over their own feet, others shoving past one another, some fleeing to escape the mansion entirely.
"Ugg…" The unfortunate maid's hand reached out weakly to her masters, her fingers curling and uncurling spasmodically as her life force was drained away.
Her complexion, once rosy with youth, had already taken on an ashen pallor, her cheeks hollowing visibly as though months of wasting illness had been compressed into seconds.
Her lips cracked and drying as she mustered her last strength, splitting in tiny fissures that beaded with blood, "R-run, my ladies…" The words emerged as little more than a breath, barely audible above the chaos, yet carrying the desperate selflessness of final devotion.
"NO!" Elara cried, the word torn from her throat in a ragged burst that seemed to physically pain her.
Panic igniting bluish mana that flowed through her legs like liquid lightning, illuminating her veins beneath her skin with an ethereal glow that pulsed with her racing heartbeat.
The hem of her clothes began to levitate slightly, defying gravity as the energy built around her.
"Agile Steps!" she commanded, the arcane words reverberating with power.
Her body moved with the nimbleness of a tiger, muscles responding with supernatural quickness as the spell took hold.
She leapt forward to slash her saber at the attacker, the blade singing through the air, her hair coming loose from its arrangement to stream behind her like a battle standard, but—
SWOOSH!
A sudden wind overhead startled her—the air above her whirled as Bastian's body spun like a cyclone, his tailcoat flaring around him like wings as he soared past her head.
He had launched himself over her with impossible agility for a man his age, his face set in a mask of cold fury, eyes narrowed to calculating slits behind his damaged monocle that reflected the moonlight in fractured patterns.
His trajectory carried him straight at the towering vampire, who was still draining the maid, too lost in bloodlust to notice the imminent threat.
BOOM!
The blow—Bastian's full body weight behind his shoulder, reinforced with whatever reserves of strength he had left—smashed the vampire through one of the mansion's walls with the force of a cannonball.
Plaster, wood, and stone exploded outward in a devastating cloud, revealing the night sky beyond through a ragged, man-sized hole.
The impact shook the entire structure, sending small ornaments toppling from shelves and causing dust to rain down from the ceiling like grey snow.
CLING!
CLING!
The chandelier swayed precariously, its chains groaning in protest against the structural shock.
Elara caught the bitten maid gracefully, her enhanced reflexes allowing her to position herself perfectly as the woman fell limply from the vampire's grasp.
The maid felt impossibly light in her arms, as though the attack had drained not just blood but substance from her very being.
Elara immediately checking her condition, her fingers finding the weakening pulse at the woman's throat, just inches from the savage puncture wounds that still wept thin rivulets of blood.
"My lady…" the wounded maid whispered weakly, her voice a dry rustle like autumn leaves skittering across stone.
Deep wrinkles already creasing her skin. Her mouth painfully dry, lips cracked like parched earth, eyes welling with faint tears as she looked up at her mistress.
On the other side of the room, Bastian was gasping for breath, each labored inhalation sending spikes of pain through his battered ribcage.
His once-immaculate clothes hung in tatters from his frame, dark patches of blood blooming across the fabric like macabre flowers.
His glasses—those that hung over one eye—now cracked and askew, hung precariously from one ear, the damaged monocle casting fractured patterns of moonlight across his weathered face.
He looked ahead through the haze of dust and debris to see the towering vampire's body gashed open, a gaping wound marring his chest where Bastian's attack had torn through undead flesh.
"You should be resting by now!" Bastian shouted, his voice hoarse with exertion and tinged with desperate disbelief.
His right hand trembled as he drew his gun from his waist, the ornate silver weapon suddenly seeming impossibly heavy in his aging grip.
The mechanism whirred to life, gears clicking into place as blessed ammunition loaded into the chamber with a sound like tiny bones breaking.
BANG!
He fired—the gun's recoil traveling up his arm like a lightning bolt—but suddenly, everything seemed to slow down, the world compressing into a pocket of stretched time where horror could unfold in excruciating detail.
Bastian's eyes widened, pupils contracting to pinpoints of pure terror as he saw, with absolute clarity, the towering vampire—despite just having rested and begun to recover from his severe wound—dashing forward in a blur that left afterimages in its wake.
The bullet that should have found its mark instead pierced only empty air, the silver projectile embedding itself in the far wall with a dull thud that seemed to come from another world entirely.
The vampire's face—once human but now a mask of predatory hunger—appeared inches from Bastian's own, close enough that the old butler could see his own reflection in those crimson eyes, his expression of dawning horror perfectly captured in their bloody depths.
The vampire's long claws raked at his face with surgical precision, opening four parallel furrows from temple to jaw that instantly welled with dark blood.
The attack forced Bastian to stagger backward, his heels catching on the uneven floor where marble had cracked during their battle.
He windmilled his arms desperately, fighting to maintain balance, but at a cost—his defensive posture completely broken, his core exposed.
BANG!
A powerful kick hit Bastian square in the abdomen, the impact resonating through the hall like a cannon shot.
The sound of breaking ribs was audible to all present—a series of sickening cracks that cut through the chaos like breaking twigs in a silent forest.
He spat blood, a crimson arc that seemed suspended in the air for an eternity, droplets catching the moonlight like rubies before spattering across the marble.
His consciousness flickered like a failing lamp, vision tunneling to pinpricks as he was knocked near-senseless for a moment—but the worst part came next.
"GAH!" The cry was torn from his lungs as his body was flung back with such force that the air itself seemed to part around him.
He sailed through the space like a broken doll, limbs flailing helplessly, blood trailing behind him in a grotesque ribbon.
His path terminated at the massive chandelier at the center of the hall, the ornate fixture's brass arms and decorative spikes waiting like the jaws of some mechanical beast.
The impact sent shudders through the entire structure as Bastian's body was impaled, piercing through multiple parts of his body with a sound like wet cloth tearing.
Bastian hung there, suspended fifteen feet above the ground, blood dripping rhythmically onto the marble below—each droplet striking with a sound that somehow cut through all other noise in the hall.