Henry staggered, coughing up a mouthful of blood. His lips curled into a pained grin, but his eyes still burned with disbelief.

"F–fuck… who are you?" he rasped. "How can you look so young—cough—but wield aura like this? Your speed… it's comparable to Rank Six warriors!"

Ezra's gaze was cold, merciless, as he lowered his sword.

"Get up. Is this all?"

The words sliced sharper than any blade.

Henry chuckled weakly, his shoulders trembling. "Heh… don't get too proud."

A faint glimmer spread beneath his feet—small runes etched into the earth. In an instant, the circle expanded, releasing a violent shockwave.

BOOM!

Ezra reacted instantly, cloaking himself in a dense mana shield. Even so, the impact hurled him backward like a cannonball, dirt and debris erupting around him.

But he didn't let the momentum carry him far. Mid-air, Ezra's aura surged, his body twisting as he forcefully halted his flight. His silver blade gleamed, arcs of energy coiling around it. With a sharp leap forward, he unleashed his strike.

A crescent-shaped slash of silver light cut through the air, sharper and heavier than before. The aura had grown, now fully extending beyond his blade, carrying the weight of destruction itself.

Henry's eyes widened. His hand trembled as he pulled something from his robe—a device shaped like a compass, faintly humming with sinister mana.

"Damn it…!"

The compass swelled, expanding unnaturally until its needle spun wildly. Suddenly, the direction of Ezra's slash shifted.

Ezra's eyes widened as his own attack veered off course. His momentum twisted unnaturally, dragging his body sideways as though the air itself had betrayed him.

CRASH!

He slammed into a massive boulder, cracks splintering across its surface. Dust clouded the battlefield.

But Ezra didn't stay down. With a guttural growl, he rose, gripping the shattered rock. His muscles coiled like a beast as he heaved the massive boulder skyward—then hurled it with terrifying force straight at Henry.

The colossal projectile tore through the air, splitting the ground beneath its shadow.

The compass flared again, and the boulder veered harmlessly past Henry. But Ezra's eyes sharpened. He didn't care. Because in that fleeting instant, he saw it—Henry was gone.

The massive rock hurtled past the empty spot, colliding with the gathered vampires.

BOOOOM!

The ground trembled as the boulder obliterated their formation. Screams erupted as their carefully woven spellwork shattered like glass.

Mary's lips curled into a grin.

"My turn."

Water surged around her in a tidal roar, gathering into a towering storm of liquid blades. She slammed her palms together, releasing a devastating wave of compressed water mana.

SHHHHHRRRAAAK!

The spell ripped across the battlefield, tearing through the panicked vampires. Screams were drowned in a storm of water and blood, their bodies shredded into nothingness.

In a single moment, the battlefield fell silent—save for the dripping of crimson-stained rain.

Ezra lowered his blade, his cold eyes sweeping across the carnage. Henry had vanished, but his lackeys had paid the price.

Mary exhaled, her expression half serious, half amused.

"Well… that took care of them."

Ezra's grip on his sword tightened. He didn't smile. His eyes still lingered on the direction Henry had fled, aura faintly flaring as though daring the man to return.

Mary let out a small sigh as the last echoes of her spell faded. Water and blood soaked the ground, the remnants of the vampire host strewn like broken dolls. Yet her sharp eyes caught something Ezra had already noticed—Henry's absence.

"One got away," she said, her tone cold but edged with irritation.

Ezra's expression didn't waver. His silver aura slowly dimmed as he sheathed his blade.

"My mistake," he admitted without emotion. "He'll certainly inform the others. We should destroy the jammer before reinforcements arrive—or retreat while we still can."

Mary gave a short nod. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a small silver ring from her finger. Its surface shimmered, opening to release a compact device—a strange contraption of gears, mana circuits, and a faint emerald core pulsing at its center.

"This will do," she muttered.

Ezra raised an eyebrow. "Military-grade?"

Mary smirked faintly. "Naturally. Specially designed to track demon-made jammers. Without it, we'd be deaf and blind here."

The device pulsed, casting out faint ripples of mana as it scanned the battlefield.

This world was no stranger to bloodshed, but not all of its wars were fought with swords and spells. Centuries ago, the arrival of demons had forced every race—human, elf, dwarf, even beastkin—to step beyond simple magic. The demons brought with them tools forged in strange furnaces, machines powered by twisted mana .

For all their cruelty—for the fact that many demons hunted men like cattle and feasted on their flesh—the truth was undeniable: they had changed the world.

Demons shattered old traditions, dragging other races into an age of arcane technology. And though their motives had been conquest and control, the resistance of elves and humans alike had transformed those very tools into weapons of survival. The device Mary held was one such creation—a child born of war and necessity.

BEEP.

The needle twitched. The core flared.

"It's underground," Mary said, crouching low as the device projected faint coordinates. "They buried it, wrapped in a protective ward."

She pressed her palm to the earth. Glyphs of water-light shimmered across her skin, slipping into the soil. The defensive spell resisted, humming with sharp feedback, but Mary's lips curled with disdain.

"Cheap demon tricks."

With a sharp twist of her fingers, she unraveled the warding sequence, snapping the anchors like brittle strings. The earth trembled softly as the protective layer collapsed.

The device in her hand glowed brighter, releasing a surge of counter-frequency mana. A shrill vibration filled the ground, followed by a muffled crack.

"Done," Mary said, standing as dust rose from below. "The jammer's gone."

Ezra slipped a hand into his pocket, retrieving a small, rune-etched communication device—a modernized "phone," refined from elven craft and human practicality. He stared at the screen for a moment, then the corner of his lips twitched.

"Signal's back," he said quietly. He pocketed the device and met Mary's eyes. "Good. Let's move before more rats crawl out of their holes."

Mary gave a faint nod, dismissing her scanner back into the ring. The battlefield was silent now, but both of them knew it wouldn't remain so for long.

__________________

Meanwhile, on the vampire side, Count Alaric was seated in the command chair. In front of him was Yun Hao, who had mostly recovered from his injuries.

Alaric said, "As expected—humans countered quickly even with all these plans."

General Marcell, a Rank 8 vampire who had attacked earlier, was leisurely drinking blood. He didn't name Yun Hao and said, "You said there are still some people in their army what ranks are they?"

Yun Hao replied : "Most of them are low-level cultivators."

Alaric said, "Well, won't that bastard Chu Kuangren find them? He was one of the finest commanders in the human army in the war a hundred years ago."

Yun Hao said, "I don't think he has time…"

Marcell laughed and said, "Stupid kid do you think he doesn't know? He may have already started the purge. Rank 8s aren't just masters of laws; they can also sense energies different from mana. He's going to kill every single one who cultivated the vampire blood technique."

Yun Hao said, "But Great Being none of them cultivated the blood technique."

Alaric said, "What do you mean?"

Yun Hao said, "I mean I know what Rank 8s can do, so I didn't allow it. All those people who died and all those who are still with me are my people."

Marcell said, "They follow you without any benefit?"

As Yun Hao spoke, black threads emerged from his hands.

Alaric noticed and said, "Puppet magic."

Yun Hao smiled and said, "My master has taught me many things. I am not his equal, but a small number still follow me."

Marcell, a little horrified, stammered, "W-what is your m-master's name?"

Yun Hao smiled and said, "Archduke of Duskholm—Astaroth Duskholm."

As soon as he said that, both Marcell and Alaric began to tremble.

That name is dangerous—one of the archdukes of demons.

They were terrified because they thought this man was working for the vampires, but he is actually a disciple of the Archduke.

They swallowed hard; fortunately they did not mistreat him.

Yun Hao asked, "So how should we attack?"

Marcell recovered and said, "All out. Anyway, they must find the jammer in a few hours and the warp gate will be fixed—by then we must, by any means, kill as many humans as possible. We don't want to capture Bloodfort; we only want humans to suffer losses."

Yun Hao and Alaric nodded.

Alaric thought that with this he would repay a favor. The man might already be dead because he had also been one of the main figures in the Crimson Guild case. Fortunately, before humans discovered him, Vorthas Vel Azriel helped him and asked only one favor.

This army is Alaric's personal force. As a count he can attack humans without the vampire king's permission—vampire rules aren't very strict anyway. He is just one noble among many nobles in the vampire kingdom; they really don't care even if all of them die.

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