Escape

The vampires—a race whose mere name struck fear into hearts.

They fed on blood, thrived in darkness, and inverted life and death.
A dark race, slumbering in coffins under eternal night…

As the strongest thief, Kant had encountered a few vampires before, each leaving an impression of extreme danger.
The thick stench of blood on them churned his stomach, inducing spasms and nausea.

Vampires were called the embodiment of death, their presence overwhelmingly oppressive.
But this mysterious vampire before him defied description…

If he had to put it into words, it was like facing Death itself…

Kant stood, shaking his numb wrists.
The two curled daggers were discarded on the ground.
His heels instinctively moved to retreat, only to bump against something hard.

Turning, he saw his two silver moon daggers inexplicably embedded in the ground behind him—his confiscated weapons had appeared without a trace.

No time to ponder how they got there.
His priority was eliminating this clearly malicious vampire.

The once-opulent elven hall had shattered in flames, the numerous elven guards vanishing with it—an illusion.
Only one figure remained real, lying near the vampire: Princess Felicia, unconscious, likely affected by the illusion’s collapse.

It was likely that he and the princess had stepped into a trap upon returning to the Emerald City.
Everything now was premeditated.

But why?
Was the mastermind targeting him, the elves, or both?

“Hey, little cutie, a rare bloodline like yours is hard to come by.
After all these years, I’ve finally found one.
I’d hate to break such a treasure…”

The vampire girl placed a slender finger on her crimson lips, her eyes intoxicated, as if savoring a delicacy.
Her doll-like face bore a demonic smile.

“How about this?
Be a good boy and offer your blood.
If you serve me well, I might be merciful and let you feel more pleasure while I drink~”

Her voice, sweet as silver bells, carried the whisper of an abyssal maiden.
Kant’s expression grew graver with each word.

What nonsense?
He considered himself decent-looking, but “little cutie”?
Did this vampire girl have a thing for his mature masculine aura?

“Enough chatter.
Name yourself, or taste my blades.”

Kant spun his silver moon daggers with a casual flourish, his face darkening, his voice cold.

He never showed mercy to those who threatened his life.
Though he held a line against killing the innocent, as the Saint of Thieves, his blades were no stranger to blood.

“Oh my, a feisty little cutie!
I don’t mind, though.
Elven royal blood is always delicious—maybe a hot-tempered cutie’s blood is even spicier~”

Her teasing still treated Kant as a plaything, but she finally got to the point.
The vampire girl stepped back lightly with her right leg, then bowed in a flawless skirt-curtsy.

Silver hair cascaded, her posture elegant, her movements impeccable.

“My name is Aemiya.
As for my identity… let’s say I’m the world’s first vampire.”

Her brief introduction hit Kant like a bolt, freezing his expression.
His hands gripping the daggers grew cold, his heart skipping beats.

What?
What had he heard?

The world’s first vampire?
The Vampire Progenitor?!

The target of his earlier bravado was the strongest vampire.
Cold sweat soaked his back, his breathing quickening.

He didn’t immediately doubt her claim.
With his own strength, the suffocating threat he felt meant she was at least a True Ancestor or Duke, if not the Progenitor.
Regardless, he’d landed in deep trouble.

By the heavens, he hadn’t meant to provoke her.
Was there still time for an apology and escape?

Kant cursed himself for the dumbest move of his life.
With vampires’ vindictive nature, apologizing was futile.
Tactical retreat it was—escape was a thief’s forte.

With Wind Spirit Moon Shadow’s ninth segment, he’d leave any ancestor, demon, or god in the dust!

Resolved, Kant adjusted his stance.

But before he could act, a bloody gust swept past his face.
Aemiya darted forward like a swift bat, her crimson eyes glinting, her stunning face alight with a gleeful, eerie smile.

“Trying to run, little cutie?
I don’t agree~”

Her nails sharpened into blood-red claws, slashing at his neck.

In the crisis, with no time to think, the overwhelming pressure forced Kant to unleash Wind Spirit Moon Shadow’s eighth segment.
The terrifying 256x speed triggered sonic booms in the air!

He narrowly dodged the strike.
Aemiya, stunned by her miss, soon grinned with growing fervor.

“Fascinating!
An elf, masters of elemental magic, producing someone so refined in physical prowess?
Little cutie, you’re more and more intriguing~”

As she spoke, Aemiya sliced her palm.

The crimson blood, as if alive, coalesced in her hand.

In seconds, a massive bone scythe, incongruous with her delicate frame, materialized.

“But since you’re so eager to run, I’ll have to break your limbs.
Then you’ll stay put and won’t escape~”

Her near-maniacal laughter rang out.

Kant, wiping cold sweat from his brow, felt crushing pressure.

What kind of lunatics did he keep running into?