A few ambulances screamed toward the spot, lights flashing. I didn't care how it looked—I stormed into the building.
Haruka and Suzuka lagged behind, their voices distant and anxious.
"Kokonoe-kun? What's happening?"
I didn't answer. Didn't need to.
The fourth floor stretched ahead, debris crunching under my boots. The last apartment door loomed. I shoved it open—
…and froze.
The roof was gone. Walls reduced to rubble. Chunks of plaster and concrete lay scattered across the floor.
And there, among the wreckage… blood.
A flash of bleached auburn curls. Cracked glasses. A face that could have been mine.
Her ID slipped off a shelf, dropping on the floor like a curse.
I grabbed it.
Maybe it's a dream. Maybe it's someone else. How could the same faces exist across worlds?
It didn't make sense!
But then my eyes locked on the name.
Mara Grădinaru.
No. No. No.
I lunged, desperate, grabbing her wrist—searching for a pulse.
Nothing.
My chest seized. My hands trembled.
She was gone.
My grandma… she's dead.
I couldn't reconnect with any of them. After all, they're projections of my past life.
I was no longer that man.
But I was planning to watch over them. To make sure they were safe.
What a joke.
Haruka's gasp cut through the chaos.
"Kokonoe-kun…!"
Suzuka's voice shook, soft but sharp.
"…Oh no…"
I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. All I could do was stare at the ruin—and the cruel truth it held.
Her eyes stared wide, shock frozen in their final expression. I pressed my hand gently over them, closing them for the last time.
I lifted her from the rubble, carrying her in my arms.
Before either of the girls could speak, I broke the silence.
"That woman… was my grandma." My voice sounded distant, almost like it came from a speaker rather than my mouth.
Neither of them said a word. I descended the stairs, one slow step at a time, the echo of my own footsteps ringing like a ghostly drum.
At the bottom, I stopped.
A purple 2006 Renault Twingo sat in the rubble-strewn street.
Dad…
And Mom.
And little me, in the back seat.
Andrei Grădinaru froze when he saw me. Tears welled in his eyes.
First time I saw him since my death in the first life… And it was this.
I spoke, voice cold.
"I tried to save her. It was too late. I'm sorry. Condolences."
I handed Grandma into his arms. He caught her shakily, grief twisting him in ways I remembered all too well.
I couldn't look at her. The memories came back too fast: the way she'd cook for me when I was broke because of my addiction, the way we'd always fight over some stupid thing.
I pushed them down.
No time to think about it.
Around us, the city burned. Smoke choked the streets. Debris muddied every corner.
The CEC Bank building's windows were broken, and the blocs on Toamnei Street were falling to pieces.
I looked up, eyes scanning the ruined skyline.
Oblivion.
They did this.
Haruka clutched my sleeve, voice trembling.
"Kokonoe-kun… what do we do?"
Suzuka's hand grabbed mine, soft and tentative.
"…It's… terrible," she whispered, unable to look away.
I didn't answer. There was nothing to say.
Only the weight of what was done, and the cold rage creeping into my bones.
"I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna kill every last one of them," I spoke after a moment.
Not even Haruka could find words for that.
Instead, she muttered softly, almost to herself,
"You look… different, Kokonoe-kun."
I blinked.
As my dad's Twingo pulled away, Mom and little me crying in the back seat, I caught my reflection in the cracked rearview mirror of a nearby car.
Light brown hair brushing my chin. Red eyes burning with something darker than anger. And my face?
Mihai Grădinaru. Not Kokonoe, the Japanese anomaly.
Just… me. Before everything fell apart.
I should've felt shocked. Or proud. Or anything.
Instead, it was like a stranger was wearing my face.
But then, it disappeared.
Vampires have no reflections, and neither do ghosts.
I summoned Nelu, letting Haruka climb onto his back while Suzuka flew beside us, riding the air currents with careful precision.
No one spoke. Didn't need to.
Down below, the vampires, masquerading as Romanian special units, faced off against the Oblivion runts. They were actually… doing something useful, for once.
Of course, there were humans among them, military police and regular militarized police and gendarmerie units.
Romania decided it would respond to the threat, but stopped short of sending its actual army.
And me? I started spamming missiles, reckless and blind, the roar of magic and metal filling my ears. Suzuka struggled beside me, her hands weaving currents of wind to redirect the shots toward the enemy formations, keeping us from hitting anything—or anyone—we couldn't afford to.
One by one, the runts dropped. Dead before they even hit the ground.
It wasn't enough. Not even close.
Oblivion deployed its best army yet. Vampires fell, their numbers thinning, sustaining brutal casualties.
Civilians screamed, fleeing—or dying—struck by falling rubble, choking smoke, or stray magic.
LaVey. I can't wait to put my hands on his throat and choke the life out of him.
I gritted my teeth.
"…This… this isn't enough," I muttered, voice rough, eyes scanning the chaos below.
Haruka leaned forward, biting her lip, hands gripping Nelu's feathers.
"Kokonoe-kun… we have to—"
"No," I cut her off sharply, not looking at her. "Not now. We finish this first."
Suzuka's soft voice broke through the haze of explosions.
"…Be careful."
I didn't answer.
The situation filled me with dread.
Vampires were supposed to be fast, precise—cutting through enemy lines on the ground.
Instead, they were weakened by the daylight, wearing army helmets for sun protection and wielding guns they loaded with silver bullets.
As such, Oblivion soldiers held their ground.
They matched them in speed, in skill. In every area.
Casualties piled up on both sides.
This is a nightmare.
"…Mihai."
The voice snapped me out of it.
Elmenhilde.
Her wings split the air beside me, posture straight, composure intact even in the middle of chaos. Her eyes flicked over me once, assessing.
"So this is what you looked like before your death," she said coolly. "How… fitting."
Then her gaze shifted back to the battlefield, sharp and focused.
"Your approach is crude," she continued, tone even. "Aerial bombardment is only effective when your enemies are too weak to retaliate."
A slight pause.
"These are not."
Her eyes narrowed faintly.
"And you're being reckless. At this rate, you'll hit civilians before you thin their ranks."
I blinked, the words cutting through the noise.
"Since when do you care?" I asked, almost on reflex.
Elmenhilde's gaze flicked to me, sharp, almost offended.
"Don't be absurd."
Her tone stayed cool, controlled—but there was a faint edge beneath it.
"I care because unnecessary chaos is inelegant… and inefficient." She gestured slightly toward the battlefield below. "Dead civilians do nothing but complicate matters."
A brief pause.
"…And because," she added, voice quieter but no less firm, "if you're going to involve yourself in this conflict, you should at least have the discipline to distinguish between enemy and bystander."
Her eyes met mine again, steady, unyielding.
"I do not know what has driven you to this state," she said, voice calm, measured—not cold, but controlled in a way that refused to indulge my unraveling.
A brief pause, her gaze steady on mine.
"And I suspect there is little I could say that would change it."
Then her expression hardened, just slightly.
"But understand this, Mihai."
Her voice sharpened, carrying that quiet, aristocratic authority.
"You are one of us now. A vampire."
Another beat.
"So conduct yourself accordingly… and fight like one."
I watched her raise her hand.
Dolphins spawned into existence like a swarm of Minecraft mobs, each one armed with guns and sabers.
They tore through the Oblivion devils with effortless precision.
That's… aerial deterrence. The same thing I'm doing.
Really?
She glanced at me—and smirked.
Like she'd heard the thought and was already dismissing it.
You're reading it wrong, idiot.
Suzuka's wind cut through entire formations, but her side task—shielding and healing civilians—kept her from going all out.
Meanwhile, Haruka froze entire streets, ice blades carving through soldiers, bursts of fire forcing the rest to scatter and regroup.
Down there, the vampires were trying to generate mist, but it came out thin and unstable in the daylight.
Oblivion archers were exploiting the imbalance, slicing through low-level vampires like a knife through butter.
Their Satanic spells tore through the air, painting the sky with a swirling, reddish mist.
It felt like blood falling off the sky.
The red rain fell in sizzling streaks, burning the streets and sizzling off Nelu's wings.
The Civic Center was the most affected: blocs collapsing. Civilians screaming or trying to take shelter. Cops shooting at the sky like it did something. Vamps falling.
Haruka's eyes went wide, a flash of panic overtaking her usual grin.
"K‑Kokonoe‑kun… this… this is insane! How are people supposed to survive this?!"
She hugged herself for a moment, then squared her shoulders. Ice flared along her arms, blades shooting out to slash at the nearest Oblivion soldiers. "I… I have to protect them!"
Beside me, Suzuka's soft voice cut through the chaos, steady but tense. "The chemicals… even vampires aren't immune. Everyone is in danger."
She gestured, wind slicing through the smoke and rain to shield a group of civilians in a crumbling alley. "We need to minimize casualties… quickly."
I tightened my grip on Nelu's reins, my chest tightening as the red rain streaked across the city. People screamed, vampires hissed and recoiled.
My missiles barely scratched the threat, so I stopped firing them altogether.
Elmenhilde cut through the chaos, her eyes sharp and calculating.
"Idiots," she said, her voice clipped but firm. "Stand back. Mist, flight, energy—coordinate. Civilian safety first. Every second counts."
Dolphins sprang from her summons, weaving through the red haze to carve safe corridors for the fleeing crowds.
The battlefield was a nightmare, but for the first time, I felt all of us moving in unison, scrambling against a force that was both unnatural and relentless.
And yet, the city kept burning.
This was turning into a battle of attrition, and LaVey just neutralized the vampires' greatest advantage—their home terrain.
Haruka and Suzuka were panting, every breath ragged with exhaustion. If Haruka's ice-and-fire armor held firm, Suzuka was far less fortunate. Holes in her shoulders sapped her strength even as she tried to heal herself, and she collapsed mid-air.
I caught her before she hit the ground.
"Take her and leave," I ordered, turning to Haruka.
"But Kokonoe-kun, I—" she started, but her protest was cut short.
Elmenhilde's voice sliced through the chaos.
"If you do not retreat, your friend here will not survive another day, Yuki-onna."
Her gaze lingered briefly on Suzuka.
"Even if she is a Wind Spirit—a rare species—she remains vulnerable."
Haruka clenched her fists, eyes flashing even as she panted.
"Ugh… your arrogance is so annoying, Elme‑chan," she muttered begrudgingly, but the fire in her glare didn't waver.
Before Elmenhilde could respond, Suzuka convulsed slightly, coughing blood. Her wings flapped weakly, struggling to keep her afloat.
"Suzuka!" I yelled, heart lurching. My voice was harsh, desperate—but as soon as I saw the fear in her eyes, it softened into something more protective.
Blood splattered across my clothes, hot and metallic, and my fangs itched. The urge to drink, to draw strength from her life force, clawed at me.
Not now.
Not here.
I clenched my jaw, forcing it down. Throat tight, pulse racing.
Damn it.
"Go… now! Haruka, help her! Just get out of here!"
Suzuka clung to Haruka as they began retreating, my grip on Nelu tightening. Even as they fled, I couldn't stop scanning the battlefield, every nerve on edge, knowing how close we'd come to losing her.
Elmenhilde's eyes narrowed slightly, just enough to show focus, but her posture didn't shift. She tilted her head, studying the sky as the red rain hissed against the streets.
"This… is not a simple spell," she said, her voice clipped but precise. "LaVey has infused the precipitation with a combination of chemical and demonic energy. Neutralizing it will take more than brute force."
She glanced at me, expression unreadable, though the faintest shift at the corner of her eyes betrayed unease.
"We can attempt to disperse the cloud layer, or counteract it with a large-scale condensation spell… but even then, it will only reduce the effects. Any miscalculation, and civilians and allies alike could suffer."
Her gaze shifted toward Suzuka and Haruka as they disappeared toward safety.
A subtle sigh escaped her lips, quiet enough to almost be missed. "We're running out of time, Mihai. You need to act efficiently, or the cost will be unacceptable."
And then it hit me. A spark of desperate inspiration.
"Hey… vamps can temporarily absorb someone's power if they drink their blood, right?" I asked, eyes flicking to Elmenhilde.
She regarded me coolly, one eyebrow slightly raised, her voice steady but tinged with caution.
"Yes… but it's not a perfect solution. You'd need to draw enough energy to counteract the spell, and even then, it's temporary. Overextend yourself, and you risk losing control—especially in your current state."
Her gaze sharpened, measuring me carefully.
"Do you truly understand the risk, Mihai? Because this isn't a matter of pride or skill—it's life and death. Yours, and everyone else's."
I swallowed, nodding, my pulse racing.
"I understand. Either I kill all of them, or I die," I said, teeth clenched.
She let out a faint sigh, almost imperceptible, but it carried weight.
"If you cannot control your rage… if your apathy prevents you from using it wisely… then channel it into a clean strike."
Vampires' accelerated regeneration let us endure prolonged assaults. Had this been me before Elmenhilde's turning, I'd already be dead—or worse, crippled.
But now… the tide was shifting.
I shrugged off my jacket, soaked it through—droplets of blood running down my mouth from the fabric.
If Haruka's blood was like cold tomato juice, Suzuka's was something else entirely. Smooth, airy, just a touch cool… but the taste? I swear it was like chewing gum dissolved in liquid.
Then, I felt it. The surge of power threading through me.
Her restless wind.
Her healing wind.
I turned to Elmenhilde, masking the intensity of what I was feeling with a casual grin.
"I got an idea. You with me, Princess?" I asked, half-expecting her to dismiss me with her usual flick of the hand.
She didn't.
Instead, she tilted her head. Her red eyes studied me like a general sizing up a subordinate with potential.
"You've already taken more than you should," she said, voice measured. "But… I admit, there's merit in your approach. Proceed—but don't make this reckless, Mihai. I will not bail you out if it fails."
She extended a hand, as if silently affirming her partnership. "Let's see if your newfound strength can keep up with that audacity of yours."
I smirked, trying to keep my cool despite the slaughter below us.
"Drink my blood," I said evenly.
Elmenhilde's eyes narrowed, a faint smirk crossing her lips. Without hesitation, she leaned forward and bit down lightly on my neck.
The sharp sting exploded into warmth as her crimson essence coursed through me, mingling with my own Yuki-onna energy and Suzuka's lingering wind power.
Her violet gaze locked onto mine as she pulled back, voice smooth, unyielding.
"Enough. Now it's your turn," she said, tilting her wrist, exposing a thin line of her own blood. "Do not hesitate. If you cannot share this, you will never control it fully."
I hesitated for only a fraction of a second, then pressed my lips to her palm. Her blood was rich, precise—pure control wrapped in warmth.
Instantly, I felt the clarity of her mind threading through mine, sharpening my reflexes and amplifying my connection to the battlefield.
"Here's how we'll break the spell," I shouted, gesturing to get my point across.
I raised my right arm to the sky as the red raindrops hissed against my skin.
Reaching into my pocket, I grabbed a speed potion, made from mixing coke with various stimulants, and downed it in a single gulp.
Energy rippled through me, artificial, dangerous. More than a regular human could handle.
And then I channeled it. Suzuka's restless wind, Haruka's fire-and-ice essence, Elmenhilde's mist—and my own cyrokinesis— into a blizzard of raw, chaotic power.
I aimed straight at the chemical-infused rain.
A loud, animalistic scream tore from my throat as I poured every ounce of rage, every surge of blood, into the strike.
Bat-like wings erupted from my back, and Nelu surged forward, free of my weight.
"Elme. Now!"
Elmenhilde's eyes sharpened. Without hesitation, she mirrored my exact combination, weaving her precision and strength into the attack. Together—me, Nelu, and Elmenhilde—we cut through the spell like a blade through paper.
The red rain shattered mid-air, dissipating in steam and shards of ice. The spell's hold crumbled, leaving the battlefield drenched in silence.
I gasped, chest heavy, every muscle screaming in protest. My wings trembled, fangs still aching, and my pulse raced like drums in my ears.
Elmenhilde's gaze landed on me. She flashed me the smallest smirk, a barely visible hint of approval.
"Not bad, Mihai," she said. "You wield chaos well when you choose to. Don't waste it."
I managed a shaky nod, the adrenaline and strain still coursing through me.
We camped on top of an eleven story bloc around the International Trade Center, three streets away from where Grandma used to live.
Brândușelor, around where Marius used to live. Not the self-entitled "Țepeș heir," but my friend from my past life
I looked off in the distance.
On the ground, the situation was grim.
The vampires took heavy losses, and Oblivion soldiers were holding key positions across the city—including the town hall, Livada Poștei, the Tractoru and Bartolomeu districts.
"All that talk about Romanian patriotism… about defending your home…" I muttered, voice low, "and this is what happens when LaVey decides to target it."
I let out a long sigh, scanning the battlefield. The smoke, the debris, the wounded—a disaster stretched as far as the eye could see.
"Realistically, our options are limited," I continued, teeth clenched. "Either we pull back for now… or we try to sabotage their control, strike at the heart of their operation before it solidifies."
Every instinct screamed at me: act decisively, act now, or the city—and everyone in it—would pay the price.
Elmenhilde's red eyes scanned the ruined streets, as if weighing every possibility in a heartbeat.
"Withdraw, and you preserve your forces—but you cede the city entirely. Strike, and you risk more casualties…" she said slowly, her voice calm but firm.
"If we are to act, it must be deliberate. No rash heroics. Sabotage their takeover… that is the only option that gives us any advantage."
She fixed me with a piercing look.
"Do you understand, Mihai? We act like soldiers, not saviors. Control, precision, efficiency. That is how we win."
"Win?" I muttered under my breath. "That's… hardly realistic. We need reinforcements."
Elmenhilde's lips curved into a faint, amused smile.
"Do not fret, newbie. Reinforcements are already on the way."
Then, her face snapped back to its usual aristocratic flatness, the smirk gone.
"Newbie?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I've fought more battles against Oblivion than you've got actual field operations."
She raised an eyebrow
"Yes, Hero of Nagano," she replied, her voice precise, measured, deadly calm, "your combat experience may exceed mine. But your style… it becomes reckless when overwhelmed. Emotion clouds your judgment, Mihai."
She shrugged, perfectly unconcerned, like dismissing a minor inconvenience.
"So while this may be my first large-scale engagement, in matters of strategy, efficiency, and calculated execution, I am superior. Do not mistake audacity for skill."
Then, she eyed me sharply, like a teacher putting her student in line.
"You fight with passion; I fight with precision. When chaos reigns, I do not falter. You will follow my lead, or this battle will be lost."
Tsk.
Have it your way.
I'm not really in the mood to argue.
"I mean… I just lost someone. How the hell do you expect me to feel?" I muttered, voice rough, fists clenching.
I resisted them in Nagano.
I crushed them in Kuoh.
And yet… they just keep evolving.
And I… I feel like I'm stagnating.
Fuck.
"Can you even imagine," I continued, voice tight, "knowing that a version of your grandma from your first life exists in this world? And you can't approach her because you've got a Japanese name and face now… because you live a world away. And then—your home city is attacked, and she's killed."
Elmenhilde listened, unusually still, eyes focused. No aristocratic condescension. No critique. Just… recognition.
"I'm afraid the strike may have been deliberate," she said, measured. "If LaVey knows about your identity, this… this was meant to send you a message."
I swallowed hard. Once, I'd complained that he didn't take me seriously enough.
Well… now I know what it means when he does. My birthplace in ruins. My grandmother… dead.
I'm going to kill LaVey, even if it's the last thing I'll do.
Elmenhilde's brows furrowed ever so slightly, a subtle strain in her posture—like she was forcing herself to use words beyond her usual aristocratic detachment.
"You have my condolences for the tragic incident," she said quietly, awkwardly, but sincerely.
Baby steps.
"Thanks…" I whispered back, voice barely audible.
I let the silence stretch for a moment. Then I summoned my inventory.
Health potions. Speed potions. Stamina replenishment.
I couldn't rely on Suzuka for healing forever. This battle—especially—had drained her. No wonder she collapsed.
I'd paid Azazel a ridiculous amount for these.
Fucking scammer.
"I need a minute," I muttered, downing the potions one after another. The effect hit fast—a sharp, artificial rush spreading through my body, stitching me back together just enough to keep going.
And since this was the city where I used to get high…
I figured I'd saved this for the right moment.
A joint.
I flicked the lighter, the tip glowing as I took a long drag. The familiar buzz settled in, dulling the edge of everything—the noise, the panic, the rage.
For the first time in minutes, I could actually breathe.
Elmenhilde stared at me, visibly puzzled.
"…Is that cannabis?" she asked, brows knitting slightly. "Why would you use that in the middle of a battlefield?"
I shrugged, exhaling slowly.
"It takes the edge off. Helps me think straight."
I extended it toward her. "Wanna try?"
She blinked. Once. Twice. Then, against what was clearly her better judgment, she took it—hesitantly.
A small inhale.
Then coughing. Immediate, undignified, completely out of place for her.
"I will have your head on a spike… Mihai…" she managed between coughs, glaring at me with watering eyes, dignity hanging by a thread.
I couldn't help it.
I laughed.
She threw the joint out into the open, but I caught it before it could hit the ground.
"Hey, don't go tossing other people's stuff around…" I protested.
Elmenhilde shot me an indignant glare, still coughing lightly.
"Then don't hand me something so revolting in the first place!" she snapped. "You're lucky I didn't incinerate it outright."
Yeah… we're totally acting like there's no carnage below us.
My eyes drifted over the surroundings—the Florilor district still fiercely contested, Romanian police cars dominating the streets. The good old Dacia Logan.
Then my gaze shifted to Elmenhilde, who seemed momentarily out of it.
"So, what's the feeling so far?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as the princess seemed to drift off for a second.
Elmenhilde blinked, once—twice—like she was recalibrating. Her posture straightened immediately, composure snapping back into place.
"…Irrelevant," she said flatly.
A beat passed.
Then, more quietly, almost begrudgingly—
"…There is a slight lightness. And a… reduction in tension."
Her eyes narrowed at me, as if blaming me for it.
"Do not mistake this for approval."
I smirked. "Sure you don't."
She clicked her tongue, turning her gaze forward again, but there was the faintest delay in her movements—just enough to tell me it did something.
I took another drag, and she watched me with clear reluctance.
"Trust me," I said, exhaling slowly, "when my head's clear, I can think my way through pretty much anything. You'll see."
"Oh, do be quiet," Elmenhilde replied, rolling her eyes.
Before I could say anything else, she snatched the joint from my hand. This time, she took a longer drag—far more deliberate—then leaned in and blew the smoke right in my face.
Rude.
She handed it back like nothing had happened.
"You are a very odd person, Mihai…" she said, tone caught somewhere between disbelief and reluctant acknowledgment—of me, and perhaps of herself for going along with it.
A few minutes passed in silence.
I flicked away the last embers of the joint, watching them fade as the sunset got swallowed by the rows of Communist-era blocs lining Saturn Boulevard.
Some of them were half gone.
I turned to Elmenhilde.
"Aight, Princess… what's the plan until reinforcements arrive? Cripple their command centers?" I exhaled slowly. "My missiles are a bad idea. Streets are too narrow. Too much collateral."
Elmenhilde didn't answer immediately. Her gaze swept over the broken skyline, calculating, measuring.
"Correct," she said at last. "Indiscriminate firepower would only accelerate the city's collapse. You are finally thinking."
She stepped forward slightly, eyes narrowing toward the direction of the town center.
"We do not destroy—we disrupt," she continued, voice calm, authoritative. "Their command structure, their logistics, their specialists. Remove those, and their occupation becomes inefficient."
Her gaze flicked back to me.
"The town hall is the obvious center. Too obvious. They will have reinforced it accordingly." A pause. "So we do not assault it head-on."
A faint smirk crossed her lips.
"We bleed them instead."
She raised a hand, outlining the plan with precise gestures.
"Hit their officers. Isolate their units. Collapse key routes—subtly. Force them to divert resources just to maintain control. Every minute they spend stabilizing is a minute closer to our reinforcements."
Her eyes sharpened.
"You will restrain your… enthusiasm. Precision over spectacle."
A beat.
"And try not to level what remains of your birthplace in the process, Mihai."
I thought it over, glancing at the darkening sky before looking back at her.
"Mist and dark magic get stronger at night. I'm not used to fighting like a vampire yet, but I can probably make enough cover for assassinations."
Elmenhilde gave a small nod.
"'Probably' will have to suffice," she said. "Create the cover. I'll handle the targets."
We moved through the city under the cover of her mist.
It swallowed the streets whole—alleys, stairwells, broken intersections—turning Brașov into a maze only we could navigate.
We didn't fight head-on. We hunted.
Small units first. Patrols cut off from the rest, swallowed by fog and silence. I'd freeze their escape routes, lock them in place for a second—just enough.
Elmenhilde would step in, dropping officers before they even realized they'd been targeted.
Oblivion's advance stalled, unable to secure the Steagu and Florilor districts. Their numbers were dropping.
And then—the reinforcements arrived.
A dark tide flooded the skyline. Thousands of vampires, easily ten thousand strong, descending in formation. The air itself shifted with their presence.
At the front—King Tepes.
I blinked as he landed right in front of me and Elmenhilde, his presence heavy, commanding.
"Good work holding the line, kid," he said, voice calm but carrying authority. "Now let the adults handle the rest."
I raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk crossing my lips.
"Greetings, Your Grace. I thought this place wasn't worth defending?" I shot back, more teasing than confrontational.
Tepes' eyes swept over the city, then back to me, sharp and unflinching.
"Worth defending?" he said slowly, a faint smirk crossing his face. "Every city is worth defending when the enemy dares set foot in it. And yours is among the largest in this country, Mihai."
He stepped closer, his presence pressing against me like a living wall.
"But do not mistake sentiment for strategy. You held your ground well—now leave the finishing work to those who have done it a thousand times before."
A pause. His gaze lingered, appraising.
"And try not to get in my way."
I think I'm done fighting for today.
But… yeah, I still had to get stronger.
I watched as the remaining Oblivion units were erased from my city.
An initial strike force of 7.000 overwhelmed what—3.500 vampires? By the time reinforcements arrived, 4.500 surviving Oblivion soldiers still held parts of the city.
And somehow… I had lost too much to really feel like victory.
So, yeah. Whether anyone likes it or not…
I'm not leaving this place yet.
_________
[Meanwhile, in Budapest…]
From his office high above Budapest, Gábor LaVey sat in the ninth sky, a sly smirk curling across his face—every inch the man who had orchestrated exactly the outcome he wanted.
Across from him, Marius Tepes remained standing, expression unreadable, a silent contrast to LaVey's self-satisfaction.
An Oblivion operative entered briskly, bowing slightly before speaking.
"Supreme Leader, Csikszereda has been secured. 500 Romanian police officers and 400 gendarmes dead in the clashes."
LaVey's eyes gleamed. Predictable. The SFF had deployed 3,500 units.
"Consolidate control in Harghita. Begin recruitment immediately. I want the SFF grown to 35,000 soldiers," he said, voice smooth but razor-sharp, every word carrying the weight of authority and ideological obsession.
"Yes, sir," the operative replied, then retreated hastily.
LaVey leaned back, fingers steepled, surveying the maps on the table.
The battle of Brașov had cost 4,100 vampires and 5,100 Oblivion soldiers.
He laughed quietly, a low, calculated sound.
"The kid ruined my plans once. Had to strike where it hurt the most."
His gaze drifted to the map of Transylvania.
Csikszereda was perfect—a start for his quest of bringing the neighbouring region back under the motherland.
"The gardener is becoming… tiresome," Marius said, voice calm, precise, each word measured. "Complaining about Romanian nationalism, yet unable to even defend his own city."
He paused, fingers tapping lightly against the table.
"What concerns me more," he continued, eyes narrowing, "is my father's involvement in this campaign. If the old man senses anything, my path to the throne becomes… precarious."
A faint, almost imperceptible smirk at the corner of his lips, betraying the sharp, calculating mind beneath the composed exterior.
LaVey leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes glinting with quiet amusement.
"Kokonoe—Mihai, if you insist on calling him that—is not yet a threat," he said smoothly, each word deliberate. "A child playing at heroism in a city that belongs to him only by accident. For now, he is… manageable."
His gaze flicked to Marius, sharp and unwavering.
"As for you, Tepes… you desire the throne. Ambition is a fine thing, but it comes at a price. You know my terms. Hungary must regain Transylvania. That is non-negotiable."
He leaned forward slightly, the room seeming to shrink with the weight of his presence.
"Deliver that, and Oblivion's support—my support—will be yours. Fail, and your campaign collapses before it even begins."
A slow smile curved his lips, faintly cruel.
"Remember this: I do not ally with sentiment. I ally with results."