They did not slow down.
They did not hesitate.
They did not even seem to feel the exhaustion that should have crushed them long ago.
The reddened members of the Moonshade family kept coming, their bodies rising again and again, each time with a heavier presence than before, each time with a sharper intent behind their movements, as if the very act of being struck down was feeding something deep within them, something that turned pain into fuel and pressure into growth.
One lunged.
Dreath intercepted, his hand moving with precision, striking the attacker squarely in the chest.
The impact should have folded him.
Should have sent him flying the same way as before.
And it did send him back—
But not as far.
Not as violently.
The vampire twisted mid-air, his body adjusting instinctively, landing on his feet with a heavy thud, sliding back only a short distance before stopping.
His head snapped up.
His eyes burned.
Then he charged again.
"…Again…"
