Inside the inn, the room is quiet.
Too quiet.
Aphrodite sits near the edge of the bed, her hands folded, her thoughts elsewhere.
"I don't understand him," she says softly.
Ignis leans against the wall, arms crossed.
"You don't even know him," she replies. "And from what I've seen, there isn't much to understand."
A pause.
"He's a madman."
Aphrodite exhales lightly.
"…Maybe."
Her gaze lowers.
"But I feel something… strange about him. Like there's more beneath it."
Ignis scoffs.
"That makes two of you."
Before Aphrodite can respond—
a thunderous crash shakes the building.
Wood splinters.
Stone breaks.
Then—
a scream.
Both of them are on their feet instantly.
They rush from the room and down the hall—
only to stop.
The outer wall of the inn is gone.
Torn open.
Debris litters the ground.
The innkeeper stands frozen nearby, face pale, trembling.
And through the dust—
two figures step forward.
The vampires.
From beneath the rubble—
movement.
Ares rises.
Slowly.
His body is covered in wounds—cuts, gashes, blood running freely down his frame.
And yet—
he stands.
Aphrodite's breath catches.
"…How is he still—"
Ignis doesn't answer.
Because she doesn't know.
Ares moves first.
He charges.
Fast.
Faster than any human should be capable of.
The vampires meet him head-on.
Steel clashes with claw.
One vampire's feral strike collides with his blade, sparks cutting through the air.
The second circles wide—
silent—
then strikes from behind with a sweeping kick aimed at his spine.
Ares senses it.
He drops low, ducking beneath the attack.
The kick misses him—
and instead crashes into the other vampire, knocking it aside.
Ares turns instantly.
Counterattacks.
His blade drives forward—
once—
twice—
again and again in rapid succession, the strikes so fast they blur into one.
The blade pierces through the vampire's abdomen.
But—
nothing.
The wound closes.
Flesh knitting together in seconds.
The vampire grins.
Then attacks.
Claws lash out in a frenzy of strikes.
Ares blocks—
barely.
His injuries are catching up to him.
His movements aren't as clean now.
Aphrodite sees it.
"…He's bleeding too much—"
Ignis sees it too.
But something else is happening.
With every exchange—
every strike—
every drop of blood—
he's getting stronger.
Faster.
Sharper.
But not invincible.
Ares shifts.
Stops defending.
And attacks again.
His blade thrusts forward, relentless.
Forcing the vampire back—
until—
the second one returns.
They move together now.
Coordinated.
Precise.
Two angles.
Two attacks.
No openings.
Ares meets them both.
Blocking.
Striking.
Turning.
Adapting.
But even for him—
this is not easy.
Ignis watches, disbelief creeping in.
"…One vampire is enough to kill most seasoned fighters," she murmurs.
"And he's holding off two…"
Her eyes narrow.
"…And keeping up."
Ares moves again.
Faster now.
His blade begins to land.
Cuts open their flesh.
But it doesn't matter.
They heal.
Again.
And again.
And again.
His wounds do not.
Blood drips steadily from his body.
His breathing deepens.
He is losing too much.
"Ares!" Aphrodite shouts. "Ignis, do something!"
That snaps her out of it.
Ignis steps forward, raising her hands.
She begins to chant.
Low at first—
then faster.
Her fingers weave through precise signs, mana gathering rapidly around her.
The air heats.
Light builds.
Then—
flame.
A brilliant blaze erupts into existence, brighter than anything else in the room.
Blinding.
Overwhelming.
The innkeeper stumbles back, shielding his eyes.
The vampires scream.
Their bodies ignite.
Burning.
Withering.
Turning to ash.
Until—
nothing remains.
Silence falls.
Broken only by Ares' breathing.
He stands in the center of it all—
covered in blood.
Wounded.
Still.
He exhales slowly.
"…Disappointing."
Ignis lowers her hands, breathing heavier than before.
"You're a fool," she says.
"They're vampires. You don't fight them like that."
She steadies herself.
"Beheading. Sunlight. Or something close to it—like my spell."
A pause.
"…Still."
Her eyes linger on him.
"It's no small feat that you lasted that long."
Aphrodite rushes to him.
She raises her hands, hovering them just above his wounds.
Soft light forms.
Warm.
Gentle.
Ares watches—
as the cuts begin to close.
The bleeding slows.
Then stops.
Her magic is different.
Not destructive.
Not forceful.
But restoring.
Quietly powerful.
The innkeeper, still shaken, steps forward.
"I… I saw everything," he says.
His voice trembles, but there is awe in it now.
"You… you're heroes."
Slowly—
doors open.
Villagers emerge.
Cautious at first.
Then more.
They gather, murmuring, eyes fixed on Ares.
"You fought them head-on…"
"…and lived…"
"…against vampires…"
Respect replaces fear.
At least for now.
The innkeeper clears his throat.
"There's more of them," he says.
"Not here… but nearby."
A pause.
"A den. Hidden in the hills."
He looks between the three of them.
"If you can destroy it…"
"…you'll be rewarded."
Ignis' expression shifts.
Subtle.
But noticeable.
Her eyes sharpen.
Calculating.
"…A den," she repeats.
Then—
a faint, almost amused exhale.
"…I might have a plan."