The trio are traveling through the woods toward the vampires. It is pitch dark. Ares carries a torch, leading them to the den. He now stares at Aphrodite with a newfound curiosity. She notices, then blushes and turns away. Ignis stares forward, her face stern, as she knows everyone's lives depend on her plan.
Eventually, they reach what they can only assume is the den—a huge hole in the ground, with a drop that goes so far down no one can see the bottom.
"How do we even know this is it?" Aphrodite asks.
No one responds.
Aphrodite looks up and stares at Ignis, who is staring at Ares. His face is filled with delight, a malicious wide grin spread across it. He acts as if whatever is below is something he has waited a lifetime for.
He says nothing—
and immediately jumps.
"Ares, no!" Ignis screams, calling him a bastard.
Her plan depended on him defending her until she could cast a spell of light strong enough to envelop the entire den. Now, without that protection, there's no way she can do it.
She sighs, calling him a madman.
"The only thing we can rely on now is that, since he knows their weakness, he can defeat them by removing their heads," she says, recalling what she explained back at the inn as part of the plan.
Ignis sighs again.
"Let's follow the fool… and hope we don't fall to our deaths."
She casts a feather-falling spell over herself and Aphrodite.
Then they jump in.
Ares is running through the cave, searching madly for something. As he moves through the tunnels, he removes the heads of every vampire he encounters effortlessly.
Back to Aphrodite and Ignis—
Aphrodite looks toward Ignis.
"What more can you tell me about vampires?"
Ignis replies, "Vampires are usually heavily populated. And seeing as we haven't run into many yet, it seems the berserker is doing a good enough job. I likely won't need to rely on the plan I made anyway."
She continues.
"The older a vampire is, the stronger they are. And the oldest ones can cast powerful blood magic. Only the highest kind of holy knights can deal with beings like them. They are a completely different kind of creature."
We cut back to Ares.
It seems he has reached the end of the cave.
Before him, an impossibly tall figure sits upon a throne of skulls. Long fingers, long nails. Its body is old, elongated—but it radiates overwhelming power.
Ares grins.
As if he has found exactly what he was looking for.
He walks forward slowly.
"You smell… like an ocean of blood."
The creature does not move.
Does not respond.
"I know you live," Ares says. "Strong one… face me."
Still no reply.
The creature simply lifts a finger.
Countless undead rise from the ground.
Ares, as if in a near-perfect flow state, slaughters them in seconds.
Ignis and Aphrodite arrive just in time to witness this, standing in awe at the grace and ease of such destruction.
Ares speaks again.
"Enough playing."
He rushes toward the creature, grinning.
But something is off.
The creature does not move.
And just as Ares reaches it to strike—
the creature waves its hand.
A slash of blood appears from nowhere.
Ares is cut down instantly.
He falls limp and silent to the floor.
Ignis and Aphrodite see this—
and the shock and dread that fills them is overwhelming.