Flames. Thick smoke. Blood. Screams.
When Isolde charged into Northam's church square, it was as if hell had opened before her. The ancient stone fountain at the square's center was half-shattered, water mixed with dark red liquid gushing out, snaking across the ground in grotesque patterns. Several wooden houses near the square's edge were ablaze, tongues of fire licking the night sky, scattering embers and smoke. The air crackled with burning wood, the crash of collapsing structures, and the death cries of humans.
But more chilling were the inhuman figures flitting through the firelight and shadows.
At least seven or eight, maybe more. Moving too fast for ordinary eyes—just blurred dark shapes with crimson eyes and teeth-grating shrieks. Isolde could see them clearly—lower vampires, the same ilk she'd encountered in the forest, but now more frenzied, more bloodthirsty. They attacked any living thing in sight, tearing open the throats of fleeing townsfolk with claws, piercing the chests of those who resisted with fangs, then greedily sucking and spilling the warm blood.
Over a dozen bodies already lay in the square, more injured writhing and screaming in pools of blood. A few brave townsfolk, armed with pitchforks, torches, or rusty cleavers, formed fragile defensive circles, but their resistance was paper-thin against these creatures with speed and strength far beyond human. A young man had just raised a torch when a dark shape pounced, tearing open his throat instantly. The torch rolled, illuminating his wide, dead eyes.
Isolde's heart hammered, not from fear, but from boiling fury and a cold, near-numb killing intent. Silas Valentian! Is this your true face? Pretending to be a guardian, while plotting such slaughter! Revenge for last night's attack? Or some darker purpose?
She didn't hesitate. Her left hand snapped; three silver throwing knives flew, whistling towards the nearest vampire lunging at a woman clutching an infant! The knives struck its back and neck. The monster shrieked briefly, smoke rising, its charge faltering. The woman scrambled behind a fallen pillar with her child.
Isolde was already a released arrow into the fray. The "Dawnbreaker" was re-spanned, but she held the precious quarrels for now. Silver dagger and knives were enough for this rabble. In the firelight, she became a deadly grey blur, each flicker accompanied by a flash of silver and a vampire's shriek. One pouncing from the side was ducked under; her reverse slash opened its belly, spilling dark gore and viscera. Another trying to ambush from behind took a sanctified-force elbow to the face—the sickening crunch of breaking bone mixed with the hiss of burning. It stumbled back clutching its face, and her follow-up dagger through the heart turned it to ash.
Her intervention temporarily shifted the local battle, drawing the attention of at least three or four vampires. But they seemed under some command, or driven by stronger bloodlust, and didn't swarm her all at once. Instead, they began hunting her in a coordinated manner, using speed and numbers, feinting and attacking from different directions.
"The hunter! The outsider hunter!" a townsfolk recognized her, crying out with panic and a shred of hope.
"Help! Save us!"
Isolde had no breath to answer. Her nerves were taut to the limit. Her grey eyes scanned the battlefield, blocking, dodging, countering, movements fluid and lethal. But the rage ignited by Silas and the "evidence" burned fiercer. These monsters... all his minions! Where is he? Hiding, watching this slaughter he (or Cassius) orchestrated?
Then, from the square's other side, near the most fiercely burning barn, came an especially sharp, childlike wail.
"Mama! Mama! Where are you? I'm scared—!"
Isolde's peripheral vision caught it; her heart sank. A little girl, no more than four or five, in a tattered nightgown, barefoot, face smeared with tears and soot, stood by a half-collapsed low wall, looking around terrified. She seemed separated from her family, utterly exposed. And less than twenty paces away, two vampires feeding on a corpse had lifted their heads, crimson eyes locking onto this fresher, more fragile target.
Damn! Isolde was at least fifty yards away, separated by burning debris and panicked crowds. She was about to throw a knife to distract them, but a shadow moved faster.
No, not a shadow.
A silver-white figure, like moonlight given form, dropped from the shadow of a tall bell tower at the square's edge, falling straight towards the two vampires lunging for the girl!
Silas Valentian!
Isolde's breath caught. He was here! He was here all along! And his condition...
Moonlight and firelight交织, illuminating him. He still wore the black longcoat, but the damage and dark stain at his right chest were clear in the firelight. His face was frighteningly pale, a trickle of dark blood at the corner of his mouth, silver hair disheveled—clearly still grievously wounded, perhaps worsened by forcing himself to move. But his lilac eyes blazed with an intensity she'd never seen, churning with extreme pain,狂暴 rage, and a near-desperate urgency.
He was ghostly fast. As the vampires' claws were about to touch the girl, his hands shot out like talons, seizing their skulls! No fancy moves, just pure, brutal force unleashed.
CRUNCH! CRUNCH!
The sickening sound of bone breaking came almost simultaneously. Their skulls were crushed like melons in his bare hands! Dark blood and brain matter sprayed, drenching the girl, splattering his own face and clothes. The girl was too terrified to cry, just gaping, stunned by the horrific sight.
Silas dropped the two rapidly disintegrating bodies, staggering violently as if the burst had drained immense strength, aggravating his chest wound. He dropped to one knee, bracing himself on the ground with a hand, head bowed, silver hair hiding his face, shoulders trembling uncontrollably. Isolde could clearly see the blackish-blue veins bulging grotesquely on the back of his braced hand, dark currents seeming to writhe under the skin.
"Ugh... ah..." A choked, agonized groan, squeezed from the depths of his soul, escaped his throat. The sound wasn't human, nor from a rational being—filled with a primal, suppressed-to-the-limit bestiality.
The surrounding fighting seemed to pause for an instant. Both vampires and surviving townsfolk looked instinctively at the silver-haired figure kneeling in blood and ash, trembling violently. The air felt solid, only the crackle of flames and his labored, ragged breaths.
Isolde tightened her grip on the silver dagger, grey eyes locked on him. What would he do? Pounce on the terrified girl like the lower vampires? Reveal his true, bloodthirsty nature?
Then Silas lifted his head.
His face, lit by fire, was half in light, half in shadow. The side facing the girl still held a human shape, though twisted in pain. But those lilac eyes were fixed on her, holding not hunger, but something near-spasmodic, forcibly restrained. The other half, hidden in shadow... Isolde saw his lips pulled back in an unnatural grimace, revealing fangs sharper, paler than ordinary vampires! For an instant, his pupils contracted to near-vertical slits, flashing with a mad,饥渴暗红 light!
He was fighting! Fighting some primal bloodlust from deep within his lineage, triggered by blood and grievous wounds!
The girl, jolted back to sense by this inhuman visage, wailed, turned to run, but stumbled, falling into the ash.
That tiny sound was the last straw. Silas's body convulsed violently. The arm braced on the ground tightened, veins on the back of his hand near bursting! A beast-like, guttural growl came from his throat. He leaned forward, as if about to lunge the next instant!
"No—!" a mother's shrill scream came from afar, a ragged woman trying to crawl closer, blocked by a burning beam.
Isolde's finger touched the "Dawnbreaker's" trigger. Now! The moment he lost control, the moment he fully revealed the monster, end it!
Yet Silas's lunge stopped, just a step from the girl.
Stopped so abruptly, so艰难, that Isolde heard the sickening creak of his bones from the sudden halt. He held that near-lunge posture, his whole body like a bow drawn to the breaking point. His head hung low, silver hair completely hiding his face, only the violently heaving, bellows-like chest and the uncontrollable, pain-and-restraint-choked gasps showed he "lived."
One second. Two. Three.
Time stretched. Flames burned, distant fighting and cries continued, but this small area fell into an eerie, suffocating silence.
Then, Silas began to move back. Slowly, inch by inch. His movements were stiff as a rusted puppet, each shift seeming to cost immense pain and effort. He put that final step between himself and the girl, then turned sharply, turning his back on the girl, facing Isolde and the chaotic battlefield beyond.
He still hung his head, fists clenched so tight his nails bit into his palms, dark blood dripping between his fingers. His body still trembled uncontrollably, but that即将爆发, predator-like dangerous aura was slowly,极其艰难, being reined in, suppressed.
In a voice so hoarse it was nearly shattered, yet carrying a strange cadence, he forced out words to the stunned girl, and to the air:
"Go... leave this place... don't look back..."
The girl's mother finally scrambled over the obstacle, stumbling to snatch up her child, not daring to look at Silas's back, staggering away to safety.
Silas didn't move. He remained with his back to the fleeing mother and child, to the child he'd just saved at great cost, like a silent statue undergoing a death by a thousand cuts, standing in the center of blood and fire.
Isolde's finger on the trigger loosened.
No, not completely, still resting there. But the决心 to kill hissed like doused coals, smoke of confusion rising.
What had she seen?
She saw a grievously wounded, dying vampire, enduring inhuman pain, save a child at the last second. She saw him,刺激 by the scent of blood and his wounds, on the edge of losing control, fangs bared, eyes changed—the instinct of a monster, undeniable. But she also saw, at the final moment, with near-self-destructive will, he forcibly checked that instinct, let the唾手可得 "prey" go, even... told her to leave.
False piety? An act? A sacrificial gambit?
What act required such real, soul-rending pain? What disguise required, at the edge of losing all reason, turning one's back on the "prey," using the last shred of clarity to say "go"?
The bloody linen and lock of dark brown hair in her tunic now burned like brands against her chest. Cassius's cruel smile surfaced again. If Silas were truly an accomplice, why save this unrelated girl? If his nature was bloodthirsty, why hold back with the most "tempting" prey before him? If it was all an act, the act... was too real, the cost too high.
Chaos. Unprecedented chaos, nearly tearing her mind apart. On one side: her parents' blood, the "evidence's" implications, six years of unshakable belief. On the other: what she witnessed tonight, defying all vampire logic, filled with pain and struggle, real.
"Heh heh heh... Marvelous. Truly marvelous." A low, pleasant voice, dripping with undisguised mockery and cruel amusement, suddenly rang over the square, cutting through all noise!
Isolde's every hair stood on end! That voice! She'd never forget it!
She looked up sharply, following the sound.
On the intact, spire-topped bell tower across the square, a tall, elegant figure stood casually on a flying eave. He wore immaculately tailored black evening clothes, silver hair stirred by the night breeze, skin pale, face英俊得近乎妖异. In his hand was a crystal goblet, swirling with dark red liquid. He looked down, surveying the hellscape below, a faint,享受 smile on his lips. Those dark red eyes, like finest rubies, gleamed with cold, cruel light in the firelight.
Cassius.
He was here. In a居高临下, controlling stance, enjoying his "masterpiece."
His gaze lingered on Silas's trembling back, a scornful snort escaping. Then it slowly moved, settling on Isolde. That gaze, like a serpent's tongue, licked over her skin, bringing physical revulsion and chill.
"Good evening, little hunter," Cassius's voice wasn't loud, yet clear in every ear, carrying a demonic穿透力. "Six years, and you seem to have found an interesting... 'companion'? Pity he's not at his best tonight."
His eyes returned to Silas,讥讽 and malice nearly tangible. "Look at you, Silas, my dear 'brother.' Centuries, and you're still this repulsive. Clinging to your ridiculous 'principles,' drinking filthy beast blood, enduring the curse's backlash, all to protect these... insects? Even reducing yourself to this for them? Pathetic. And laughable."
Silas didn't respond, didn't look up. He only clenched his fists tighter, trembling more violently, as if each of Cassius's words was a毒匕首 into his already ravaged soul.
Cassius laughed, took a sip, then casually tossed the goblet from the tower. The crystal traced an arc in the firelight, shattering on the square's stones, dark red liquid splashing like blood.
"Enough games," Cassius's voice turned cold, commanding. "I came tonight to see how long my foolish 'brother' can last, and to... deliver a message to my little friend."
His eyes locked on Isolde again, dark red orbs glinting with cruel amusement.
"Your parents were truly delightful, little hunter. Especially your mother. Her blood had a special... resilience and pain. I savored it long." He licked his lip, as if recalling a fine wine's aftertaste. "As for this 'guardian' you've found... heh. Did he tell you he's uninvolved? Play the pitiful savior? Save it. He's no different from me—a monster living on blood. The only difference is he likes to pretend he still has a 'heart,' has 'principles.' And I despise that hypocrisy."
"Look at him now." Cassius pointed at the still-trembling Silas below, voice full of pleasure. "The bloodlust curse eats at him. The scent of human blood tempts him. He struggles on hell's edge every moment. That's the可笑 'price' of orderly vampires. And I, Cassius, am the true victor, embracing power, enjoying eternity."
"Little hunter, if you want revenge, see clearly. Your true enemy is me. But that hypocrite beside you was never your friend. He guards this town only to atone for his可笑, century-old sin, to soothe his long-dead, false heart."
Cassius's words were the most毒诅咒, each striking Isolde's heart, each stabbing Silas. Silas's body jolted, finally looking up at the tower. His face was paper-white, lilac eyes filled with deep pain, rage, and a...浓烈悲哀 Isolde couldn't fully grasp.
"Cassius..." Silas's voice was a ragged whisper, yet held undeniable force. "Leave. Or else—"
"Or else what?" Cassius laughed, the sound echoing肆无忌惮. "Replenish with your可笑 animal blood and continue your never-winning fight? Save it, Silas. We both know you can never truly kill me. It would destroy the fragile 'order' dream you've carefully maintained for centuries."
"As for tonight..." Cassius's smile turned icy, cruel. "It ends here. My little friend has learned much. And your little charade is about over."
He gave Isolde one last look, as if saying we'll meet again, then vanished as if melting into the night, leaving only a slight sway of shadow on the eave.
With his disappearance, the remaining lower vampires in the square seemed leaderless, attacks becoming disordered, sluggish. A few surviving townsfolk found courage, driving them off or destroying them with torches and crude weapons. Flames still burned, cries gradually faded, but deeper silence and despair笼罩 the square.
Isolde stood, the "Dawnbreaker" heavy in her hands. Cassius's words roared in her mind. The true killer's admission, the ruthless exposure and mockery of Silas, the可怕 hints of "atonement," "curse," "principles"...
She looked at Silas. He'd bowed his head again, but his body still trembled uncontrollably, as if Cassius's words and the earlier struggle had drained his last strength. The wound on his chest, perhaps from the intense emotions and exertion, was seeping dark blood again, dripping slowly down his coat.
Hypocrite? Atonement? Curse? Century-old sin?
Which was truth? Or... all parts of it?
Isolde felt a wave of dizziness and weakness. Six years of hatred, a night of shocks, successive impacts had her坚固 worldview teetering. Looking at the silver-haired figure trembling alone in blood and fire, for the first time, she couldn't clearly define if he was a monster to be eliminated immediately, or... an utterly incomprehensible, pain-and-contradiction-filled谜.
She slowly lowered the "Dawnbreaker," but didn't stow it. She took a step, not to leave, nor to attack, but... towards Silas, step by step, walking over.
(End of Chapter 11)