Noel hung from Lereus's grip, feet barely touching the ground. His vision swam, his lungs burning for air. Every instinct screamed to fight, but his body was already failing.
Lereus leaned in, breath calm, tone almost warm.
"Oh, it was fun," he said softly. "But now I'm more hungry, you see… all that blood I had to waste because of you."
His smile widened, eyes glowing with hunger.
"Bon appétit."
Noel barely registered the movement.
A sharp pain exploded through his upper arm—Lereus had plunged a clawed finger deep into his right bicep, twisting slowly as if savoring the sensation.
Noel gasped.
His body spasmed.
Then came the drain.
It was unlike anything he'd felt. Not just bleeding—his blood was being pulled out, thread by thread, as if every vein were unraveling.
He felt it leave him.
His warmth, his strength, his color—everything was being stripped from him.
Draining away.
He vomited blood.
It hit the floor with a sickening splatter.
