Kiss of the vampire "the Girl with the Sharp sword" volume 2
Mission 19 : Let it bleed!
Location: Red Zone – London Financial District
Time: 8:57 AM (Glitch)
The Hell Gate throbbed in the center of the city like a living wound, light bleeding from its edges. Runes spun around its rim in layered rings, glowing crimson-gold. The air grew heavier by the second, thick with pressure and the scent of scorched ozone.
Around it, the last of the military perimeter was being locked down.
Tanks lined the streets.
Sniper teams took to rooftops.
Medical units and summoning circles glowed faintly behind sandbags and barriers.
In the plaza, General McDougal stood just outside the field tent with the European Commander beside him. They were surrounded by tactical officers, mages, and three Saints murmuring chants in Latin-like tongues.
> "We've got six minutes," said one Black Order mage, eyes flickering with cursed sight. "If we don't stop the full formation of the Gate before that… whatever's on the other side comes through fully armed."
McDougal's eyes didn't leave the Gate.
> "Get the Black Knights and the other units into final position. The civilians are evacuated?"
> "Mostly," said the commander. "We're clearing the last underground shelters now."
> "Not fast enough," McDougal muttered.
---
Nearby – Hunter Formation Area
Denver adjusted his vest. His gear was already soaked with sweat and tension. Maya was silent beside him, holding her blade loosely, not looking up. Kliev tightened the bandages around his wrists. Emily re-checked her crystal charges. Yumi sat cross-legged, whispering to her butterfly familiar.
The Black Knights stood ready.
But they weren't whole.
> "He's not coming?" Mizuno asked quietly, glancing at Denver.
Denver's jaw tensed.
> "He left. No note. No message."
> "But he took his gear?" Kliev asked.
Denver nodded once.
> "Sword, coat, everything."
No one spoke after that.
Just the sound of boots shifting, and the gate humming like it was drawing breath.
---
Inside the Command Tent
The flap opened again.
Sir Aldrich, Holy Knight of the First Circle, entered with two of the Pope's Apostles at his side. Their armor gleamed unnaturally—blessed, sealed, and warded with runes no one in the Black Order trusted.
> "Your soldiers look ready," Aldrich said.
McDougal didn't even turn.
> "And yours?"
> "Born ready," Aldrich replied.
> "Good," the general said. "Because if any of your 'blessed' people touch my teams without permission—I'll put one between your eyes."
The Pope's paladin smiled.
> "Understood."
Behind them, Paladins and Saints took formation. A choir had begun chanting at a distance, trying to delay the Gate's opening by fractions of a second.
It wasn't working.
---
8:59 AM – One Minute Remains
The runes reached their final position.
The Gate's core—once flickering—solidified into a swirling abyss of dark light. A roar echoed from inside. Buildings cracked. Metal twisted.
The ground trembled.
Crows took flight.
Far above, on a tilted skyscraper roof, Lancer stood in silence—cloak fluttering, eyes fixed on the Gate.
His lieutenants appeared beside him: cloaked beasts, black-armored knights, red-eyed assassins.
> "Let the heroes die first," Lancer said calmly. "Then… we walk in and claim what's ours."
He raised a hand.
The wind shifted.
His army crouched like wolves.
Waiting.
London – West Barricade, Three Blocks from the Hell Gate
9:02 AM
The chaos had a rhythm now.
Police held the outer line. Hunters fortified the inner line. Captains barked orders, their squads shifting into formation like gears in a tired but deadly machine.
Denver leaned against an armored van, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He watched the glow of the Hell Gate pulse against the clouds, breathing like a beast ready to be born.
Beside him, Captain Ethan crossed his arms. His eyes flicked to every shadow, every rooftop.
> "You'd think he'd show up by now," Ethan muttered.
> "He left two weeks ago," Denver replied. "Didn't even say goodbye."
Ethan frowned. "He always hated speeches anyway. But still… This is his kind of fight."
> "He's hurting," Denver said quietly. "He might not come back at all."
A few meters away, Alex sat with his squad—arms folded, face blank, watching the gate. He didn't speak. Didn't even blink.
One of his teammates, a younger hunter with bandages across his jaw, nudged him.
> "He's not coming, huh?"
Alex's jaw tightened.
> "Coward," he muttered under his breath.
> "You still want to settle it?"
Alex's eyes narrowed toward the gate. His voice dropped low.
> "He took everything. And then found peace. I lost everything… and was told to kill kids like him in God's name."
He looked toward the black spire above the Hell Gate.
> "He doesn't get to run. I'll make sure he remembers what he left behind."
---
Nearby Alley – Survey Team: Maya, Yumi, Alicia, Emily, Kliev
The squad moved with caution—eyes scanning every rooftop, every flicker of movement.
Yumi whispered, "Too quiet."
Alicia nodded. "We're being watched."
Emily, checking her gauntlet sensors, muttered, "Can't pinpoint anything. Shadows are... weird here."
Then—
A breeze.
A shimmer.
And Catherine stepped from the mist like a phantom of winter.
> "Fancy meeting you here, little ones," she said, voice calm, laced with something far colder than mockery.
Without hesitation, weapons were drawn. Kliev and Emily charged. Alicia's sword lit with holy flame. Yumi's hand sparked with her summoning sigil.
But—
Everything stopped.
Except for Maya.
Her teammates froze in place mid-motion, eyes wide, bodies locked.
Catherine waved her fingers, the Blood Dome influence pulsing faintly around her like frost.
> "Let's talk, niece. Just talk."
Maya gritted her teeth, blade raised but unmoving.
> "What the hell do you want, Catherine?! Why now?!"
> "Follow me," Catherine said. "Please."
Maya hesitated.
But followed.
---
Rooftop – Overlooking the Hell Gate
The air was heavier here. From this vantage point, they could see the glowing storm above the city's center—and something else.
Across the Gate, perched on distant buildings and cranes, were shadowed figures.
Too many.
Too still.
And then—
Lancer.
Standing proud, arms behind his back, cloak fluttering in the Hell Gate wind.
> "You freak," Maya hissed. "This is a trap! You set us up!"
She spun on Catherine.
> "You damn monster—!"
But Catherine raised a hand.
> "Tch. Darling. I told you—we're just talking."
She pointed toward the opposite skyline.
> "I brought you here to warn you. That after your team defeats the Guardian... Lancer will strike. He wants the seventh primordial weapon."
Maya froze.
> "Why the hell are you telling me this? What do you want?"
Catherine's face softened—just slightly. Her voice grew quieter.
> "Nothing."
> "I just want you to keep Deyviel safe."
Maya blinked. Caught off-guard.
> "Pretend I'm still your enemy. Don't tell him we talked. Let me get close to Lancer. I'll kill him. For our family. For your parents. For you."
Maya's laughter came sharp, bitter.
> "You think I'll believe you? After what you did to my mother? After you betrayed my father—your first love—and sold us all to Lancer?!"
Catherine looked down.
Tears welled in her eyes.
> "I know. My actions aren't forgivable. I was blinded. By jealousy. By love. Lancer twisted me."
She stepped back toward the edge of the roof, voice cracking.
> "But now I want to set things right. Even if you never forgive me… I just want to give him—Deyviel—a fighting chance."
> "Because when I look at him now… I see him."
Maya's eyes widened.
> "What?"
> "Your father," Catherine whispered. "Reborn. Even if he doesn't know it yet."
Maya's hand trembled.
> "So what now?"
Catherine looked over her shoulder.
> "Now… you decide."
And with that—she vanished.
The ice around Maya's teammates shattered with a breath. They gasped, confused.
> "What the hell happened?!"
> "Where'd she go?!"
Maya didn't answer.
She just stared across the rooftop… at the army of Lancer waiting for the right moment.
And her hand gripped her sword tighter.
Time: 9:07 AM
The air shifted.
Thick.
Dry.
Metallic.
Like the breath before a scream.
And then—
The Hell Gate groaned.
A deep, otherworldly rumble shook the ground as if something massive beyond the veil had stirred. Runes flared brighter, spinning in chaotic loops now—no longer elegant magic, but unstable, pulsing arcs of ancient power.
> "Everyone—brace yourselves!" General McDougal shouted from the command tent, slamming a fist into the table.
Alarms blared.
Hunters took position.
Snipers aimed.
Clerics began warding prayers.
Then—
The Gate cracked open.
Not all at once. Not like a door.
It peeled, splitting down the middle, slowly dragging apart like a wound being forced wider.
And from the blackness behind it—
They came.
The first scream wasn't human.
It wasn't even from a mouth.
The Howlers burst from the Gate like locusts—spindly, bat-like demons with skin stretched too tight over winged bones, eyes glowing with pale fire.
Their jaws split open in five directions, screeching banshee calls that shattered nearby windows.
> "Open fire!" shouted Captain Ethan.
Black Knights and Golden Eagles opened up in perfect sync. Magical rifles, enchanted bolts, and elemental bullets soared through the air.
The first Howlers went down screaming—black blood hissing on the pavement.
But for every one they killed, three more came.
The ground cracked behind the Howlers as hulking demons stomped through the Gate. Easily ten feet tall, covered in thick, chitin-like armor. Their shoulders were like mountain slabs; their fists bigger than a man's chest.
Blue Fangs' Vice Seowon Lee stepped forward, calm and eerily cheerful.
> "Oh~ I've always wanted to fight giants."
She whirled her daggers once—and vanished in a blur of steel.
Across the battlefield, her blades carved through neck joints, kneecaps, and exposed cores in precise flurries, leaving even the Brutes staggering and crashing to the ground.
But then—
A third wave arrived.
Smoke poured from the Gate like a tidal wave—and from it, cloaked demons emerged. They didn't run. Didn't roar.
They just walked.
Each one masked in ash-gray veils, blades in hand, eyes like ink bleeding into fire.
Magic and gunfire didn't touch them.
Bullets phased through.
Spells curved around.
They were unseen, untouchable—
Until Captain Chloe Natalie, former leader of the fallen Falling Sword unit, stepped forward. She summoned her double-bladed scythe, cloaked in her unit's dying honor.
> "I see you," she whispered.
And she charged.
Mid-Battle – Rooftop, Maya's Group
Maya and her team rushed back from the rooftops. Smoke was rising. Explosions echoed. The Gate's magic shook the sky.
> "It's already happening," Alicia panted.
> "Too many hostiles!" Kliev shouted. "This isn't just a guardian—we're dealing with a full assault!"
Maya narrowed her eyes.
Catherine was right.
This wasn't a simple mission.
This was a warzone.
Across the Battlefield – Holy Knights vs. Demons
The Saints and Paladins moved as a wall of divine fire.
Light magic exploded across the front lines—cleansing dozens of demons in bursts of white-gold flame. Holy chains wrapped around Brutes and yanked them to the ground where sacred swords ended them.
Sir Aldrich cleaved through Howlers with a voice like thunder:
> "By His Word, you fall!"
But even they were slowing.
The Gate wasn't finished.
It was still opening.
And something massive stirred beyond it.
High Above – Rooftop, Lancer's Army
Lancer watched the chaos below unfold with unsettling calm.
His lieutenant, a long-limbed demon with bone armor and a scythe tail, stepped beside him.
> "Should we strike now?"
Lancer shook his head.
> "Let the Gate birth the Guardian. Let the weak fall. Then we claim what remains."
His eyes glinted.
> "This city will be our altar."
---
Meanwhile – Denver, Ethan, Alex
Denver pulled a young hunter back from a collapsing wall.
> "We need support magic! Get the backlines reinforced!"
Captain Ethan slashed a demon mid-air and shouted, "Where the hell is our heavy backup?!"
And Alex—standing with his sword drawn—glanced toward the glowing center of the Gate.
His lips curled.
> "You better be watching this, Deyviel. Or are you still running like a coward?" then he dash forward slashing multiple enemies.
Time: 9:15 AM
The Gate's roar was now constant. Like a tornado screaming through stone.
But the real scream came from below.
Demons were pouring out of the Hell Gate like a broken dam, every shape and form—howling beasts, blade-limbed horrors, winged reapers that fed on magic.
The police had long since retreated.
The London military formed a final perimeter.
The Hunters, the Saints, the Paladins, and the Captains?
They stood in front of it all.
---
Captain Ethan – Black Knights
Ethan moved like a storm in armor.
His sword was massive—too heavy for any normal man—but in his hand, it danced like a feather. Every swing carved through demon hide, sending limbs and heads flying.
> "Keep the pressure on!" he roared, voice sharp. "Mizuno, pull the wounded back!"
Vice-Captain Mizuno, quick as lightning, appeared beside fallen teammates, warping space to yank them out before finishing off a charging brute with a burst of kinetic blades.
> "Don't die on my watch!" she hissed, wiping blood from her face.
---
Captain John Cooper – Golden Eagle
John Cooper was methodical.
He stood behind his front line, shotgun blazing holy rounds, giving sharp orders to his squad like a chess master commanding knights.
> "Cover the right! Switch to silver rounds! Eric, break the pack at the fountain!"
Vice-Captain Eric James Harper dove forward with a riot shield glowing with lightning sigils, bashing a group of Howlers into a building wall and finishing them with a blast of compressed air.
> "Golden Eagle! Fall in! Break line, reform wedge!"
> "ON YOU, CAPTAIN!"
---
Captain Brixton Marco – Blue Fangs
Brixton was already drenched in blood.
His curved blades dripped demon ichor, and his coat was slashed to ribbons. But his eyes were locked forward—sharp, precise, and absolutely thrilled.
> "More! Give me something worth bleeding for!"
Beside him, Vice-Captain Seowon Lee danced through a pack of Brutes, giggling as she carved symbols into their legs and necks.
> "Captain, they're so dumb it's adorable!"
> "Then make 'em uglier."
Their blades crossed in a spiral of silver, slicing down a winged brute in perfect synchronicity.
---
Captain Alexis Delo Santos – Thunderbird
She didn't speak.
She didn't need to.
She was thunder incarnate.
Lightning arced from her glaive, her presence crackling with electricity that sent demons flailing as their nerves fried before her weapon even touched them.
> "Vice Miller, clean up west flank."
Jake Miller, covered in soot, replied with a grin: "With pleasure."
Thunderbird squad dove into formation, their entire line sparking with volts as they surged toward the left wing—burning monsters alive in brilliant arcs of blue-white flame.
---Glitch
Captain Chloe Natalie – Former Falling Sword
The only survivor of her original squad, Chloe fought like she was already dead.
Her twin-bladed scythe spun like a wheel of vengeance, each strike a tribute to those who'd fallen under Lancer's hand.
She moved silently—ghostlike—cutting Shroud Walkers with eerie precision. Her body bled. Her arms shook. But her will didn't falter.
> "This is for Vane," she whispered, slicing clean through a demon's mask.
> "For Iro. For Kel. For all of them."
She didn't stop.
---
Captain Ron Ji-Wu – Dark Void
He was calm.
Too calm.
Tattooed from throat to fingertips, Ron stood in the middle of a swarm—motionless—as demonic blades struck at his arms, chest, face—
And passed straight through him.
The tattoos glowed.
Then moved.
Dragons coiled from his skin and came to life, roaring as they bit into demons and dragged them into the shadows.
> "Zedric," he called softly.
Vice-Captain Zedric Lee nodded, pulling from his back a pair of spectral pistols.
> "Let's paint this place black."
Shadow wolves and ink serpents surged from their bodies, turning the battlefield into a blur of death and illusions.
---
Vice-Captains Blake Baker and Wo Raflaga – Black Dragons
Blake was flame and fury. His dragon tattoo glowed, and with every punch, fire erupted like a war god was carving a path through hell.
Wo, his accent thick, words barely making sense, slammed his bat into a demon's skull.
> "We burn them all, bruh! Like lechon on Christmas!"
> "Can you try to make sense—never mind! Just swing!"
Together, they waded through enemies, laughing and shouting in the middle of a storm.
---
The Captains stood.
And held.
But the Gate wasn't done.
It pulsed again.
Harder.
A tear ripped open the sky. The earth cracked. Buildings groaned.
From deep within the portal—
A shadow stepped forward.
Twice as tall as any Brute.
Cloaked in volcanic ash.
Eyes like molten gold.
The Hell Gate Guardian had arrived.
And it was smiling.
Time: 9:27 AM
The sky looked bruised.
Purple and red smears stretching above the broken skyline.
The Hell Gate pulsed with every minute.
Each beat spat more demons—some winged, some on fire, some too twisted to name.
The buildings around it cracked like bones under pressure.
Amidst the chaos—Maya and her team rejoined the main frontline.
Yumi was already slashing her way forward, blades glowing like angry butterflies.
Alicia barked orders while reloading. Emily's blood spears whistled through the air, forming a defensive net. Kliev moved through the enemy like a phantom.
But Maya's eyes scanned the wall of advancing horrors—and landed on someone familiar.
White cloak. Sword of light. Eyes like sharpened judgment.
Alex.
He was cutting through demons like a man possessed. No hesitation. No mercy. No wasted movement.
He pivoted, cleaving through a hulking armored beast, then parried a blow from another demon's molten cleaver—and nearly took a scythe to the throat before—
Maya dropped beside him, blade-first.
Her sword caught the scythe, spun it around, then shattered it with a twist of her wrist. She elbowed the demon in the face, kicked it back—
And Alex, without missing a beat, decapitated it.
Their backs met for a moment.
Neither spoke.
Another wave came.
> "Still alive, vampire?" Alex grunted, slashing at a red-fanged beast.
> "Still judgmental, holy knight?" Maya fired back, cutting down two fast-crawlers that leapt at him from the side.
They moved in sync.
Steel and shadow.
Light and blood.
It was an impossible picture—a vampire fighting side by side with a warrior of the Church.
But war had no room for politics.
Not when death came in waves.
A hissing demon surged from behind Alex.
Maya ducked under its claws, stabbed upward through its jaw, and pushed it back toward him.
He raised his blade and cut down through it like a divine gavel.
> "You move well," he muttered.
> "I've been trained," she replied. "You're not too bad for a fanatic."
> "Funny. You sound like someone I buried once."
> "You fight like someone who forgot why they fight."
> "…Touché."
---
As more demons emerged from the Gate, the area around them grew thick with smoke and blood.
Other captains were pulling back to regroup.
But Maya and Alex stood.
Breathing.
Scarred.
United—for now.
> "This is insane," Maya said between breaths.
> "No argument," Alex replied. "This is Hell… but on Earth."
A huge demon brute roared in front of them, cleaving down through the broken pavement.
Alex raised his sword, preparing a holy strike—
Maya leapt forward, blade spinning in crimson trails—
And together, they brought the monster down.
The impact sent shockwaves across the field.
---
They both stood over the body, panting slightly.
Steam rose off Alex's blade.
Blood dripped from Maya's katana.
> "He's still not here," Alex muttered after a moment, not looking at her.
Maya didn't need to ask who he meant.
> "He'll come."
> "You sure?"
> "I know him."
> "So did I," Alex said, voice low.
He sheathed his sword, slowly.
> "And I ruined him."
Maya looked at him sharply.
> "What?"
But Alex shook his head. "Later."
He stepped past her, rejoining the line, rallying with the remaining Paladins.
Maya turned toward her own squad.
But something in her chest felt heavier now.
Because she saw it too:
> The part of Alex that wasn't just a killer.
> But a man who once stood in the same home as Deyviel—until he burned it down.
---
Far above, the Hell Gate Guardian let out a growl.
The final pulse had begun.
The real fight was still ahead.
And Deyviel?
He was still missing.
Time: 9:42 AM
The Hell Gate no longer pulsed.
It throbbed.
Like a dying star trying to force itself back into the world of the living.
The very air turned thick, wet, and heavy, as if reality itself struggled to hold back what was climbing out.
Thunder cracked in reverse.
The sky bled black.
The light bent unnaturally.
And then—
It stepped through.
---
Luciferus.
The Demon King of Hell.
The Avatar of Destruction.
And the Guardian of the Seventh Primordial Weapon.
He didn't just emerge.
He unfolded.
First came the miasma—not fog, not smoke, but a blackness that slithered like it had teeth.
It rolled over the field, slick and venomous, dragging itself through cracks and corpses.
Any soldier it touched began to twist—skin bubbling, eyes bleeding, screams gurgling—
Turning into snarling, low-rank demons if they carried hatred, regret, envy, or grief in their hearts.
Several civilians watching from barricades began to convulse.
A young private dropped his rifle and howled—claws bursting through his skin as he tore his own throat out in frenzy.
The ground wilted.
The stone itself cried steam.
And then his feet landed on Earth.
---
He stood at least four meters tall, but hunched, like gravity couldn't handle his presence.
Skin: Translucent and stretched tight, like wet paper pulled over twisted bone and blackened sinew. Veins pulsed with magma. Runes moved under his flesh like worms made of flame.
Face: A crown of antlers made from petrified spine twisted out of his skull. His jaw was split in three, opening vertically, filled with black teeth in every direction.
Eyes: Not eyes. Mouths. Each socket was a whispering, grinning maw, mouthing forgotten languages.
Torso: His ribs were exposed, each shaped like screaming faces, frozen in agony. The center of his chest pulsed with a giant, slow-beating heart made of red crystal.
Legs: Digitigrade and reversed. Hooves cracked the pavement, leaving behind pentagram scars.
Wings: Six enormous limbs of corrupted light, sprouting like jagged spears from his back. They pulsed with red sigils, their motion tearing holes in the air behind him.
From the center of his back, a tail of chains dragged, clanking like a thousand cursed bells.
And floating above him like hungry stars—
DeLucefearus.
Six swords—five orbiting, one in hand.
Each sword glowed a different shade of blood-red, etched with cursed scripture. They hummed with pressure, crackling with sounds like voices screaming underwater.
Each sword represented a sin.
Each sword carried a wing.
Each sword could erase armies.
He held one like a scepter.
Pointing toward the mortal world.
And he smiled.
Not with his mouth.
But with the entire sky darkening behind him.
---
Soldiers began to falter.
Even seasoned hunters took a step back.
Paladins froze.
Civilians fled.
Even some demons bowed.
He was not just a Guardian.
He was the End wearing skin.
---
Alex clenched his sword tighter, the aura making his muscles feel like lead.
Maya's eyes narrowed, stepping in front of her squad.
Kliev whispered something in a language no longer spoken.
Yumi muttered, "Is that thing… really beatable?"
Emily didn't speak.
Neither did Alicia.
---
And then—
Far away.
On top of the Shard, the tallest remaining tower near the battlefield—
He stood.
Alone.
A black coat catching the wind.
Hair whipped by the storm.
Eyes locked—not on the chaos.
Not on the screaming.
But on him.
Luciferus.
---
Deyviel said nothing.
No quip.
No scream.
No battle cry.
He simply watched.
As if this was always going to happen.
As if he knew the Devil was here for him.
He took a breath.
Then stepped onto the ledge—
And jumped.
To be continued..