Kiss of the vampire "the Girl with the Sharp sword" volume 2
Mission 24 : The Price of Being a Savior
A hero's path isn't paved with glory, but graves. And sometimes, the world still asks for more.
Time: 9:52 AM
The ruins of London trembled beneath the weight of three monsters.
Lucifearus. Towering. Laughing.
Lancer. Silent. Deadly.
And Deyviel. No longer bound by restraint. No longer holding back.
The ground cracked as Deyviel lunged—sword drawn, his Red Queen now igniting in a blaze of crimson arcs. He spun midair, his draconic arm flaring to life, grabbing Lancer's incoming blade mid-strike and twisting his entire body around, slamming the Vampire King into Lucifearus's gut.
The impact knocked the demon king back—just a step. But enough.
Deyviel didn't stop.
He drove forward, boots skidding across debris, shifting his momentum as he used Nero-style tricks—launching his Red Queen upward, riding its recoil to gain height, and drop-kicking Lancer off a crumbling wall. Then he yanked his demonic arm backward—and the blade snapped back into his hand like a magnet.
> "Is that it?!" Deyviel barked, panting, rage simmering beneath his skin. "You two spent centuries planning this and that's all you've got!?"
Lucifearus chuckled, licking the blood from his lip.
> "Feisty. But you're fraying at the seams, Chosen One."
Lancer, wiping ash from his shoulder, narrowed his eyes.
> "You're bleeding too much. Your stance is weakening."
Deyviel spat blood onto the stone.
> "Still standing though, bitch."
And with a roar, he charged again.
Clang! Deyviel locked blades with Lancer—only for Lucifearus to flank him, swinging his massive blade low. Deyviel jumped, rolled midair, then landed on Lucifearus's arm—using it as a springboard to kick off and strike Lancer's side.
But this time…
They were waiting for him.
Lucifearus's cursed sword pierced his shoulder.
Lancer's blade sliced across his ribs.
Deyviel staggered—blood dripping. His breathing labored. His demonic power was burning too fast.
> "Tch... damn it. Still not enough...?"
---
Suddenly—
A blast of black ice scattered the battlefield.
Catherine descended like a phantom. Her form flickered in frost and crimson, her Crimson Palace aura trailing behind like spectral wings.
> "Move!" she shouted, sliding beside Deyviel and freezing Lancer's advance with a rising pillar of glacial blood.
Lucifearus's eyes narrowed.
> "Ah… the Ice Queen finally picks a side?"
> "I haven't," Catherine hissed. "But I'm not letting either of you kill him."
Deyviel grunted, leaning back-to-back with her.
> "Didn't think you'd show up."
> "Don't get used to it."
---
Elsewhere—
A figure leapt from the rooftop—Alex, now possessed by the Avatar, his aura twisted with divine corruption and holy malice. His blade glowed unnaturally.
He was heading straight for Deyviel—
Until a blur intercepted him.
Maya.
Her blade locked with his mid-air, grinding steel against steel.
> "You're not touching him!" she barked.
Alex's eyes glowed with eerie calm.
> "You don't understand. I'm saving him."
> "No… you're becoming the thing he fought to resist."
They clashed again—Maya's blade sparking against Alex's. Their fight spun off to the eastern flank, as their blades danced in a flurry of brutal slashes.
---
Back at the center—
Catherine froze the air, creating a path for Deyviel to launch himself forward. He soared, blade roaring, catching both Lancer and Lucifearus in a diagonal sweep—slashing their defenses open before landing in a skid beside Catherine.
She glanced at him, blood on her cheek, lips trembling just slightly.
> "You good?"
> "No. But they're about to be worse."
He raised Red Queen again.
---
Time: 9:58 AM
The battlefield was chaos. The city—crumbling.
The hunters—spread thin.
Alex and Maya—locked in a tragic battle.
Catherine and Deyviel—standing against two of the oldest monsters.
But in that moment, just for a second, they weren't legends.
They were survivors.
And they weren't done yet.
Mission 24: The Ashes of the Past
Time: 10:07 AM
The ground was scarred by divine and demonic energy. Craters steamed. Buildings lay cracked and broken. Amid it all, Deyviel and Catherine stood shoulder to shoulder, bloodied but unyielding, facing the two devils—Lancer and Lucifearus.
Each clash of steel was brutal. Deyviel's Red Queen screamed through the air, while Catherine's frost-weapons chipped at Lancer's defenses. The dance of death intensified, each move meant to kill—not wound, not delay—kill.
But even in the thick of it, something in Catherine's face changed.
A memory stirred.
---
FLASHBACK: Long Ago in the Frozen Palace
Catherine laughed, softer back then, with less weight on her shoulders.
Snowflakes fell outside the tall glass window. Inside, by the fire, she and her twin sister—Maya's mother—shared a rare moment of warmth.
> "You know," her sister grinned, teasing as she braided her hair, "You should really find yourself a husband. One who can keep up with you."
> "Tch," Catherine smirked. "What man wants a queen who freezes everything she touches?"
> "Then find one who burns bright enough to melt you," her sister said with a wink.
Catherine rolled her eyes but smiled—genuinely.
> "You'll make a better queen than I ever will."
Her sister tapped her nose.
> "We're twins. So if I do, it means you could too. You just have to let yourself love."
---
Present Time
> CLANG!!
Catherine was knocked back by a shockwave. Deyviel caught her wrist, anchoring her.
> "Still with me?"
> "...Yeah. Just remembered something stupid."
They launched forward again.
But then—Lancer froze.
Lucifearus blinked, confused—
> "What are you doing?"
Lancer was grinning.
> "Finishing what I started… Brother."
With a sharp twist of Artemis, Lancer drove it straight through Lucifearus's gut, catching the Demon King off guard.
> "WHA—?!"
Lucifearus roared in betrayal. Dark blood spewed.
> "You—traitorous bastard! You betrayed us once… and now again? For power?!"
Lancer yanked the sword free, shoving Lucifearus down. The demon's legs buckled. From his back—
Five swords spun and hovered, glowing crimson.
DeLucefearus.
The Primordial Weapon once sealed with the demon king—now claimed by the betrayer.
The weapon sang as it floated into Lancer's hand, resonating with his madness.
> "You always talked about fate," Lancer said coldly. "Now become part of mine."
Lucifearus reached out with a claw—
And Lancer decapitated him.
The demon king's head fell, his body disintegrating into smoke and flame.
For a moment, silence.
Then—
> "HAHAHAHAHAH!"
Lancer threw his head back in maniacal laughter, the power overwhelming, intoxicating.
> "I HAVE IT! I HAVE IT ALL!!"
Deyviel's face was locked in horror.
> "No..."
Lancer looked down.
> "Now, little hero—die like the rest of your kind."
---
10:10 AM
Deyviel blinked—
Too late.
Lancer vanished, reappearing behind Deyviel in a flicker of red light. His massive sword raised, gleaming with the essence of hell.
But—
> SHINK!
Catherine stepped between them.
Time seemed to stop.
The DeLucefearus blade pierced her chest, jutting out through her back. Frost instantly bloomed across the metal.
Her lips trembled. Blood dripped down her chin.
> "Catherine?!" Deyviel shouted, eyes wide.
She smiled weakly.
> "Told you... this world still had something worth protecting."
Her hand cupped his face. Ice-cold.
> "Please… save the world. Don't let them win."
> "And take care of my niece…"
Her body glowed.
The frost around her turned to vapor.
And like snow on a warm palm—
Catherine crumbled into ash.
---
> "NO!!!" Deyviel roared.
His knees hit the ground as her final particles scattered to the wind.
Lancer just laughed—face twisted.
> "One down. How many more do you want to lose, 'hero'?"
Deyviel's hands trembled.
The dragon arm clenched. His breath hitched.
And his eyes began to burn.
"ALEX, WAIT—!"
Maya's voice cracked as she reached out, her body already bruised from the chaos. She tried to step forward, but—
Too late.
The cursed knight turned, eyes no longer his own. Black veins coiled around his face like cracks in porcelain. His aura had shifted—cold, furious, inhuman.
> "Get out of my way," Alex said, voice low and guttural. "You're not the one I came for."
> "You're not yourself," Maya pleaded, her blade trembling in her hands. "Stop this—Deyviel needs help, not more blood—"
But Alex didn't stop.
He surged forward.
Steel flashed.
Maya screamed as his blade slashed across her abdomen—clean, deep, cruel. She collapsed, coughing blood as she fell onto the rubble-strewn street.
> "M-Maya!!" Emily's voice echoed somewhere in the distance, but Maya couldn't respond.
Her world was blurring. Her body frozen. All she could do was watch—watch him walk away.
The skies above the hell gate were bleeding red.
Lucifearus' presence still lingered like poison. But now—
Alex stood beside Lancer and Deyviel, three forces in a collision course that could rip the world apart.
Deyviel's gaze snapped toward Alex as the corrupted knight slowly approached, blood still dripping from his sword.
> "You…!" Deyviel's voice wavered, rage twisting his features. "What did you do?!"
> "She was in my way," Alex said coldly.
> "I'LL KILL YOU!"
Deyviel lunged, blade roaring.
CLANG!
Alex met his swing head-on. Their weapons screamed against each other, sparks flying, the sheer force of the collision knocking over what little remained of the surrounding ruins.
Lancer, standing to the side, chuckled darkly—watching the two tear at each other like rabid dogs.
> "Look at you two," he said, raising his arm as four primordial weapons floated behind him. "Fighting over scraps... while the world burns around you."
> "Shut. Your. Mouth!" Deyviel growled.
He turned and launched at Lancer, sword blazing.
But Alex was right behind him.
It was chaos.
A brutal, whirling dance of death—
Steel on steel.
Fire against shadow.
A cursed knight. A vengeful hero. A tyrant king.
And behind it all, Maya bled in silence, the world spinning—unable to scream. Her fingers curled weakly toward the three silhouettes locked in that titanic war.
> "Please… Deyviel… don't fall again."
Steel clashed.
Sparks flew.
The battlefield trembled.
Deyviel blocked Lancer's cleaving strike just as Alex's blade carved toward his side. He twisted, barely dodging—panting, bleeding, staggering with every breath.
Lucifearus was dead.
But now… this was worse.
Lancer, empowered by five primordial weapons, moved like a monster unshackled. His strikes sent shockwaves. His presence crushed the ground. And Alex—no longer himself—had joined the chaos, cursed and consumed, a puppet of something greater.
Deyviel was drowning in the fight.
> "Tch…"
"Too slow... again."
He looked around.
Maya was collapsed. Bleeding. Motionless.
His hand trembled.
He was going to lose them all. Again.
> "No... not this time."
His chest burned. His pulse roared in his ears.
Then the draconic sigil on his right arm blazed to life. His heart throbbed violently—like it was being crushed inside his chest.
> "I can't win like this…"
> "Then I'll burn for it."
---
He slammed his sword into the ground and raised his right arm. The dragon's soul within stirred—violently.
The veins in his neck bulged. Blood poured from his nose. Then his mouth.
A harsh wheeze escaped him. His muscles twitched as if something inside was tearing its way out.
Then it did.
His right arm exploded in flame and scale—a draconic gauntlet ripping through skin and bone. Black markings crawled up his shoulder to his neck, fangs extending as his eyes turned full gold—slit pupils locked on his enemies.
His legs cracked with a sickening crunch as talon-like feet formed, and two unstable wings tore from his back—fluttering like they didn't know if they were real.
Hair turned white. Eyes glowed. And Deyviel stood taller. Sharper. More feral.
But not whole. Not complete.
> "His body wasn't ready," Lancer muttered with narrowed eyes.
"That's a hatchling form… it's killing him just to hold it."
---
Deyviel stumbled forward, coughing again—this time more violently. Blood splattered on his chest.
> "Dammit…" he muttered, voice distorted, heavy.
"This isn't enough…"
His arms trembled.
His legs felt like stone.
And still, he roared—
> "BUT I'LL FIGHT ANYWAY!!"
He blurred from view.
---
Alex didn't see it coming.
A savage backhand crushed into his ribs, sending him flying into rubble.
Deyviel spun mid-air and clashed with Lancer. Claws met blades. Horns against helm.
> "RAAAAHHHHHH!!!"
Stone shattered beneath them.
Lancer gritted his teeth, muscles straining.
> "How the hell are you still fighting?!"
> "I'M DONE LOSING!!"
With one burst of rage, Deyviel delivered a brutal uppercut, slamming Lancer through a wall.
---
But then—
His knee buckled.
He dropped for a split second.
> "Shit…"
He stood again. Shaking. Panting. Eyes bloodshot.
His skin was pale. Chest heaving. Blood trickled from his ears.
His body was breaking down.
---
But he didn't stop.
He couldn't.
Maya lay broken behind him.
Denver was gone.
And now Alex…
No. No more loss.
> "If it kills me," he muttered, stumbling forward. "Then so be it…"
---
Alex returned to the battle, silent and cursed—his eyes glowing with malice as he rejoined the fight.
It was chaos.
Steel against steel.
Flame against blood.
Rage against ruin.
And Deyviel stood in the middle—burning his life away just to hold the line.
Lancer screamed as Deyviel's claws tore through his stomach.
His black armor cracked apart as the final blow landed—a brutal, vertical slash from Deyviel's sword, Red Queen, empowered by the last ounce of dragon flame pulsing in his fading veins.
The Vampire King staggered back—his fangs bared in disbelief.
> "You… brat…!"
His form began to break—flesh disintegrating, bones turning to ash, primordial power leaking from every pore.
Deyviel, chest heaving, skin pale, stood soaked in blood—not all of it his enemies'.
> "I told you…"
"This time… I kill you."
Lancer's form ignited into dust, his scream echoing through the ruins like a dying curse. The battlefield trembled.
Deyviel stood tall.
Broken.
Bleeding.
But alive.
And around him—the last six primordial weapons hovered, glowing red and black with power:
Alastor
Artemis
Ifrit
Agni & Rudra
And the monstrous blade of DeLucefearus
They drifted in the air, beckoning.
He reached for them—the weapons that could finally turn the tide.
But then—
His feet left the ground.
For a brief second, Deyviel didn't understand why.
Then he saw it.
> A blade pierced clean through his chest.
From behind.
Through lung. Through ribs. Through heart.
His eyes widened.
His mouth opened—but no sound came out, just a blood-choked gasp.
A calm, mocking voice spoke behind him:
> "Ah… I didn't think you'd actually finish the Vampire King on your own, brat."
"But you've made my job so much easier."
With effortless cruelty, the man holding the blade lifted Deyviel like a rag doll—then slammed him into the ground.
Bones crunched.
Blood exploded from his mouth.
Deyviel groaned, barely conscious. He reached out—grabbed the man's ankle.
But the white-robed figure just kicked his face with surgical precision.
Deyviel's body skidded across the rubble—dragging blood across the stones.
The man walked slowly toward the weapons, letting his flowing robes drag behind him. He reached out—and one by one, the primordial weapons floated to his hands, obedient and silent.
> "Such power…"
"Such beautiful, divine wrath."
He turned at last—and revealed his face.
The Evangelist Patriarch.
The Pope.
The so-called voice of the gods.
> "Pity," he said, cold and detached. "You had so much potential."
> "But in the end, you were always unworthy."
---
Deyviel, bleeding out, forced his eyes open.
> "You devil… pant... why…? Why betray your own kind?!"
The Pope crouched in front of him.
His eyes glowed with a hollow, inhuman light.
> "Because I was chosen."
> "Not by false kings. Not by ancient dragons. But by the Outer Gods themselves."
He gripped Deyviel's chin, forcing his head up.
> "You? You were always too soft. Too broken. Too human."
"They needed a vessel. A strong one. Not a fractured soul still clinging to dead cats and childhood ghosts."
Deyviel gurgled a breath, fury boiling behind the pain.
> "Elisia… my family… the kids… Momo… You—"
> "Yes," the Pope said, smiling gently like a priest at confession.
> "It was I who sent the order."
"I told Alex what had to be done. They were unclean. Your father was shielding monsters. The children had tainted blood."
"The cat, well… collateral."
He shrugged.
> "And Alex obeyed. Out of twisted love for you. You should thank him."
Deyviel's body trembled.
> "You… fucking… monster."
The Pope stood.
> "Look around you, hero."
Deyviel's eyes fluttered as he turned his head.
And saw—
Bodies.
Scattered. Torn.
Denver. Maya. Ethan. General McDougal. Alicia. Yumi. Kliev. Emily. All of them.
Slain. Lying in pools of blood.
> "No… no… no…"
> "You killed them—! YOU—"
> "Wrong again." the Pope said with a chuckle.
"We killed them."
> "Because they chose to follow you."
He stepped forward and raised the divine sword—now pulsing with all the primordial powers fused into one unholy artifact.
Deyviel could barely move.
> "You should've died at birth. But here you are. A tragedy written in blood."
> "The gods do not need a hero."
"They need a clean slate."
--- Glitch
Deyviel spat blood and roared with the last of his strength:
> "YOU DAMN MONSTER!!"
"YOU FUCKING COWARD!!!"
"KILL ME NOW!! BUT IF YOU LET ME LIVE—"
"I SWEAR !! TO YOUR TWISTED FUCKING GODS—"
"I'LL FUCKING END YOU!!!"
The Pope smiled calmly.
> "You don't need to ask."
With a single swing—
The sword fell.
---
Deyviel's head hit the ground, eyes still wide.
Blood pooled.
Silence fell.
The Pope wiped the blade clean.
And from the shadows, Alex stepped forward.
His eyes blank.
He picked up Deyviel's severed head and stared at it for a moment.
> "Tch," he muttered.
"Pathetic."
Glitch, glitches
---
Everything went black.
Glitch.... Glitch
To be continued