Neptune ran through the red darkness of the prison. Explosions, growls, screams, and the sound of cracking bones echoed through the corridors, a song forged in hell itself. The air smelled of blood and smoke. It was pure chaos.
He sprinted toward the far-right corner of the Colosseum, heart hammering in his chest. Somewhere behind him, Astariel was locked in combat with the elf: Elion Vaesir. Their clash shook the control room apart.
Astariel's body was marked with shallow cuts, but nothing serious yet. She slid backward across the dusty ground, breathing hard, her crimson eyes locked on her opponent.
The elf stood tall, his once-golden hair matted with blood. His silver armor was cracked and filthy, the shine long gone. He gripped his foil tightly, his expression a mix of focus and fury.
He lunged.
The blade moved so fast it blurred. Astariel's vampire instincts screamed — five strikes from the right, two from the left. She blocked the first barrage, sparks flying from the impact, but couldn't react fast enough to the final pair. The foil's tip sliced her left shoulder open. Pain flashed white-hot, but she ignored it.
She countered, darting low beneath his guard, barely missing as Elion twisted aside. The elf grinned and retaliated, unleashing another storm of razor-precise slashes.
Then, he jumped back, breathing hard but smirking. "No ordinary warrior fights like that. Tell me from which Soul-Totem do you originate from?"
Astariel's expression darkened. Her chest rose and fell.
"I am one of the Soul Totems," she said, voice cold as death.
The cocky grin vanished from Elion's face. His eyes widened in disbelief. For a heartbeat, he looked like he'd seen a Soul Tyrant itself.
Then rage twisted his features.
"What is someone like you doing here?! You know what—forget it! I'll just behead you myself!"
He launched forward again, fury exploding in motion. Astariel vanished into the darkness — then reappeared at his flank. Elion's eyes widened, too late. Her claws sliced upward, tearing open his left arm.
"AAARGH!"
Screaming, Elion blurred in speed, and the two became a whirlwind of blood and steel. Their strikes filled the control room with deafening clangs, sparks, and shredded air. Blood sprayed across the cracked walls and the bloodstained carpet.
Both staggered back as the ground shook violently, a Corrupted Demon crashed through the wall. The beast, grotesque and massive, resembled a lion made of rotting flesh and bone. It landed with a thunderous roar that rattled the walls.
It fixed its wild eyes on Elion and charged. The elf's blade flashed, a storm of cuts raining down on its head. Astariel seized the moment, darting around the beast's flank and slashing from the side.
Elion slid beneath the monster's leap, and the lion's massive, bleeding head smashed into the ground with a brutal crack. Astariel twisted backward, her movements a blur as she collided with Elion again — their duel reigniting amid chaos.
Elion's fighting style was deadly, but Astariel's was something else entirely. She wasn't just a warrior, she was forged for war.
Since childhood, she had been trained to kill. Mentors from every corner of the realms had shaped her into a weapon. Her father — the Vampire King — had demanded it.
They saw her not as a daughter, but as a tool.
A weapon.
At seven years old, she could slay Corrupted Creatures without breaking a sweat, even without a Soul Vessel.
She became a monster.
A prodigy feared by her own blood.
As her strength grew, so did their fear. Her parents forbade her from forming a Soul Vessel.
But at thirteen, already one of the most skilled fighters in the Vampire Kingdom, she defied them. She created one anyway.
And that rebellion sealed her fate.
Now, that same fury burned in her eyes.
The lion-demon snarled and lunged again. Astariel ducked low, slicing its arm off in one clean stroke. Blood splattered across the floor.
Elion took advantage of the distraction, thrusting for her head. She tilted her face aside by inches, the blade missed, grazing her cheek. With lightning speed, she grabbed his arm and yanked him forward. His eyes widened, just before her fist slammed into his nose.
CRACK.
Blood sprayed as Elion was sent flying, crashing into the wooden desk with a pained cry.
The impact shattered it to splinters.
Astariel turned just in time to see the lion leap again, jaws wide. She slid beneath it, her claws carving deep gouges in its belly. The beast crashed into Elion as he tried to stand, crushing him beneath its corpse. Flesh and blood exploded across the room.
She stumbled to her feet, panting. The sirens screamed in her skull. Red light pulsed endlessly, each flash stabbing her eyes.
Elion rose from the wreckage, bleeding, furious, but alive. His once-silver armor was soaked crimson. The lion was nothing but shredded meat.
"Let me ask you again," Astariel growled. "Who are you? You're no ordinary warrior either."
Elion spat blood onto the floor, glaring at her.
"Elion Vaesir. Noble of the Elven Kingdom. I'm here to claim my second legendary charm."
He stepped forward, blood dripping from his chin.
That explained everything. His technique wasn't exceptional — but his power came from something else. A legendary charm. A relic said to have once belonged to the gods themselves. Charms beyond rare… beyond mortal reach.
And he had one.
Astariel smirked. "Pathetic, really. Using a legendary charm and still failing to kill someone weaker."
Her words hit their mark. Elion's face contorted with rage.
"Shut the hell up! I'll tear you apart, vampire pig!"
He vanished in a blur, his movements faster than before. Astariel braced herself as steel and claw clashed again, the sounds of battle drowned beneath alarms and collapsing stone. Sparks and blood filled the air.
At first, they seemed evenly matched. But exhaustion crept into Astariel's limbs. Elion didn't slow—he was relentless, his charm fueling him beyond human limits.
Then came the mistake.
She missed a parry. Elion struck hard, kicking her in the stomach with full force. The blow hurled her into the concrete wall.
CRACK.
Cracks spidered across the surface, crawling toward the ceiling. The entire structure groaned.
Elion looked up in sudden alarm. The control room was collapsing.
He turned to run,
but it was already too late.
The ceiling came down in a roar of dust and stone.