For a moment, Shade's mind went completely blank.
He stood frozen in place, motionless for what felt like an eternity.
Voronov let out a relieved sigh.
"So it's just a snot-nosed brat. For a second, I thought you were one of those damn hounds chasing me," he grumbled irritably.
Relaxing his stance, he walked toward Shade with calm, deliberate steps — neither too fast nor too slow.
Looking at the boy's scrawny frame, Voronov couldn't help but scoff.
"What a pitiful little body… but no matter. At least his blood might help me recover a bit."
As he spoke, two sharp fangs extended from the corners of his mouth.
Now standing right before Shade, he leaned in, ready to sink his teeth into the boy's neck — but suddenly, Shade's eyes snapped open, and his body jerked backward.
Voronov stared in disbelief.
"What? How did this brat break free from my killing intent so quickly?"
His sharp gaze swept over Shade from head to toe, but he found nothing remarkable. The boy looked completely ordinary.
Meanwhile, Shade gasped for breath, trembling, his face pale with terror — like someone who had just awakened from a nightmare.
"Damn it… I'm screwed!" he cursed inwardly.
Just moments ago, he had felt the presence of countless red, monstrous figures swarming toward him — all trying to kill him in different ways.
Luckily, his mental fortitude had saved him. Otherwise, he might already be dead at the hands of the creature before him.
Realizing that staying still meant death, Shade spun around and bolted.
Voronov sneered.
"Hey, brat! You think you can escape from me?"
In an instant, a stream of blood-like liquid shot out from his body, racing after Shade.
Shade stumbled and fell. The crimson liquid instantly coiled around him, tightening like a snake.
The harder he struggled, the tighter it bound him.
Seeing the boy's panic, Voronov smiled cruelly.
"It's been a while since I had this much fun with my prey…"
He approached, his red eyes gleaming with contempt.
"Under normal circumstances, a talentless thing like you wouldn't even be fit to lick my boots. But since today is special, I'll make an exception."
He leaned closer, voice dripping with mockery.
"Tell me, boy… would you like to serve your master with body and soul?"
Shade's body went rigid. He could feel something tugging at his very soul.
"N-no… I won't!" he managed to choke out.
Voronov's smile vanished, his face hardening in anger. He hadn't expected to be defied by such a lowly being.
"You fool…" he hissed. "Then don't blame me for what happens next!"
In a flash, he lunged, fangs aimed straight for Shade's neck.
Shade's eyes widened in terror. He tried to move, but his body wouldn't respond — completely paralyzed.
Voronov's fangs were inches away—
And then—
Boom!
A sphere of blinding light slammed into Voronov's chest, hurling both of them backward.
When the smoke cleared, Voronov staggered to his feet, seething.
"You…!" he snarled.
"Heheh… hey there, ugly old monster," said a mocking voice.
Voronov's face twisted. Under normal circumstances, he could have easily slaughtered an opponent of equal strength. But now, wounded and weakened from pursuit, he could only grit his teeth in humiliation.
Arthur grinned.
"What's wrong? Can't wait for me to finish you off?"
With a roar, Voronov lunged. Arthur raised his sword just in time.
Clang!
The sound of metal clashing rang out.
Arthur's eyes widened. "He's still this strong even with those injuries?"
"This could get troublesome," he thought grimly. Determination flashed in his eyes as he gathered his strength and swung his sword with all his might.
Voronov dodged swiftly.
Whoosh!
The air split apart. Voronov swallowed hard.
"That slash… if that hit me, I'd be done for."
His expression turned grave.
The two clashed again and again, the sound of steel and surging energy echoing through the desolate alley.
Meanwhile, Shade crouched in the shadows, eyes wide in awe.
"They're incredible…" he whispered.
"Wait… is that Hunter Arthur? The one I've seen on TV? Amazing… so young and already that powerful! No wonder so many girls adore him. When this is over, I have to thank him!"
Shade felt sure Arthur would win. With his fame and strength — and Voronov's weakened state — how could he lose?
Still, he rubbed his sore cheek with a groan.
"Ugh… my face still hurts."
When Arthur launched that light sphere, Shade had caught part of the blast. Not enough to harm him seriously — unlike Voronov, whose vampiric body had suffered far more — but enough to sting.
"Well, whatever. He saved my life. A little bruise is worth it," he muttered.
The battle raged on. At first, they were evenly matched, but soon, Voronov began to falter.
Shade let out a breath of relief. It's almost over.
He didn't dare move — not out of courage, but fear. Something told him that if he tried to run, Voronov would notice and come straight for him.
So he stayed still, watching, his breath shallow. For him, this was a rare chance to witness a clash between two great powers — a lesson worth remembering for someone who dreamed of becoming strong.
And most importantly, Voronov was clearly losing.
The vampire's movements grew sluggish. His left hand, numbed from deflecting Arthur's strikes, hung uselessly.
"I can't keep this up," he muttered bitterly. "If this goes on, I'll die here."
Arthur didn't look much better. His clothes were torn, his once neat blond hair now a disheveled mess.
He knew he had to end this soon — because in a fight like this, one mistake could mean death.
Both combatants grew more cautious, waiting for even the smallest opening. The duel slowed, tense and heavy.
In the corner, Shade shifted slightly. His body had gone numb from staying still too long.
But that tiny movement — that faint sound — drew both fighters' attention.
Arthur and Voronov turned toward him at once.
Arthur exhaled when he saw it was just Shade.
Voronov, on the other hand, looked furious. The brat was still alive — and had distracted him.
"Damn you… I'll drain you dry after this!" he growled.
The fight resumed.
But then, Voronov's eyes lit up with sudden realization.
"Ah… why didn't I think of that before?"
In a flash, he vanished.
Arthur's brow furrowed. "Did he run? Or… is this a trap?"
Uncertain, he cautiously followed.
Meanwhile, Shade sighed in relief. "If he's gone… that means I can go home!"
But fate had other plans.
Before either Arthur or Shade realized it, Voronov reappeared — right beside the boy.
Shade froze as the vampire seized him by the collar and pressed a cold blade to his neck.
"Don't move! Take one more step, and the boy dies!" Voronov snarled.
Arthur stopped dead, eyes wide.
Shade's entire body trembled. The chill of steel and the trickle of blood down his neck made him want to scream — but all he could think was: I'm going to die.
Arthur slowly lowered his sword.
"All right… I won't follow you. Just don't hurt him."
Voronov smirked. "Good. Now drop your weapon — or I'll slit his throat right here."
Arthur hesitated.
"I said drop it!" Voronov barked.
A thin stream of blood slid down Shade's pale skin. His face was ghostly white, barely conscious.
Finally, Arthur complied, letting his sword fall with a clatter. He feigned fear — exactly what Voronov wanted.
The vampire chuckled darkly. "Hah. Fools like you are always so predictable."
But before he could take another step—
Thrust!
A golden blur pierced through his chest — and Shade's.
Voronov's eyes widened in disbelief. His hostage… had been run through along with him.
Shade stared down at the blade sticking from his body. His mouth opened, but no sound came. Then his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.
He had never imagined that the hero adored by millions would be the one to strike him down.
Arthur gazed at the two bodies before him, expressionless.
"Naive," he muttered coldly. "No true hunter keeps a pure heart. Power demands sacrifice."
He had long stopped believing that strength and righteousness could coexist.
Voronov, seething with rage, glared at him.
Arthur tensed, expecting one final desperate attack — but instead, Voronov sank his fangs into Shade's body.
Arthur frowned. "He's… drinking the boy's blood? To heal himself?"
Suddenly, a black crow burst from Voronov's cloak, clutching a black cube. It flew off into the distance.
Arthur hesitated, torn between pursuit and battle.
His indecision didn't last long — Voronov lunged at him again.
Arthur blocked the strike, sparks flying, then countered — his sword slashing across Voronov's chest.
This time, Voronov didn't dodge.
Slash!
The blade cut him clean from abdomen to chest.
Blood sprayed. The vampire smiled weakly, his fangs stained crimson.
As he sank to his knees, flashes of memory flooded his mind — grief, anger, and regret.
Once, he had been an ordinary civilian with dreams of becoming a hunter. But with no talent and no connections, that dream had died young.
Until one day, he awakened a rare power — the ability to merge with animals. The first creature he fused with was a bat.
At first, he was thrilled. He finally had the strength he'd longed for.
But his body changed — pale skin, red eyes, sharp fangs — and people began calling him a monster.
He was shunned, hunted by those who claimed to serve justice and mercy.
He had tried to endure it… until the day they killed his family.
Blinded by grief, he swore:
"If you call me a wicked vampire… then I'll become one for real!"
From then on, his life became an endless flight from death. He killed to survive — and the more he killed, the more people hunted him.
Yet as his power grew, his pursuers dwindled. The noble families who once targeted him realized that without elite hunters, their efforts were useless.
Then came stagnation. Desperate to break his limits, Voronov searched for answers — and discovered that many nobles were vampires too.
But unlike him, they weren't hunted.
He couldn't understand why.
Until he uncovered the truth: those families didn't want other "vampires" outside their bloodlines. They wanted a monopoly over the power.
And worse — rogues like him were captured and used as breeding stock to strengthen those families' bloodlines.
That revelation drove him mad with rage.
He began hunting the noble vampires in turn — stealing their secrets, their knowledge, their strength — in a twisted crusade for vengeance.
Everything went according to plan… until he heard rumors of a relic that could make him stronger.
He took the bait — and walked into a trap.
Barely surviving, he had fled, wounded and broken… until he met Shade and Arthur.
Now, staring down at the unconscious boy in his arms, Voronov felt a surge of sorrow and realization.
He finally understood — he had become exactly like those he hated.
A monster who killed, used, and destroyed for selfish reasons.
Regret welled up inside him. He wondered when his humanity had disappeared.
But it was too late. Redemption would never come for him — not after all the innocent blood he'd spilled.
For the first time, a faint smile crossed his face.
In a trembling whisper, he said,
"I hope… the little gift I left you… serves you well, boy."
Then his tall frame collapsed — like a dying tree consumed by fire.
Arthur stared at the fallen body, stunned. He hadn't expected that final blow to truly end it.
But the gaping wound in Voronov's chest left no doubt.
Cautiously, Arthur stepped forward, severed the vampire's head, and stored it away. Then he staggered off, leaving two bodies in the silent alley.
Soon, the world went still again — eerily so.
Drip.
Drip.
Rain began to fall, washing over the blood-stained ground.
After an unknown amount of time, one of the bodies stirred.
Shade slowly opened his eyes.
"Ugh… my head…" he groaned.
Cold rain hit his face as he blinked awake, disoriented.
He turned — and froze.
A headless corpse lay beside him.
"A–AHHHH!!"
After several seconds of screaming and gasping, he finally calmed down enough to think.
He looked down at his chest — and blinked.
The wound was gone. Completely healed.
Memories came rushing back — the fangs, the blade, the pain.
He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling for a heartbeat.
A moment passed — and then he exhaled in relief.
"Still warm… and my heart's beating. Good. I'm not a vampire."
But a question gnawed at him.
"Then… what happened? How did I come back?"
Before he could think further, his stomach growled. The thought of his family waiting for him jolted him into panic.
Without hesitation, he ran home. The stench of blood filled the rain-soaked streets, making him gag — but fear drove him faster.
Fortunately, nothing attacked him on the way. He made it home safely.
But when he entered the house, unease crept up his spine. It was far too quiet.
He stepped inside cautiously, hoping his family was simply asleep.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The silence was so heavy that even the sound of raindrops echoed through the room.
Then — a cry broke the stillness.
"Mom! Uwaaah! Mom, please don't be sick! Wake up!"
"Brother! Where are you? Lumira's scared!"
Shade's pupils shrank. He dashed toward his mother's room.
There, he found his little sister sobbing beside their mother, who lay struggling to breathe.
"Mom!" Shade shouted.
"Brother! Where were you? She won't wake up!" Lumira cried.
Trying to calm her, Shade turned to his mother — and realized in horror that her condition had worsened.
For a long moment, he froze — helpless. His healing spell, Light Lantern, wasn't strong enough to save her.
But with no other choice, he tried anyway.
A gentle glow enveloped her body.
Instead of soothing her, her body convulsed violently — as if two opposing forces clashed within her.
Panicked, Shade examined her energy flow. The corruption inside her was far stronger than his healing light.
Now her body had become a battlefield between two powers — corrosion and light — tearing her apart.
Shade bit his lip, trembling with frustration. He hated himself — for being weak, for being useless when it mattered most.
Then, from deep within his soul, three faint lights began to flicker.
At first, he ignored them — too focused on his mother. But when his mind brushed against one of them by accident, knowledge flooded into his head.
He learned that he possessed a special ability — one that allowed him to fuse two skills into a single, more powerful one.
Shade's eyes widened. He immediately focused his will, merging his two weakest spells — Light Lantern and Candlelight— hoping the result could save her.
Swoosh!
The two orbs of light spun together, intertwining under his control.
And from their fusion… a new, mysterious spell began to take form.