One year had passed since Lucy saw her sister vanish into a blue portal. A full year of silence about Nyra. No trace, no energy and no signature.
Nothing.
Salt Blake kept sighing in its usual chaos — but Lucy... Lucy had become sharper.
Stronger.
Deadlier.
She hunted down every creature that dared to threaten the innocent.
Fear became her signature.
During that time, RoshiShimura — the old blacksmith who had taken care of her after her parents' deaths — reappeared with a proud smile and grease-stained hands.
He brought her two new weapons, forged exclusively for her.
Rebirth, silver with red tribal engravings — like fire reborn. And Nocturne, black with silver accents — a fragment of the night trapped in metal.
Lucy accepted them with a cold expression, but her eyes betrayed her — they meant something to her.
Her office was finally open for business.
Same run-down place, with makeshift furniture, but now it had an old jukebox and a pool table in the corner.
Still nameless — and she said she wouldn't give it one until it earned it.
After a quick shower, Lucy stepped out wearing only a cropped top, black pants, boots, fingerless gloves, and her pendant resting against her chest. The phone on the table rang relentlessly, as if the call itself were desperate.
The redhead lifted the chair with her leg, dropped into it, and with a precise kick, sent the phone flying into her hand.
"Sorry, we're not open for business yet," she answered lazily.
"Barely opened this dump and I'm already getting calls... I'll start taking jobs when this place has a name."
Then she hung up.
She opened a box of donuts Harrison had left earlier and took a bite with the satisfaction of someone living through daily hells.
Then, the door opened on its own.
A man in black robes, rigid posture and a gaze sharp enough to cut, stepped inside.
Lucy eyed him up and down, took another bite of her donut, and asked:
"You the janitor? 'Cause if you are, bathroom's in the back. Hope you're quick."
The man didn't react to the taunt.
" Is your name Lucy...?"
He asked.
"Daughter... of Ulisses?"
The donut stopped inches from her lips.
Her gaze darkened, instinctively threatening.
"Who told you that?" she demanded, her voice flat.
"Your sister," he replied directly.
Lucy narrowed her eyes, her heart thudding heavier.
The man's gaze fixed on her pendant — almost reverent.
"She has a proposal for you. Please... accept it."
His voice was enigmatic, as if darkness itself spoke through him.
He suddenly gripped the table in front of him and flipped it toward her.
Lucy leapt backward in reflex, Rebirth already drawn — but the man was gone.
Vanished into thin air.
She stayed alert for a moment. Then sighed.
"A proposal, huh?" she muttered, reaching for another donut.
Just as she raised it for a bite — something sliced through the air behind her.
In an instant, multiple blades pierced through her body. Swords. Scythes.
Corrupted vampires emerged from the shadows, impaling her from every angle.
Lucy stood still for a second.
A soft sigh escaped her lips — more annoyed than hurt.
Her eyes lifted toward the vampire in front of her.
Her fist clenched.
And with one punch, she sent him crashing into the wall so hard his body exploded into fragments. She ripped off his head and twirled it casually in her fingers like a ball.
She walked calmly through the room, the broken blades still stuck in her body — treating them like minor inconveniences.
She moved toward the jukebox in the corner, glancing at the oncoming monsters.
"This party's getting wild... let's dance!"
She hit the button.
The jukebox sputtered.
She hit it again — nothing.
Lucy rolled her eyes and smacked the machine.
Finally, a heavy nu metal riff filled the air — raw, arrogant energy flooding the room.
She grinned, head slightly bobbing to the beat, and dove into the carnage.
A vampire charged — she blocked with the arm still impaled by a sword, then ripped the blade free through the creature's face.
Another attacked from behind — she spun, drew her pistol, shoved it in the vampire's mouth, and fired.
Then she twirled, dual-wielding her guns, unloading rounds in perfect rhythm with the music.
Every vampire that dared approach was reduced to dust and gore.
It was chaos — but stylish chaos.
Lucy vaulted onto the pool table, grabbed Dracallion, which rested there, and with a single slash, split the table in two. She used the halves as makeshift platforms, sliding and spinning through the air, slicing vampires apart in a fluid, deadly dance.
A bullet from Rebirth blew through one skull.
Another vampire was impaled clean through the chest by her crimson blade.
Lucy spun, kicked, fired — her movements were art, violence sculpted in motion.
When the last body hit the ground, her office was a ruin.
Broken wood, cracked walls, shattered furniture.
On the floor, one lone donut survived.
Lucy bent down to grab it —
but a pale claw stepped on it, crushing it.
The last vampire snarled.
A single bullet pierced his forehead before he could finish the sound.
Lucy walked to the coat rack, calmly took her red coat, threw it over her shoulder, leaving one hand free for her sword.
"Guess the party's starting earlier than I thought..."
She stepped over the disintegrating corpses and kicked open the broken door, stepping into the gray morning light — or what was left of it.
The scene before her was apocalyptic: cracked streets, half-collapsed buildings, overturned cars, the thick scent of dust and dried blood. Shards of glass reflected what little sunlight broke through the red mist hovering over Salt Blake.
Ahead, just a few meters away, a dozen deformed vampires twisted and growled — their skin gray, bones jutting through flesh, creatures that had lost control of their blood and essence.
Lucy rolled her eyes, unimpressed.
"Seriously? You just had to pick the front of my office?" she muttered with disdain.
She raised her crimson-and-silver sword, tossing it into the air.
As it spun, the wind lifted part of her red coat.
With a swift move, she fixed the coat back onto her shoulders with provocative confidence, stretched her hand up, and caught the sword by the hilt — without even looking.
"Alright, let's make this quick. I've got bills to pay..."
Then the ground rumbled — a deep roar from beneath the city. Dust rose. Cracks split the pavement under her boots. Lucy raised an eyebrow.
"Perfect. An earthquake. Who's paying for the office repairs now? You guys?" she pointed the sword at the vampires, sarcasm dripping.
"Wouldn't surprise me if you're broke too."
They charged — and Lucy smiled.
The metal of her pistols gleamed as she drew them in one smooth motion.
Gunfire erupted. Vampires exploded into dust and black gore.
She moved like a storm — precise shots, clean cuts, heads rolling, blood mist coating her coat. In seconds, silence returned.
"I was hoping for more cardio..." she muttered, stomping one last vampire into ash.
Then the ground shook again — harder.
Cars toppled, stones rolled, nearby buildings trembled like they'd collapse. From the city's center, the asphalt split apart, spewing concrete chunks into the air.
From the widening pit, black towers began to rise — alive, pulsing. A colossal castle emerged, gothic and twisted, windows shaped like hungry mouths, torn banners fluttering in an icy wind.
The sky darkened, swallowing the sun, plunging the city into an eternal dusk.
At the top of the monstrous structure, a lone female figure stood. Hair whipping in the wind. A katana resting against the ground — blade lowered, yet ready.
Lucy felt her heart sink in a way she hated admitting.
"So... finally," she murmured.
Without hesitation, she ran toward the castle.
Once she reached its base, she took a deep breath. The giant fortress loomed before her — towering, menacing... familiar.
And there she was.
Lucy called out, voice dripping with her usual insolent sarcasm:
"It's been one year since we last met. Where've you been all this time? Spa in the underworld?"
The figure tilted her head slightly.
Then, with a step forward, came to the tower's edge. Short silver hair whipping in the wind.
A silver coat with tribal wolf patterns etched across it. The katana hanging loosely at her side.
Nyra.
Their eyes met — fire clashing with steel.
Without breaking eye contact, Lucy strode toward the castle's entrance, a bold, crooked smile on her lips.
"I'm guessing you've got something fun planned for me... right, Nyra?"
The colossal doors groaned open — as if darkness itself were welcoming her inside.
To be continued...