His gauntleted fingers traced the cold steel of her breastplate. There were gashes or punctures he could find.
Only superficial scratches and deep dents, as if she had been battered by a giant's fist, not pierced by a blade or fang.
He moved to the others. A Mage, a Barbarian, and another Knight. The story was the same with all of them. Apart from the bites, no mortal wounds. Just… emptiness.
A cold, professional curiosity warred with a deep-seated instinctual dread. How did these vampires take all of them down so easily?
An idea hit his mind. He remembered the skill he had unlocked that morning, ⸢Spectral Memory⸥.
⸢Spectral Memory: Access residual memories imprinted on a corpse. Clarity and duration depend on time since death. Mana cost scales exponentially with corpse age⸥
Quietly, he knelt before the female Knight, holding her face to keep her head in place. Then, he gazed into her eyes as he activated the Skill.
