The midnight air was thick with the smell of sweat and betrayal, and the sound of torn flesh was echoing in my ears. My vision blurred as I parried another strike from Zakir, the tip of his blade barely scratching my neck. Sylva's laughter rang through the chaos, her movements fluid and deadly, like a serpent closing in on its prey. I was losing too much blood, and as my legs trembled, struggling to keep myself standing, I saw the harsh reality. Their eyes, where there once was kinship, were gone, replaced by the cold gleam of betrayal. Zakir's blade came raining down once again, slashing across my torso, tearing into my flesh. I sank to my knees, wondering where it all went wrong. I guess it was to be expected after all, what did I think was going to happen? Friendship? Bonds? Trust? In this realm where power conquers all, I was naive to think that was possible. They simply did what they needed to do to reach the top. Sylva's arm, now visible through my chest, was the last thing I saw before the world went black.
***
I woke up to the smell of cold iron and blood, the air uncomfortably still. Where was I? The last memory that remained was of the storm that had soaked my body, the rain chilling my skin with every drop. But that was wrong. I had a nightmare, but it made no sense. I was fighting… someone. No, not one, but two. Zakir and Sylva. I could feel their names like a distant echo, their voices haunting my mind. But who were they? Why did we fight?
As I tried to stand up, pain exploded through my body, sending me crashing back down. Only then, realizing the extent of my injuries prove to be evidence of a fight. Was I not dreaming? I looked down at my torso, half-expecting Sylva's arm to be lodged there. Nothing, almost as if that had never happened. Cuts, bruises, and lacerations adorned my body, but there was something else… something that didn't make sense.
"Didn't I die?"
Strange, I thought. I started to take note of the unusual landscape. The trees, reaching heights I cannot fathom, and the sky, crimson red.
I stumbled towards a nearby pond, trying to wash the blood and grime off my face. As I looked over the water, a strange reflection stared back at me. The reflection of a stranger.
Skin pale as death, eyes bright red.
A vampire. It was the only word that fit. I leaned closer towards the water to examine myself further. These features… they weren't mine. They weren't even human.
Yet… This is who I am now.
The realization hit me hard like a punch to the gut.
I was in someone else's body.
Hours passed before I realized something had changed. At first, I thought I was simply getting used to the pain. But then… I noticed
My wounds were closing. Slowly but surely, it was as if the body knew how to heal itself on its own. I bled, but I didn't weaken. I felt a surge of power well up inside me as I licked blood off my wrist, in an attempt to ease the pain.
This wasn't a curse.
I was a weapon.
I was made for war, not by choice, but because that's all my body remembered.
And maybe that was the cruelest part. I didn't want vengeance, I just wanted answers.
***
I spent hours trying to figure out the memories I now had—to move like I remembered in that nightmare, fast, precise, and lethal. But no matter how many times I re-enacted the same moves I saw from memory, I failed. My balance was off, my strikes were clumsy. There was no power behind it, nor any speed.
However, I know what I saw. Whoever this body belonged to before, he had been trained. The problem was, I wasn't.
And yet, I felt his emotions coursing through my veins—rage, betrayal, grief. They weren't mine… yet they resonated strongly with me. I could feel the echoes of his final moments, as if his soul still lingered, unwilling to rest. It felt familiar, too familiar. Maybe his feelings were just reflections of my own.
Either way, I owed him. He died with injustice stabbing through his back—the same way my brother did. That was enough for me. Enough to carry his burden, enough to finish what he couldn't.
With a fire burning in my chest, I followed the footprints of the ones who had just ended my life.
I arrived at a small clearing, full of familiar faces; at least that's what it felt like. After all, none of them looked human; maybe the old me recognized them. Some were resting, others were crying.
And then— her voice.
Sylva.
She was there, standing in the center along Zakir, her face wet with fake tears.
"He told us to run," she said, voice cracking. "He stood between us and the beast. He sacrificed himself so we could live."
Zakir stood behind her, grim and silent, staring at the ground beneath him—the perfect lie.
The perfect story.
A hero's death, for the man they tried to murder.
All of a sudden, the same emotions that I felt earlier came back again, this time stronger. It seems even in death, my body's previous owner couldn't suppress the rage and anger he was feeling. I couldn't blame him, as I had witnessed something similar happen to my brother seven years ago. Even if it was in a different world than my own, I will finish what my brother couldn't.
Hatred was coursing through me, and everything told me to seek revenge. I wanted to scream. I wanted to lunge at them. I wanted to make them bleed.
But something stopped me.
A memory. A beautiful Saturday morning. My brother, sitting on the couch, eyes hollow, voice soft.
People don't commit crimes because they want to. They do it because the world leaves them with no other choice.
I can't believe I was going to make the one mistake he kept telling me about.
The shopkeeper.
Zakir and Sylva.
Maybe this world wasn't so different from the one I came from after all.
***
As I stepped into the clearing, shocked expressions were to be seen everywhere, especially from the two who tried to kill me earlier. Shock quickly turned to anger as their eyes darted between each other.
"The White Demon is still alive…?" one of them whispered.
Sylva's hand trembled, her expression hardening.
"Impossible, no one survives a crushed heart. Not even vampires like you."
"Funny, yet here I am," I replied
Her hand trembled. Zakir stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "How…? We definitely saw you die right in front of us, White Demon. Your body was cold and lifeless, so how…" he trailed off.
I paused, letting the silence fill the air.
"You forget who you're talking about. Me? Death? I'm not someone death can claim so easily—not when the story's just begun," a twisted smile forming in the corners of my lips. I tried my best to put on a show so they wouldn't notice the difference between the man they once knew and the man standing in front of them now. Especially when a single flick of their wrist could end my life in a heartbeat.
It would seem my act worked. They looked terrified. For once, it felt justified.
But deep beneath my anger, there was something else. I didn't want them to become what they made me. A demon, a monster, someone whose only thought is that of revenge. Not as a vampire, but as the human Zhao Feng, I am better than that.
I didn't want to lose what was left of him—the brother who clung to hope in others, even as the world tore his faith apart.
I let out a soft breath, calming myself.
"Don't worry," I said. "You were right, I did die. However, it seems I don't remember much when I came to. Relax, I don't hate you enough to want to kill you. However, I do remember enough to know not to forgive you."
Their faces twisted in fear and confusion, as the man they once knew would have already tried to tear them apart.
I thought of my brother Zhao Lin again.
This isn't vengeance.
A new world. A new beginning.
A new chance to find the truths that have been hidden away.
And maybe, just maybe… fulfill the promise I made at his grave.