After following the glowing crimson trail of the homing crystal, Blackstone and Lionheart finally stumbled upon the beast. There, beneath the filtered moonlight bleeding through the forest canopy, it stood feasting.
The hellhound, a grotesque monstrosity of blackened muscle and ash-coated fur, tore into a deer corpse, its gaping maw exhaling waves of heat that roasted the flesh with every bite. This grotesque ritual was expected of a fallen, but something else was off. The creature clutched something in its clawed hand a circular emblem embedded with gemstones arranged in the shape of a six-pointed star. It pulsed faintly with a dark red hue.
Blackstone narrowed his eyes from behind the foliage. "Wait... what's that in its hand?" he muttered to himself, leaning forward.
Lionheart's eyes burned with rage. The screams of his men, the blood-soaked memories, came rushing back. His grip tightened on Blackstone's rifle. "Give me the word, and I'll fire. You handle it up close I'll cover you from here," he whispered, barely able to contain the fury boiling in his chest.
Blackstone gently pushed the barrel of the rifle down. "Not yet. Only shoot if things go bad. If it sees you, you're dead before I can reach it."
Lionheart nodded grimly. They both knew the stakes. If the hellhound got even a glimpse of Lionheart, it would be over.
Without wasting another second, Blackstone darted out from the underbrush, hurling a vial filled with corrosive poison. It shattered on impact, releasing a virulent fluid that hissed and sizzled as it burned into the hellhound's back.
The beast roared in agony, whipping around, but it couldn't locate its assailant. The potion had worked its senses were dulled, its vision clouded.
Taking advantage of its confusion, Blackstone lunged and brought down his cleaver, embedding it deep into the creature's hind leg. But the blade stuck in the tough flesh. With a curse under his breath, Blackstone abandoned the weapon and somersaulted backward, narrowly dodging the beast's retaliatory swipe.
The hellhound snarled, realizing something was wrong. It couldn't see, couldn't smell. It was being hunted and it hated it.
Its body ignited, flames racing across its skin, radiating so intensely that both Blackstone and Lionheart winced as their blood felt like it was boiling inside their veins. Lionheart screamed, the pain unbearable, breaking the invisibility spell from the potion. Blackstone's cover shattered with him.
The beast's molten eyes locked onto them.
"Well, well," it growled in a deep, gravelly voice, "so you decided to show your faces."
Blackstone froze. A fallen that could talk? In thirty years of hunting, he had never encountered one capable of speech.
"LIONHEART, RUN!" Blackstone screamed.
Before Lionheart could react, the hellhound inhaled deeply, then exhaled with a deafening roar. A shockwave of fire erupted from its mouth, incinerating the forest in a fifty-kilometer radius.
Trees turned to ash. Earth cracked and blackened. Lionheart was caught in the blast, disintegrated instantly—no time for screams, no chance for escape.
Blackstone survived, but only barely. He collapsed to his knees, skin blistered, vision swimming. His blood was literally boiling. He coughed violently, vomit mixed with blood spilling onto the scorched ground.
The hellhound sauntered toward him with a twisted grin. "Still breathing? You must be one of those hunters. Pathetic. I expected more."
Its voice dripped with superiority, each step toward Blackstone deliberate, cruel.
As the heat grew unbearable, Blackstone mustered what strength he had. His lips trembled as he whispered, "Water arcana... Burst of the Ascendant Flood!"
A powerful torrent of water erupted from his mouth, smashing into both of them and sending them flying in opposite directions. The hellhound slammed into a tree with a wet crack.
Blackstone staggered to his feet, downed a healing potion, and sprinted through the burning forest. Behind him, the hellhound regained its footing and gave chase, leaping from tree to tree like a demon on the hunt.
With each bound, the distance closed.
Blackstone tossed a smoke bomb behind him. It exploded, but the hellhound was too clever it swatted it away and lunged, tackling Blackstone to the ground.
"You think your tricks can save you?" it hissed, pinning him down with one massive claw.
"Not really," Blackstone gasped. "But let's dance anyway! Air arcana Gale Burst!"
A violent gust of wind exploded from beneath him, blasting the hellhound backward into a tree. Blackstone leapt up, drawing three daggers from his coat and flinging them at the beast. They ignited mid-air, streaking toward the monster.
But the hellhound's heat melted them before they could land.
"Of course that didn't work," Blackstone growled. "Fine then. Water arcana Deep Sea Prison!"
A massive bubble of water manifested, engulfing the hellhound. The beast's own body heat began to boil it from the inside.
Blackstone raised a hand, eyes glowing orange. "Thunder arcana... Wrath of a Thousand Storms!"
Bolts of lightning crashed into the water sphere, electrocuting the trapped hellhound. It shrieked in agony, its body twitching violently as steam exploded from within the sphere.
When it finally collapsed, twitching and barely moving, Blackstone himself collapsed, falling onto his back, coughing up blood, his body in ruins.
He reached for his pistol, ready to end it.
But then the hellhound laughed. "Break the seal and use my body as tribute!" it roared, crushing the emblem in its hand.
A golden dagger flashed through the air and pierced its chest. Red, glowing roots erupted from the wound, twisting violently until they formed a macabre tree a dead thing with branches like twisted limbs. From it, a single fruit grew, shaped like a lotus and burning with black and red fire.
"What the hell...?" Blackstone whispered, stunned.
Then a hooded figure leapt down from the trees, grabbed the fruit, and bolted.
"STOP!" Blackstone yelled, chasing, but he was too slow.
He downed another invisibility potion and used a second homing crystal to tail the figure unseen.
The vampire reached a clearing a gathering of fallen. Not dozens. Hundreds.
From the shadows, Blackstone watched in horror. The vampire pulled back its hood, revealing a pale, bat-like visage inhuman.
The vampire raised the fruit. "Brothers and sisters! Long have we been barred from man's cities by the cursed fog. But now, thanks to our brother's sacrifice infected with the Blood Mist virus and sealed with RH's emblem we shall feast. The fruit has bloomed!"
The crowd roared in approval.
Two more fallen emerged a werewolf and a ghoul. They each took a piece of the fruit and consumed it. Their bodies convulsed violently.
Roots tore from their flesh, blood spattering across the crowd. Their screams echoed as they began to change.
The vampire transformed first growing wings, sprouting black eyes, and wearing a root crown like thorns. The werewolf stood tall like a man, growing extra arms and a serpent-tail that coiled around its neck. The ghoul... twisted into a hideous, fleshy egg.
The vampire cradled the egg like a child. "Brother, your true form will come soon. Sleep until then."
Blackstone trembled in the shadows, horrified. The fallen had evolved. And now they could burn through the mist barriers.
The vampire raised his voice again. "From this day forward, we are the Imperials. And we shall lead you into the cities of man beginning with Regalia!"
Blackstone's heart stopped. His wife. His daughter. They were in Regalia.
He sprinted, unseen, as the army surged toward the city.
At the mist barrier, the vampire Imperial raised his hand. Roots burst from his arm and ignited in unholy fire, burning the barrier away.
"Feast!" he roared.
And the city burned.
By the time Blackstone arrived, Regalia was a smoldering ruin. His potion wore off as he stumbled through rubble and ash, ducking behind what little remained to avoid detection.
He reached what used to be his shop. Now it was only debris.
"No... no, no," he muttered, digging with desperate hands.
He found her his wife. Lifeless. Crushed. Blood and entrails strewn beneath the rubble.
Tears streamed down his face. He bit his lip to keep from screaming.
He kept digging.
Then he found the trapdoor.
Flinging it open, he dropped into the cellar. There she was Melody. Curled into a corner, silent and shaking.
He stepped forward, whispering, "It's going to be okay, sweetheart."
But before he could reach her, a long, thin shadow loomed behind him. A clawed arm pierced his back and exited through his chest.
Blood filled his mouth.
Darkness took him.