[SS] Hazy Silhouette

As sudden as the intervention had come, the monster known as Millinda Blackwater remained unshaken in face of it. That man may have pulled her prey to safety and swung his sword to block her strike.

However, none of that changed anything.

The collision between the sharp blade and the mysterious box was unavoidable.

The winner – entirely by nature of the skill and strength behind its trajectory – was the sword. Just like that it pierced that holy barrier capable of sealing even the greatest evils. Such was only to be expected of one of the greatest knights of England.

And yet, that’s where it ended.

That’s all it achieved.

After all, when it came to that box’s contents even that inhuman strength would pale in comparison.

The unstoppable force had met an immovable object.

Momentarily only silence lingered.

The fiend of black and white turned to face the brave swordsman. Her eyes meeting his. And within them he would only find the purest intent to kill. Ever growing, fed only by wrath. That wrath invoked by the insolence of his actions.

And it grew with every crack forming on the surface of that box.

More and more. Further and further. It fell apart slowly but surely, soon no longer keeping hidden that which was kept within.

He had dared to attack her most precious.

He had overstepped the invisible line she had drawn.

Thus, before that man or anyone else could even take a glimpse at what existed within, the box disappeared alongside its holder. Gone from the world entirely. If only temporarily. Still, the moment the ‹vampire› reappeared, the sword wielding lancer would be greeted by a two legged kick thrown at his back by the full strength of her monstrous state. A force so massive, its impact alone would shatter her enhanced pair of legs as though they were made from glass. Naturally, this fate would be shared by any other body of flesh and blood.

Ultimately what all would come down to was the lance Claiomh Solais and young knight in whose hands it rested. Fully aware of that fact and the role this gave him, Alexander had moved towards a position he deemed ideal. Neither too close to the actual raging battle, nor too distant to miss a throw. A rooftop belonging to a small super market that hadn’t fallen victim to the chaotic outbreak.

There was no way he could last longer than a short moment in a direct fight with that thing. However, there was no one else but him who could change the outcome of the struggle either. Sir Moore may have managed a miraculous return onto his legs, but reaching for that weapon no longer was an option now that he had become the centre of the beast’s attention.

Not to forget that he of all people was not in the position to grasp this weapon again.

Not after what had happened tonight.

Alexander was convinced he could do the job just as well as the man he had overcome.

He was convinced that he could end the tragedy that was this night.

No, he believed that this was the one task only he could fulfil.

However, as he assumed position, pulled back his arm preparing to execute a textbook throw, it happened.

Once more the ‹vampire› shifted position. Once more it disappeared only to reappear elsewhere like a flickering light in the dark.

It moved too fast.

It moved too unpredictable.

The pressure its mere presence gave him as it dug through his skin and flesh right into the bones, had been one obstacle he could overcome by the sheer strength of his unbroken will. However, the chaotic randomness born from the no longer fully functional spell was a wholly different story.

Like this there was no chance at the clean hit this town so desperately needed.

The last thing she remembered, she had been crying out, aiming to kill the vampire who had physically cornered her. The next, she was flying in the air in relative safety as a she had been pulled out of a fatal situation.

At the very least, that was how it felt to her. Perhaps, not much more could be said considering her dominant arm had been utterly destroyed. It was hardly severed, but it was a non-functional heap of flesh and bone at this point.

There was no point in thinking about it. She forced herself to flip over and land on her feet, crouched, a distance away from where she had been pinned. She calmed her breathing and mentally suppressed that feeling of pain. At that moment, she had full view of the person who had saved her from the maws of certain death and what had happened just shortly after.

The box had broken. It wasn’t the sight of complete destruction, but it was still an ever present, ever-propagating crack, expanding until the contents were at least partially bared to the elements. Moreover, her rescuer’s blade had halted partially at the resistance of whatever was inside.

That was when Sara had noticed it. The vampire’s focus had trained straight onto the knight for the minutiae of time left before she faded once again into the fog.

Had it been fear? Instinct?

The vampire had aimed to move for an attack to his back, completely ignoring Sara’s presence once again.

She’s getting sloppier.

She had forgotten that there was one person in that town that could ascertain her position and had cleared her vision of the fog. She had been unaware that she had failed to kill the person who could keep a watchful eye on her and never let go like a hawk trailing prey.

She would not let this moment slip. Sara had to quickly act.

Before the attack would smash the knight’s back, she needed to pay him back.

Just like the vampire, she aimed straight at the back. She needed to crash into the vampire’s back, hold onto it, and restrain her (albeit momentarily) arms. But, with her right arm being nonfunctional at this point, she could only work with her left arm. She aimed to grab at the hand with the box to pin her. If her words could get through, she could separate the immortal monster from her fixation.

“Behind you! Expose it!”

“Behind you! Expose it!”

"Understood!"

With a shout, the warrior would heed the magician girl's warning and immediately turn around. He had failed to sense the monster's presence in the slightest, but now that she was directly within his line of sight and so close, there was no escaping him. It had prepared a flying drop kick, of all things. A technique with exceedingly high risk, it was almost useless in normal battle except as an excessively flashy method to finish off a downed opponent.

But when executed by an immortal monster by her, it becomes a completely different technique, huh?

Even as he found himself grinning at his quarry's monstrous yet surprisingly human choice of technique, his own technique took over. For as much as the vampire was moving at high speed, as an elite among the knights, Moore was more than capable of managing such an inelegant attack now that he was aware of it.

With a twist of his body, speed and footwork polished over many years of fighting, he would step out of the way of the strike and position himself for one of his own. This would be the second hit. Once more, he would strike at the mysterious box which this monster seemed to hold so preciously. The sensation he had felt when he struck it last had made it clear to him that he would not be shattering the contents with this strike. Whatever it was, it was fearsomely durable.

However, the same could not be said for the container. Already cracked and exposed by his first attack, this one would be certain to finish the job. He would ignore the flesh and bone of the hand which held and sought to conceal it. For as much as normal wounds didn't seem to stick, her durability itself didn't seem to be excessively high. He would strike through her body and aim only for the mysterious Pandora's box.

Now they would finally learn what was hidden away inside.

Just like that – completely unaffected by the poor fool clinging onto it – the high speed projectile that was the monster at the centre of this incident flew past its original target. However, instead of simply ending there, another high speed movement came chasing after her.

Fast, precise, merciless.

Blood sprayed as the blade cut through her flesh and bone only to ultimately land where it was supposed to land.

A heavy impact once more echoed through the night. This time accompanied by the terrifying noise of flesh tearing. Then the one projectile became two, each flying into different directions. Each crash landing with even greater impacts.

The monster’s body had flown into a nearby building’s wall.

That which had been in her hand tore through a couple of street lights, power poles and cars before ultimately coming to a stop in and obliterating a certain convenience somewhere about a few kilometres away.

Silence fell.

The thick haze was still lingering everywhere.

The only source of light left on the vast battlefield was the moon in the sky.

Silence.

Nothing was moving anymore.

Nothing was happening anymore.

Was it over?

Or was this just a break…?

What was left of the countless Magicians that had come to chase the tale of the ‹vampire› did not feel calm. Even now cold sweat was running down their spines as they were lost trudging through the unknown.

Was it over or not? They didn’t know. The unknown mixed in with the prevailing unease. That feeling in their gut hadn’t disappeared. That instinct making their blood boil even now. That which kept them from moving, let alone speaking. It was still there. It prevailed.

They all were but mortal men in face of a monster.

«…retrieve it…»

A blood stained holy man’s voice spoke up.

«Retrieve it! Quickly!»

The cardinal seemingly enveloped by despair blared an order into the empty night.

An order that should not have been answered by anyone. And yet a number of shadows danced through the haze, quickly rushing towards where whatever that precious treasure was had landed.

They were relentless, ice cold and dedicated. Even when cursed with unending fear, these men and women would pursue their tasks. Such were the executioners serving the Roman Catholic Church’s inquisition.

That man’s voice should have never reached. No matter how much he tried, it should have been blotted out by despair and the surrounding chaos. The tendrils of despair had long since raptured him the same as the creeping chaos enraptured the magicians stationed in Whitby.

And yet…

She was the last person who should have listened to him.

She was the last person who should have accepted that cry.

She was the last person who should have been spurred to action by that pitiful man.

And yet…

The one who had so gracelessly intruded upon center stage was a young nun, one of many sisters within the Catholic Church, who stood wavering in the grace of the God.

Francesca Purezza grabbed it. She couldn’t see what it was, but she had seen it flying, landing kilometers away from the vampire. From the distance, she couldn’t see of the girl who had latched onto the back of the vampire was safe.

But none of that mattered to her. She couldn’t attack the vampire considering how far away it was from her. She retrieved the contents and made her way straight towards the Cardinal. After all, he had to know something.

As despicable as a man he was, he was not just speaking up for show after all.

This chaos would come to an end, one way or another. No further words from her were needed.

It began. The gamble. The struggle against fate. The final bout.

The nun had gained hold of the object at the centre of everything, running through the hazy night in an attempt to deliver it to the man she had defied. She, who would only find death in face of the  crimson cardinal, attempted to fulfil his command like a loyal sheep.

And as she did, she found the company of executioners’ shadows rushing through the night.

They did not dare to strike her, simply chasing her on each and every step.

But what for?

Suddenly a muffled shriek as a shadow disappeared in the thick maze quite close to the running Francesca.

Then another.

They weren’t pulled out as much as they crossed paths with what was entering the domain of the one carrying the item at the core.

They were fighting the invisible monster. Openly rushing into its path the moment they noticed its lethal presence drawing too close to Francesca.

They were protecting her. At the price of their lives.

But how long would it last before their slim numbers would be fully diminished?

The threat in the haze was relentless. Fast. Overwhelming.

What good would come from reaching that broken cardinal at the bottom of his strength? What good would even running further do?

«We need to keep the ball rolling. No matter what. That’s our one and only shot!»

A fake cleric declared into the night. The edges of his poncho dancing in the cold night wind.

3000 metres left between her and the cardinal.

The strike was a grand success. The monster's body proved as immaterial as the haze it was wreathed in before his blade, and its precious treasure was now revealed to all who would look under the moonlight. And then it flew. His blade bit into it without cutting further and the cut became a strike, sending the box's contents flying into the distance. The vampire, carried by its momentum, did the same in the other direction.

His first instinct was to hold up his guard, wait for the enemy's next move. Would it come from above this time? Below? Another strike from his blind spot? Striking the thing in the box would certainly have consequences. He'd have to be ready for anything. But the the strike didn't come.

«Retrieve it! Quickly!»

He had honestly almost completely forgotten the man amidst the furor of the battle, though the exchange had stretched over mere moments. And the idea that he would be so completely ignored... He smiled wryly to himself. There was no point in assuming a monster would adhere to the code of knights, even in a moment of fury. He wasn't even being looked at.

It just meant he had to change that.

At the cardinal's words, Moore shot forward. Even with his speed, in the time it took for him to catch up to where the thing in the box had gone, the monster dragged one, two, more and more people into the mists, never to return. Attacked with speed and power beyond their capabilities to deal with, they didn't have a chance to defend themselves as they attempted to buy that nun even a single moment more time. All happening in the space of moments, perhaps.

But Moore had speed. More than any of the priests or nuns following the cardinal, more than any of the magicians hiding in the mists, more than any except the vampire herself and perhaps that youngling Necessarius girl. The space between him and the fleeing nun, between him and the vampire's new killing grounds, the distance that nun tried to close so desperatelyーMoore would do so in an instant.

As the monster emerged from the mists to take another, he would strike. Severing tendons, flaying nerves, crushing joints, destroying the skull and spineーhe would use everything he had to cow that monster for even a moment more. To keep it from its treasure. To ensure that the cardinal's gamble, whatever it was, succeeded.

To ensure it realized its opponent was him.

She moved as fast as her feet could carry her. Even though she had grabbed whatever the object in the box was, she could not let up for even a moment. After all, the hunters who had until recently been after Francesca’s life were now giving up their own lives to protect the hope she had reached onto. Were it not such a brutal reality before her, she could almost find some allegorical beauty to it.

But, such a concept could hardly even stay in her mind as she lurched forward with each step, desperately trying to close the gap between her and the Cardinal.

But the recurrent sacrifices meant that the countdown to doom nearing zero bit by bit.

Would she even make it at this rate?

---

Someone else had heard the Cardinal’s shout as well. Though that girl had been thrown down, she was hardly out of the fight just yet.

“If he’s finally regained enough of his spirit to say that...”

Sara forced herself back to her feet. Her only good arm pushing aside some rubble that had nearly fallen atop her. She could feel herself gasping for breath. If she had to guess, she may have punctured a lung, but she wasn’t a doctor and right now wasn’t the time for decompression. She would have to let the adrenaline carry her.

“Then I can’t just be lying around here, can I?”

She just needed to act with an arrogant little grin on her face. But at this stage, what could she do that hadn’t been reinventing the wheel?

Sara rushed in at top speed, moved towards the side of the rushing nun, and with her free arm, picked her up and lay her stomach first over her shoulder.

“Wait! Hey, wha—”

“There’s no time! We need to beat the clock, so tell me where to go and I’ll get you there.”

In the end, it didn’t matter if she was held down by the weight of another person. She could cover far more ground in less time than Francesca could on her feet.

“I promise.”

And with that, there was nothing else left to say. Francesca only needed to give her directive.

“To the Cardinal.”

That knight came back again, striking at her at the high point of her attacks. Again he’d crush her flesh and bones in an instant. Pain would shoot through her entire body, but disappear the moment the spell kicked in once more. They both could repeat this dance indefinitely. No matter how many times he struck, she would regenerate. No matter how many times she regenerated, he would keep striking.

Nonetheless that monster no longer had time for this. She, too, had a goal in mind. She, too, had something she wished to protect. Something she not yet even held in her hands yet.

In face of that, that man was no longer a nuisance. He was an obstacle.

This time, as her physical form collapsed under the strength of his attacks, she would not simply shrug him off. This time, as her flesh and bones reformed, she would move against the current of his attacks, yank open her jaw and snap it shut. There, her fang-like teeth would quickly pierce through his armour as though it was mere skin, right through the thick muscles and into the flesh of his shoulder.

With her fangs digging deep into his body, he would feel an unnatural loss of his strength, as his blood was drained rapidly. With just that single bite she could consume him whole, transforming him into nothing more than a dead-weight husk. Another one to refill her fuel.

And while she’d do that, she kept running. Running after that little bird who had grabbed the nun in a desperate attempt to take her and her treasure to safety.

She would not let them. She would not give in. She would not. She would never.

In no time the monster of the haze had caught up to the fleeing bird and nun.

However, the moment of her arrival had only been upon the very same moment the other two had reached their destination. They had reached the cardinal of red who had called them in.



Enrico Coppolla faced both the Anglican Magician and the Roman traitor with great pleasure. They had achieved the feat he had requested of them. They had brought him the mysterious item. The bait he needed to create his moment of chance.

«Splendid!»

It was his voice ringing of excitement that would serve as their reward.

Not simply for delivering the goods, but because he took notice of the shadow hurriedly approaching from behind. However, what he saw was not the sight of the monstrosity itself, but the man of honour it was carrying in its maw. Truly, upon seeing the limp body of the man he had sworn an alliance with, his disdain only served as a fan for the reignited flames of fury.

Grasping the mystery cargo with his left, he readied the lance in his right.

«Now come you godless creature! Claim the divine punishment you have made yourself deserving of!!!»

The cardinal’s brave declaration would echo throughout the night, as the creature spat the broken knight to free its jaw. In that very instance, what remained of his fellow priests and nuns came jumping from the shadows, lodging onto the fiend, grabbing it with its arms and legs or piercing it with their countless holy weapons in a vile attempt at stopping her in her tracks. Not that it would succeed.

The monster came charging at the servant of god. And he would bravely answer with a jolt that held all his strength.

Of course it would pierce its figure much like the many other blades and stakes had done. And much like them it would do little to stop it in its tracks. No, that thing would simply keep on moving, prepared to mercilessly hammer her fangs into another.

«Misguided as you are you have sealed your fate. This is the Lance of Longinus! The lance that shall spell out your doom!!!!!!»

Invoked by his vocal declaration, suddenly the lance in the cardinal’s hand began to shine, being wholly consumed by blinding light and driving the night away like the beacon of hope it embodied in his and his followers’ eyes.

Yes, by his declaration that lance had left the domain of the ordinary, transcending to the holy weapon used to slay Christ himself. Much like many lances had in the past.


Alexander had come to an understanding of everything only now. No matter how direly he wished for it, there was no 100% certainty that he would be able to land a hit. After all, he was not like the other knights. He was neither as skilled as them nor as experienced. Even after everything he had gone through this night and the previous days, he felt he could not reach them. He was too far away from their place.

His sword had been shattered. His physical strength entirely exhausted. But even if it had still been there, he was not like that man actively sacrificing every fibre of his existence to fight off the monster that was casually slaying anyone else.

Still, he had to play his part in all this.

He was the one who had to accomplish the job.

He was the one who had to slay the beast.

Not Sir Moore. Not that cardinal.

Nobody else had been worthy enough to accomplish that task.

In the end, he launched it at the top of his strength and technique. And as he did, he raised his voice in a madman’s roar.

«CAAAAATCH!!!»



These men had thrown their everything onto the battlefield. But to what avail?

The spell surrounding the holy lance kicking into effect tore open the ‹vampire’s› body as her every blood vessel exploded outwards. But that one hit it wasn’t enough.

The javelin launched as though from a cannon, darted through the night air with momentum high enough to obliterate a tank. But just at the crucial moment it missed.

Objectively speaking, the battle was proceeding favorably. They had taken heavy casualties, perhaps. Constantly fighting on the back foot. Acting in fear and trepidation of the capabilities of their opponent, of its frightening strength, crippling attacks from within the haze, and bloody immortality.

But despite all that, they weren't losing. The nameless magician girl from Necessarius was present, and with her assistance they could pierce through the veil of the fog that concealed their quarry's figure. The Russian nun from Annihilatus had performed a ritual which had seemed to have crippled the beast's strength in some manner. Moore himself had stolen its treasure from the beast's very hand and severed it from its protections. The nun Purezza and the Roman Catholics' other faithful had delivered the treasure to hands of the cardinal. And the cardinal himself had struck the monster a grievous blow.

Even as Moore fell to the earth from where he had hung limply from the vampire's jaws, he burned with awareness of his surroundings. Even as his blood and strength alike were drained from his body, the warrior never failed to continue watching the progression of the battle, waiting for a chance, an opportunity, the slightest purchase of weakness upon which he could seize even with his present frailty.

So he noticed the second strike which came from flying from above, and he of course noticed its nature and presumed its source.

The Claiomh Solais, his glaive, his spear, his most trusted tool, his immortal-slaying weapon of light.

It missed.

Perhaps if he had heard about it secondhand, in difference circumstances, he would have - disbelievingly - laughed out loud at the tale. His favoured weapon, stolen from him by some half-assed knight, and at the moment of utmost importance, when perhaps the final blow against the foe he had dedicated perhaps his entire being to seeking might be struck, in a moment of unparalleled weakness on the part of the beast, flung forward in a single glorious strike...

Only to miss.

Moore had given Beathen a long leash, not in deference to his martial capabilities but out of a healthy respect for his capabilities in other fields, which by far outstripped his own accomplishments. When he had taken the side of Longroad when the magician attempted to commandeer the Knights for his own ends, Moore had perhaps scolded him, but levied no official punishment. When his disrespect and misgivings had steadily accumulated, Moore had allowed them to go uncommented upon or unnoticed, for the sake of the mission. Even when he had outright opposed Moore's authority in the most outright and blatant fashion possible, Moore had still at least respected the way he had gone about it; up front, directly and without pretense.

Even when the stupidity nearly - or perhaps in all but truth - had caused him to die before ever having the opportunity to even lay eyes upon his beloved foe, he still retained a healthy measure of respect for the boy.

But now. Now, in the most important of moments? He had failed. Missed. Completely and utterly. The most perfect opportunity, the most perfect weapon, the most perfect position - and the whelp had squandered it all.

There was nothing for it. He would have to do it himself. Like it ought to have been done from the very beginning.

There was still time. The vampire remained crippled by that last blow from the cardinal, and stunned besides. For a short moment, assault, flight, and defense alike were beyond it. And though the weapon had missed its mark, the Claiomh Solais' light burned through the haze as it traced its trajectory. There was no need to search; Moore knew precisely where it was.

The blood drained from his body, tasted the biting pangs of death for the second time in what surely couldn't have been even a quarter of an hour, Moore moved with strength that was beyond him, with power that he didn't have, and lunged for his spear. His partner in the hunt. That which took man and allowed him to deal death to that upon which death had no claim.

And of course, he struck. He would finish this or die trying.

Even when struck a hundred times she wouldn’t stop. No matter how often she would face death, she would continue moving. Blood was gushing out from her every pore. Her bones had been shattered countless times. Dozens of curses had been inflicted upon her. Death, pain, suffering. Nothing mattered in face of that.

That treasure was worth it all.

That man’s treasure was her everything.

That man was.

Even while that false holy lance was piercing her torso, she kept moving forward, her delicate arm of pale white and red stretched out to grasp it.

Her fangs braced to eliminate the brave man of crimson who dared to step into her path.

She wasn’t going to stop here.

She wasn’t going to give up.

She wouldn’t fall. She would continue. Continue. Continue. Continue!

They would all die! One by one! No matter how man came! This was her moment!

She was the Vampire of Whitby.

The greatest monstrosity mankind had ever encountered.

She was the fear. She was the haze. She was the death. She was the very horror of this night.

She was…



Blood splattered on the cardinal’s face as that monster was perfectly impaled for the second time. A hit as clean as the one he had landed. A hit that finally stopped it in its tracks. A hit that set everything into stand still. As though time had frozen.

He could feel it. The pain. The pain of sacrifice. The pain of that lance.

And then it all collapsed.

The haze, the haunting pressure and the figure before him.

In just a mere moment the nightmare ended as everything collapsed.

In an instant the haze had cleared, opening the curtains for the wasteland that had become of the town of Whitby.

Finally, what little remained of the Magicians, the knights, the nuns and priests, the heroes, would see the aftermath of the battle they had fought.

Streets had been torn open, buildings crushed, cars broken, bodies ravaged. The aftermath of a horrendous night. All had gone to ruin.

Was this the prize of victory? He wondered. All he knew was that what happened had been right. The Lord’s will had been executed.

As such, he could finally collapse. And he would.



However, there was one more thing.

As countless as the traces of their battle were, not even a single one remained of that which had been the fearsome ‹vampire›.

Much like the haze, it had disappeared without a single trace.

A wave of intense pain followed by nothingness, that was what Sasha felt as Millinda slammed her into the pole. For the nun of Annihilatus the fight against the monster of Whitby was over as she slipped into an involuntary sleep. While the battle raged on she'd simple be left lying in the haze and blood covered street.

As such she'd unfortunately miss the group's ultimate victory over the beast as her spell was broken through the combined efforts of the magicians of Necessarius, Annihilatus, and the Roman Catholic Church while Moore dealt the final blow by impaling her with his spear. It wasn't long after this though that Sasha would regain consciousness and slowly get back to her feet.

Her entire body ached and she had a headache like nobody's business. Despite the pain she actually felt relief after looking over her surroundings, the town of Whitby was destroyed but at the haze was gone. More importantly, the vampire seemed to have vanished along with it. Losing the target was unfortunate but it was better than waking up and finding that Millinda had murdered everyone.

However, there was no guarantee that the vampire was truly gone so Sasha would make her way over to the first person she recognized who happened to be the Necessarius magician Sara.

"First Question: Is it over?"

The young girl had found herself finally collapsing. It was hardly an ungraceful one, but she found herself landing on her butt while still carrying the nun. Her spells may have still been active, but it could not break away from the mental fatigue and so, her body gave way along with her mind.

Luckily for her, the nun who she had carried with her own hands took the opportunity to quite literally jump off of her and land on her two feet a meter beside her. She had taken the moment to pat her dress and crack her shoulders a bit in a bout of relaxation that almost completely belied the world that had enveloped them moments before.

As Sara took a deep breath and looked up at the sky, even within the swathes of rubble that surrounded her, she could finally say that it was time to rest her wings.

“Just know this doesn’t mean I enjoyed being carried by you.”

“BWAH!” The arms that had been supporting her as she leaned back slipped and her head hit the floor as she heard Francesca brutally cut her down. She had clenched her teeth, grabbed her head, and rolled back and forth to abate the pain but before she could speak any further, she heard something from that young woman’s mouth.

“Thanks, heathen.”

Perhaps it was a genuine sort of warmth in those words, even if they were coated by a certain acerbic tone that young woman wouldn’t let go any time soon, it was enough to stop the girl’s continued rolling.

“You did well, Sister.” Though she wasn’t able to see Francesca’s face, Sara was almost certain there was a smile plastered across it. But, she didn’t hear a single word as the sister walked to the collapsed Cardinal and gazed over him.

"First Question: Is it over?"

“Gah!” Still in her position lying on the floor, she saw a certain nun in red and black approaching her. She was almost glad she had stayed on the floor because she was sure she would have fallen back if she had been sitting up again. “Don’t sneak up on a person like that!”

But, looking up into the long bangs of the blonde girl above her, Sara smiled.

The haze had cleared. All traces of the vampire had vanished. In a way, one could say all was right with the world. But, the more accurate description probably was…

“Yeah. I think it’s finally over.”

Morning had come. And with it peaceful silence.

Whitby had finally fallen asleep. Not only had the great fighting ended, but the beast had been slain. The nightmare that had engulfed the city was at long last over. It all had come to an end last night. Allowing for a new day to unfold.

The streets were empty. However, at the same time the majority of the battle’s traces had disappeared. The Magicians in their countless shapes and colours were gone as well. Without the promise of an immortal being there was little that gave them attachment to this small port town anymore.

It had all come to an end.

Except for a single person.

Someone was roaming the abandoned streets.

A lone figure who still clung to their ideals. Who still clung to the very symbolism behind and the emotions connected to this day.

Millinda Blackwater.

She had still been alive.

Now, clad in a simple black raincoat that reached down to her knees she trudged through the streets oh the Whitby outskirts. She was still looking for something. But what exactly?

She no longer held the fearsomeness of the ‹Vampire of Whitby› who could take on the entire world. Instead she was a frail and broken woman. Her bare feet scraping against the asphalt. Her shoes had long since been obliterated. In fact, outside of the raincoat there wasn’t much of her belongings left. Even of that dress he had gifted her, only shreds that barely covered anything were left.

She was freezing out there in the cold February air.

However, the cold would not stop her.

The frail state of her body would not stop her.

She may have lost it all, but she would regain it.

After all, it was all for him.

That was why she was still out there. Desperately searching for anything she could grasp.

But what she found was something else.

She could see them at the end of the street. A figure she had barely made contact with throughout the incident. Yet, she had known of their presence. And the moment her eyes locked onto these strands of emerald hair, she remembered her greatest adversary and that unfortunate turn of events.

«You…»

It had all fallen apart. Thus, there was no longer a need to remain mute. After a truly long time, the woman of black white could raise her powerless voice to echo these mixed feelings of pain, regret and hostility.

The chaos had ended and the haze that had plagued Whitby had faded away. The immortal monstrosity that had grabbed the magic world's attention was gone and without her there was nothing in this small harbor town to keep the magicians' interest. As such for a majority of the people involved in this incident this was the end of the story but for a green haired girl this conclusion simply wasn't satisfactory.

She hadn't come here for the vampire but the truth behind the beast and there were still too many questions that needed to be answered. The vampire had simply been a pawn in the true mastermind's game and yet they never even discovered this person's name. Moreover they also failed to ever truly figure the mastermind's motive and goal. Sure, they had figured out that whoever they are they wanted to start a war between all the magic side's factions but the question of why still remained.

What was their to gain by pitting everyone against each other and tearing Whitby apart? Revenge? To prove a point? Some kind of setup for a large spell? Or maybe they just wanted to create as much chaos as possible. There was no way Albrekka could be happy with this ending when there were still so many unanswered questions and the worst part was there was no one left to get these answers from. The shades had all been killed and the vampire was nowhere to be found.

At least that was what they believed until a pain filled cry suddenly echoed through the air dragged Albrekka's attention to bare foot girl cloaked in a raincoat down the streets. It took a moment for her to even register who this girl was due to the drastic change in her appearance. She was no longer the terrifying monster hidden amongst the haze but instead a pitiful woman who had lost any semblance of her former power. It was precisely for this reason that Albrekka was able to approach Millinda despite the horrors she had seen her commit.

"Seems you've been abandon by the mastermind as well. Surely, you must've seen this coming? After all, the same thing happened to the shades but unlike you they paid with their life. I also don't think you're a loyalist like they were though so why don't you let me help you. I just want to know who this mastermind is and what their goal is?"

Of all people, she had encountered one obsessed with chasing the truth. Of all people, she had encountered that girl’s ally. It may have been an odd twist of fate, yet not one she could oppose.

The time where she was able to make choices had long ended.

Now, all that mattered was moving forward.

Now, all that mattered was remaining true to herself.

Now, she had to retaliate.

«I am nothing like that filth. I have not been abandoned.»

Emerging from that fragile shell of hers was strong will. Spite had become clearly visible in her gaze, as it clashed with that of the emerald haired girl. She may have fallen to the bottom of the world, but that didn’t mean Millinda Blackwater had died.

At long last she could reveal her voice to speak her truth.

«I have no idea who they are or what their goal is. I did not care. I still do not. They helped fulfil my greatest desire without hesitation. That is all that matters. That is all I could ever care for. Much like I was for them, they were nothing but a means to an end. And they served their part.»

In this world there were things of greater importance than the seeking of understanding of every circumstance. Some may have cared about the small details, but Millinda was not that kind of person. No, she had thrown away everything else. Family, friends, happiness, freedom, pride, humanity; hadn’t she already proven that all those did not matter to her when she had become that monster?

All that mattered was moving forward.

Trying again.

«I have no idea who they are or what their goal is. I did not care. I still do not. They helped fulfil my greatest desire without hesitation. That is all that matters. That is all I could ever care for. Much like I was for them, they were nothing but a means to an end. And they served their part.»

There was always the possibility that the pathetic girl in front of her was lying but given her seemingly prideful nature it seemed likely that she was telling the truth. After all, despite appearances Millinda was once the vampire that had terrified all of Whitby and taken on the forces of not just Necessarius but the Roman Catholic Church, The Knights of England, Annihilatus, The Dawn Colored Sunlight, and who knows how many other cabals. To boss someone like that around they'd have to even more power and if they did would they have really needed Millinda in the first place? It didn't seem likely especially given how much effort the mastermind had seemingly put into hiding their identity.

With all that in mind Albrekka had come to conclusion they had been hoping to avoid the most, that Millinda was telling the truth. A superior and subordinate relationship between the mastermind and Millinda didn't seem likely given the circumstances. Manipulation on both parties parts seemed far more fitting but also meant that Albrekka had reached another dead end.

However, this didn't mean the green haired girl was giving up hope. Even if Millinda didn't know exactly who the mastermind was she had worked with them so there had to be some clues left to find. All she had to do now was somehow get the necessary information out of ex-vampire.

"Well it doesn't really seem like they upheld their part of the bargain to me. Unless your greatest desire was walking the streets of Whitby defeated and without shoes but I doubt that. So what was it you hoped to gain from all of this? What exactly did the mastermind want you to do in exchange for their help?"

«Do not speak of these things as though you understand.»

When she bit back, she did with whatever remained of the rabidness of the beast she had once been. However, that rabidness would also fuel her willingness to speak.

«What I requested were two things: The attention of the world and a temple finely crafted from everyone’s fears. They delivered both.»

There was not a single reason for Millinda to defend those people, had there never been any strong connection in the first place. They had only used her as a means to their own ends. However, their contribution to her highest goal could not be denied. Neither could that which she had accomplished be denied. Nobody should ever hold the right to belittle that one thing.

«With their help I was able to accomplish it. The completion of my beloved’s life long work. His greatest wish. I could have done it. If only it wasn’t for all of you, who had foiled it, I would have become it. His ideal being. The true vampire.»

Maybe because it had been forever since she had last spoken, she was this openly bearing her heart before an absolute stranger. Maybe because they, too, had been one of her greatest enemies, she openly revealed the truth behind all her actions.

Her very truth.

«Years over years, he – Silas – dedicated into his ideal work. Every day, hour, minute, second, he poured his heart into becoming the perfection of all beings. So much so, that no matter how deeply I loved him, he would love it more.»

With each word spoken, the truth of her feelings reverberated in her voice. Those feelings that had been dearest to her.

«So – I believe – maybe, if I achieve that which he never had, he will come back to me.»

«Years over years, he – Silas – dedicated into his ideal work. Every day, hour, minute, second, he poured his heart into becoming the perfection of all beings. So much so, that no matter how deeply I loved him, he would love it more. So – I believe – maybe, if I achieve that which he never had, he will come back to me.»

Silas. This name sounded familiar and for a few seconds Albrekka had to rummaged through her memories to find exactly what she was looking for. Birdway had talked about a magician called Silas, someone who had dedicated their entire lives to finding the elusive existence known as a vampire. Hadn't Birdway called him an imbecile? Regardless a few things seemed to finally start making sense.

"So that's it, huh? The fear to turn yourself into a monster and the world's attention to make sure Silas would notice."

Millinda's goal hadn't been power or fame. In truth her goal really wasn't about becoming a vampire either. From what Albrekka could tell the woman in front of him truly only wanted one thing, Silas Sharpthorne. Every alliance she had made, person she killed, and spell she had cast was all for the single purpose of luring out a man who could very well be dead. Even if he wasn't Albrekka wondered if that man would've shown up.

"Do you really think that would've brought him back? Based on what you've told me and what little else I've heard about Silas Sharpthorne it feels like your entire plan was flawed from the beginning. If what you've said is true and he has dedicated his entire life to finding a real vampire do you really think he would've settle for one created by a spell? From what I can tell he was someone who sought out the unknown in order to understand it and this whole scheme of seems to spit in the face of his life's work."

«You’re wrong.»

Millinda bit back angrily, her glance piercing as ever.

«It’s not about making him notice by spreading the news! It’s not about becoming a fake! It’s all been about his work! He designed every step of this!»

She’d raise her voice.

«This, all of this, was part of it. Of the work he himself had created. His Vampire Thesis. The spell that would make you one of them by building a worthy temple from the world’s fear.»

More and more.

«You see, there is no proof for their existence. No hard evidence. Just the expectation at the possibility. This is the foundation of it all.»

Anger was what drove her to talk.

«Take the events of this town for example. Nobody knew whether there was a real vampire out here. Nobody could tell if the rumour held any truth in the first place, but people came in masses, because it may as well have been true. And as a result, that likelihood became the foundation of the work, creating the ‹vampire›. The being he strived to become.»

Anger and despair.

«The being he loved and admired more than anything.»

She was on the brink of tears.

«Even if you describe it as a fake, it might as well have been the real one.»

She began to cry.

«Like the real one.»

She was convinced: It must have been the right path!

«Who knows how thin the boundary would have been?»

And yet she couldn’t shake the doubt.

«But what do you understand?»

The doubt that girl had planted.

«What right do you have to judge me?»

That girl, the real monster.

«You people ruined it.»

No all of them.

«ALL OF IT!»

She screamed.

«AAALL OF IIIIIIIIIIIIIIT»

She screamed at the top of her lungs.

And as she did, sharp fang like teeth became visible in her mouth.

The sign of the monster.

The remains of the horror.

Mustering the last ounce of power that had remained, she set her feet forward, breaking into a charge at the girl.

Completely overcome by her out of control emotions, she would come for her.