"He isn't dead yet!" Elira shouted.
"Cutting off the head of a high-rank vampire won't kill it! To end him, you have to go for the heart—only then! Otherwise, he'll keep regenerating—even without a head!"
Even as she spoke, Ivan's severed head had already regenerated. A wide, toothy smile spread across his newly formed face.
"So someone does know how to kill a vampire," he said with a cold chuckle. "For a moment, I thought His Highness wanted to spare me."
Dark red mana surged from his body, pulsing with a suffocating intensity. Cracks began to spiderweb across the chains binding him—then, with sharp snaps, they shattered.
Ivan turned to Theron, eyes gleaming.
"I suppose Your Majesty was so desperate to silence me, you didn't even care if I lived or died. Tell me, Galewyn—is this really how you plan to avenge her?"
His tone was scornful. "If so... I'll be taking my leave."
A streak of golden silver light flashed—Cedric, blade already in motion, appeared beside him like a thunderclap.
Ivan reacted instantly, leaping back.
"I expect nothing less from you, Holy Knights!"
With a sharp gesture, he summoned blood magic—crimson blades formed in the air and launched down toward Cedric like raining spears.
Cedric's sword blurred, deflecting the deadly projectiles as he leapt back to safety.
Above the ground, Ivan's wings unfurled with a leathery snap. He hovered midair, fingers twitching. More blood swords materialized around him, spiraling in a deadly dance. With a flick, they launched outward in all directions.
Elira clapped her hands together, voice rising in a desperate incantation:
"O Radiant Mother of Light! She who is the Light, Guardian of all that is pure—let your brilliance wrap us in your shield.
Turn away the darkness. Hold fast the light.
By your name, we are protected with radiant might.
In shadows deep and endless, let Your holy light fuel my fight—
Sanctum Lux, descend!"
A dome of golden light flared into existence, encasing everyone just as the blood blades rained down. They clashed against the barrier with sharp clangs, splintering harmlessly into mist.
Above, Ivan's gaze shifted to the airships still circling him, their spotlights locked on his position. Scowling, he pointed a finger toward them—blood swords shot forth, screeching through the sky.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
The blades struck, but the airships' protective wards held firm.
Ivan clicked his tongue. "Tch. How annoying."
Still airborne, shifting his gaze down he raised his right hand. His dark red mana churned like a storm, spiraling inward. A dark purple crystal—hard and glowing faintly—began to form in his palm.
Below, Elira's eyes widened in alarm.
"That's a Warp Stone!" she shouted. "He's going to use it—to escape!"