(Third Person).
The night sky burned red.
Flames rose high into the clouds, devouring the once-proud city of Duskmoor. The air was thick with smoke, ash, and the metallic stench of blood.
Cries echoed through the streets, the terrified screams of humans mixing with the unholy shrieks of vampires.
They came in waves.
The vampires, dozens upon dozens of them poured through the shattered gates, their eyes gleaming crimson, their movements too fast for mortal sight.
They were like an army unleashed.
Bullets tore through the air as human soldiers fired desperately, but their rounds were useless clattering off stone, glancing off flesh that healed faster than it could bleed.
A vampire leapt through a hail of gunfire, landing on a squadron of soldiers. In seconds, throats were torn open, rifles snapped like twigs.
One soldier managed to ignite a grenade before he died. The explosion lit the night, scattering bodies and glass into the street.
