Arthur was in pain. His body burned as if every wound was set on fire. His eyes were heavy, his breath shallow. He felt betrayed. In his mind, a single thought pierced through the haze. Eamon had not let him drink his blood. Why? The answer felt clear to Arthur in his weakness. Eamon did not trust him. He saw him as nothing more than a vampire, a danger. That was why he had refused.
Arthur's chest tightened as though another blade pierced him. Betrayal. Pain. Weakness. He wanted to speak, but his lips barely parted. His vision darkened until he saw nothing but shapes and shadows.
Meanwhile, Eamon rushed back to the town, his cloak whipping behind him as he cut through the night air. His boots barely touched the ground. His mind was racing. Arthur needed blood, but Eamon could never give him his own. His blood was cursed. If Arthur tasted even a drop, it would poison him, maybe even kill him.
He darted between alleys as he neared the town walls. Soldiers were patrolling everywhere. They were alert after the killings of the night. Eamon pressed himself against a wall, hiding in the shadows. His breathing slowed. He waited for the patrol to pass, then slipped through unseen.
He moved swiftly, avoiding guards, and reached the inn where he had been staying. The lanterns inside flickered. He pushed the door open and stepped into the dim room.
Helena looked up from her chair. She was startled to see him.
"Eamon, what are you doing here? Where is Skarn? Why are you alone?"
Eamon did not waste time. His voice was rough and urgent.
"We do not have time. You must come with me now."
Helena stood quickly, confused and worried. "What happened? Where is Arthur? Where is Skarn?"
Eamon did not answer her questions. Instead, he grabbed her arm and lifted her into his arms.
"Eamon, what are you doing?" she cried, clutching his shoulder.
He did not slow down. "Arthur will die if we don't move now."
With that, he dashed out of the inn. His strides were long, each step covering more ground than seemed human. Helena clung to him as the forest drew near. The cold night air stung her skin, but she said nothing more. She could hear the urgency in his voice.
As they ran, Eamon finally spoke, his words hurried. "Arthur is badly hurt. He fought the vampire alone. He cannot heal himself. He needs blood. You must help him."
Helena's heart pounded. "Blood? You mean… mine?"
"Yes." His answer was sharp, with no hesitation.
She bit her lip, fear rising in her chest, but she nodded. "If it will save him, then yes."
Branches whipped past them. The ground was uneven, yet Eamon never stumbled. His speed was frightening. Within minutes, they reached the clearing. He put Helena down.
Arthur lay on the ground, pale and broken. His clothes were soaked in blood, his skin ghostly. His breaths came in ragged gasps. His eyes flickered open when he heard them, but he was already slipping away.
Helena rushed to him and fell to her knees. "Arthur! Arthur, can you hear me? Oh my god, you are hurt so badly."
Arthur's lips trembled. He tried to speak, but his voice cracked. His body trembled with weakness. His eyes closed again, as though surrendering to the dark.
"No. Stay with me," Helena whispered fiercely. She pulled up her sleeve, exposing her wrist. Without hesitation, she pressed it against his lips. "Drink. Please, drink."
Arthur's fangs slowly slid out. His lips trembled against her skin. He hesitated for a second, ashamed. But his hunger and need were stronger. With the last of his strength, he bit into her wrist.
Helena let out a sharp gasp of pain, her body flinching. A small scream escaped her lips, but she forced herself still. "It's fine. Don't stop. Drink."
Arthur's mouth moved slowly at first, weak and uncertain. But then he drank deeply. The warm blood rushed into him like fire and relief. His body started to heal. His wounds closed, his color returned little by little. The shaking of his body eased.
Helena's face grew pale, but she did not pull away. She clenched her teeth and bore the pain, whispering to him, "Take what you need. Just live."
After a while, Arthur's eyes opened wider. His strength was returning. He pulled back, panting. Blood stained his lips. His body no longer bled. His wounds, though not gone, were no longer fatal.
Helena swayed slightly, dizzy. She pulled her arm back and held it with her other hand, pressing against the bite marks. "You are better now," she whispered softly.
Arthur's voice was weak, but steadier than before. "Helena… thank you. I thought I was finished."
Helena smiled faintly through her exhaustion. "Don't thank me. Just don't scare me like that again."
Eamon had been standing nearby, his eyes sharp, watching everything. Relief flickered across his face. Without a word, he moved quickly. He reached into his dimension ring and pulled out a tent, sheets, and a small box of medicines.
He set the tent quickly and carried Arthur inside, laying him on the sheets. He gave him medicine for the pain, forcing Arthur to swallow. Arthur coughed but obeyed.
Skarn, still injured, lay nearby. Eamon carefully lifted the beast and placed him beside Arthur. He cleaned Skarn's wounds and gave him medicine as well. Skarn let out a soft growl of discomfort but soon relaxed.
When everything was in place, Eamon turned back to Helena. "You should return to town. If anyone notices you missing, they will suspect."
Helena hesitated. She looked at Arthur, her eyes worried. "Will he be alright?"
Eamon nodded firmly. "Yes. He only needs rest now."
She stood, still pale and weak from blood loss, but she did not argue. "Take care of him."
"I will," Eamon promised.
He carried Helena back swiftly, leaving her near the town walls where no one would see. Then he returned to the forest.
The night grew colder. Eamon sat by Arthur and Skarn, his blade across his lap. His eyes scanned the trees, listening for every sound. The forest was restless. He would not let the vampire return tonight.
Hours passed. The firelight flickered softly against the tent. Arthur stirred at times but did not wake. Skarn slept fitfully. Eamon kept watch, never closing his eyes.
At last, when the horizon began to glow with faint light, his body gave in. The exhaustion he had held back came crashing down. His eyes grew heavy. He leaned back against the tree and, for the first time that night, he slept.
Back in the town, Dragomir was furious. His jaw clenched as he paced his office. People had died again. Innocent lives lost, and he had failed to protect them. His hands shook with frustration.
A knock came at the door. An official from the royal army entered. He wore a crisp uniform, his expression cold and serious.
"Commander Dragomir," the official said, "this matter has grown too large. Too many have died. Since you have failed to catch the vampire, the royal court has decided to send a Royal Knight."
Dragomir's eyes widened. "What? That is unnecessary. I can handle this issue. I just need one more chance."
The official shook his head. "You were given one week. That time is over. The royal knight will arrive the day after tomorrow. This is the final command of the court."
"Wait—" Dragomir started, but the official cut him off.
"You have no choice but to accept. The decision is final."
With that, the man got up and was about to leave.
Dragomir asked him, "May I at least know your name?"
The official replied, "It's Scorpion".
He then turned and left.
Dragomir stood frozen, his fists clenched. He slammed his hand on the table, sending papers flying. "Damn it!" he roared.
The table flipped over with his rage.
At that moment, the soldiers who had followed Eamon into the forest the night before entered. They saluted quickly, then spoke.
"Commander, we lost sight of Eamon in the forest. We followed him, but suddenly he was gone. We searched, but he vanished."
Dragomir's eyes burned with anger. "How could you lose him? Why did you let him go alone?"
One soldier stepped forward nervously. "Sir, we just followed. We do not know when exactly he disappeared. He moved so fast. We could not keep up."
Dragomir's hands shook. He shouted in frustration. "Argggh!" His voice echoed in the room.
He kicked the fallen table across the floor.
"Find him!" he ordered. His voice was sharp as a blade. "Eamon is a rank two adventurer. If something happens to him, it will be on us. I want him found before the royal knight arrives. No excuses!"
"Yes, sir!" the soldiers replied and rushed out.
Dragomir stood alone in his office. His chest heaved with anger. He pressed a hand to his forehead.
"Where could Eamon have gone?" he muttered to himself. His eyes narrowed as he thought of the night before. "And how did he sense the vampire's presence in the opposite direction from where the vampire actually ran off to?"
The question lingered in the silence.