The battle raged fiercely in every corner of the crumbling village.
Caught off guard, the vampire soldiers quickly found themselves at a disadvantage against the bloodthirsty, frenzied werewolves, who had completely lost their minds.
All around, more than fifty villagers had transformed into werewolves.
In a matter of moments, these mutated villagers had adapted to their new power. Even the hard armor worn by the vampire soldiers couldn't protect them from the savage bites of these enhanced creatures.
"Hold formation! Don't panic!"
The mutant werewolves attacked from all directions with relentless speed and ferocity.
But amidst the chaos, a vampire female knight stood firm. Agile and precise, she fired her crossbow again and again, bringing down werewolf after werewolf.
For a brief moment, the blood-crazed werewolves seemed to sense danger. Their arrogance faltered, and they hesitated to approach.
With her arrival, the faltering vampire troops found their rallying point. They gathered around the female knight, regaining their courage.
Under her organized and steady command, their casualties were quickly brought under control, and a counteroffensive began.
As more soldiers regrouped, the werewolf horde—once dominant but lacking coordination—lost their advantage.
Thanks to the knight's leadership, the werewolves could no longer break through.
Though the werewolves continued their assault, their momentum had clearly been suppressed. However, the vampires' counterattack was starting to weaken too—crossbow bolts were running low.
"Lady Amelia, if this continues, we won't hold for long," said a captain behind her.
The knight was none other than Amelia, one of the three legendary vampire elders of the Underworld.
She glanced back and saw that only about thirty soldiers remained. Their quivers were nearly empty, making it harder and harder to maintain pressure on the enemy.
"Hold the formation and fall back toward the edge of the village. Reinforcements are on the way. Stay strong!"
At her command, the team began a tactical retreat.
But in the chaos, some soldiers were pulled down and dragged out of formation by werewolves attacking from all sides.
Amelia watched in helpless fury as they were swarmed, torn apart, their blood splattering the ground.
As both sides clashed and the stalemate deepened, the firelit night sky suddenly dimmed into complete darkness.
Sensing something strange, Amelia looked up and saw waves of black clouds surging overhead.
But as they drew near, she was stunned to realize they weren't clouds at all—they were bats, thousands of them, dark and swirling like a tide.
The shock of the sight distracted her just long enough for a werewolf to seize the moment. It lunged and dragged her out of formation.
Reacting instantly, Amelia fought through her panic. She pulled a dagger from her waist and stabbed it into the ear of the werewolf biting into her armored arm.
But before she could even catch her breath, two more werewolves leaped onto her, slamming her to the ground. Her dagger was knocked from her hand.
Pain shot through her limbs.
She could feel sharp teeth ripping into her thighs and arms, tearing through even her armor.
The agony was unbearable. Death loomed close, and for the first time, Amelia let out a scream of pure desperation.
"Puff~!!"
Two sharp, wet sounds rang out.
Amelia, writhing in pain, suddenly felt a warm liquid splash over her face.
Blood.
"I'm... not dead?" she murmured in shock.
Her wide blue-green eyes—fierce and wild like a cornered cat's—snapped open.
And then she saw it.
A terrifying figure floated high above the battlefield, surrounded by a swirling storm of bats.
A powerful, icy aura radiated from him, pressing on her fragile nerves until she could barely breathe.
The werewolves that had attacked her were gone, reduced to blood and scraps of flesh on the ground.
Still stunned, Amelia slowly realized where the blood on her came from.
She stood up, trembling, and looked around in a daze.
All around, vampire soldiers and werewolves alike were under siege from the endless tide of bats.
Humanoids transformed from bats were now fighting in the chaos, turning the tide.
In just moments, the werewolves—once dominant—were now surrounded and hunted.
Even those that had lost all humanity, consumed by bloodlust, now had only one instinct left: run.
Suddenly, a figure appeared before Amelia. Before she could see his face clearly, a wave of total weakness swept over her.
Then, a deep voice echoed in her ears:
"Woman… surrender or die."
The voice exploded in her mind like thunder.
Her heart stopped, then pounded furiously—so hard it felt as though it might burst through her chest.
A paralyzing fear engulfed her.
When she finally came to her senses, she realized she was already kneeling, her body submitting entirely to the figure before her.
Terror flashed through her eyes.
She looked up and saw—it was him.
The same figure from the sky, now right in front of her.
But now that she was closer, she was shocked to see he wasn't the monstrous demon she had imagined.
He was… handsome.
Strikingly so. And he carried an air of elegance—like a noble.
For a moment, her eyes widened in disbelief, and confusion filled her gaze.
Then a cold snort rang out.
Her heart clenched. She coughed up blood.
Clutching her chest, struggling to stay conscious, Amelia cried out desperately:
"I surrender! I surrender!"
Her voice was hoarse, panicked, and broken from pain and lack of air.
But the moment her cry of surrender left her lips, the pain eased. Her mind, moments from losing consciousness, cleared slightly.
She gasped for breath like someone drowning.
At that moment, nothing felt more precious than air.
"Your name."
"A-Amelia," she stammered, staring up at the man who now held her life in his hands.