Kiss of the vampire " the Girl with the Sharp sword" volume 2
Glitch, Glitch
Mission 25 : "HER!"
Glitch, glitch .....
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Deyviel's eyes snapped open.
No screams. No crashing steel. No ash-filled wind from Catherine's dome.No Lancer.No Lucifearus no war.
Just birds. Smell of fired Rice. A fan humming overhead. A dog barking. Neighbors shouting.
The ceiling was cracked a little in the corner—familiar. Too familiar. His heart thudded in his chest—not from exhaustion or battle frenzy, but from confusion. Disbelief.
He sat up, drenched in sweat, clutching his chest.
No pain. No gaping wound. No claws. No wings. No tail. Just skin. Just him.
It was quiet. Real.
Then his phone buzzed.
[DENVER]: Yo! DUDE! Answer your phone before I switch to emergency contact mode!
It vibrated again. And again.
He grabbed it and hit answer.
"Dude, finally!" Denver's voice exploded through the speaker. "I've been calling for ten minutes! What are you gonna wear later? Iron Man or Cap? 'Cause if you pick Iron Man too, we'll look like a duo cosplay and I ain't sharing spotlight, bro!"
Deyviel blinked. "...iron...man.?..…What…?"
"Tch man iron man! .... But Anyway," Denver kept going, "my mom wanted me to join them to the province, but I told her no way. Endgame tomorrow, man. You. Me. Ethan. Cymac. Mizuno. The whole squad." And look at the calendar. That's when he saw it. A day before everything started and Deyviel sit at his bed as he remembers what happen last time before he wakes up. And his eyes slowly began to tear up ."damn it, I made it back" he sobs
Silence.
Denver paused. "Uh... You okay, man?"
"Dude? Hey are you crying?"
"No"
"Your crying!"
"Yes!"
"Tch...take a bath cry baby. A cold it's just a dream brother!"
"Yeah, a dream. Thanks brother "
"Ok,after that call me again. "
Deyviel slowly stood up, staggering a little. "Yeah. Thanks"
His voice felt foreign. The world felt foreign.
He wandered toward the mirror. Stared.
No monster stared back. Just him. Pale. Wide-eyed.
Still alive.
His fingers hovered over his face. Trying to believe it.
Was this heaven? A dream? Or something worse?
Then—
"Kieth! You silly brat! Kain na! Malamig na 'to!" his dad called from downstairs.
"Coming..." he mumbled.
He moved slowly, like wading through thick water. Everything was vivid. Overwhelming.
He hung up after murmuring a vague goodbye to Denver, brushed his teeth, got dressed, and walked down to the kitchen.
His dad was there. His alive and safe.🥹
Scooping rice like nothing had changed. TV buzzing with a corny sitcom. That same old beat-up apron.
Humming. Smiling.
Normal.
Deyviel froze in the hallway, just staring.
His chest ached. His eyes burned.
He pressed the sleeve of his shirt to his face, wiping the tears away fast.
"Get it together..." he muttered, then took a breath and stepped forward.
He forced a grin.
"Mornin', old man!" he called.
His dad looked up. "Took you long enough. Food's getting cold."
Deyviel sat down. The scent of garlic rice, egg, and longganisa hit him hard—nostalgic and painful.
He tried to eat, but every bite tasted like ash.
She had cried in his arms. Denver had screamed his name. Maya was dying. He was already dead.
None of this made sense.
"Akala ko ginabi ka ng gising," his dad joked, not looking up. "You look like you fought a war last night."
He chuckled dryly. "If only you knew..."
"You okay, anak?" his dad asked, a little more serious now. "You look pale."
"Just had a weird dream," Deyviel replied, managing a small, hollow smile.
"Baka gutom 'yan. Eat up."
He nodded and kept eating.
"Thanks, Dad," he mumbled after a few quiet moments.
His dad smiled and stood to pour him a glass of juice. Like it was just any other morning.
And for a moment… it almost was.
---
At School.
The clang of the school gate greeted him. Tricycles rattled nearby. Students flooded in, uniforms rustling, voices rising.
Then it got strange.
"Hey, Deyviel!"
He turned. It was Marcus. Alive. Grinning. Intact.
He'd watched him die. A hellhound. Screaming.
"Morning!"
Liza passed by. She was frozen solid last time he saw her. Literally. Shattered.
Now she was chatting like nothing happened.
His fingers loosened around his bag strap, letting it slip from his shoulder.
All around him were ghosts walking in daylight. Laughing. Breathing.
Denver waved from the hallway, walking backwards. "Yo, you look like you saw a ghost!"
"I think I did..." Deyviel muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing."
He moved. Stiff. Silent.
The world was too bright. Too... reconstructed.
Like someone had tried to paint it again from memory but the strokes weren't perfect.
And then—
A breeze brushed past him in the hallway.
It carried a scent.
His breath caught.
That smell.
The same gentle cologne. The faint sweetness of the conditioner she always used.
His heart nearly stopped.
He turned his head, eyes scanning.
"No... it can't be—"
But his gut told him.
It was her.
"I'm sure about it!" he whispered, voice cracking.
Denver blinked. "Who? Sure about what?"
But Deyviel didn't answer.
He ran.
Down the corridor. Past students. Down staircases. Around corners. His legs pushed harder, driven by instinct—by hope.
He turned one last corner—
And there she was.
By the library. Laughing with a friend. Hair black and slightly curled. Her eyes lit up as she smiled.
Her.
"Elisia!"
Her name tore from his chest.
She turned, curious.
Then she smiled.
That smile. The one that made his worst days survivable. His reason for trying.
She was alive.
Alive.
His legs gave out. Knees hit the floor. His bag fell with a dull thud.
"I'm sorry…" he sobbed. "I'm so sorry... I failed you. I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't protect you… I—"
His voice cracked.
"But I've been given another chance. This time—I'll protect you. I swear..."
Elisia rushed over, alarmed. "H-Hey… what are you talking about?" she asked, kneeling beside him.
He couldn't even look up.
She gently touched his arm. Then wrapped both arms around him.
He collapsed against her shoulder.
Elisia was confused. But she held him tight. No judgment. Just warmth.
"It's okay. You're okay now."
Deyviel clung to her.
"Sorry," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I just had a bad dream... a really bad one."
Elisia pulled back just enough to see his eyes. Her smile was soft. "Then I'm glad you woke up."
She wiped his tears gently with her sleeve.
"Don't worry," she said. "I'm here now. You can always cry to me whenever you need it."
That warmth…
That kindness…
That lifeline he thought he'd lost.
For the first time in what felt like forever…
Deyviel let himself believe.
Maybe this time… he could save everyone.
The cafeteria buzzed with the usual noise—clinking trays, students laughing, chairs scraping across the floor. Deyviel sat across from Elisia, with Denver lounging beside him, scarfing down his third plate like it was the last meal of the century.
Deyviel barely touched his food.
His eyes kept drifting back to Elisia.
She was laughing softly at something Denver said, brushing her hair behind her ear—the same way she used to. That little motion alone made his heart pound, made his throat tighten.
Is this real? he thought. Is she really here? Alive? After everything?
He watched the way the light caught in her hair, how her eyes crinkled when she smiled, and it felt like a dream—like she might disappear if he blinked too long.
So, he did something small. Almost childish.
He reached out and gently poked her sleeve.
She looked at him, puzzled. "Hm?"
"N-Nothing," he muttered, pulling his hand back quickly.
Then he did it again. Touched the edge of her elbow. Still there. Still warm.
Elisia tilted her head. "What's wrong?"
"Just making sure you're not a ghost…" he mumbled, cheeks warming.
Denver, ever the loudmouth, caught on instantly. "Dude… are you serious right now?"
"What?" Deyviel blinked.
Denver cackled. "You're like a teenager who's never held a girl's hand before!"
"I'm not—!"
Before Deyviel could finish, Denver grabbed his wrist and shoved his hand right onto Elisia's palm across the table.
The contact was gentle—but enough. Her fingers closed slightly around his, surprised.
Deyviel froze. Elisia's cheeks turned red too, eyes wide.
Denver, grinning like a devil, leaned back in his chair. "There. Look at that. Boyfriend-level unlocked."
"Shut up, Denver!" Deyviel barked, quickly trying to pull his hand away—but Elisia held onto it for a second longer.
"...Still warm," she whispered, smiling softly. "Not a ghost. I promise."
Deyviel lowered his gaze, biting back the lump rising in his throat. He wanted to stay like that. Just for a little longer.
The laughter at the canteen was light and warm. Denver was halfway through his third bowl, talking animatedly about some dumb argument he got into with a senior, while Elisia tried to hold in her giggles. Deyviel mostly listened—smiling, nodding—but every few seconds, his eyes stole glances at her.
Elisia.
Her laugh.
Her warmth.
Her presence.
Real.
He shifted closer on the bench, like instinct, and gently reached out. Just a tap. A poke to her arm. She blinked and looked at him.
"You okay?" she asked with a small smile, slightly confused but not offended.
He pulled his hand back. "Sorry… just checking."
Denver snorted loudly. "Man, you're like a teenager, first time having a girlfriend!" He laughed, grabbed Deyviel's wrist, and pressed it to Elisia's hand. "Too afraid to touch your girl, huh? Hahahaha!"
Deyviel's face turned a bit red. Elisia's cheeks matched. But her hand stayed.
And that's when it hit him.
All at once.
His head spun. The clatter of the canteen faded. Laughter dulled into a low hum.
The memories.
A flash—
Elisia's scream.
The bus, slipping off the bridge.
Metal crumpling, glass exploding.
The truck roaring forward like death itself.
His heart clenched. She died here. She died here.
But not this time.
Not this Deyviel.
Not in this life.
He remembered it clearly now.
---
That morning had been different.
He woke with a pain in his chest, a pressure. The moment he stepped out, he knew. He rushed—faster than thought, faster than fear. The world blurred around him.
And there—at the intersection.
The bus.
Elisia inside.
The truck barreling toward them, driverless.
"No."
His figure turned into a bolt of red lightning.
He dashed forward, slamming both palms onto the side of the bus. Wheels screeched. Metal groaned. He skidded back, feet carving cracks into the asphalt. The edge of the bridge crumbled just inches away—but he held on.
"Alex!" he barked. "Open that damn door!"
Alex, confused but trusting, jumped in, forcing the emergency lever. Kids scrambled out.
Deyviel turned—eyes glowing blood red.
The truck was almost on them.
With a primal roar, he let go of the bus and launched himself.
The truck collided with him—only for the front to crumple like paper.
From the wreckage, a man—no, a vampire—emerged, grinning.
"You again."
Deyviel grabbed his throat mid-laugh.
"This time," he snarled, "you guys won't take anyone from me."
His grip crushed. Bones snapped.
The vampire barely had time to gasp before Deyviel's ki surged like a storm—flames of white and red engulfed the creature, reducing him to ash.
He turned to the bus.
Elisia was unconscious, bleeding slightly.
He knelt, cradled her gently. "You're safe now," he whispered.
"Alex, hospital. Now. Follow me if you can."
Without waiting, Deyviel leapt into the air, Elisia in his arms. The wind roared behind him.
That one act…
That one choice…
Changed everything.
---
Back at the canteen, he blinked—back to the present.
His hand still in hers.
She was alive.
Alive.
And looking at him with concern.
"Deyviel?" she asked softly.
He shook his head, breath trembling. "I just had… a bad dream. A really bad one," he said.
Elisia leaned forward, both hands covering his now.
"Don't worry," she whispered. "I'm here now. You can always cry to me whenever you need it."
Her smile was the warmest thing he'd ever seen.
And this time…
He smiled back—real, shaky, and grateful.
"I'll remember that," he said, squeezing her hand.
Denver groaned. "Damn, get a room already! Or at least save the fluff for after I finish eating!"
Elisia rolled her eyes. Deyviel just chuckled.
But deep down, he knew.
This timeline was his second chance.
And he wasn't going to waste it.
The air was quieter now, the kind that hums gently after a long day. The three of them—Deyviel, Denver, and Alex—walked along the dimly lit street. Elisia walked just ahead, humming softly to herself. Deyviel's gaze kept wandering to her, like he still couldn't quite believe she was real.
His steps slowed for a moment.
She's alive…
Because I saved her this time…
The image of the bus teetering at the edge, the crash that never happened, and the vampire's neck cracking beneath his grip—all of it pulsed fresh and sharp in his mind. His chest rose and fell with a mix of quiet guilt and relief.
"You alright?" Denver asked beside him, eyeing the faraway look in his friend's eyes.
Deyviel nodded faintly. "Yeah. Just… thinking."
They reached Elisia's house. She turned around and smiled. "Thanks for walking me home. You guys didn't have to, you know?"
Deyviel opened his mouth to respond, but Denver cut in first. "Oh, he insisted. Said we should 'make sure you're really home and not some illusion,'" he teased, nudging Deyviel with an elbow.
Deyviel clicked his tongue and looked away, ears slightly red. "Shut up, Dre."
Elisia chuckled. "Well, I am real. Want me to pinch you to prove it?"
He shook his head quickly. "No need…"
Denver grinned, then turned serious. "Alright, she's home safe. Now what?"
Deyviel's expression shifted. His tone dropped lower, heavier. "We need to train. Just a little. Before the movie night."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "Train? What for?"
Denver folded his arms. "Something happened, didn't it?"
Deyviel looked at them both, his eyes no longer the light ones from earlier—they were steady, hard, and full of the weight of what he knew.
"Something's coming," he said. "I don't know when, or how bad, but it's not going to be like before. This time, we need to be ready."
Denver's face tensed. Then he gave a slow nod. "Alright. I'm in."
Alex sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Man… I guess it's never really peaceful with you around, huh?"
Deyviel gave him a dry smirk. "You're still here, though."
"Yeah, yeah. Someone's gotta make sure you don't kill yourself being a hero."
He turned back toward Elisia's door, where she still stood, watching them with a curious look.
"Go on," Denver said, nudging him again. "Say goodnight to your girlfriend, Romeo."
"She's not—"
"Yet," Alex and Denver said in unison.
Deyviel rolled his eyes and stepped forward, a little awkward, a little nervous.
"Goodnight, Elisia."
She smiled up at him, soft and bright. "Goodnight, Deyviel. And hey… thanks again. For everything."
He hesitated, then lifted a hand—hovering just briefly over hers—then slowly, he held it.
This time, he didn't flinch.
And in that moment, under the porch light and quiet hum of the city around them, he allowed himself to feel it.
That she was really there.
That this timeline was different.
And maybe… just maybe…
It wasn't too late to make things right.
To be continued