Location unknown.
In a windowless room, shrouded in silence, a man lay leaning against the wall.
The air smelled of rusted iron and ash; the floor was covered with a thin layer of dust and dried blood.
A seriously and mortally wounded vampire was breathing with difficulty. His body, covered in deep cuts and burns that were still smoldering, was barely managing to regenerate. Every muscle trembled with the effort of staying intact.
He was tall, almost two meters in height. His brown hair, dirty with blood and dust, fell to his shoulders. Behind dark glasses broken at one edge, his eyes were tired but still full of rage.
It was Loic.
The memory of his last battle still burned in his mind: the clash with the Inquisition general known as D. The hunter had not only outpaced him, but also outmaneuvered him.
If it weren't for the contingency measures he had prepared in advance, he would have died right there, reduced to ashes by that damn sacred energy.
