The Second Choir advanced with holy banners raised high, their voices chanting hymns meant to shatter demonic will. Yet the battlefield trembled not with fear, but with blood and lightning.
Aiden stood at the center, his aura dripping death. Rivers of crimson coiled around him like serpents, rising into jagged blades. Every heartbeat pulled more blood from the fallen, crafting weapons, shields, even wings of liquid scarlet. His eyes glowed like burning rubies as he moved, each step a death sentence.
"Blasphemy!" one priest-general roared, raising his holy spear. "A vampire child dares wield the Night King's arts?!"
Aiden's lips curled into a smirk. With a flick of his hand, the blood of a dozen soldiers burst from their veins, slamming into the general with such force it tore through his divine armor.
"Not a vampire," Aiden growled, his voice layered with something ancient. "A King."
Bang. Bang.
Lucien's laughter rang across the battlefield. Twin pistols danced in his hands, every shot tearing through divine wards, each bullet landing with cruel precision. Soldiers fell like wheat under his storm, their hymns drowned by gunfire.
"Come on! Don't tell me this is the Church's Second Choir! I was expecting a challenge!" he shouted, his grin feral.
"Devil spawn!" another knight spat, charging him.
Lucien's pistols spun once, and in the blink of an eye, the knight's helm exploded into shards of steel and bone. "That's Baby Devil to you."
He moved with impossible speed, bullets curving through the air as if the guns themselves bent reality. The Choir broke formation, realizing too late they were facing Victor's heir — the same child who once massacred half their recruits before the age of six.
From a distant rooftop, cloaked in shadows, Victor Allucard watched in silence. His crimson eyes never wavered, following Aiden's blood-crafted slaughter and Lucien's playful yet devastating carnage.
One was born of the unknown, carrying the Night King's legacy.
The other, his own son, forged in darkness and fire.
Side by side, they carved through the Church's might as if it were nothing.
Victor's lips curved faintly. "Yes… show me. Show me what the world fears. Show me why you were born."
He folded his hands behind his back, not lifting a finger to intervene. The world had to see this massacre. The Church had to remember.
That even saints could bleed.
By the time the moon reached its peak, the battlefield was silent. Blood soaked the earth, corpses lay in heaps, and holy banners burned in crimson flames.
Aiden stood trembling but unbroken, his power still humming. Lucien twirled his pistols and holstered them with a cocky grin.
"Guess that's the Second Choir wiped out," Lucien said cheerfully. "Should we wait for the Third?"
Aiden's eyes narrowed, his body still crackling with lightning. "Let them come."
High above, Victor's quiet laughter carried on the wind, unheard by all but the night.