The night smelled of blood and damp earth, thick with the scent of war. The once-vibrant forest had become a battleground, shrouded in shadows and the echo of distant howls.

  Valerius ran, his crimson eyes flicking from shadow to shadow, ever watchful. His cloak billowed behind him as he moved with supernatural speed. But unlike before, there was a burden in his arms—Lysara.

  She clung to him, her small hands fisting into his crimson armor as he carried her effortlessly. “Ka’el, you know… I can run,” she huffed, though her voice was light and teasing.

  “You’re slow,” he said simply.

  She gasped, lightly hitting his chest with her palm. “Excuse me?! I have very graceful legs, thank you very much!”

  Valerius didn’t even flinch. “Graceful? You tripped three times in the st ten minutes.”

  Lysara pouted, her lips pursing into the softest shape—so distracting that he almost missed the slight gleam of amusement in her eyes.

  He ignored it. He ignored her.

  Mostly.

  “You don’t have to carry me like a sack of potatoes,” she continued, shifting in his arms.

  “I’m not.”

  “You are! Look—at least let me—”

  She wiggled slightly, trying to adjust herself, but all it did was press her face against his chest. Valerius went rigid, feeling the warmth of her breath against his colrbone.

  Lysara blinked, then tilted her head up to look at him. Their faces were too close.

  “…Oh.”

  A silence stretched between them.

  She smelled… sweet. Not like perfume, but something natural, something her. And her lips—soft and slightly parted—

  Valerius almost didn’t notice the sudden sound of rustling in the distance. Almost.

  He snapped his head forward, his body tensing. The lycans were near.

  Lysara seemed to sense it too. “They’re coming.”

  He nodded, his grip on her tightening. “Hold on.”

  The Lycan General.

  His towering form was covered in bck fur, muscles rippling beneath the moonlight. His cws gleamed like daggers, and his snarl revealed rows of razor-sharp teeth. Around him, a hundred wolves prowled forward, their growls blending into a menacing chorus.

  Valerius stopped.

  Lysara looked up at him in arm. “What are you—?”

  He set her down gently. “Stay behind me.”

  Lysara’s eyes widened. She had never seen him like this before—not just as a warlord, not just as an emperor. He was something more.

  Something terrifying.

  The Lycan General stepped forward, a smirk curling his beastly lips. “So this is the great Valerius Dracul,” he rumbled. “The st of your kind, outnumbered and cornered. This is where your legend ends, vampire.”

  Valerius didn’t answer. He simply rolled his shoulders, exhaling slowly.

  Then, he disappeared.

  A gust of wind howled through the battlefield.

  The next thing the lycans knew, Valerius was already among them.

  A sickening crack echoed as he grabbed the nearest wolf by the throat and crushed its windpipe in one hand. Blood sprayed as he ripped its head clean off and tossed it aside like garbage.

  The pack recoiled.

  The General barely had time to react before Valerius was in front of him, his fist driving into his ribs with bone-shattering force. The massive beast skidded back, coughing up blood.

  Then chaos erupted.

  The wolves lunged.

  Valerius moved like a shadow, weaving through them with supernatural speed. Cws sshed through empty air where he had been moments before, only for him to reappear behind them—his sword carving through flesh, his bare hands breaking bones with merciless efficiency.

  One wolf pounced—Valerius caught it mid-air and smmed it into the ground so hard its spine snapped.

  Another went for his neck—he tore out its throat with his fangs.

  The battlefield was a dance of death, and Valerius led it with terrifying grace.

  Lysara watched, awe-struck.

  But she wasn’t idle.

  Her golden eyes flickered, absorbing the enemy’s movements. Then, she grinned.

  “Ka’el!” she called out, her voice bright and lively despite the carnage. “Three on your left—one is slower, take him down first!”

  Valerius didn’t even question her. He vanished again, reappearing in a blur. His sword sang through the air—one lycan fell. The second had barely turned before Valerius drove his fist through its chest, ripping out its still-beating heart. The third panicked and tried to flee.

  Valerius caught him.

  His cwed hand crushed the beast’s skull like it was nothing.

  The Lycan General growled in frustration, his fury growing. He charged—his speed was unnatural, almost on Valerius’s level. Their fists collided, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. The force sent Valerius skidding back—but he didn’t fall.

  Lysara cpped her hands. “Oh, you’re really strong, Ka’el! But don’t get too cocky!”

  Valerius shot her a gre. “I am not cocky.”

  “You’re totally cocky,” she giggled. “Now focus! He’s going for your blind spot!”

  Valerius turned just in time. The General’s cws sshed toward his face—Valerius ducked, driving his knee into the lycan’s gut. The beast gagged, but before he could recover, Valerius grabbed him by the throat and smmed him into the ground with enough force to leave a crater.

  Silence fell.

  The surviving wolves hesitated, their confidence shattered. They had thought they were hunting prey.

  Instead, they had awoken a nightmare.

  The Lycan General gasped for breath, blood dripping from his mouth. “Y-You’re a monster…”

  Valerius tilted his head, his red eyes glowing.

  “And you only realized that now?”

  He raised his foot—then stomped down.

  The General’s skull caved in.

  The remaining wolves turned and ran.

  The battle was over.

  Valerius exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the st remnants of the fight. His gaze turned to Lysara—she was beaming, her eyes shimmering with childlike excitement.

  “That was so cool,” she chirped, bouncing on her heels. “I mean, I knew you were scary, but that was next level! You were like—zoom!—then bam!—and then—” She mimed his brutal takedowns with exaggerated hand gestures.

  Valerius sighed. “Do you always act like this after a battle?”

  “Only when it’s a really fun one!” She giggled, stepping closer. “I mean, I did save your undead butt, you know.”

  Valerius raised a brow. “You saved me?”

  “Well, yeah! Without me, you might’ve gotten scratched or something.” She fshed a cheeky grin.

  Valerius stared at her. This woman…

  She had just survived an ambush, witnessed pure carnage, and yet here she was, smiling like a mischievous fox.

  His gaze softened slightly. For the first time, he truly looked at her—not just as a rival or a strategist, but as something else entirely.

  Her sapphire-blue hair shimmered under the moonlight, a stark contrast to the battlefield around her. Her golden eyes, which had burned with determination moments ago, now twinkled with mischief. Her lips—

  Valerius clenched his jaw, forcing himself to look away.

  Lysara blinked at him. “What’s wrong, Ka’el? Are you hurt?”

  “No,” he muttered.

  “Then why do you look so—”

  “Enough talking.” He turned, walking past her. “We need to move.”

  Lysara pouted but followed after him. “You’re no fun.”

  He sighed. He wasn’t sure what was more exhausting—fighting a hundred lycans, or dealing with her.

  But as they walked side by side, her presence lingering at his side, he found himself thinking one thing.

  Maybe, just maybe—

  She wasn’t so bad.

  The battle was over. The remaining lycans fled, dragging their fallen leader’s body away.

  Her eyes—stormy silver with worry—held him in pce.

  For the first time, he saw it.

  Not just her wit. Not just her pyful nature.

  But her beauty.

  Her lips—soft and pink, parted ever so slightly as she exhaled. Her face—framed by strands of blue hair, illuminated by the moonlight.

  She was breathtaking.

  And he had never seen anyone like her before.

  Lysara blinked up at him, completely unaware of the effect she had. Then she grinned. “Oh, are you finally admiring me, Ka’el?”

  Valerius scoffed, looking away. “You talk too much.”

  She giggled. “And you stare too much~.”

  “…Shut up, Lysara.”

  But he didn’t deny it.

  Somewhere in the dark wilderness, far from the ruined battlefield…

  The rhythmic pounding of hooves shattered the stillness of the night. Cloaked in shadows, a lone rider surged forward, eyes burning with purpose.

  Aris tightened her grip on the reins, her heart hammering against her ribs. The trail was faint, but unmistakable—Lysara had passed this way.

  "Finally… I’m close."

  Her fingers brushed the hilt of her sword. Her expression was unreadable, but beneath it y a storm waiting to break.

  "Hold on, Liri."

  The wind howled as if whispering a warning.

  Aris didn't care.

  She was coming.