Kiss of the vampire volume 2
"Girl with the Sharp sword"
Mission 16: cryptic
The world was quiet.
Too quiet.
Lightning hissed across the cracked floor where Deyviel should've died.
Ben stared at him, unmoving—his grip on Kigan tightening.
Deyviel turned, brow furrowed. "What?"
Ben didn't answer right away.
His voice was low, almost to himself.
"…You weren't supposed to dodge that."
Deyviel blinked. "I did dodge it."
"No."
Ben shook his head, eyes still wide. "You didn't."
The silence between them wasn't just heavy. It was wrong. Like reality was still catching up.
"Then how the hell—" Deyviel started, but his voice stopped short.
A pressure built in his chest.
Not pain.
Not panic.
Just—weight.
Like the world was pressing too hard on the seams of his skin.
For a flicker of a second—his reflection in a shard of broken ice looked warped. Not his face. Not human. Something shadowed. Crowned. Watching back.
He blinked. Gone.
---
Across the hangar, Catherine was on one knee, blood staining her cloak. Her frost armor cracked and steaming.
Maya stood barely upright, hand clutching her side, but still breathing—barely.
They didn't speak.
Too tired.
Too broken.
Too focused on the presence still crawling across the battlefield.
Lancer.
Blood soaked his coat.
His hand twitched near Artemis, trying to call the blade back to him.
"Don't," Ben warned, stepping closer.
Deyviel moved beside him without thinking.
Ben noticed that too. The way Deyviel's boots made no sound now on the ground. The way the snow didn't stick to him anymore.
"Rayleigh…" Lancer coughed. "He's not one of yours anymore. You know that, right?"
Ben didn't answer.
But his stare said everything.
Lancer chuckled—blood foaming in his throat. "You felt it too. Just now."
He turned his head toward Deyviel.
"You glitch like that again, and you'll break the world."
Deyviel snapped his blade up. "You don't know anything about me."
Lancer's grin widened, even in pain. "Boy, I know exactly what you are."
---
Then—the air shifted.
Maya's head shot up.
Catherine froze.
Ben's pupils dilated.
And Deyviel?
His heartbeat stopped.
Not skipped.
Stopped.
Only for half a second.
But in that moment, the ground trembled—and from the far side of the broken corridor…
A pulse echoed.
BOOM.
It wasn't sound.
It was something ancient.
Something buried.
The walls groaned. Ice cracked. Fire bent inward.
Even the light dimmed, like it was afraid.
Ben's voice was hoarse now.
"…No. Not now."
Deyviel staggered back.
"What… what is that?"
Maya's grip on Yamato tightened.
"That's not from them."
Catherine rose shakily to her feet.
"No," she whispered. "It's not."
The pulse came again—louder this time.
BOOM.
A red shimmer rippled across the far wall, like someone was peeling open a fold in space.
Lancer's smile faded.
"...You brought it here, didn't you?" he muttered, eyes twitching toward Deyviel.
Ben stepped between them. "Nobody move."
But Deyviel fell to one knee.
Breath shallow.
Eyes wide.
There—deep in his core—something was looking back.
Not from this world. Not even from this time.
Something older.
Watching.
Waiting.
The pulse faded.
Silence fell like a hammer.
Then—Deyviel screamed.
Not in fear.
Not in pain.
But in fury.
The veins on his neck lit with a faint red glow, cracks of black webbing up his throat. Steam hissed from his back. His grip on his blade tightened until the steel groaned.
"Deyviel—!" Ben stepped forward, alarm rising.
"I'm fine," Deyviel growled through clenched teeth. "I'm—fine."
But he wasn't.
Something inside him had cracked. And now, power poured out.
Not holy.
Not clean.
Something primal. Ancient.
A force long buried in the blood of dying gods and forgotten beasts.
His eyes shifted—gold slitted like a dragon's, rimmed in black.
Scales flickered briefly across his left arm, then his cheek.
Wings didn't sprout. Horns didn't grow.
But every breath he took now came with a low rumble—like thunder caught in his lungs.
Catherine staggered back. "That's—"
"Dragon Trigger…" Maya whispered, lowering Yamato in disbelief. "He's activating it willingly?!"
Ben didn't lower his blade.
He watched.
Closely.
Even as Deyviel rose, body trembling, aura flaring with embers and shadow.
Lancer laughed.
"Oh. Oh. Now this is interesting," he coughed, wiping blood from his chin. "So you finally dug into that rotten core. Did it whisper to you yet?"
Deyviel didn't answer.
Instead, he took a step forward.
Then another.
His footsteps cracked the floor beneath him.
Lancer grinned. "Tell me—do you feel it? That creeping madness? That voice in your spine begging for blood?"
And then—Deyviel heard it.
A voice like rusted metal on bone.
> "Kill them."
"Kill them all."
"Let them burn. Burn for her. Burn for him. Burn because you can."
His hands twitched.
His blade trembled.
For a moment—
He turned his head toward Maya.
Then Catherine.
Then Ben.
The voice got louder.
> "Strike. Tear. End. You don't belong to them. You belong to me."
Deyviel clenched his jaw so tight blood welled between his teeth.
Then—
He roared.
Not a beast's roar. Not quite.
A sound caught between man and monster.
And he forced the blade forward—
Straight at Lancer.
Ben moved in sync beside him, without a word.
The battle restarted.
---
Lancer raised Alastor to meet Deyviel's overhead strike—but the blade slammed down with such force that the floor beneath Lancer cracked open.
He was driven back five steps—then lifted off his feet.
Ben flashed in from the right, slashing Kigan across Lancer's ribs—sparks flying.
Lancer recovered, spinning with Artemis, firing blood-marked bolts mid-twirl—but Deyviel dashed through them like they were mist, his form warping unnaturally fast.
A clawed hand—not fully human anymore—grabbed Lancer's wrist mid-spin and slammed him through a steel wall.
Ben dashed after, blade raised, and together they tore through Lancer's guard.
Beneath the storm of blades, Lancer laughed.
"I told you, Rayleigh… He's not yours."
---
Back on the sidelines—
Catherine was pale.
Maya stepped in front of her.
"You feel it too?" she asked, voice tight.
Catherine nodded slowly. "That isn't just a transformation. That's a curse."
Maya's grip on Yamato returned.
"I don't care what it is. He's still Deyviel."
"For now," Catherine said grimly. "But for how long?"
---
Back in the fight—
Deyviel threw Lancer into the snow and raised his blade again.
The voice returned.
> "He's nothing. He's broken. You can end this. Then turn the blade. Finish them too."
Deyviel paused.
His body trembled.
For just a second—he turned toward Ben.
The slitted eyes flickered.
Ben stopped.
His expression tightened.
"…Deyviel?"
> "He'll betray you. They all will. Just like they did to her. Just like they will to you."
Deyviel stared at Ben.
Sweat ran down his temple.
Then—
"Shut up," he muttered.
> "Strike. Do it—"
"I said SHUT UP!!" Deyviel roared.
He turned his blade—and hurled it back at Lancer.
It struck—not flesh—but Alastor, sending it flying.
Lancer's arm went numb.
Ben moved in with a final swing—
But Lancer teleported back, skidding across the frost, panting.
Blood poured from a dozen wounds.
Even with the Dragon Trigger active, Deyviel dropped to one knee, panting hard.
His hands were still shaking.
Ben stood beside him again, sword lowered.
"You held it back."
Deyviel didn't look at him.
"…Not for long."
Ben turned toward Lancer again.
Then Maya.
Then Catherine.
Then the broken corridor—where that pulse had come from.
This wasn't over.
Not even close.
Steam hissed from Deyviel's back.
He knelt there—one hand gripping the cracked floor, the other trembling.
Not from pain.
But from restraint.
The Dragon Trigger still pulsed beneath his skin, begging to be let loose again. Screaming for blood. Urging him to finish it.
Ben stayed at his side, blade low but ready. His eyes never left him.
Catherine watched from the far end of the ruined hangar, one hand pressed to her side where Maya had cut her deep.
She didn't speak. Her pale lips pressed into a flat line. Her gaze—haunted.
Maya took a step toward her, but Catherine raised her hand.
"No more," she said. Not a whisper. Not a plea. Just… tired.
Maya paused, breathing hard.
"I'm not done," she said.
"You are," Catherine replied coldly. "Because if you kill me now, you become what I became."
Maya froze.
And Catherine turned her back to her.
A faint glyph spun under her boots.
A teleportation seal—old, elegant, and marked with Valemorne sigils.
Balthazar appeared beside her, silent and battered, his halberd still crackling faintly.
"Catherine—"
"Later," she cut in. "This isn't the battlefield I expected."
Her eyes flicked to Deyviel.
Still struggling to breathe.
Still fighting something unseen.
"…He's not ready yet. But he's close."
Ben turned his head toward her.
Their eyes met.
And Catherine whispered, "You should've killed him before that form woke."
Then she vanished.
A flicker of light.
A whisper of frost.
Gone.
---
Across the field, Lancer groaned and forced himself to his feet. One eye swollen shut. Blood pouring from a split brow.
But his grin was still there.
Twisted.
Pleased.
"Well…" he rasped. "That was fun."
Ben took one step forward.
Lancer raised a shaky hand.
"No need. I got what I wanted. Saw what I needed."
He coughed.
"…And I'd rather not die while smiling."
Ben didn't lower his sword. "You won't get another chance."
Lancer smiled wider. "You think I'm running from you?"
He looked straight at Deyviel.
"No. I'm running from that."
He turned.
His remaining weapon—Rudra—sliced a circle of wind through the air.
The storm swallowed him whole.
And just like that—
He was gone.
---
The wind calmed.
Smoke cleared.
The silence returned—but this time, it wasn't sharp.
It was… cold. Hollow.
Ben slowly turned back toward Deyviel, who was still kneeling, chest rising and falling like he'd been drowning.
The transformation faded.
Scales receded.
The glow in his eyes dimmed.
But something lingered behind them.
Like he had touched something forbidden—and it had touched him back.
"You good?" Ben asked quietly.
Deyviel didn't answer for a few seconds.
Then finally:
"…No."
The smoke finally cleared.
No more howls.
No more fire.
No more Primordial weapons screaming across steel.
Just cold.
And broken bodies.
And silence.
The wind pushed through the shattered roof, carrying snow into the hangar.
Deyviel stood now, his breaths ragged. The glow beneath his skin had faded. But the shaking hadn't stopped.
Maya walked beside him—still bloodied, still clutching her ribs.
And that's when they saw him.
Andrew.
Slumped against a fallen support beam.
His comms pack was half-crushed beneath his body. The blue lights flickered once… then faded.
His goggles had fallen. His hand was outstretched toward the wall—like he'd tried to crawl. His other hand still gripped a broken tool, knuckles pale from the way he'd held on.
He wasn't breathing.
"…No," Deyviel muttered.
He stepped forward slowly.
"No, no, no…"
Maya said nothing. She lowered her head.
Ben was already kneeling there.
He hadn't moved since the fighting ended. Just sat by Andrew's side—eyes down. Silent.
Deyviel dropped to his knees.
"He… he was just talking about the new gear," he said. "He said he was gonna upgrade my—"
Ben didn't lift his head.
"You weren't supposed to be here."
The words were quiet.
Deyviel looked up. "What?"
Ben slowly stood.
His cloak still burned at the edges. Blood stained his sleeves. His jaw was clenched too tight.
"You weren't supposed to be here," he repeated. "And he wasn't supposed to die here."
Deyviel stared at him, confused. Hurt. "Ben… what do you mean?"
Ben finally looked at him.
There was something unreadable in his eyes.
Not anger.
Not sorrow.
Just… inevitability.
"You should go home, Dey," Ben said. His voice was low, colder than before. "Right now. We'll handle the rest here."
Deyviel's heart sank.
"Why?" he whispered. "Why do you want me to go home?"
Ben didn't answer at first.
He turned his back.
Snow blew in harder now, the wind shrieking softly through broken steel.
Then Ben spoke again—his voice rough.
"Just go home. Please."
He paused.
"Bring Maya with you."
Deyviel was still frozen in place.
Something about the way Ben said it… the way he didn't say more…
Ben didn't turn around.
But he added one last thing:
> "Come and find me… when you get there."
"We'll talk."
To be continued..