Few hours before the battle.
The vampire slayers gathered in the assembly area for the final instructions before their upcoming attack on the vampires. Drake arrived at the venue alone—he had no friends or teammates. Every time he joined a group, they kicked him out, saying he was too weak and only dragged the team down.
Murmurs filled the room as they waited for the President to arrive. Drake looked around; everyone seemed much more prepared than he was. Some had formed groups and were having fun. He couldn't remember the last time he had teammates or friends. A sudden ring of a bell snapped him out of his thoughts. It was the signal that the President had arrived, and everyone fell silent.
"A few hours from now, we will engage in a battle where life and death are at stake. We will not fight for land, power, or fame—we will fight for our existence.
The vampires call us prey. They believe our fear will make us surrender. But they are wrong. Because the fear they've given us doesn't break us—it builds us.
Every slayer standing here tonight carries the weight of the fallen. We are the voices of every child who never woke up, every friend who never came home. We carry their names like fire in our blood.
So sharpen your stakes. Load your rifles. Say your prayers if you must—but know this: They may live forever. But tonight, they die.
Now go. Light it up. For the living. For the fallen. For the future!" The President raised his right hand, and the other slayers did the same, shouting as one.
They all returned to their quarters to gear up and prepare their weapons. Once ready, the slayers headed toward the forest—some riding motorbikes, engines roaring through the night. Drake, however, chose to ride in the troop transport, seeking the comfort of numbers. Being surrounded by others made him feel a little safer.
The convoy moved steadily through the mountain pass, the line of troop transports blending into the shadows beneath the pale light of the rising moon. As they approached, they heard the sounds of a fight. Drake peeked out the window and saw vampires fighting each other.
Claws scraped against each other, fangs sought victims, and the battle for life or death raged on. Flags, ripped and burned, hung sadly from broken sticks. The ground shook under the fighting feet, turning soft grass into trampled mud. On one side stood The Feral Bloodline, vampires who eat animal blood and seek peace, but must fight for it. On the other hand, The Blackthorn Dominion, a ruthless faction aiming to control both vampires and humans, dressed in tattered cloaks and rusted armor. Their eyes burned with madness, their mouths smeared crimson, and their ambition knew no mercy—dominance over vampires and humans alike.
They all scattered across the area, but some managed to escape. Drake felt his whole body shaking. He wanted to turn back, but he couldn't—he had already arrived.
Clumsy with his gun, he fired wildly, desperate to survive the war. His shaky hands somehow managed to kill three vampires. Then, out of the chaos, one stronger vampire caught his attention.
That vampire began to chase him with deadly intent.
Present Day.
Early in the morning, he walked into the forest, trying to remember what happened the previous night.
The forest was unnervingly quiet now. The fierce cries and the clang of steel had vanished, replaced by a heavy, haunting silence. His eyes caught dark stains smeared across the underbrush and splattered on the leaves—fresh blood marking a grim trail. Near a shattered tree stump, an empty bottle of holy water lay discarded, its glass cracked and dulled. The unmistakable sign of a battle fought fiercely but long since ended. The air still felt heavy, and the eerie silence only deepened his unease, as if the forest itself was haunted by the violence that had occurred.
"I was wounded, about to die, yet here I am with no scratch. Who was that woman? Is she a vampire? A slayer? I need to find a clue. I must find her." He muttered to himself.
Then, a sudden rustle—the faintest movement in the nearby bushes—snapped his attention sharply. He froze, heart pounding.
"Who's there? I'm not afraid of you. Come out!" he said boldly, drawing his gun.
He walked slowly, inching closer, when suddenly a wild rabbit appeared before him. He sighed in relief. But as he turned around, his heart sank—standing before him was the Nosferaboar, a wild vampire boar thought to be extinct for centuries.
"Something's wrong. You're not supposed to exist anymore. I should report this to the Shadowfang Order, or it could reach the city and harm people."
He took slow, cautious steps backward, trying to avoid drawing the Nosferaboar's attention. But as his foot landed on a piece of wood, it cracked loudly beneath him. The Nosferaboar charged, and he sprinted, glancing back to see it closing in. In his rush, he didn't see a log on the ground and tripped, falling hard. He quickly moved backward, desperate to escape, but the Nosferaboar was getting closer with each passing second. His hand searched his body for the gun, but it was nowhere to be found—lost in the chaos of his flight. Just as the Nosferaboar's jaws opened wide, ready to strike...
"Stop!" he shouted, closing his eyes, feeling there was no escape.
Silence.
He opened his eyes in shock. The Nosferaboar had stopped and was now waiting for his command.
"Go away!"
The Nosferaboar ran off, and he sighed in relief. Still lying on the ground, he felt too weak to get up from the shock.
"What just happened? Did it really listen to me?" He muttered, grateful for his luck. "I need to report this."