The Crimson Count glided in, weightless—like a specter of death. His form solidified as his feet touched the ground, standing among the carnage as if he had always been there.
He didn't need to announce himself. His presence alone was enough.
Marcus was already moving.
"On me!" the Behemoth roared, surging forward. The ground cracked beneath his weight as he charged, his armor-plated body an unstoppable force. His massive head barreled toward the Count like a living battering ram, ready to crush him on impact.
But it never landed.
The Crimson Count barely acknowledged the attack, tilting his head as if unimpressed—then he was gone.
Marcus's charge struck nothing but empty air.
The Banshee, Selene, was already on the move. The moment the Count dodged Marcus's charge, she appeared where he landed, her twin daggers flickering in rapid succession. Each strike targeted the gaps in his form—but not a single one connected.
The Crimson Count drifted effortlessly between the attacks, untouched. Then, with a faint smirk, he whispered, "Amusing. Hi hi hi."
Then, Bob moved.
No pause. No wasted motion.
He swung first—without thought, without restraint.
His fog-club came down like a wrecking ball, the sheer force of it shattering the ground on impact. The Crimson Count barely managed to sidestep—expecting a gap, a moment to reposition.
But Bob didn't stop.
Before the first attack had even finished, his second swing was already coming—faster, wilder, and too wide to fully evade.
This time, it hit, barely.
The Count was forced backward, landing lightly several feet away, his feet touching the ground with no more impact than a feather.
Then, his smirk deepened—turning into a genuine smile.
"Ah," the Count murmured, his voice rich and smooth. "A challenge. Hi hi hi."
Bob didn't reply.
He just swung again.
The Crimson Count exhaled slowly, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a snarl.
"Blood Surge."
The moment his feet touched the blood-soaked ground, the battlefield seemed to pulse—as if something had awakened beneath him. The blood moved, drawn to him like iron to a magnet, soaking into his form. His muscles tensed, his frame sharpening, his speed exploding past its previous limits.
Bob's fog-club swung down, a brutal, decisive strike.
He swung mid-transformation, aiming to crush him before the power could fully take hold.
The fog-club whooshed through the air—
THWAM!
It should have connected.
Instead, the Count was gone—not dodging, not sidestepping, but vanishing mid-motion.
A blink later, he was beside Bob.
Before Bob could react, a clawed hand slammed into his chest.
WHAM!
The next thing Bob knew, he was airborne.
The impact launched him through the ruins, stone and debris shattering as he crashed through walls. The ground trembled from the sheer force.
Marcus surged forward, slamming his massive foot down, cutting off the Count before he could follow up on Bob. The impact shook the ground, his towering form a living barricade between the two.
"Don't you dare." Marcus growled, planting himself like a wall.
At the same moment, Selene flickered behind the Count, her daggers flashing in a blur.
"I'm still here." Her voice was sharp and cold.
Her blades struck true—slicing into his side and shoulder—but the wounds closed instantly, sealing as if they had never been there.
The Count turned to her, his grin stretching wider, his crimson eyes gleaming.
"Oh," he whispered, voice thick with amusement. "You'll need to do better than that. Hi hi hi."
Without warning, he lashed out, his claws slicing through the air—aimed straight at where Selene had just been.
But she was already gone.
The Crimson Count stood at the center of the battlefield, his blood-red cloak barely shifting as his glowing eyes moved from one warrior to the next—measuring them, judging them.
Then his gaze snapped to Selene.
The smile faded.
"Tired of this game."
He exhaled slowly, lifting a hand toward the sky.
"Blood Eclipse."
The change was instant.
The pink sky deepened into crimson in an instant. The shift was sudden, overwhelming. Shadows warped and stretched unnaturally, curling across the ground as the Pink Fog thickened, pressing down like an unseen force.
Then came the weight.
A crushing force slammed across the battlefield. Muscles stiffened. Movement dulled. Everyone felt it immediately—limbs heavy, breath strained, the air pressing down like a weight.
Selene flickered—or tried to. Her step stuttered, her speed no longer untouchable. The Eclipse dragged at her, slowing even her Glint-enhanced motion.
The Crimson Count lowered his hand, satisfied as the battlefield slowed to a crawl.
"No more running. Hi hi hi..."
Marcus planted his feet, his Behemoth Glint flaring as he resisted the pull. Even with his monstrous strength, the pressure was real. He scanned the battlefield.
Selene was still moving—but just barely. Every step looked strained, her body fighting the pressure with sheer will.
The Hayashi Twins weren't moving at all.
They stood near the battlefield's edge, swords drawn, their expressions unreadable. Unlike the others, Ren and Aya weren't affected by the Eclipse. They could move—but chose not to.
They simply watched—as if waiting for the right moment.
And then there was Bob.
He didn't slow. He didn't strain. If he even felt the shift in the air, the sluggish pull, he didn't show it. His Goliath Glint made him a walking force of nature, and the blood-drenched battlefield changed nothing.
But something was wrong.
Bob's fog-club swung once—hard and direct.
The Crimson Count didn't dodge. The blow landed square against his chest—only to disappear into him.
"That all you've got? Hi hi hi..." the Count muttered, his voice calm, almost bored.
The weight pressing down on the battlefield intensified.
Bob swung again.
THWAM! Another direct hit to the Count's chest.
The Crimson Count barely flinched—but the weight on the battlefield spiked instantly.
Gabe crashed to the ground, his wings too heavy to keep him airborne.
Sly's legs sank into the dirt, his feet buried.
Iris, Selene collapsed to one knee, struggling against the crushing force.
Noah clenched his fists, shaking, but he couldn't move.
Bob didn't stop.
He swung a third time—faster, stronger.
THWAMMM!
The battlefield caved beneath them, stone cracking and dirt buckling under the force.
All around, shouts and cries rang out as the pressure intensified again.
"It's getting heavier!" someone yelled.
"Make it stop!"
The weight was crushing them.
Marcus felt the shift just as his own feet sank up to his knees. The others were worse off—they couldn't even stand.
He was close—close enough to see Bob winding up for another swing.
The weight crushed down on him, each step like dragging stone, but he moved.
With a strained roar, Marcus slammed into Bob's chest, stopping him mid-step. The impact barely made Bob flinch, but Marcus held firm, his stance like an unmovable wall.
"Not this time," Marcus growled.
Bob's grip on his weapon tightened. "Move."
Marcus didn't. "Look around, Bob. Every hit you land makes him stronger."
Bob's teeth clenched. He knew. He felt it. Every attack had fed the Count—not just absorbing the blows, but amplifying the Blood Eclipse's effect.
But standing still—doing nothing—wasn't in his nature.
A strained voice cut through the battlefield.
"Bob, stop! This isn't just pressure—it's gonna crush us!" Sly shouted. "If you keep hitting him, we're gonna end up flattened into the damn ground!"
Sly tried to move, but his legs wouldn't budge, the earth swallowing him up. His breath hitched. The weight wasn't just holding them down—it was squeezing the life out of them.
"Please stop!"
Bob exhaled through his nose, his fingers tightening around the handle of his weapon. He was frustrated, but he wasn't stupid.
For now, he held back.
The Crimson Count tilted his head, amusement flickering in his glowing gaze.
Their hesitation fed him. Their fear made him smile.
Slowly, he stepped forward, the blood beneath his feet crawling toward him, sinking into his form—feeding his power.
"Is that it?" he mused. "Come now, surely you can do better. Hi hi hi."
Then, he moved.
Faster than a breath, he was on Selene.
Her daggers barely lifted before his clawed hand struck.
"Too slow. Hi hi hi."
The impact sent her flying. She crashed through debris, rolling to a stop. Alive, but out of the fight.
Bob moved.
He charged toward the Crimson Count, fog-club raised, ready to smash him into the ground.
The Count didn't dodge.
He welcomed it.
Bob stopped mid-swing. He knew his attacks were only making things worse, but the hesitation cost him.
The Crimson Count's grin widened.
"What's wrong, giant?" His voice dripped with mockery. "Afraid? Hi hi hi."
The Count struck.
The force of the blow launched him like a cannonball, his massive frame tearing through the battlefield in a blur.
He smashed through one building—then another. Stone crumbled, debris exploded outward as he crashed through layers of ruins, his body finally slamming into a half-buried structure.
The rubble collapsed over him, burying him beneath tons of broken stone and steel.
The battlefield fell quiet.
Only two fighters had yet to move.
The Hayashi Twins.
The Crimson Count turned toward them, his next targets clear. He planned to take them down one by one, just like the others.
He lunged—but this time, the Hayashi twins moved.
Ren vanished. One second he stood at the edge, the next—he was behind the Count, his sword flashing like a silver arc.
SHHK! Steel sliced across the Count's back.
Aya struck from the front. She didn't vanish—she was a blur, her blade piercing forward in a perfect, unstoppable line.
THNK! The hit landed clean through his chest.
The Crimson Count reacted—but too late.
It was a pincer strike—timed, precise, one from the front, one from behind.
For the first time, the Crimson Count bled.
Marcus's eyes widened, realization hitting like a bolt of lightning. Then, a grin split his face.
"They found it!" His voice carried both shock and excitement. "They figured him out!"
Gabe, gritting his teeth against the crushing weight, forced out a breath. "I guess they were studying him…"
Sly, barely holding himself upright, clenched his fists. "Studying what?"
Marcus's grin widened, excitement flashing in his eyes. "His weakness!"
The Crimson glow of Blood Eclipse dimmed the moment he attacked—not gone, but disrupted.
Every time he strikes, he stops absorbing damage.
The Crimson Count snarled, his composure cracking as frustration took hold. He lashed out with his claws, but the Hayashi Twins had already vanished from his reach.
They fought like executioners.
Ren flickered behind him. A blade cut across his back.
Aya struck from the front. Her sword pierced through his ribs.
The Count spun, swinging wildly. "Enough!" he roared, but they were already moving again.
He refused to retreat. He refused to fall. But his precision was gone, his balance wavering.
The Twins never stopped. Never let him recover.
More wounds. More blood.
And then, he caught them.
His fingers clamped around Aya's wrist before she could pull away.
His other hand locked around Ren's throat.
For the first time, they were still.
Aya struggled, teeth clenched. "Tch—damn it—"
Ren gritted his teeth, hands clawing at the Count's grip.
The Crimson Count's crimson eyes darkened. His grip tightened. "You thought this was enough to stop me? Pathetic. Hi hi hi…"
Then, with a sudden, crushing motion, he drove Aya into the ground.
The Count's grip tightened around Ren's throat, lifting him off the ground with ease.
But suddenly, he froze. Unable to move.
The blood on the ground also stopped moving.
The glow around him flickered, then vanished.
The Blood Eclipse had collapsed.
The Count's greatest weapon had a cost.
His power didn't come from nowhere—it needed blood. Every movement, every attack, every second the Eclipse remained active, it drained the battlefield dry to sustain itself.
And now, there was nothing left.
The floor, once slick with blood, was dry. The only blood left was his own.
The sky, once deep red, dulled into a sickly dark pink—the eternal hue of the fog.
The Crimson Count stiffened. His eyes flicked downward.
His own power had betrayed him.
His breath came out slow, his expression unreadable. "Tch..."
Aya shoved off the rubble the moment she noticed it. The weight was gone.
Her eyes snapped to the Crimson Count, his grip still tight around Ren's throat.
She didn't hesitate.
Aya moved.
Her blade sliced through his arm, forcing him to release Ren.
The Count gritted his teeth, eyes flaring. "You little—"
Ren landed smoothly, his Shade Glint flickering before stabilizing. His breath was sharp, but he didn't hesitate.
The Twins struck together.
Their blades crossed in a deadly sequence—silent, precise, final.
Steel flashed in the moonlight.
Their swords tore through the Count's chest, the impact jarring his body. The sound of metal slicing through flesh echoed across the battlefield.
He stumbled, his breath ragged, lips twitching into a bloody smirk.
"Tch... Not bad."
A low, broken chuckle escaped him— "Hi... hi..."— "Heukkk—"
Blood dripped from his lips as his body finally gave out.
The Count's crimson eyes dimmed.
And he collapsed.