In the underground shelter, the air was thick with fear.
Children clung tightly to their parents, eyes brimming with tears.
The elderly trembled, whispering hopeless prayers.
Above ground, the battle raged on.
The clash of blades, the splatter of blood, the maddened howls of the Vampires echoed through the fragile layers of earth and stone.
But…
In one corner of the bunker, an old man sat in silence.
Lifeless eyes.
Hands clenched tightly around a pendant on his chest.
A staff, wrapped entirely in cloth, resting in his lap.
He ignored everything.
Unfazed by the surrounding terror.
At some point, a few children had dozed off, their small heads leaning gently on his shoulders.
The firelight danced across his weathered face, and for a brief moment, a distant glimmer of nostalgia flickered in his eyes.
As if…
Somewhere deep within, there was once a time he believed in miracles.
But then—
BANG!
Screams erupted from the entrance.
"Help me!!! AAAAH!!!"
"He's too strong…!!!"
"Run! RUN—URGGH!!"
BOOM!
The bunker door shattered like rotted wood.
A shadow stood there—
Gripping the blood-soaked head of a soldier.
Blood dripped steadily onto the ground.
This man was no human.
Silver hair slicked back.
Eyes gleaming with wild savagery.
Jack the Butcher.
He stepped inside, raised the severed head to his lips—
SLURP… SLURP…
The blood was drained in mere seconds.
The head shriveled, skin tightening around bone until it was no more than a dried husk.
Jack tossed it aside and let out a twisted laugh.
"There you are…"
"My delicious little bloodbags."
His gaze swept across the room, devouring the sight of cowering humans.
Inhuman.
Savage.
A true predator.
The entire bunker fell into a frozen silence.
No one dared to breathe too loudly.
The children clung to the old man, trembling in despair.
The old man lowered his head, teeth clenched, fingers gripping the wrapped staff tightly… but said nothing.
No one else dared meet Jack's gaze.
All they could do was fold their hands and pray.
"Please spare us…"
"God save us…"
"Have mercy…"
Jack laughed.
"Don't be afraid, my sweet little bloodbags."
He stretched his arms wide, like a deranged preacher.
"In the name of Dracula—Sovereign King of all beings—"
"I've come to take you with me."
"You will live… but not as humans."
"As livestock."
"The Blood Farm awaits you."
"Feel honored."
"Now then, praise my almighty lord… DRACULA!"
"LONG LIVE!"
The people recoiled at the words Blood Farm.
A place worse than hell itself.
There, humans were drained bit by bit, day after day…
Living like cattle, until every drop was gone—then discarded like trash.
A few were so terrified, they trembled uncontrollably, stuttering with weak voices:
"L-Long… live… l-l-long… li-live…"
Only one man remained silent.
A young priest still knelt, steadfast in prayer, eyes closed in unwavering faith to God.
Jack slowly turned his head.
His glowing eyes locked onto the young man.
"Still holding on to hope?"
He stepped forward—slowly, deliberately—like a predator stalking its prey.
"Look at me, you who believe in God."
Jack raised his blood-stained claw, gently lifting the man's chin.
The young man trembled… yet still whispered his prayers.
"I like you."
"If you follow me, you'd make a good slave."
"I won't let you suffer."
His words were a devil's promise, sweet and sickening.
The priest's eyes suddenly lit up with a flicker of hope.
"Oh! R-Really?!
Do you mean it?!
Please take me with you… I—I'm so scared…"
Jack sneered.
"Oh? So you're not praying to your God anymore?"
The young man froze.
His eyes widened. Sweat poured down like rain.
A foul stench rose into the air—
He had pissed himself.
SLASH!
A crimson flash sliced through the air.
Blood sprayed like a fountain.
The priest's throat was torn open.
He gasped, clutching his neck, gurgling helplessly as he crumpled to the floor.
"AAAAAH!!!"
The entire bunker screamed in terror.
Jack let out a booming, maniacal laugh.
"God isn't here."
"He's not going to save you."
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
"And now…"
He turned to the entrance and waved.
"Soldiers. Help me sort the food."
Low-tier Vampires began to pour in…
The shelter drowned in hopeless cries.
The air became suffocating—thick with fear.
People huddled together, too scared to breathe.
The Vampire soldiers marched in, grinning like starving wolves unleashed into a pen of sheep.
"They smell amazing. Look at this haul!"
"Shall we have a little taste?"
"My lord, may we indulge a little?"
Three low-tier Vampires chuckled gleefully, turning to Jack.
Jack grinned wildly, his eyes blazing in the dark.
"Go ahead…"
"But don't let them die."
He paused, then smirked.
"Actually…
Just don't let too many die. Hahahaha!"
Once again, the poor souls were hurled into the abyss of despair.
Live or die—
It wasn't their choice.
The Vampires scanned the bunker, eyeing the victims like meat at a market.
One stopped in the shadows.
Two children were huddled in the arms of an old man.
He licked his lips.
"I'll take the girl."
The old man froze.
His heart clenched.
A vision of blood flashed through his mind…
A young girl lying in a pool of red.
"ALIAAAAAA! NO!!!"
He clenched his jaw, fingers tightening around the wrapped staff, but still didn't move.
The Vampire lunged forward and grabbed the girl's hair.
She screamed in terror, tears streaming down her cheeks.
The others averted their eyes, unable to watch.
No one dared to stop it.
The Vampire bared his fangs, grinning with sick delight.
"I wonder how she'll taste?"
"Don't die too fast, little one…"
BANG.
The Vampire froze.
A bony hand gripped his wrist tightly.
The entire bunker fell silent.
He turned around…
An old man.
His hood fell off.
The flickering firelight revealed a scarred, aged face.
A long scar stretched from his left eye down to his cheek, carved deep like a mark from hell.
A silver beard—not too long—and eyes sharp as blades pressed against a throat.
And the ragged, tattered clothes he wore…
A Priest's robe.
He spoke, voice deep and low—but every word thundered like a roar:
"Let. The. Girl. Go."
The bunker was dead silent.
Everyone turned to the old man.
The people were stunned.
The Vampires stared wide-eyed.
"A geezer??"
"Is he crazy??"
"He looks like… a Priest too?"
Jack narrowed his eyes.
He stared intently at the old man, his expression slowly turning intrigued.
The Vampire whose wrist was grabbed jerked back, snarling:
"You old bastard want to die?!"
He dropped the girl.
Swung his mace, smashing it toward the old man's head!
CLANGGGGGG!!!
The sound of metal rang through the bunker.
No one could believe their eyes.
The Vampire stumbled forward—his mace had missed.
But before he could react—
SWISH!
The cloth bundle on the old man's back ripped open.
All eyes widened at what was revealed—
A sword.
Not a stick. Not some broken relic…
A finely crafted Long Sword, still sheathed, glowing with a soft golden light.
The blade was engraved with ancient runes, the hilt bearing the symbol of the sun—the very emblem of holy light.
Without giving them a second to think, the old man yanked off the cloth and gripped the hilt tightly.
"Whoosh!"
The blade left its sheath.
It blazed with light.
And in that instant—
SWISH!
A single slash through the air.
The Vampire was sliced across the chest.
He fell to his knees, eyes wide in panic.
Vampires could regenerate from fatal wounds, but this time…
"NO… WHAT… IS HAPPENING?!"
His body trembled violently.
The wound glowed—then from within, a golden flame burst forth.
"GHHAAAAAAAAA!!"
A scream of sheer agony, and then—
FWOOOSH!!
He turned to ash.
Only a charred skeleton clattered to the floor.
Silence.
The Vampires stared in disbelief.
The people were stunned, hearts pounding out of control.
Jack furrowed his brow, his smile vanishing.
"What the hell is that…?"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"He killed a Vampire with just one strike?!"
"Who is he?"
"Maybe… we have a chance to live!"
Flickers of hope…
Eyes that were once lifeless now glimmered like they'd witnessed a miracle in hell.
Jack gritted his teeth.
"Useless trash. Kill him for me!"
The two remaining Vampires lunged forward.
They were scared—but disobeying Jack wasn't an option.
The old man didn't move.
Only that cold, razor-sharp gaze.
No hesitation.
SWISH! SWISH!
His eyes flared with a blinding golden light.
Glowing veins lit up on his face, spreading down his arms, casting a divine glow into the darkness.
The two Vampires charged in.
WHOOSH!
SLASH!
Just two strikes.
BOOM!
Neither even knew what hit them before their bodies erupted from within.
"GHHAAAAAA!!"
They screamed in pure agony.
Their bodies contorted, then turned to ash—leaving only white bones clattering to the ground.
CLACK CLACK…
Silence reigned over the bunker.
The people looked up at the old man, hope burning in their eyes.
"HE'S AMAZING!!"
"WE MIGHT SURVIVE!!"
"GO! KEEP FIGHTING!!"
They cheered and screamed, forgetting their fear for a moment.
But amidst all that excitement—
Jack took a step back.
He felt something… wrong.
A chill down his spine.
A fear rising from primal instinct.
What was it?
He didn't know.
But his Vampire instinct screamed one thing—
"RUN!"
He stared at the sword in the old man's hand.
It was like… the sun.
It radiated a light that could scorch his very soul.
He shivered, cold sweat pouring down his face.
But then—
Something happened.
The glowing veins on the old man's body… flared brighter.
Then—
"KHUK!"
He staggered, clutching his chest.
His eyes bulged, breathing ragged.
Blood began to drip from his nose.
"Damn it…"
He dropped to one knee, using the sword for support.
Jack blinked.
Then grinned.
The fear vanished.
Because now he realized—
"He's… out of power."
As a Commander-class Vampire, he couldn't miss this chance.
Jack clenched his fist.
"DIE!!"
He lunged like a raging storm.
BOOM!
No one could react in time.
The whole room held its breath.
And then—
"CLANG!"
Jack froze mid-air.
Time stood still for a few seconds.
Jack stiffened, eyes wide.
Then—
"KHUK!"
He stumbled backward.
A searing pain tore through his chest.
He looked down…
"Wha… the hell…"
A sword pierced straight through his torso.
The Long Sword.
Jack gasped for air, trembling violently.
He staggered a few steps, then collapsed onto the cold stone floor.
CLANG!
The sword remained embedded in his chest, glowing faintly with golden light.
Silence.
No one could believe what they were seeing.
Then—
"WE WON!!!"
Cheering erupted.
The people screamed in joy, forgetting their fear.
"WE'RE ALIVE!!"
Children rushed to hug the old man, crying tears of relief.
But the old man said nothing.
He sighed, slowly stood up.
The golden veins on his skin faded.
But his nose kept bleeding.
"Phew… just in time."
He walked forward and gripped the sword hilt.
Calmly, he pulled the Long Sword out of Jack's chest.
Blood splattered across the floor.
Everyone watched him in awe.
Some cried as they thanked him.
"You saved us!"
"You're a saint!"
"I knew it, you're a good man!"
But amidst the cheering crowd…
Other eyes watched.
Other whispers stirred.
"It's him… isn't it?"
"No way… that was just a legend!"
"I'm sure! It's him!"
"If the stories are true… he's the one who brought the apocalypse."
The old man's gaze darkened.
He said nothing.
Just quietly sat down by the fire, wrapping the sword back in its old cloth.
As if to hide it all away.
To return to being just another nameless old man.
But…
Wait.
Someone noticed something terribly wrong.
"Wait… Jack's body…"
The room fell dead silent.
Everyone turned sharply to look at Jack.
He was still lying there.
But something was wrong.
"Why… isn't he burning?"
A Vampire pierced by a holy sword should have turned to ash immediately.
But Jack's body was untouched.
Not a single scorch mark.
And then—
"TAP."
His finger twitched.
A wave of dread swept through the bunker.
Fate…
Was happening right here.