"Jack and the priest are heading to the gathering spot," Alucard reported, rising from his crouch like a shadow peeling from the ground.
Sulvyan's voice came low, strained, and final. "Withdraw. Abandon Hollowmere."
Though his words left a bitter sting in the hearts of his comrades, no one questioned the command. Orders were orders—even if they damned them.
As the knights moved, some whispered silent prayers, hoping their earlier efforts might buy Hollowmere a sliver of mercy. But in truth, an unshakable dread clawed at their chests. This is the end of Hollowmere, a thought unspoken, yet heavy in every breath. The streets bled chaos, and still—they turned their backs on it.
"Please—why are you running?" a woman cried, clutching at Sulvyan's cloak, her face streaked with soot and sorrow.
"Sir, help! Please help me find my mother!" a child's wail pierced through the clamor, reaching for Alucard.
"Aren't you servants of the Church?" an old man howled, tears cutting through the grime on his cheeks. "Didn't you swear to defend the just? Cowards!"
Sulvyan bit down hard. Blood pooled in his mouth, then dripped from his lips as he forced his voice steady. "Eyes forward. Do not look back. Our duty lies elsewhere."
Their armor clanked like broken bells in a funeral march. The longer they walked, the heavier their footsteps became—like penance drawn out with every stride. And behind them, Hollowmere drowned in screams.
Then Alucard's steps began to slow… until he stopped entirely.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, more to the wind than to anyone listening. "At the very least… let me try to save the children."
The others froze, but only for a heartbeat.
Sulvyan and the two knights beside him clenched their fists tight enough to draw blood through their gauntlets. None turned. None spoke. They knew—if they looked back, if they gave him even a glance—they'd falter. They'd run to his side. And Hollowmere would claim them all.
So they gave a warcry instead, a raw sound, less a show of strength than a shield against their own unraveling. They pushed forward, deaf to the cries behind them, blind to the ruin.
Alucard's voice followed like a ghost in their ears—quiet, unwavering.
"Sulvyan… you once taught me that every man hears his call. I've heard mine."
And with that, he turned and vanished into the chaos, swallowed by fire, screams, and fate.
Atop the hill, Jack and Julius had already arrived, their eyes scanning the horizon as the others followed.
Jack's gaze immediately swept the gathered knights, but he found no trace of Alucard. Before the question could escape his lips, one of the knights spoke up, voice heavy with resignation.
"He's giving his life for what he believes in."
Another knight added, voice laced with bitterness, "I thought for sure it'd be you running to Hollowmere, Jack. But here you are."
Jack's voice was deeper, colder than usual, his anger a smoldering ember just beneath the surface.
"I would have," he growled, eyes burning with rage. "But if we all fall, who will warn the capital? If none of us survive, even more lives will be lost. One of us has to make it out... or everything's for nothing."
Sulvyan's gaze lifted toward the sky, as if searching for answers among the clouds. His voice was low, tinged with a quiet sorrow.
"Even one making it out… would be a miracle." He turned toward Jack, his tone steady but heavy. "Jack, even if it kills you … make sure the priest survives."
Then, he turned to Julius, pushing a ring into his hands with a grim finality. "If you live through this, give these to my family. They need to know I tried."
The other knights did the same, handing over tokens, words, and final requests.
"At the northern exit," Sulvyan continued, his voice firm as stone, "Two horses should be waiting for you. Go. Now."
Jack's heart clenched, his body tensing as if the very earth beneath him was about to crack open.
"Huh? Have you gone mad, old man?" Jack's voice cracked, disbelief and fury warring in his chest. "We all make it out, together! You don't get to choose death—not alone!"
But Sulvyan's voice, low and unwavering, cut through the firestorm of emotion like a blade through mist.
"Please," he whispered, each syllable a stone dropped into still water. "Before it's too late… this was always meant. Marie has already spoken—another revelation has come."
"From chaos born, in ashes sealed,
Two moons weep, their light concealed.
A nameless beast, from shadow's breath,
A legend stirs, as stars meet death."
With those words, Sulvyan turned to face the dying town. The others followed without a word. Their silence was heavier than screams.
Jack stood frozen—duty shackled his feet, but loyalty burned in his chest. He didn't flinch until Julius seized his arm, voice tight with urgency. "Now, Jack—run. The north gate!"
They fled.
Moments later, as the chaos thickened, a voice—a whisper that seemed to echo from the stones themselves—broke the night.
"So you have come, nameless beast."
From the cold gleam of moonlight, one shadow deepened. It did not stretch but swallowed, did not shift but drank the other darkness around it. A hole torn in the fabric of night.
And from that rift, a maw emerged—teeth swirling in impossible geometries, a grin etched in madness. The air warped, space bent. It looked small, then vast—then both.
And from within that nightmare curve… stepped a cat.
Eyes like dying stars. Fur like void-stained silk.