Chapter 52: Shattered Steel and Endless Carnage
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The Swarm of the Damned
The vampires swarm me, an ocean of crimson eyes and snapping fangs.
They move with terrifying speed, their shadows twisting and stretching across the dimly lit chamber. Their claws lash out from every direction—my throat, my ribs, my exposed arms. A coordinated assault designed to tear me apart.
I pivot, ducking under a wild swing, but another vampire lunges from my blind spot. Its claws rake across my back, slicing through flesh, leaving a burning trail of pain.
"Tch." I grit my teeth. No time for pain. No time to retreat.
Another comes at me—feral, fangs bared, its breath hot against my skin.
I slam my elbow into its face. Bone shatters. The vampire stumbles, skull caved in, but before it can recover—
I bring my axe down.
The blade splits its body in two, the impact shaking the obsidian floor beneath me.
But there's no time to admire my kill.
More take its place.
Dozens. Hundreds.
They come from all angles, using sheer numbers to overwhelm me.
I swing again, carving through five at once, but the moment my blade is embedded in one body—another is already at my throat.
Claws dig into my shoulder.
Fangs sink into my side.
More bodies pile onto me, dragging me down, their shrieks filling my ears.
A single thought echoes in my mind.
Enough.
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Unleashing True Strength
I plant my feet after taking a step back.
The obsidian floor cracks beneath me.
Every muscle in my body coils like a loaded spring, my grip tightening around my axe handle with both of my hands until my knuckles turn white.
I exhale.
Then I swing.
SWOOSH.
The very air splits apart.
The sheer force of my strike shatters the ground, sending shockwaves rippling outward. The vampires closest to me erupt into mist, their bodies disintegrating from the impact.
A massive arc of destruction tears through the horde.
Limbs, torsos, and heads are sent flying. Blood splatters the walls in thick, violent streaks. The chamber trembles, the torches flickering from the sheer intensity of my blow.
A moment of silence.
Then—
CRACK.
The handle of my axe splinters in my grip.
I barely register what happened before—
SNAP.
My weapon shatters completely.
The once-mighty axe, my most reliable tool in this endless nightmare, is now nothing but broken fragments on the floor.
I stare at the shattered pieces in my hands, breath heavy.
For the first time in centuries—
I'm unarmed.
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Malkor's Realization
A slow, eerie clap echoes through the chamber.
Malkor.
His crimson eyes gleam with intrigue as he steps forward, his smile no longer amused—but cautious.
"Impressive," he muses, his voice smooth like silk, but beneath it, I hear something else.
A sliver of unease.
"I must admit," he continues, stopping just outside of my striking range, "I underestimated you. To wipe out ninety percent of my forces with a single swing? I expected a challenge, but…"
His eyes flick to my empty hands.
His smirk returns.
"But now?" He tilts his head. "It seems you're at a… disadvantage."
I say nothing.
I reach for my belt.
My fingers curl around the hilt of my obsidian knife—the last weapon I have left.
Malkor watches, then lets out a slow, mocking chuckle.
"A knife?" he sneers, his fangs glinting in the low light. "How utterly pathetic."
I twirl the knife in my grip, testing its weight. It's small, deadly, and fast.
Unlike my axe, I can't rely on brute force anymore.
Fine.
I'll carve through them the hard way.
I raise my eyes to Malkor, my grip tightening on the knife.
"Come find out," I say, my voice calm, steady.
His smirk falters—just slightly.
The air between us crackles.
Then—
He moves.
A blur of shadows and the battle resumes.