Part 2
Eliza stood with elegance, but her gaze had turned more serious. Her scythe gleamed through the darkness—like a dormant threat, ready to execute Yamato.
"Come on… Not going to run this time?"
He took a step back, lifting his sword with both hands. He looked like he was trembling.
"I've got nowhere to run..."
Eliza lunged forward with a downward sweep, aiming to cleave him head-on. Yamato raised his sword just in time.
The rusted blade screeched dryly as it clashed against the scythe, sending sparks flying.
"Interesting..." she murmured as she stepped back. "You move well for an amateur."
Yamato didn't answer. He seemed more focused on steadying his breath than listening.
The vampire spun and unleashed a horizontal slash. A sharp red wave of energy burst from the scythe, slicing through the air like a guillotine.
Yamato raised his sword once more, and the bloody wave was deflected—knocked aside with a motion so simple it seemed accidental.
Not again… Eliza thought, gripping the hilt tighter, irritation flickering in her expression.
"Tch… stubborn little brat..."
She grabbed the scythe with both hands and hurled it forward.
It spun through the air like a crimson buzzsaw, accelerating straight toward him.
"You can't dodge that!"
Yamato dropped to the ground, clumsily falling backward. The blade missed his neck by inches, slicing through the air with a deadly whisper.
The scythe began to return at high speed—but Eliza noticed something.
"My scythe…?"
Yamato no longer had his sword in hand.
"Dammit!"
Eliza shattered instantly—splitting into thousands of crimson bats that scattered through the dome.
But it was too late. Yamato's rusted sword, thrown with surgical precision, had already cut through the air—piercing the swarm with an impossible trajectory.
"When did he—?!That wasn't normal."
"He hid the sword just before throwing it…"
"He used my scythe's path to distract me while I tracked it."
Eliza reformed midair with grace, as if nothing had happened.
She was still smiling—but her eyes were no longer the same.
"Not bad… I see you've got some tricks up your sleeve," she said, descending slowly. "I appreciate it. I haven't had this much fun in years."
She brought her fingers to her lips and gently traced them.
Her expression shifted—delight mixed with desire. There was something deeply erratic in her gaze.
"Yes… what a wonderful human… show me more… I want to see what's inside a hero… Show me more!"
"...What the hell's wrong with her?" Yamato muttered to himself, briefly unable to hide his disgusted grimace. "Is she… a masochist?"
Without another word, Eliza spread her wings and lunged at him.
The scythe gleamed with renewed sharpness, her slashes coming faster and faster.
Yamato dodged, retreated, rolled across the ground like a lucky amateur just barely keeping up.
Until one slash grazed his arm.
The fabric tore. A thin line of blood ran down to his wrist and dropped slowly to the ground.
"What an exquisite scent..."
Eliza landed like an elegant shadow. She knelt, and with delicate fingers, scooped up the drop. Then brought it to her lips, closing her eyes as she tasted it.
"Mmm… so this is… the blood of a hero."
Her eyes opened—glowing intensely—as she licked the edge of her scythe like she was savoring nectar.
Warmth coursed through her body.
"What a dilemma… what a dilemma. Ambrosia of the gods... Should I kill you? Chain you up forever? Enslave you?"
"Sorry," Yamato said, his tone now firmer. "But I'm planning to leave this place. I have to get back to the surface."
Her words stopped her.
Eliza's gaze sharpened, as if she had suddenly remembered where they were.
"You actually think you have a chance of leaving this chamber?" she clicked her tongue in annoyance. "You've already ruined my moment of pleasure."
Yamato calmly walked toward the wall, where his sword still rested. He picked it up with ease, as if nothing could disturb him.
She didn't stop him. She merely watched, tilting her head with curiosity.
"I don't know…" he answered, without raising his voice. "But I can't give up now."
Eliza stared at him—and for the first time… she seemed to hesitate.
"I'm confused..." she murmured, gesturing to a pile of skeletons behind her throne. "Do you think I'm joking?"
She stepped closer, scythe resting on her shoulder, her tone cloaked in regal authority.
"It may look like I'm playing games… but if I unleash my power, this ends very quickly."
Yamato said nothing. He simply raised his sword.
His gaze was steady. Calm.
Too calm.
"Does he really think he can beat me?"
"What is that stance…?"
"Did he lose his mind staring at my aura...?"
Eliza pressed her lips together. The desire was gone. What remained now… was contempt.
"Are you really as powerful as you claim?" Yamato said, unfazed. "Because I'm starting to have my doubts."
"Huh? Are you mocking me?" she replied, glaring at him.
"I'm just saying… for someone who talks so much, you're struggling quite a bit against a level one hero," he added with fake innocence.
"Oh, so that's how it is… acting cheeky now, are we?"
She snapped her fingers—and as if the ceiling had come alive, thousands of bats dove downward.
A black cloud of wings swallowed Yamato whole. The chamber became a swirling mass of darkness—nothing could be seen.
Eliza closed her eyes with a dramatic sigh.
"What a shame. I would've liked to keep him as a pet…"
Then—a blinding flash burst from the heart of the cloud.
One by one, the bats began to fall like ashes in the air.
Amid the bloody mist, Yamato was glowing. His body emitted a soft, pure light… as if he had awakened.
"Damn humans with divine blessings…" Eliza spat, furious.
Yamato looked at his own glow in feigned surprise. He raised his sword, adjusting his grip awkwardly… But he was ready.
"Being level one doesn't make him harmless."
"Heroes can awaken at any time... if I keep playing around, this could get worse."
"I see… your god protects you… but your god isn't here."
She extended her hand, pulling the blood from the fallen bats toward her. The scythe grew—pulsing like a living organ.
"Blood Slash!"
A devastating X-shaped arc cut across the chamber at blinding speed.
Yamato raised his sword. At first, it seemed like he was holding it off—but the blade began to crumble under the pressure.
"This is your end..."
His body glowed again. He clenched his fists and, with great effort, caught the slash with his bare hands, as if his blessing shielded him completely.
A second later, he redirected the attack to the side.
The slash struck the castle wall with tremendous force, obliterating an entire section of the structure.
For the first time during the battle—Eliza felt something close to fear.
I knew it… this is a trap. There's no way anyone could deflect my power like that.
"...I applaud you. That was a brilliant performance. You really did fool me."
Yamato smiled—as if his favorite trick had just been revealed.
"You caught me," he said, clapping slowly.
The sound of his hands echoed through the hall like a noise that didn't belong.
Eliza stared in disbelief.
She couldn't comprehend how someone could shift their presence so completely, so fast.
A bead of sweat slid down her cheek. She swallowed—without meaning to.
"What is this feeling?"
"Fear?"
"Impossible. I am Eliza, Queen of the Eternal Night."
"He's just trying to rattle me."
With a powerful flap of her wings, she rose again. She spread them wide—like a shadow trying to engulf the world.
"No matter how strong you think you are… In five thousand years, no one has survived my final judgment."
Her voice trembled—not with power, but with restrained tension.
A crimson moon began to form behind her. The ground bloomed with red roses, growing like a field of death.
Yamato watched it all with the same calm as always. He wasn't bracing himself. He wasn't defending.
"I had fun," Eliza said. "But it's time to end this. I promise—I'll drink every last drop of your blood..."
He stood there.
Still.
Surrounded by thorned flowers.
His face, unshaken.
"Die, you worthless hero! Crimson Judgment!"
The roses shot upward like pillars—
And in an instant, they turned into crimson spears, piercing Yamato's body multiple times.
A grotesque scene.
A bloodbath.
His body hung suspended, impaled by sharp spikes of solid blood, head bowed low, as blood dripped slowly to the ground.
Silence pressed down like a shroud.
"I told you to become my servant… you could've lived a long life," Eliza murmured, approaching with a look of ecstasy, skipping like a girl at a festival.
She knelt among the remains, dipped her hands into the blood, and brought it again and again to her lips.
"What a magnificent feast… The night shall live forever…"
And she laughed.
With madness.
With hunger.
With victory.