A deafening **BOOM** shakes the grand ballroom.
The massive stained-glass windows shatter inward, exploding into a storm of glittering shards as monstrous figures crash through in a tidal wave of death. The air fills with the shrieks of the ballroom’s guests, their elegant silks and velvets now drenched in panic.
Then, the first howl pierces the chaos—a sound so deep, so unnatural, it rattles the very bones of those who hear it.
Lycans.
But something is wrong.
Their eyes.
Their eyes are black as void.
Not the natural color of what lycans usually possess, but pure, abyssal darkness. And they do not hesitate. They charge.
And the vampires meet them.
The ballroom erupts into chaos.
The first clash is deafening. A tide of snarling beasts slams into the vampires, claws ripping, fangs tearing, and within seconds, the grand hall is painted in blood.
A vampire screams as a Lycan latches onto his shoulder and yanks. The sickening sound of flesh and bone ripping apart fills the air as the vampire’s arm is torn clean off, blood spraying across the marble floor. He barely has time to cry out before the beast crushes his skull between its jaws.
Another vampire—one of the royal guards—twists mid-air, dodging a Lycan’s claws, and lands gracefully behind it. With inhuman speed, he unsheathes a curved blade and slashes across the beast’s spine, severing tendons. The Lycan roars in fury, its back bending unnaturally, but before it can fall—another wolf lunges from behind and tears his throat out.
There are too many Lycans. For every one that falls, three vampires take its place.
A Lycan barrels toward the Vampire King.
Valerion removes his midnight cloak in a single fluid motion.
And then, he moves.
He levitates with a burst of speed, a blur of shadow and crimson, and slams into the Lycan with such force that they both crash through a marble pillar. Dust and debris explode into the air. The Lycan, momentarily stunned, snarls and attempts to rise—only for Valerion’s telekinetic grip to seize the broken pillar.
With a flick of his fingers—it crashes down.
Bone snaps.
The Lycan shrieks in pain, but it does not die. It pushes the rubble off, snarling, and lunges—claws raking across Valerion’s chest and arms. Deep, jagged wounds split open, black vampire blood oozing.
Valerion hisses, but his flesh knits itself back together in seconds.
His eyes gleam a murderous crimson as he extends his hand—the Lycan freezes mid-motion. Its body begins to tremble violently, muscles spasming, as an invisible force claws at its mind.
The Lycan’s head snaps back, its jaw opening in a silent roar of agony as Valerion’s mind powers tear through its sanity.
The Vampire King strides forward and, with a single motion, snaps its neck.
But he does not stop.
His hand pierces into the beast’s chest, fingers wrapping around the still-beating heart.
With a sickening squelch, he rips it free. The organ pulses once in his grip before he crushes it into pulp.
The corpse collapses.
Valerion does not even glance at it.
Eva moves like liquid frost.
A towering Lycan swings at her—a claw strike meant to slice her in half. But she is already gone.
She materializes behind it in the blink of an eye.
A blade of pure ice manifests in her grasp—glimmering and razor-sharp. With an elegant flick of her wrist, she drives it into the Lycan’s back and twists.
The Lycan howls, buckling to its knees.
Then, in a flash—it turns. A massive clawed hand seizes Eva and, with monstrous strength, slams her into the ground.
**CRACK!**
The impact shatters the marble floor beneath her.
The Lycan rears back a massive fist and swings down—
Eva summons a barrier of ice just in time.
**BOOM!**
The Lycan’s fists slam against the frozen shield over and over, the ice spiderwebbing with cracks.
Just as it finally shatters—
Eva moves like a phantom.
She rises in a blur, her hair shifting unnaturally—razor-sharp strands slicing through the air.
The Lycan barely has time to register the pain as its arm is severed.
It lunges again—but the second arm is taken.
Eva twirls gracefully and, with a final, merciless strike—beheads the beast.
A second Lycan charges toward Eva, but before it can pounce—
**CLANG.**
A silver blade clashes against its claws.
Raphael steps into the fight, grinning despite the carnage.
"I could’ve handled that," Eva says.
Raphael scoffs, parrying another strike.
"Oh yeah? You should thank me—if I didn’t strike just in time, you’d be dog food."
The Lycan swipes—a flash of claws across his ribs.
Raphael hisses, pain flaring through him, but he does not falter. With deadly precision, he sweeps his sword across the Lycan’s knees—severing tendons.
As the beast staggers, he leaps onto its shoulders and—
**SHNK!**
His silver blades pierce into both its eyes.
A final slash to the throat—the Lycan collapses.
Floating above the battlefield, Seraphim is untouchable.
His golden eye burns like the sun—and with each pulse of light, Lycans disintegrate on impact.
One attempts to attack from behind.
Seraphim merely tilts his head.
A portal of darkness opens.
The Lycan’s arm disappears into the void—only for another portal to materialize behind its own body.
Its own claws stab into its back.
Seraphim closes the portal—severing the Lycan’s limb.
With a mere gesture, every fallen vampire’s silver weapon levitates—and with a single motion, he impales the beast from all directions.
Azrael has ripped away the excess of her gown.
A Lycan charges.
She meets it head-on.
It swings—misses. She sidesteps and drives her fist into its ribs so hard it flies into a stone wall.
The beast snarls, attacks again.
It slashes her face, arms, legs—deep wounds bloom across her pale skin.
Azrael grins.
She grabs its wrists mid-strike, crushing bone.
The Lycan lunges to bite—
She kicks it in the ribs, straddles its back—
And with a brutal, merciless twist—
**SNAP.**
She rips the head clean off.
Seraphim smirks.
"Princess, I have to say… I’m impressed."
Azrael doesn’t respond.
Because the Lycans are still coming.