The entire hall fell deathly silent.
Dozens of vampire Elders stood atop the high steps, their expressions a tangle of shock, rage, and fear.
Finally, an elderly Elder spoke in a trembling voice:
"Prince Carvain… you killed a High Elder... Do you even understand what you've done?"
Cyril slowly turned, his gaze sharp as a blade.
"I'm not finished."
His eyes gleamed with cold light as he strode into the center of the Tribunal, his voice rolling out like thunder from the depths of hell.
"Who?" he demanded, his voice low, laden with a century's worth of fury.
"Who took her?"
No one answered.
"Who took her?"
He roared, the sound shaking the very stones of the palace.
"Was it one of you? Or do you all know, and choose to remain silent?"
Still, deathly silence.
Only the bloodflames in the braziers flickered, casting ghastly light over pale, wavering faces.
The Elders exchanged anxious glances, but none dared to speak.
Until Cyril's gaze settled on a vampire standing stiffly against the wall.
That man flinched.
In a blink, Cyril appeared before him, seizing him by the throat and slamming him into a stone pillar.
"You! Was it you?"
"N-no... I don't even know who she is..."
The vampire stammered, voice trembling like a leaf in the wind.
"You're lying."
"I swear—I don't know—"
"Then you're useless."
"Wait—no—!"
Crack.
Cyril's claws pierced through his chest, crushing the heart in a single brutal motion.
Blood splattered across the cold stone floor; the body crumpled, eyes frozen wide in terror.
A chorus of gasps broke out across the hall.
The Elders were utterly stunned.
This was no interrogation—
This was slaughter.
"Enough!"
A tall Elder in gold-and-black robes bellowed, dark energy surging around him.
"Cyril Carvain — you have fallen into madness! As of this moment, you are stripped from the Bloodline and declared a traitor!"
He raised his staff, voice cold and unyielding:
"Cyril Carvain, for the crimes of kin-slaying and desecrating the Tribunal — you are sentenced to death!"
A sudden clamor of battle cries echoed through the grand hall.
Over a dozen Elders and high-ranking vampires launched themselves at Cyril, magic howling, claws slashing through the air.
Stone pillars crumbled; bloodflames raged; the tribunal turned into a battlefield of carnage.
But Cyril did not flinch.
"Give her back," he said softly, a whisper like a blood oath,
"or none of you will leave here alive."
He exploded into motion.
His red eyes blazed; his form became a deadly shadow.
Wherever his fists and claws struck, flesh was torn, bones shattered, and blood rained down like a crimson storm.
The floor was soon littered with corpses, dismembered limbs scattered across the ruins.
Cyril wasn't fighting—
He was exacting vengeance.
"Ahh—!"
A shriek rang out as an aged Elder was ripped apart, dying instantly.
"Run! Dawn is coming!"
Another Elder cried in panic.
The surviving Elders, bleeding and broken, staggered toward the gates, desperate to escape before sunlight trapped them.
But as they reached the door—
Silver flashes pierced their bodies.
Silver crosses — deadly weapons against vampires.
They froze, pinned to the earth, unable to move.
The burning agony of silver seared their flesh, their screams filling the air.
And from the light beyond the gate, a figure approached.
A slender girl, walking steadily, her expression complex.
Cyril froze.
Hope and disbelief flashed through his eyes.
"Elena…"
"Cyril," she said softly, her voice tender yet cutting deep into his heart,
"Thank you. I never thought you would go this far for me."
The light in Cyril's eyes dimmed.
"So... you weren't captured.
This... all of this… was part of your plan?"
"It was my grandmother's plan," Elena lowered her eyes, sorrow flickering across her face.
"You remember that girl you killed in the alley?
She was my sister."
Cyril let out a bitter laugh.
"So it was revenge, after all?
You could have come to me directly.
You know I wouldn't have guarded against you. Why weave such a complicated net?"
"I came that night to kill you," she said, voice low.
"But I didn't expect… to meet Lucien.
Or that you would save me."
On the ground, the pinned vampires cried out:
"We weren't the ones who captured you! We had nothing to do with it!"
"If you wanted revenge, go find him — why drag us into this? Please, let us go!"
Elena chuckled coldly, her eyes filled with disdain.
"You all knew I was a Lightborne descendant, didn't you?
As long as my blood was useful, you would never leave me alone."
She turned back to Cyril.
"We knew there would be no peace anymore.
So my grandmother… had to come up with a solution."
Cyril nodded, his voice calm as death.
"So you decided to use me — your blade—
to wipe out the vampires in this region."
"You truly cared for me.
I know that."
Tears welled up in Elena's eyes, but none fell.
"I'm sorry.
I'm so, so sorry."
"But…"
Cyril smiled—a cold, broken smile.
"In the end, you still chose to kill me, didn't you?"
The sun slowly rose, the first ray of light piercing through the shattered ceiling.
The pinned vampires screamed in agony, their bodies contorting, burning—
Turning to ash in the rising light.
Only Cyril, thanks to his pureblood heritage, could still stand briefly under the sun.
He made no attempt to flee.
Instead, he slowly sat down, letting the sunlight pour over him.
He looked at Elena one last time—
In his eyes, there was pain, love, and a strange sense of peace.
Elena bit her lip, staring at him for a long, long time—
Then she turned away without a word.
Cyril closed his eyes, a faint, serene smile on his lips.
"Well... it's fine."
As his body began to disintegrate into dust,
the crystal pendant over his heart shone faintly—
a glimmer of pale blue light.
And then—
Silence.
——
New York City.
A quiet park at dawn.
Sunlight dripped across the benches, where a young woman sat, putting the final touches on a painting.
In her hands was a canvas—
An old-fashioned portrait of a vampire:
Crimson eyes, a cold, proud face—
Yet carrying an undeniable sorrow.
A friend leaned over to admire it and gasped.
"Wow! What a gorgeous vampire!
But... why does he look so… sad?"
The woman smiled faintly, setting down her brush.
She whispered softly,
"Realm of the Vampires… finished."