Niko tore through the winding streets, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
He didn't know how long he could keep going—his lungs were burning, blood slick on his hands, but he pressed forward anyway. Behind him, the sharp whistle of blood spikes cut through the air like screaming arrows. One flew past his shoulder and exploded against a wall, sending stone and dust flying. Another grazed his thigh, opening a shallow slice that hissed with heat.
He gritted his teeth. Kept moving.
"Just a little further…"
He burst through a narrow passage, ducking under a crumbling archway, and suddenly—the chaos of the city was gone. The noise, the screams, the twisting roads. Now, there was only silence. The corridor.
The same one he'd entered from.
Long. Empty. Isolated.
Perfect.
His boots skidded against the ground as he slowed, just long enough to whip around and plant his feet. Dust rose around him.
Canden was still chasing—close, but not quite within striking range.
Niko's blade trembled as he raised it. The lines of energy along the metal began to glow—brighter, sharper than before. He reached deep. Too deep.
The Blitz technique surged.
"This is it," he thought. "I can't use another after this… or it's over. Burnout will kick in."
But he didn't hesitate.
The door behind him rattled, then burst open as Canden stepped through, grinning wildly.
And Niko swung.
CRASH.
A wave of energy exploded from the slash—bright white with streaks of silver—tearing through the air and screaming toward the doorway.
The walls shook. The floor cracked.
Canden's face shifted.
From glee… to sudden fear.
He flinched, throwing up an arm as if to shield himself—
Then vanished.
Completely.
No sound. No blur.
Just gone, like smoke in wind.
Niko froze mid-breath. Eyes wide.
Then—
"You think you're the first one to try this?"
The voice came from above.
Niko's head snapped upward.
Canden was there—hovering in the air like a shadow against the light, blood swirling beneath his boots like tendrils.
Grinning.
"I've danced this dance before." His voice dropped, smug and low. "Every time they run… every time they hide… they always try a final move when I walk through that door."
He licked his lips, blood still dripping from them.
"And every time—"
SHLICK.
The sound split the air.
Niko didn't wait.
His blade shot upward—not a wide swing, but a clean thrust.
The steel pierced Canden's lower jaw with a wet crack and burst out the top of his skull, blood spraying upward like a geyser.
Canden's eyes went wide. His body locked.
He didn't laugh.
Didn't move.
Niko stood there, teeth gritted, hand trembling as he drove the sword deeper—his arms shaking under the weight of exhaustion and blood loss.
The sword stayed in place for a moment.
Then Canden's limbs started twitching—his fingers curling in strange spasms, feet kicking once… twice… before going limp.
Blood poured from his mouth. From his eye sockets. From the shattered crown of his skull.
And Niko just held the blade there—silent. Breathing hard.
Watching.
Waiting.
Because something about this guy didn't feel… done.
Not yet.
Niko exhaled, finally pulling his blade free from Canden's skull with a wet, bone-scraping crack. The sword came out coated in crimson, thick and clinging. Canden's body dropped like a sack of dead weight, twitching one final time before going limp.
Niko didn't even look back.
He turned, limping down the corridor. Each step was heavy. His breath was ragged. The poison was still coursing through his veins, burning behind his ribs, and his right leg felt like it had been shattered. His fingers trembled, and the blade nearly slipped from his hand.
"It's over," he whispered to himself.
But then—
He felt it.
A sudden pull in the air, like gravity twisting sideways. A pressure in his chest that made it hard to breathe.
His eyes widened.
He turned.
Canden's body was still there… but it wasn't still.
Blood—the blood that had soaked into the floor, that had painted the stone red—was moving. Spiraling upward like smoke in reverse, clinging to his body, wrapping around his spine. His bones cracked as he stood—slowly, unnaturally—and from his back, the blood spilled outward, stretching, hardening, forming two grotesque wings of twisted veins and red vapor.
His body floated upward, suspended in the center of that red mass. His chin still gaped with the hole Niko had carved through it, but even that began to pulse closed, sealed by raw, oozing blood.
His eyes snapped open.
They weren't human anymore.
Glowing red. And wide with madness.
Canden laughed.
It wasn't like before. It was deeper now. Unhinged. A sound that scraped against the walls like rusted metal.
"Ohhhh, I haven't had a thrill like that in ages…" His voice echoed, layered, as if something else were speaking through him.
He tilted his head toward Niko, licking the blood from his lips with a long, black tongue.
"You're good, little prey. Almost made me use up all my fun."
The wings flared wide, casting twisted shadows down the corridor.
"But the hunt isn't over yet—"
CLINK.
Chains.
Cold, metallic.
Their sound cut through the corridor like a blade.
Canden stopped.
The air shifted. The pressure—darker now. He looked up sharply, a flicker of something new in his expression.
Fear.
Niko followed his gaze.
At the mouth of the corridor, where the city's edge met the open stone path, stood a child.
Short. Maybe ten.
Short blonde hair.
Large, round brown eyes.
Rosy cheeks.
Still wearing that same faded coat, stained from the dusty city streets.
In her hands… she held chains.
They weren't normal chains. They were silver, long, and ancient-looking—rusted, but not weak. Their links shimmered with something unnatural, something older than blood.
The girl raised one hand.
Her voice—loud, unwavering—echoed like it didn't come from her throat.
"Blood Demon."
Her brown eyes narrowed.
"I am here to kill you."
Canden's blood wings faltered. His eyes—now fully demonic—widened.
His mouth opened slightly.
"No." The voice that came out was not cocky. Not confident.
It was terrified.
"**No, no, no—**not you—"
He turned to run.
But before he could take a step—
CLANG.
The chains lashed forward on their own.
Like serpents, they shot through the air, wrapping around his limbs, piercing his flesh with needle-sharp ends. Blood sprayed as they embedded themselves into his back, his arms, his legs. Canden screamed—a sound of agony, not performance.
He tried to tear them off, but the chains moved like they were alive, tightening every time he struggled.
The girl stepped forward, slowly.
There was no fear in her eyes. Only judgment.
Each step echoed across the stone like the toll of a funeral bell.
Canden screamed again, the wings of blood crumbling behind him. His body thrashed midair, eyes pleading now.
"No—stop—wait! I didn't know it was you—I didn't—!"
The girl raised her hand again, slowly curling her small fingers into a fist.
The chains responded instantly.
CRUNCH.
Canden's body convulsed as the chains pulled inward, crushing bone, dislocating joints, compacting his body like a vice. His spine bent at unnatural angles. Blood spewed from his mouth and ears. One of his legs snapped backward with a wet, horrible crack, his arms shattered inside the binds.
He didn't laugh.
He only screamed.
The girl's voice came again, quieter now.
But soaked in power.
"This… is for them."
Her fist closed completely.
Canden's body collapsed in on itself, chains twisting until he was nothing but a bound, crushed mass of twitching flesh.
Then—
Silence.
The chains retracted, and the blood demon fell to the ground in a broken heap.
The girl stood there. Still. Calm. Watching.
And Niko…
He couldn't say a word.
Because for the first time that day—
He wasn't sure who the real monster was.
…
Far away from the chaos, inside the upper halls of a ruined chapel tucked deep within the old sector of the House, Iri lay on a narrow cot, tossing a small, glowing rune into the air and catching it over and over with a sigh.
The light from the rune flickered gently against her face—etched with quiet boredom. The silence was calming. Almost too calm.
Until she felt it.
That energy.
Her eyes snapped open mid-throw, pupils dilating.
The rune hadn't even hit the bed before she vanished.
Boom.
A rush of wind burst from the room as she took off like a flash, her cloak trailing behind her. She was already darting across rooftops, leaping over gaps, her feet skimming walls and ledges. Her breath was steady, but her thoughts were not.
"No… no no no—don't let it be her."
Her hands clenched tighter with every step. That aura—she knew it. Knew it from old memories, old regrets. Knew the weight of it. Hana.
Her pace doubled, heart pounding against her ribs like it was trying to escape.
"Niko better not have run into her."
She jumped down from a higher ledge, catching a pipe and swinging down to the lower street. The twisted corridor where she felt the energy spike was just ahead.
She rounded the final corner, dropped silently onto the broken stone floor—
And froze.
Her boots crunched lightly on gravel as she landed beside him.
Niko.
He stood there, swaying slightly, sweat soaking through his clothes. His blade hung at his side, stained with blood. Poison veins traced up his arms like black lightning, and one of his eyes was barely open. His face was pale.
Next to him, a body—if it could still be called that—twisted and mangled, wrapped in congealed blood. The smell of death clung thick in the air.
And across from them…
Hana.
Short. Blonde. Innocent-looking. Her small hands still gripped rusted silver chains that now dragged loosely behind her on the ground.
Her eyes—those wide, chestnut eyes—locked onto Iri the moment she appeared.
Iri stared back, every nerve in her body firing.
The silence was unbearable.
Iri broke it first.
Her voice was low. Cautious. Almost tired.
"…Hey, Hana."
The girl didn't smile. Didn't move. Her chains coiled softly at her feet.
Then—softly, almost sweetly:
"Hello, Iri."
Niko turned his head slowly toward her, confusion in his eyes.
But Iri didn't look at him.
Her focus was locked.
Not on Hana's face.
But on her hands.
And the blood still steaming on the chains.