John and Leonidas finally managed to make it through the castle kitchen door on the lower level. Inside, the kitchen was utterly destroyed; the stove was ablaze, flames licking at the ruined cabinetry. The floor was painted crimson with blood, and small trickles of water leaked from the damaged ceiling. "Yo, old man, your kitchen is messed up," John commented, his voice flat.
Leonidas looked over John's shoulder, and a wave of profound pain flooded his heart. He saw some of the vampire staff, those who had worked diligently in the kitchen, lying dead, their heads severed. John, in this moment, was already used to seeing such carnage; he didn't feel the nausea of someone encountering death for the first time. Yet, a deep sadness settled within him. He remembered always coming to this kitchen after training, engaging in small talk with the staff before asking for his meat. Now, he would never see their smiling faces again.
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Got it, thanks for providing the full context! I've incorporated the opening sentence to ensure seamless flow.
John and Leonidas finally managed to make it through the castle kitchen door on the lower level. Inside, the kitchen was utterly destroyed; the stove was ablaze, flames licking at the ruined cabinetry. The floor was painted crimson with blood, and small trickles of water leaked from the damaged ceiling. "Yo, old man, your kitchen is messed up," John commented, his voice flat.
Leonidas looked over John's shoulder, and a wave of profound pain flooded his heart. He saw some of the vampire staff, those who had worked diligently in the kitchen, lying dead, their heads severed. John, in this moment, was already used to seeing such carnage; he didn't feel the nausea of someone encountering death for the first time. Yet, a deep sadness settled within him. He remembered always coming to this kitchen after training, engaging in small talk with the staff before asking for his meat. Now, he would never see their smiling faces again.
"Let us continue," Leonidas said, his voice a low, pained whisper.
John pushed through a swinging door, finding themselves in a huge hall. "Let's go to the left. We need to find the closest stairs," Leonidas directed.
John nodded, doing as he was told and running through the castle as directed by his grandfather. Leonidas knew this castle inside out—a labyrinth of halls and passages; they wouldn't have trouble reaching their destination quickly. John bounded up the stairs with Leonidas still on his back. He could feel the strain in his legs, but his body was adapting to the heavy weight. He was far stronger now, and his determination to complete their plan remained unwavering.
After about ten minutes of running and navigating the best shortcuts they could find, John and Leonidas peered from behind a wall. The coast was clear, and another flight of stairs awaited. John ran with all his might, his legs burning, until they reached the upper level. They were etching closer to their destination: Leonidas's office, where the magic communication mirror was kept.
"Let us continue, brat, we need to end this war," Leonidas urged.
"I know, I'm just making sure there are no enemies nearby, otherwise we will die for sure," John replied, still scanning their surroundings.
"Don't worry, just head straight down and we'll reach the office."
As John ran down the hall, passing various ruined rooms, water dripped from the ceiling, and splashing sounds echoed with every heavy step. John was breathing heavily as he pushed himself towards Leonidas's office. Luckily, this section of the castle was deserted, but the distant sounds of swords clashing and magic explosions still reverberated throughout the building.
Finally, they reached Leonidas's office. The door was already broken down; splintered wood scattered across the threshold. John and his grandfather entered, surveying the scene. The entire room had been vandalized.
Leonidas's expression turned grim as he looked around. Important documents were scattered everywhere, some burned, others torn. It was clear a fierce fight had occurred here; bloodstains splattered the floor, and rainwater poured in from the damaged ceiling. Strangely, no dead bodies were present in the room.
The old vampire noticed something lying on the ground. "Pick up that chair over there, brat, and put me down," he instructed John.
John walked over to the chair, which lay overturned. This was the same sturdy chair where visitors would sit when they came to see Leonidas. John carefully placed his grandfather onto the chair, feeling an immediate wave of relief as the heavy weight was lifted from his back. The young vampire then slowly leaned to one side, savoring the satisfying pull along his torso, then shifted to the other side. With a gentle twist, he rotated his upper body, releasing the tension in his spine. As he lowered his arms, he rolled his shoulders back, letting out a soft sigh of relief, his face relaxing into a content smile.
"So, where should we look for the mirror thing, old man?" John asked, looking around the ransacked office.
Leonidas pointed his index finger towards a corner. "Go through my desk drawers over there."
John turned his head and saw a desk lying upside down. It was crafted from rich, dark wood with intricate carvings showcasing mythical creatures and floral designs, but this once-beautiful piece was now cracked in half.
The vampire boy reached the desk and, with a surge of strength, managed to lift and position it upright on the floor. There were three drawers. He started with the top one, hurriedly peering inside.
"Did you find the mirror, boy?" Leonidas asked.
"Nope, so far only papers, old man. Where did you put the damn thing?" John was scrambling through the drawer, tossing papers aside but finding nothing.
"Did you check the second drawer?"
"I started with the first drawer, only a bunch of papers. I'm going to check the second one," John replied, hurriedly closing the top drawer and opening the one below it. He glanced towards the door, checking for any unexpected guests
John investigated the second drawer and was met with a beautiful wooden box. He pulled it out and placed it carefully on the ground. "Wow, this looks so cool."
The young vampire boy opened the wooden box. "Goddamn," he breathed.
Leonidas heard him. "What is it, boy? Is it the mirror?"
"No, I found a beautiful dagger in this wooden box," John replied, awe in his voice. He inspected the leather sheath and noticed the dagger's name etched onto it: 'The Dancing Flame'.
He then unsheathed the dagger to get a better look at it. The dagger featured a sleek, double-edged blade with a pronounced taper, showcasing a sharp, gleaming surface. The blade was intricately designed with subtle grooves along its length, adding an elegant touch. The hilt was adorned with a rich, red handle made from polished wood, providing a striking contrast to the metallic accents. The cross guard was crafted from gleaming gold, adding a sense of opulence and balance to the weapon. Accompanying the dagger was a fitted red leather sheath, sturdy and well-crafted, ensuring safe storage.
"Oh, I forgot about that thing," Leonidas said, dismissing it with a wave. "Decker gave it to me as a gift. Throw it away."
"What!? Are you crazy?!" John exclaimed, aghast. "Can I keep it, old man? Please."
There was a short moment of silence. "Sure, keep it," Leonidas finally conceded. "Now, quickly look for the mirror."
Just as John was about to open the third and last drawer, they heard a voice outside the room. John could feel a cold sweat drip down his back. Leonidas and John exchanged quick glances. "Quickly hide behind the table, boy," Leonidas said in a low tone.
"You go that way; I'll check this room for any enemies," one of the mercenary men said to the other from outside.
"Understood"
Footsteps drew closer and closer until one mercenary soldier entered the room. He held his sword in his hand as he gazed around the room, his eyes sweeping across the destruction, until they landed on a man with crimson red hair sitting on a chair. The mercenary's eyes stretched wide when he saw the legendary figure before him. His hands began to shake out of fear. "Why am I so unlucky to encounter this man?" he thought, terror gripping him.
Leonidas had a light, knowing grin. He kept himself perfectly calm, not showing the enemy any weakness. The soldier, consumed by dread, obviously didn't know that the formidable Leonidas was paralyzed from the waist down.
"L... Leonidas Crimson, surrender now or taste the blade of my sword!" The mercenary soldier stuttered, sweat dripping profusely from his forehead as he attempted to threaten the lord of the Crimson family.
Leonidas chuckled lightly. "Listen, lowly human, I will give you this chance to take your little toothpick and fuck off before your head gets twisted like a Rubik's Cube. I suggest you think carefully about your next move."
The human mercenary's legs and hands began to shake, but deep inside, something felt off. He wondered why the vampire lord hadn't simply killed him; why the offer to spare him? "I'm afraid, my lord, I can't do that. I heard that you were poisoned. My guess is that all this acting tough and letting me go is all a ruse. If you wanted to kill me, you'd have done it already" The man's face split into a slow grin.
Leonidas's grim expression deepened. "You are smarter than you look, young man. Then come and take my head if you are so confident."
The mercenary man's muscles began to relax, a flicker of hope igniting as he realized he might actually stand a chance at killing a vampire lord. He took a few steps closer, noticing nothing happened, and a slight grin started to appear on his face.
"My lord, thank you for presenting your head to me on a silver platter."
Suddenly, a table hurtled towards the man, but he reacted instantly, slicing it in two with his sword. He looked in the direction the table came from and noticed a young boy standing there. "Hey, you, stay away from the old man. Come at me if you want to catch the fade, gang!" John shouted, his voice cracking slightly.
John's heart was pounding within his chest, and he could feel a cold sweat dripping down his back. He knew this man could kill him, and that he stood no chance in a one-on-one fight to the death. This mercenary looked like someone very experienced in battle. Yet, his body moved on its own, not allowing his grandfather to die on his watch. If they were going to die, it would be together.
John stood defiantly in front of his grandfather, his legs shaking out of fear, but his heart steeled to stand his ground. "What are you doing, boy?" Leonidas demanded, his voice low and firm. "I told you to hide behind the desk!"
"I heard you, old man," John replied, his voice firm despite his fear. "But I'm sorry, the jig is up. The man saw through your bluff. You and I already know that I stand no chance, but I'll try my best to protect you."
Leonidas looked at John with no outward expression, but deep down, something tugged at his heartstrings. John turned his head to look at Leonidas, a determined glint in his eye. "I got this, old man."
"Hahaha, I'm going to cut off your limbs, boy, and feed you to my dogs!" the mercenary scoffed, clearly enjoying the terrified defiance of the young vampire.
"Talking to the Young Master like that and trying to kill our Lord has granted you a golden ticket straight to hell."
From the shadows, two pale hands with sharp, elongated talons emerged silently, one from either side of the mercenary. The fingers moved with an eerie grace, gleaming in the dim light. Before the foe could sense the impending danger, the talons struck with blinding speed, wrapping around his neck. In a swift, fluid motion, the hands snapped the neck with a sharp, sickening crack, leaving no room for a scream or a struggle. The entire encounter was over in an instant, and the mercenary's body fell to the floor with a thud.
The vampire stepped over the dead body, then bowed with a graceful, respectful posture. His upper body leaned slightly forward, head lowered in deference. One arm extended to rest on his thigh in a gesture of humility, while the other hand remained near his chest, maintaining a dignified stance.
"Welcome back, my lord, and Young Master John," Porto said, sporting a formal black suit and exuding an air of sophistication.