Just after the cave collapsed—
Dust still hung thick in the air, drifting like smoke as debris settled around them. The rumble of falling stone faded into silence. Leo walked behind the towering warrior. He could feel it—Ivo's blood, pulsing with excitement, humming with tension. From the moment they had shaken hands, Leo knew the man hadn't meant a word of his apology. Another one of those subtle vampire instincts he had started to enjoy.
As they continued down the darkened corridor, Leo quietly summoned a phantom—an illusion of himself that mimicked his movements. The fake Leo took his place beside Ivo, while the real one slipped silently past and veered ahead, invisible and unnoticed.
They emerged into a wide, empty cavern. The ceiling arched high above, and the air was still, heavy with the scent of stone and dust. Ivo stopped near the edge, and Leo guided his phantom toward the center of the arena-like space. Meanwhile, he positioned himself farther in, just behind the illusion. A smooth crystal glinted in his hand—deep red with flickers of ember-like light swirling inside. It wasn't the same as the one he'd used before. This crystal held the power to launch three B-rank fireballs. The strongest of its type. But even so, crystals had limits. They were never a substitute for the raw force of a trained elementalist.
Ivo, unaware, slowly moved behind the phantom and drew a sword from his magic bag. He slashed through the illusion in a single motion. It cracked and shattered into fragments of fading light.
His eyes widened. He looked up—just in time to see the real Leo standing calmly in the center, a fireball already formed in his hand, its swirling heat casting a flickering glow on his face. Leo smiled, sharp and wicked.
Before Ivo could react, Leo released the fireball. It blazed through the air and slammed into Ivo's chest, the force blasting him backward. He crashed into the cave wall, a burst of flame lighting up the dust around him.
"You know what's great about illusions?" Leo said, smirking. "They work best on idiots."
Ivo groaned, then pushed himself up using his sword. His armor was scorched, and smoke rose from his shoulder, but he wasn't down for long.
"When did you figure it out?" he asked, voice strained.
"From the very start. There's a saying—people never change."
Ivo brushed the dust from his clothes. "Doesn't matter. The result's the same." As he spoke, an orange aura spread over his blade, pulsing with raw heat.
"You were that confident last time too," Leo said.
Ivo grinned, then charged forward—faster than Leo expected. The blur of motion reminded him of Edmond's speed. But Leo didn't flinch. His sword, now engulfed in flames, met Ivo's with a metallic clang that echoed through the cavern.
"You blocked me?" Ivo laughed, eyes gleaming. "Looks like this is going to be fun."
He unleashed a barrage of slashes, wild and heavy, aiming for Leo's head. Leo parried each blow or dodged by inches. His strength had grown. His speed, too. The change since yesterday's event was clear—and now, he had a real chance to test it.
Leo jumped back, summoning two phantoms mid-air. Both charged at Ivo.
Ivo easily slashed through the first one and ignored the second, assuming it was fake. But when his sword met Leo's again, the figure vanished—and the real Leo appeared behind him, dragging a burning blade across his back.
"Gah—!" Ivo stumbled forward and spun away, putting distance between them.
"You want to fight with tricks?" he growled. "Then watch how easily an illusionist gets crushed."
He focused, and a dense orange aura burst from his body. Wind howled around him, laced with invisible blades. It tore through the air like knives.
Leo summoned more phantoms, but they were shredded instantly. He couldn't see Ivo move—he was faster now, maybe even faster than Klaus during his Bloodrage.
Leo leapt back, but before his boots hit the ground, Ivo was already there—sword flashing down where Leo was about to land.
The blade slammed into a shield barrier that burst from Leo's other new crystal. It held for a split second—then cracked.
That second was enough. Leo twisted midair to dodge—but not completely. A searing pain ripped across his back as the sword bit into his flesh.
He crashed into the stone wall, blood trailing behind him.
"That's how a real B-rank fights, kid," Ivo said, voice calm, eyes sharp.
Leo pushed himself up, blood dripping down his side. Despite the pain, he smiled—a dark, knowing smile.
"Now that I've got blood," he said, "let's see how this works."
…
"What?" Ivo muttered, confused.
Before he could process what Leo had said, two new phantoms materialized and lunged at him.
"I said—it's useless," He said, voice calm and cold.
Ivo swung his massive blade, meeting one of the phantoms head-on. The phantom caught the strike with its own weapon, stopping it mid-air.
"So you're the real one again," Ivo growled.
He pushed forward, channeling strength into his arms. His blade cleaved through the Leo's sword and sliced through his figure—but it shattered like mist, vanishing before it hit the ground.
Ivo's eyes widened in surprise. That was an illusion. Then he felt it—something sharp sliding into his waist from behind.
He roared and spun, slashing through the second phantom. It too dissolved into nothing. More phantoms emerged from the gloom. Each one attacked, and with every clash, more wounds opened on Ivo's body. Blood trickled from shallow cuts along his arms, legs and chest.
'What the hell is going on? Am I under an illusion?' he thought, gritting his teeth.
But illusions didn't work like this—not ones that could leave real, bleeding wounds. Then he caught it—a flicker of movement near the ground. Blood. It was blood—slithering like a living thing, snaking its way back toward Leo.
Ivo's eyes went wide. He twisted his grip and swept his blade in a wide arc, cutting down two phantoms at once. Then he leapt back, breathing hard. His muscles tensed, his aura now darker, heavier. The wounds weren't slowing him—they were feeding him because of Berserk. The deeper the wounds, the stronger he became.
"You can control blood?" he snarled. "I knew you were a sneaky bastard… but to actually be a vampire…"
Leo laughed—a sharp, almost amused sound. "A vampire? Gods, you really are an idiot. Well, mostly."
He let out a long sigh and began walking toward Ivo, calm and unhurried. "If I were a vampire, don't you think the Council would've noticed the second I stepped into their chambers?"
Ivo narrowed his eyes. "Then it must be Alexia. That witch must've cloaked you with some kind of illusion spell."
Leo's expression darkened. "You should watch your mouth." Then he shrugged. "But since you're about to die, I suppose I can share a piece of the truth."
The veins on Leo's arms bulged, pulsing with a deep crimson glow. Blood surged through them like a storm through rivers. His presence shifted—denser, heavier. The air itself seemed to recoil.
His eyes lit up with an eerie luminescence.
"I'm not a vampire," he said softly. "I'm the first of my kind."
…
Leo increased the blood flow through his veins, veins bulging with unnatural intensity. Combined with the speed enchantment on his robe, his entire body surged with power.
Two new phantoms materialized beside him and without hesitation, the three of them charged at Ivo.
The muscular warrior met the phantoms with ease, parrying their attacks and countering with brutal precision. But Leo was faster—much faster—and every strike he delivered forced Ivo further onto the defensive.
Blow after blow rained down on him. Leo's blade became a blur, and the phantoms attacked in sync, forcing Ivo to divide his attention. The advantage he'd had moments ago was gone.
The man who had been pushing Leo back just minutes earlier was now retreating step by step. More cuts opened across his skin, blood soaking into his armor.
Then the orange aura surrounding Ivo flared. It pulsed outward in a shockwave, blasting the phantoms into smoke and throwing Leo back across the chamber.
"Thanks to your attacks…" Ivo grinned, blood dripping from his jaw. "I'm now at full Berserk."
Leo landed on his feet near the edge of the room, skidding slightly across the stone. He exhaled, calm and unreadable. "So it seems."
Ivo's smile widened, and he charged—faster than before, strength radiating off him in waves. But just as he neared his target, the ground beneath him shimmered, then shattered. Like falling through broken glass, Ivo plunged straight down, eyes wide.
Leo didn't move. "You should remember," he murmured, watching Ivo fall, "I can do more than just phantoms."
He had hidden one of the chasm-like holes in the floor with a layered illusion—subtle, silent, deadly. And Ivo had run straight into it.
As if invisible until now, a thick, metallic chain shimmered into view—linked to the hilt of Ivo's greatsword. With a snarl, he hurled the blade toward the far wall, where it slammed into the stone with a heavy thud. Using the chain, he hauled himself up from the pit with brute strength, his eyes alight with rage.
"You think that's enough to kill me?" he growled, raising his sword. His breath was ragged, face twisted with rage. "Let's end thi—"
Before he could finish, a massive shape launched from the shadows. The beast hit him like a battering ram, slamming him to the ground. Claws like curved daggers pinned his arms before he could react. Another wolf-like creature pounced from the opposite side, landing with a bone-crushing impact. Caught off guard and unable to move, Ivo let out a choked scream.
His voice echoed once—then was drowned in the sounds of ripping flesh and breaking bone.
When it was over, silence returned, thick and ominous. The two beasts slowly raised their heads, blood dripping from their muzzles, and turned their glowing eyes to Leo. He stood calmly, watching them with his sword still wreathed in flames, a faint smile on his lips.
"Took you long enough," Leo said.
He had seen them coming—massive forms creeping along the cave walls while Ivo fought blindly. Covered in thick fur, with elongated limbs, clawed hands, and wolfish heads, they were unmistakable. Werewolves. He counted on them to do what brute force alone might not.
"You smell like one of the vampires," the larger of the two said, his voice a low growl. "But something's different."
"Is he one of us?" asked the second, eyes narrowed. "Or should we kill him?"
"We'll take him to the master," the first decided.
They began circling slowly, looking for any sign of weakness. But Leo didn't give them the chance.
In a sudden burst of motion, he charged, flames trailing behind his blade. He activated the healing enchantment in his tunic and surged more blood through his body, every movement sharper, faster, more powerful. The first werewolf blocked his strike with its claw, steel grinding against bone. The second lunged at his back, but when his claw hit Leo's back, his figure shattered. It was a phantom.
By the time the beast realized the deception, Leo was already behind it. A hand pierced clean through its torso from the back digging into ribs.
"Thanks for standing still," Leo whispered, his voice cold.
He yanked his hand free and leapt away. A second later, the Explosion trap he'd left behind detonated. The explosion tore through the werewolf's chest, reducing its upper half to shredded meat and smoke. The other beast recoiled, stunned.
Then, fear took over. It turned and fled through a side tunnel, vanishing into the ruins.
Leo glanced down at his hand, flexing his fingers slowly. Blood still clung to his skin, warm and wet, but what held his attention was the raw strength behind the act. He had driven his bare hand straight through the thick, armored hide of a werewolf—something that should've been impossible without a weapon. The realization settled in his chest like a slow-burning fire. His physical power had grown far beyond what it once was. He wasn't just faster or sharper—he was becoming something else entirely.
He dusted off his tunic, walking past Ivo's mangled corpse without looking down. "B-minus rank, and you got taken apart like that," he muttered. "Maybe if you could control that anger of yours, things would've gone differently."
He followed the retreating werewolf's path, stepping into the next chamber. The new area was vast, filled with collapsed structures and broken arches that stretched into darkness. Activating Moonlit Gaze and Vampire's Gaze, Leo scanned the surroundings carefully. The werewolf was sprinting through the ruins toward a distant group of three figures. They weren't all werewolves—two looked human, though the distance and layers of rubble made them hard to identify.
But that wasn't what held his attention.
Beyond them, tucked deep within the ruins, something pulsed faintly with heat. It didn't move or breathe, and it wasn't alive—but it radiated energy. A presence. Something old. Something waiting.