Sigurd fell to his knees, coughing violently as his airways constricted from the smoke. Consumed by rage, he began to trample everything in his path, but his rampage only caused him to inhale more smoke, gradually weakening him. Even worse, he couldn't smell anything due to the thick haze; for the first time, he felt truly blind.
Though it seemed hopeless, he focused all his attention on his sense of smell, desperately trying to detect even the faintest hint of an escape. That's when he caught a whiff of something—a pungent odor, the worst thing he had ever encountered.
In his desperation to survive, he locked onto the scent, hoping it would lead him to safety. By this time, his insides felt like they were on fire, and the fumes left a burning sensation in his lungs. Struggling to breathe, he crawled on all fours, fighting his way out as the blue flames raged around him, engulfing everything in their path.
By the time he finally emerged, he was half-conscious. As he drifted off, he heard footsteps approaching. The pungent smell that had guided him out was now closer than ever. The footsteps stopped right in front of him.
"Who are you?!" he demanded, his tone more commanding than inquisitive.
"You should have stayed away," the voice replied.
"It's you! The same human I've been tracking. I'll make you suffer for this—tenfold!"
"That's impossible. By now, the carbon monoxide has already bonded with the hemoglobin in your blood. Your organs are being deprived of oxygen, and you'll die a slow, painful death."
"Hahaha! You're one to talk about death when you reek of it! I reckon you have a day at most."
Damien dropped his walking stick and sat beside the dying Sigurd. His legs were tired, and he was out of breath from starting the wildfire; he may have accidentally inhaled some of the fumes.
"Stop your yapping. There's no way I'm dying."
Sigurd couldn't help but laugh. "Look at you! You're practically half dead already. Do you think it's normal to have maggots living inside you?"
"They'll go away once I'm healed. Magic has the power to fix everything. All I need is magic."
"Tsk. You're delusional. There are some things magic can't fix."
Sigurd's words fell on deaf ears. Damien wouldn't even entertain the idea of his own death; after all, he had lived for centuries. Life was all he knew, and there was always a tomorrow in store for him. With a heavy sigh, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial.
It contained the virus he had created to grant him mana.
Back in his old world, his father had developed the Elixir of Life—a medicine that granted immortality. Damien's father had given him half of the recipe, while his brother Sabastian received the other half. He used that recipe to create this virus, filling in the gaps with the Devil's Tooth mushroom.
Yet, there was one more ingredient he needed to activate the virus—the blood of a mage. He had named this virus 'Crimson V' for its red color, which resembled blood. He estimated an 80% chance that the virus would fail.
The vial was sealed with wax to prevent its contents from spilling. He glanced down at Sigurd and noticed one of his claws was loose, having come free during his violent thrashing.
"Can I borrow this for a sec?" Damien said, tightening his grip around Sigurd's loose claw. With one swift pull, he yanked it out, causing Sigurd to moan in pain as flesh tore.
"I swear to God, I'll kill you!" Sigurd roared, mustering the strength to swing at Damien, but he missed entirely.
Damien then proceeded to use the claw to open the vial. After a few attempts, he finally managed to pop it open, releasing a strong, garlicky scent that filled the air. For a moment, he simply stared at the liquid inside the vial.
Then he looked up at the sky, gazing at the sunset before him. He noticed the outline of the moon beginning to rise.
"It's going to be a full moon tonight," he mumbled before downing the entire vial of Crimson V.
A sweet aftertaste lingered in his mouth, and he felt his stomach begin to bloat, followed by an overwhelming urge—
Burp!
"Well… that's that," he said, picking up his walking stick. He used it to carefully pull himself off the ground.
Taking one last look at Sigurd, he turned his back and started walking away.
"You'll be next," Sigurd retorted bitterly. "You fucking undead. You're a monster in your own right, you know that?"
Damien paid him no mind and continued walking, following the path that led directly to Edmond—the trenches. The moment he saw them, he knew it had to be the work of the mage soldiers. He had been tracking them for days and could tell he was getting close; the corpses they left behind were still fresh.
As he trailed along the trenches, a shadowy figure emerged in front of him. It was a beautiful girl with long, flowing white hair. He immediately recognized her—Élise De Sèvres.
'What's she doing here?' he thought, but he couldn't come up with an answer. 'Does it have something to do with Edmond?'
He stared at her in confusion while she regarded him with an inquisitive expression.
"You're one of the mage soldiers, yes?" she asked, her pleasant smile unwavering.
"I am, yes," Damien replied, still puzzled by her presence. "But you knew that already. What do you want?" he asked, getting straight to the point.
Her smile faded, and a cold tension hung in the air.
"I'm here to pass judgment."
Without hesitation, she approached him, circling him like a predator.
"I knew Edmond was up to something; his arrogance always gave him away. But I never thought he'd stoop so low as to use a virus to kill innocent people, even his own soldiers."
"You mean the polio that has been plaguing this land? It's not surprising these demi-humans haven't received the vaccines we have."
"Cut the crap!" Her annoyance was rising. "This is Edmond's work; I just know it, and you're the only missing piece. Tell me, what's a soldier doing this far out?"
"I'm not at liberty to discuss the ongoing war with a stranger, nonetheless."
Her hands balled into fists, and a vein throbbed in her temple.
"You sicken me! You and Edmond both. I made the right choice by leaving the academy and coming here. I'll make sure the both of you pay—"
Damien lunged at her with the claw he had before, moving at a speed that surprised her. She thought she was talking to a soon-to-be corpse. She barely dodged, but it left a deep slice on her cheek.
The claw snagged her blood, and the wound on her face soon closed up, her eyes glowing a shade of pink.
Damien's heart nearly leaped out of his chest at the sight, and memories of a book he'd read in Edmond's library rushed to his mind. The book told the story of a predator that thrived at night, the apex of predators. He knew exactly what Élise De Sèvres was.
"You're a vam—"
Before he could finish the word, she crushed his throat. Damien clutched his neck, struggling to breathe, and took a few panicked steps back to create distance between himself and Élise. But she closed the gap in an instant.
He swung at her again with the claw.
She effortlessly grabbed his hand and snapped it like a twig. The sickening crack echoed loudly. She then pulled the claw from his grip and plunged it into his heart.
"I hope you find peace in your next life."
Her words lingered in his mind as he doubled over and fell onto his back. The realization sank in as he stared up at the full moon.
"I'm dying!"
His voice was horrified; for a moment, he could hardly believe it was his own.
As he bled out, he took his last breath, staring up at the moon. The only thing he could think about was the time he and his brother had discussed the perfect way to die.
Sabastian, being an idiot, had said the best way to die was to be blown up by a tank. Damien had laughed at his brother's foolishness. 'What a moron,' he thought.
When the question was posed to him, he had replied,
"Death by a pretty lady. I don't want to be staring at a musty old man when I finally bite the dust."
Looking up at Élise's face, he couldn't help but laugh.
"We were both idiots."