The steel door sealed shut behind Luna with a soft hiss. Calen didn't move. Not yet. He stood between his two elite guards, still smiling.
Across the blood-soaked floor, Lucifer Origin walked forward—slow and quiet. Every step echoed like a drumbeat. The glaive in his hand pulsed with blood magic, a jagged construct of shadow and rage, screaming without sound.
"You look tired," Calen said, voice steady.
Lucifer didn't answer.
"You know, I've been waiting for this moment."
Still nothing.
Calen's fingers danced subtly behind his back, pressing the hidden button on his glove.
Click.
The floor beneath Lucifer shifted. Tiny gas valves opened silently across the corridor.
A hiss.
Then came the mist—red, glimmering, faint as smoke but laced with the neurotoxin he'd spent months perfecting. A chemical storm designed to shut down vampire aura networks. Paralyze their core. Cripple their ability to heal or move.
Calen waited.
Lucifer kept walking.
"Stop," Calen said.
