Knock! Knock! Knock!
The sudden, sharp pounding on the heavy oak door shattered the morning silence. My eyes snapped open, my S-rank combat instincts instantly flaring to absolute life.
The knights. Elias.
The terrifying image of my head resting on top of a wooden stake flashed through my mind. I scrambled off the light blue sofa in a blurred fraction of a second. My heart pounded against my ribs as I grabbed my dark vanguard cloak, throwing it over my shoulders and violently tucking my massive crimson wings flat against my back. I zipped and buttoned the heavy fabric, ensuring every stray feather was completely hidden from view.
I checked my holster, took a deep, stabilizing breath, and unlocked the heavy iron deadbolts. I pulled the door open, my face completely visible and my mismatched jade and crimson eyes narrowed, ready for a bloody firefight.
But there wasn't a squad of Luminous Knights standing on my porch.
Instead, a scrawny young boy carrying a heavy canvas bag across his shoulder stared up at me, his mouth hanging completely open. It was Charlie, the 3rd District paperboy.
"Wait... Eirene?! What in the world happened to you?! You're... you're completely healed! And look at your right eye! I didn't know it was crimson! Where did all your scars go?!" Charlie stammered, taking a step back as he rubbed his eyes in utter disbelief.
The sheer relief that it wasn't a bounty hunter made my shoulders relax just a fraction. I looked down at the shocked boy, keeping my composure smooth.
"Thanks, Charlie, Where are the newspapers?" I said, my voice carrying a clear, calm resonance
The moment the words left my lips, Charlie froze as if he had just seen a cat speak fluent human tongue. For months, he had been delivering the daily press to House 132, and every single morning, I had greeted him with nothing but a silent nod or a hurriedly scribbled note. He knew with absolute certainty that I was completely mute.
"E-Eirene… Your voice... you can actually talk?! Wow, it sounds so... beautiful." Charlie awed, his eyes widening to the size of saucers as a bright, dazed smile broke across his face.
He frantically shook his head to snap himself out of his trance, quickly reaching into his canvas bag to pull out a rolled-up bundle of parchment.
"Right, sorry! Here are some fresh newspapers for you, Lots of crazy news from the capital today. I hope you like it!"
"Have a good day, Charlie," I replied with a faint nod.
"You too, Eirene!" the paperboy yelled back, still looking entirely starstruck as he turned on his heel and bounded down the porch steps, eagerly heading toward the neighboring townhouses to finish his morning route.
I stepped back inside and quietly locked the door behind me, unrolling the fresh ink pages to see exactly what kind of chaos my brother Elias and the Luminous Knights were printing about the "blood-sucking winged demon."
I walked over to the coatrack near the entryway, unbuttoning my vanguard cloak and hanging it up. Free from the heavy fabric, I walked back over to the light blue sofa and sat down, my massive crimson wings flaring out slightly and brushing against the cushions as I made myself comfortable.
Unrolling the parchment, I looked down at the bold, fresh ink dominating the front page of the Caria Times… Monday Edition. My eyes narrowed as I began to read the headline and the primary column:
SHADOW WALKER FINISHES INVESTIGATION AT DODORANT CITADEL
Captain Elias confirms that the Crimson Phantom, a.k.a. the Blood-Sucking Winged Demon, successfully entered Lulu City. Reports indicate the entity wore an inmate's face to infiltrate the citadel, brutally killing more than 50 knights and sucking their blood dry.
Inmate 345, also known as the petty thief Keane Leon, has admitted under interrogation that he is not the wanted fugitive. He claims the true Blood-Sucking Winged Demon ambushed him, stole his identity, and matches a distinct physical profile: a young woman with a single green eye, tanned skin, a missing left arm, and a horrific Glasgow smile. The Capital Knights Bureau Association warns the public that the demon is a confirmed high-tier shapeshifter.
I stared at the page, a cold, heavy silence filling the living room. Every single word of that report was completely accurate. It was me.
Two months ago, I had meticulously planned that entire heist. My goal wasn't just random chaos; I had infiltrated the absolute depths of the Dodorant Citadel to track down Luke Granhart… the prized apprentice of Don Anthony, the notorious leader of the arms syndicate that had been mass-producing those bootleg Tommy guns like rabbits.
I had initially gone into that prison under Keane's face purely to gather strategic intelligence on the syndicate's distribution network. But things had gone south during the extraction. To break out of a high-security subterranean fortress like that, I had been forced to unleash the full extent of my Phase 5 vampiric power. I ended up slaughtering far more knights than I ever intended to, painting the stone corridors crimson just to secure my escape.
My massive wings violently twitched against the sofa cushions, a sharp surge of adrenaline spiking through my demonic core. The paperboy had no idea, but the very monster the entire capital was panicking over was sitting right here in House 132, reading about her own crimes. Elias was closing the gap, and he finally knew exactly how I operated.
I flipped the page of the Caria Times, the crisp paper rustling in the quiet living room as my eyes scanned down to the next column. The text was accompanied by a grim, dark-ink illustration of a broken snowy landscape.
BRANCH 1 ANNIHILATED: MASSACRE AT THE NORTHERN BORDERS
The Knights Bureau officially confirms the total annihilation of Branch 1 during the localized tactical deployment on the frozen northern borders. Reports indicate there are zero survivors among the thirty elite combatants. Investigating units discovered a horrifying scene; the knights were systematically hunted down, with several bodies found fled and sliced completely in half across the permafrost. The Bureau attributes this catastrophic loss to the apex threat known as the Fallen Angel, though the entity's current whereabouts remain unknown.
I stared at the text, a cold, dark chuckle vibrating silently in my throat as the memory rushed back with vivid clarity.
The papers had it all wrong. They assumed the Fallen Angel had slaughtered everyone and escaped into the clouds. The reality was far more brutal.
The moment that creature had broken our lines and neutered Elicia's healing with that cursed blade, the battle had dissolved into pure chaos. The knights hadn't just been defeated; they had panicked, scattered into the howling blizzard, and been ruthlessly sliced in half by the angel's phased Mist Blade. The "no survivors" part was true for the Bureau's forces… but the Fallen Angel hadn't survived either.
Once the knights were cleared out and I was far enough away from Elicia's line of sight, I had finally let my demonic nature completely take the reins. I didn't care about keeping up appearances anymore. I unleashed my own predatory wings, took to the freezing sky, and turned the hunter into the prey. I tore that celestial apex apart in mid-air, painted the northern snow drifts with her black blood, and ripped the legendary Demon Valkyrie Longsword straight from her dying grip.
I closed the newspaper, my single jade-and-crimson eyes staring blankly at the lab equipment in my kitchen. The Bureau was still trying to piece together a puzzle where half the pieces were already sitting locked inside my inventory ring.
My wings gave a final, sharp twitch against the sofa cushions, settling down into a calm, predatory stillness. Let them chase the ghost of the Fallen Angel and the Crimson Phantom. I was right under their noses, and I was armed to the teeth.
I flipped to the next page of the Caria Times, the fresh ink smudging slightly against my fingertips as a new headline caught my eye.
BRANCH 2 ANNIHILATED AT THE SOUTHERN BORDERS: CRIMSON PHANTOM SUSPECTED
In a chilling echo of the northern massacre, the Bureau has confirmed that Branch 2, stationed at the southern borders, has met the exact same fate. No survivors remain. Elite investigating squads tracking the area discovered a horrific scene: every single knight had been entirely dried up, their bodies left as hollow, pale husks. First-hand witness accounts from nearby outposts claim to have seen a vampire fleeing the area. The Bureau strongly suspects this is the work of the Crimson Phantom, a.k.a. the Blood-Sucking Winged Demon.
I stared at the text, my jaw tightening as a cold sensation washed over me.
They were blaming me for this, too. The Bureau's investigators were lazy, simply connecting the dots of "drained blood" and pinning it on the easiest target on their registry. But I knew the truth. This wasn't my doing.
I am a Dhampir… a hybrid, half-human and half-vampire. While my demonic core gives me immense power and a thirst for blood, I still possess human restraint. I harvest what I need with surgical precision, just like I did with Keane Leon, keeping my bloodlust strictly under lock and key. I don't mass-slaughter entire battalions just to feed.
Whoever, or whatever, did this was a purebred, unhinged monster. A completely different vampire had descended upon the southern borders, and it possessed enough raw, catastrophic power to wipe out an entire elite branch of Luminous Knights in one single, devastating go.
My wings flared tightly against the sofa, a sharp spike of tension running through my spine. A real vampire was out there, moving through the kingdom and leaving a trail of dried husks in its wake. If this creature kept using my calling card, it wouldn't just increase the heat on my eighteen gold bounty
… it meant a true apex predator was officially on the hunt, and our paths were bound to cross.