Crack!
The vampire's head burst like an overripe watermelon, splattering blood and brains.
Reyn yanked back the hammer, stepped aside, and thrust the weapon forward, blocking the second vampire's claws.
This was a beautiful-faced woman clad only in a thin veil barely concealing her charms. Her claws clashed with the hammer's haft, sparking. Seeing the surprise attack fail, she slid them along the shaft toward Reyn's wrist.
The claws raked his skin, leaving only faint white scratches, without drawing a drop of blood.
The vampiress froze in bewilderment. As a vampire, she knew well how sharp her Harvest Claws were—their primary weapon, their strongest close-combat attack, comparable to an enchanted blade. Even Iron Guards' activated Stone Skin couldn't withstand them, claiming countless lives.
But her strike on this youth's arm hadn't even scratched him.
Seizing her daze, Reyn lunged forward with a wide step, slamming into her with his body, hurling her back into the hall and securely blocking the passage exit.
In the hall, the high-rank vampire had long lost his cool and thought only of escape. His speed was lightning-like; turning into a black smoke cloud, he tried to rush toward Reyn. But the black smoke, mixed with silver dust, was too visible to hide.
Roger formed a seal with his left hand fingers, and an invisible wave of icy cold burst from his palm like a sudden northern gust, rapidly spreading and covering half the hall. The force instantly hit the black mist, forcing the high-rank vampire out of his smoky form.
The vampire shuddered as the icy power invaded his body, and in that instant, the silver blade sped toward him. He bit his tongue, spitting a stream of blood that ignited into flame, repelling the cold. At the last moment, before the sword touched him, he turned back into black smoke and evaded.
Roger's sword cleaved empty air. From the corner of his eye, he caught the trail of silver dust and realized the vampire wasn't fleeing to the passage but maneuvering around the hall. Unhurried, he methodically continued.
One fled, the other pursued—like a cat toying with a mouse.
No matter what tricks the high-rank vampire tried, Roger countered each one, preventing him from nearing the passage even a step, while the vampire's strength steadily waned.
At the passage, meanwhile, a real slaughter was underway.
Over a dozen blood servants, desperate to save their lives, poured into the passage, trying to overwhelm Reyn with numbers, but each met crushing hammer blows.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The hammer whistled through the air; three consecutive strikes pulped the heads of three blood servants. These servants weren't superhumans; to ordinary people they might seem strong, but to Reyn they were mere "charging stations." Seven or eight corpses—men and women—already lay at his feet; none survived a single blow.
Reyn was nearly drenched in blood, like a war god, and the remaining blood servants recoiled in horror.
From the hall came the high-rank vampire's desperate cry—clearly, he would soon fall to the legendary Hunter's sword. The surviving vampiress gritted her teeth and shouted:
"Everyone on him, or we're all dead!"
She charged first, followed by the two horned creatures. Reyn had noticed them long ago; their power matched first-level superhumans, but they'd hidden behind blood servants until now, finally daring to fight.
The vampiress appeared before him instantly and attacked with claws again.
Reyn, undaunted, stepped forward hammer raised.
Suddenly, the two horned creatures turned into black shadows and vanished, reappearing at his sides in the next instant. Their naked, slick bodies coiled around his arms; two beautiful faces pressed close, and clouds of pink mist erupted from their mouths.
Caught off guard, Reyn inhaled some pink mist. His head fogged with lewd thoughts, slowing his hammer swings.
"Ha-ha-ha..."
The vampiress let out a triumphant screech, dodged the hammer, circled behind Reyn, bared her long fangs, and sank them into his nape.
Crunch!
Two sharp cracks sounded, and the vampiress's face froze. She recoiled, spitting out two broken fangs.
"What are you?!" she cried in pain; all her teeth ached, eyes filling with tears. It felt like biting a steel ingot, not human flesh.
In that moment, Reyn willed away the lewd thoughts and snapped back. He yanked his right arm hard, flinging one coiled creature against the passage wall. The monstrous force, like a direct hammer hit, shattered all its bones. It slid limply down the wall, clearly done for.
With the same motion, Reyn jabbed the hammer haft backward. Puff!—piercing the vampiress still screeching behind him. The haft crushed her heart, passed clean through, and was yanked back.
The remaining strange creature released his arm in horror, vanished, and reappeared at the passage exit, clopping hooves as it tried to flee.
"Decided to run?"
Reyn snorted. Ignoring the vampiress not yet dead at his feet, he hurled the war hammer. The heavy weapon smashed into the creature like a speeding locomotive, tossing it airborne. Its body split in two mid-flight and thudded lifelessly to the ground. The hammer continued, leaving a deep dent in the passage wall.
"He's unarmed—quick, run!"
Several blood servants, seeing Reyn weaponless, rushed him en masse, trying to exploit the moment and escape.
Reyn glanced at Roger, still battling the high-rank vampire, shook his head, drew the shotgun from his thigh holster, and opened precise fire.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Flashes of flame, four shots—and the last four blood servants crumpled, riddled with bullets.
One round left in the gun. Reyn looked down and saw the still-living vampiress at his feet. Her vitality was incredible; her eyes held unwillingness to die and burning hatred.
Bang!—the final round blew her head apart. Brains splattered, drenching everything in blood.
Reyn shook blood from his legs, quickly grabbed five shells from his belt, reloaded the shotgun, picked up the hammer, and resumed position at the passage exit.
By now, the only one left in the hall was the high-rank vampire.
Watching the fight for half a minute, Reyn thought bitterly that if he faced a high-rank vampire himself, it would be over for him. The most dangerous thing about this foe was his speed. Turning into black smoke, he moved like lightning, and in that form could dodge normal weapons; only magic could force him back to solid shape.
Mid-rank and higher vampires could also turn invisible—a more practical stealth ability than Shadow Slip, letting them move swiftly unseen. Plus, vampires had extreme self-healing, various blood magics, and ways to befuddle foes.
But all that was useless against a legendary Demon Hunter.
From the start, Roger used the alchemical bomb with silver dust to strip the vampire's invisibility and smoke form, so wherever he fled, he was easy to spot. Blood magics couldn't breach Roger's shield. Moreover, Roger was no slower—perhaps faster—and reacted like lightning. Without blood evasion for instant teleports, the high-rank vampire would have fallen to Roger's silver sword long ago. But that blood evasion clearly cost his own blood, weakening him with each use.
"Demon Hunters are nemeses for a reason. The vampire tried every trick, but death is inevitable."
"Master Roger isn't fighting at full strength."
Thinking this, Reyn stayed vigilant. If the high-rank vampire decided to take someone with him before dying, lunging here to attack, things would turn ugly.
Fortunately, Roger prevented that.
A minute later, the high-rank vampire used blood evasion again and leaped back, gasping. Roger suddenly accelerated, closing in. Nearing, he stomped his left foot, forming a seal, and dim purple runes surfaced on the ground. The air seemed to freeze; the vampire grew heavy, movements stiffened, speed plummeted.
The magic trap didn't affect Roger at all.
"No!" the vampire screamed in despair.
In a flash, Roger was before him, swung the silver sword, and effortlessly severed his head. The cry cut off.
The silver blade still bore no drop of blood.
Roger, as if doing something trivial, turned to Reyn—who stood blood-soaked like a statue—and praised:
"You did well."
With his power, killing a high-rank vampire was child's play; he could have ended it in a few breaths. Prolonging it was just to gauge Reyn's combat skills.
Reyn had exceeded all expectations.
Those two ordinary vampires lacked magic, relying on speed and strength, equivalent to second-level superhumans. Add two horned succubi and over a dozen blood servants—even a mid-rank superhuman would feel uneasy under that assault.
Yet Reyn emerged unscathed, a total surprise to Roger.
His only flaw, perhaps, was his savage fighting style: always smashing heads with the hammer, turning everything into bloody pulp.
"This youth looks so handsome and calm, yet so ferocious in battle—like a follower of the blood god Harkasnu," Roger thought.
Unaware of Roger's thoughts, Reyn looked at the human girl suspended over the table. In his Eye of the Soul, her soul was extremely faint, but she still lived.
Roger leaped up and severed the chains with one sword stroke. Reyn caught the girl, gently laid her down, and pressed her throat wound. Vampires were skilled bloodletters: the cut was thin and deep. They must have used some spell to sustain her life, or she'd be dead.
"She won't survive," Roger stated emotionlessly, as if accustomed to such sights.
Reyn was powerless too. She'd lost too much blood; still breathing was a miracle. He felt a twinge of pity. At her age, in his past life, she'd be a high schooler—time of blooming, youth, and hopes. Alas, her beautiful life ended before it began.
Soon her breathing stopped, and her soul left her body. Reyn had long disabled charging and watched her soul rise and vanish into the void, heading to the gods' realm. On Ellunes, believers' souls found salvation after death—a small comfort.
Reyn stood silent for seconds, then snapped back and saw Roger slice open the high-rank vampire's chest with his sword, extract the bloody heart, and devour it ravenously.