They rounded the corner and circled the house from the front. Reyn spotted the sign: "Laufren High Fashion House." "So it's a clothing store," he thought, "a big one, looks upscale. Like luxury boutiques from my past life."
Main doors tightly shut. Roger approached calmly, fingers in a sign, spirit power wave from his hand.
Click!—door opened itself.
He entered first, sniffed, oriented, crossed the main hall quick, wandered corridors a bit, stopped at the storeroom door.
Reyn listened: two heartbeats behind.
In dark, Roger's yellow irises gleamed faintly, cat-like vertical pupils narrowed then widened. He quietly cast a spell to unlock the storeroom door, cracked it, slipped in.
Light sound from storeroom, then silence.
Reyn followed. Storeroom piled with goods bales. In corner by wall, body on floor. Head severed meters away—clearly one sword stroke. Strange dark-red blood oozed from neck.
Two stood nearby.
One—Roger; no blood dripped from his silver sword. The other, dressed like the corpse, young man in his twenties. Seeing his companion killed, no surprise; face emotionless, gaze blank.
"Aksia Sign. I've temporarily subjugated him," Roger explained quietly.
Reyn knew demon hunters used magic, but first time seeing it.
Roger squatted, touched blood drop on headless body, rubbed between fingers, said grimly.
"These two are blood thralls. His blood's corrupted at least three years. The master who made him—high-rank vampire. Be careful."
"High-rank vampire!"
Reyn shivered.
Vampires were among the most common demons hiding among humans. Strictly, not true demons, but monsters humans turned into by Chaos Blood corruption.
Chaos Blood source—one of the Four Great Evil Gods of the Abyss, "Lord of Chaos," also "Nyarlathotep."
Legends said the first vampire, progenitor of all bloodsuckers, was made by the Lord of Chaos from his own blood. This horrific god-blood, like plague, spread wildly among humans, seeking to destroy mankind.
Chaos Blood failed to wipe out humans, but birthed vicious monsters—vampires, who over millennia inflicted countless sufferings on humanity.
Vampires crave human blood unquenchably, must drink regularly to survive. With enough blood, they grow stronger like superhumans, power rising from low to high rank, even reaching legendary, gaining blood-related abilities and bloody magic.
In daily life, vampires look indistinguishable from humans. Masters of disguise and stealth, extremely hard to detect.
All vampires—devoted followers of the Lord of Chaos. After death, souls go to the Abyss, reborn as devils. Devils are demons too; minions of the Lord of Chaos. People call all Abyss dwellers demons, followers of all Four Great Evil Gods. Sometimes "demons" means only horrific monsters serving the Dark Lord, evil gods' chief. Chaos Lord worshippers often hide in human world, sowing destruction and massacres. Evil, cunning, corrupting humans—hence "devils."
Vampires—one such, most common.
Roger eyed nearby bookshelf. Faint noise behind. Reyn listened closely: at least a dozen "people." Heartbeats said six vampires with superhuman strength; rest mostly blood thralls, weaker than superhumans but far stronger than normals.
"Damn, so many vampires! A whole lair! Afraid the fight won't be easy..."
Reyn tensed inside, doubting if Roger could handle.
Roger didn't rush attack. He instructed quietly.
"Vampires are very cunning. Their gathering spots usually have multiple exits. Just guard this one; don't let any devil escape. Leave the rest to me."
Reyn nodded he understood.
"Vampires very fast; watch out, don't get bitten. But even if bitten, no big deal. You drank 'Black Blood'; it suppresses vampires—for half an hour, no corruption."
With that, Roger ordered the subjugated blood thrall.
"Open the door. Go in."
"As you command," the thrall, like a puppet on strings, shoved the bookshelf, revealing a huge downward passage.
Reyn eyed the passage: "Why do these evil god followers, in their dark dealings, love going underground?"
Passage walls lit by crystal lamps; inside, merry shouts and music. Reyn caught sweet aroma, stirring light anxious ripple in his soul.
Before he could think, someone slapped his shoulder. Turning, Roger stared sternly, finger to nose, warning against the deceptive scent. Reyn held breath, mind cleared.
Blood thrall led. Very tall; Roger hid behind easily. Reyn, taller, couldn't, so hunched and followed, staying unseen.
Descending the passage about ten meters, they emerged into a spacious hall.
The hall spanned more than two hundred square meters. Several large crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, emitting a crimson glow, while strips of light fabric draped down from above, creating an exquisite and sensual atmosphere, as if they had stumbled into some elite entertainment club.
In the center of the hall stood a massive table over ten meters long, surrounded by comfortable luxurious sofas. The table groaned under an abundance of delicacies and fruits.
Around the table, a crowd of men and women—mostly beautiful and young—were reveling. Some were dressed to the nines, elegantly sipping red wine and chatting loudly with their companions. Others were completely naked and indulging in debauchery right on the sofas: in pairs, groups, or tangled into a single writhing mass, emitting languid, imagination-stirring moans.
In the corner of the hall, a young woman with exposed breasts sat at a key-organ, playing and singing to entertain the crowd.
The sight of it all made the blood rush to their heads; it seemed they had walked into a genuine orgy.
Seeing this, Reyn froze for a moment, his mind a whirlwind. He had truly never witnessed anything like it.
But only for an instant. Reyn quickly regained his composure and took in more details.
At the far end of the table, in a wide armchair with a high back, sat a man of refined appearance. He held a tall-stemmed goblet in his hand, surrounded by three beautiful naked women. One was human; the other two had curved ram horns growing from their heads, their bodies covered in white tattoos. Their legs bent backward below the thighs, covered in brown fur and ending in hooves.
"What kind of creatures are those?"
Before Reyn could ponder further, he spotted a naked human girl suspended upside down over the table. She was about sixteen or seventeen; whether alive or dead was unclear. Her throat had been slit with a sharp blade, and blood continuously dripped down. Beneath her, a blood servant held a golden pitcher, collecting the blood and pouring it into prepared goblets.
Clearly, these vampires weren't drinking red wine—they were drinking this girl's blood.
At that moment, the blood servant who had entered from the passage drew attention. Several vampires at the table turned and were about to ask something when they noticed someone behind him.
Before they could react, Roger shot out from behind the servant like lightning.
A silver flash streaked toward the table, racing over it in an instant, and those seated there—vampires or blood servants alike—lost their heads one after another. Blood gushed from the severed necks like fountains, splattering everything around.
Roger froze again, his figure now clearly visible.
"Demon Hunter!"
The hall erupted in screams of terror; everyone scattered in panic. Several vampires kept their composure, but the blood servants were terrified out of their wits. Forgetting to dress, they dashed about naked like blind flies.
There were two exits in the hall: one was the passage guarded by Reyn, the other a door in the opposite wall.
After beheading several targets, Roger wasted no time, yanking an alchemical bomb from his belt and hurling it. A boom echoed, the hall shook, and that door collapsed, blocking the exit.
"Quiet!"
A sharp, commanding voice reverberated through the hall, forcing all the blood servants to stop their frantic dashing. But their faces still twisted in uncontrollable horror.
The man in the high-backed armchair rose, downing his goblet of blood in one gulp and licking his lips. His red eyes gleamed as he looked at Roger:
"Another Demon Hunter. Right on time. I haven't tasted Hunter blood in ages."
The remaining vampires closed in, surrounding Roger; greedy fire burned in their eyes.
Roger smirked coldly.
At the passage entrance, Reyn smirked inwardly too: these vampires had mistaken Roger for an ordinary Hunter and were rushing into the jaws of death. He had already scanned them with his Eye of the Soul: the leader was a high-rank vampire, the strongest among them. Besides him, there were two mid-rank vampires—a man and a woman—plus five ordinary ones. Roger had already beheaded three of the ordinary ones; two remained.
Five vampires total. If they surrounded a Hunter below legendary rank, victory would be nearly guaranteed.
But Roger was a legend!
The high-rank vampire glanced at Reyn by the passage entrance and ordered the two ordinary vampires:
"Kill him."
Before he finished speaking, he and the two mid-rank vampires lunged at Roger, their figures dissolving into thin air.
Boom!
In an imperceptible instant, Roger pulled another alchemical bomb and tossed it at his feet. An explosion rang out, and countless silver sand grains scattered in all directions, like beautiful moonlight showering everything. The three figures, touching the silver dust, immediately materialized.
The three vampires ignored the silver dust on their bodies and attacked Roger from three sides with sharp claws.
In the next second, a golden shield materialized around Roger's body.
The ferocious claws struck the shield, sparking showers of sparks, but it stood immovable like a mountain, unyielding even an inch.
Horror twisted the faces of the three vampires.
Before they could retreat, the silver sword flashed, and two heads flew into the air.
Only the high-rank vampire, as the sword whistled past, turned into a cloud of black smoke, dodged aside, and reformed into human shape, crying out:
"Legend! You're a legendary Demon Hunter!"
Those words made all surviving vampires and blood servants pale and tremble. Even the high-rank vampire was gripped by terror.
"Run!"
A blood servant screamed, and everyone bolted toward the passage exit, shoving and overtaking each other.
Especially those two ordinary vampires: they had orders to kill Reyn, so they reached him first in a flash.
"Out of the way!"
One vampire bared his fangs ferociously. He feared the legendary Hunter but not the young Iron Guard with a war hammer. His fingers elongated into sharp claws, lunging for Reyn's throat.
The claws were about to pierce when the world tilted before the vampire's eyes, and a massive hammer head rushed forward, filling his vision.