My heart pounded so violently it felt like my ribs would snap.
This wasn’t just a tough enemy.
This was annihilation wrapped in a beautiful corpse.
Velra—one of the highest-tier vampire bosses in the game—stood tall, her crimson eyes glowing, fangs bared in amusement.
Strength. Agility. Magic.
She was beyond any category we could understand.
A predator. A natural disaster wearing skin.
There was no way we could win.
Hell, it had been suicide from the moment she woke up.
If it were just me, I would’ve bolted long ago—used my S-rank skill, [Ghoststeps], and vanished into thin air.
Not because I didn’t want to.
Because I literally couldn’t.
Even if I ran, even if I somehow made it out alive, Alice would die.
And if Alice died, so would I—per system rules.
She was still lying there, crumpled on the bloodstained cave floor, her mouth slick with red.
She looked up at me. Her eyes were dazed, but there was pain in them. Shame.
If she didn’t get help immediately, she was gone.
"J-Julies... r-run away..." she coughed, barely audible.
But this wasn’t a story where heroes made clean sacrifices.
This was the kind where choices came soaked in blood.
I’d told her to stop. Told her to retreat. But the moment combat started, her instincts took over.
And now—look where that got us.
"Master and servant, huh?"
Velra chuckled coldly from across the cave. She licked blood off her knuckle. "How touching. Shall I make you watch her die first?"
She was enjoying this.
That was the second problem.
She wasn’t just cruel. She was patient.
She wanted to see how far we’d squirm before breaking.
"I won’t let it end ," I whispered.
I crawled, dragging myself over jagged stone toward Alice. Every motion sent a fresh bolt of pain through my spine.
My hand dipped into my inner coat.
I’d been saving it. I planned to use it when infiltrating Count Valstein’s manor—a one-time escape if things went south.
But I never used it there.
Now it was our last shot.
Only one person could go.
She could sever my head from my neck in a blink.
If I hesitated for even half a second, she’d stop me.
My stomach twisted. I tasted copper.
My trembling hand finally touched Alice’s bloody shoulder.
"J-Julies...?" she whispered, her voice breaking.
"I bought this with my own damn money," I muttered, trying to keep my hand steady. "So don’t you dare die. You owe me for this."
She looked at me, confusion flickering behind the pain.
The cordinate of Draken Family house is already in the stone.
So, all now is left is to use it.
And I slammed the Return Stone into her chest.
Velra’s smile dropped.
A pulse of magic exploded around Alice as the teleportation sequence locked in.
"You bastard!" Velra moved.
But she was too late.
Alice vanished in a burst of white, leaving behind only the scent of burnt mana and blood.
I collapsed to the floor.
Her eyes were no longer amused.
Now they were glowing with fury.
"...That was unwise," she whispered, her voice like a blade dragged across bone.
And she took a step forward.
"Because of you," Velra said, her voice low and trembling with rage, "my precious blood bank got away."
She smiled, but there was no joy in it—only cruelty.
"It’s time to pay... with your own blood."
No spell incantation. No warning.
My instincts screamed. I barely rolled aside before something tore through the space I’d just been in. Stone exploded behind me. The cave wall cracked like glass.
I tried to stand, but my legs buckled.
Pain shot through my thigh—broken. At some point, during the fall or crawl, something must’ve snapped.
I braced on one arm, dragging myself backward over the debris-strewn floor.
Velra emerged from the shadows, lazily, as if she hadn’t just tried to decapitate me. Her clawed hand was dripping with blood. I didn’t know whose. Maybe mine. Maybe Alice’s.
"I was going to keep you both," she said, licking her fingers like candy. "Break you down slowly. A servant who fights like that? Rare. Delicious."
"But now, you’re just a waste. No one’s watching. No one’s coming. Do you know what that means, Human?"
I didn’t answer. My hand inched toward my belt. I had one dagger left. Poisoned. Meant for emergencies.
"It means I don’t have to hurry," Velra whispered. "We can take... our time."
I flipped the dagger from my belt, slashing upward. It scraped against her arm, the poison coating sizzling where it met her undead flesh. She hissed and recoiled—but only slightly.
"Cute," she said, eyes narrowing. "Very cute. You think you’re still in a game, don’t you?"
I coughed hard, blood dribbling down my chin. My ribs were cracked. Breathing hurt. Thinking hurt.
Painfully, vividly real.
I had no healing potions. No mana to cast even a weak spell. My stamina was scraping the bottom of the barrel.
I could either die here—screaming, begging for a mercy she wouldn’t give.
But I wasn’t going to beg.
Fighting her was suicide. I knew that. She could end me in seconds if she felt like it.
So... what the hell was I supposed to do?
Run? No chance. She’d be on me before I could blink.
Fight? That would just piss her off more.
My mind spun, frantic for a thread to cling to. My mouth was dry, tongue sticking to the roof of it. Fear coiled in my gut, but I pushed it down.
If I couldn’t win with strength, maybe I could stall her with words.
Buy time. Bluff. Anything.
It was time to negotiate—for my life.
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