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Mar 22, 2025

Aurora; 10 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 10k oof

A/N: HELLO EVERYONE!!! ANOTHER 10K BOMB HITTING YOUR HOUSE RIGHT NOWWW 💥💥💥 Many shifting POVs this chapter bc there's too many things happening at the same time!!! Just know I'm rubbing my hands like an evil fly as I post this chapter hehehheheheheh ENJOY!!! <3

⤕ Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

Alucard would not fail.

The sky above him was painted in red. The sun, a symbol of hope and life, was hidden behind an eerie shadow that had nothing to do with the natural movement of celestial bodies. The air smelled of salt, iron, apprehension and fear. He was used to this smell – he knew it intimately. He was used to war. How many times had Alucard put his life on the front line before? Uncountable. Every time he faced an enemy, whether weak or strong, he knew there was the possibility of dying. Perhaps that kept him on edge. Perhaps that’s why he kept fighting, aside from his love for humanity.

The men behind him weren’t used to this feeling. The heaviness in the atmosphere, the strange weigh that preceded battle; some of them might’ve fought against humans, not against vampires or demons or deities. They had no idea what waited for them.

And that is why Alucard would not fail.

He stood in front of the defensive lines, his grip on the sword unwavering as he held it close to his chest as a sign to halt. The wind played with his hair and cape. His senses, sharpened beyond human capabilities; he could hear every breath, every step, every whisper, every heartbeat. His own emotions, controlled with the precision of a true master. Serenity. Severity. Confidence. These men needed it. They needed a strong image to look at; they needed an unyielding force to trust.

The moment Alucard entered the Revolutionary Commune holding the severed head of one of Erzsebet’s servants, he understood that he had taken the responsibility over that fight. He also felt that weight over his shoulders – the weight of hundreds of lives of courageous men offering to fight, and hundreds of thousands of other civilians. Elders, children, women… they had been evacuated to the outskirts of the city, but if everything went down, the Vampire Messiah’s army would not spare anyone.

And that is why Alucard would not fail.

That is why his impeccable posture and severe expression did not change when he saw a battalion of vampires approaching from the other side of the bridge. That is why he was firm when he lifted his sword, signaling the men behind him to get ready to shoot. That is why he did not flinch when she finally appeared from within the fog, being carried by two horses in a golden chariot.

Some men gasped at her horrendous figure. Taller than any human being or vampire, her giant red hair looked like a wild lion’s mane; her face was distorted into animalistic traits. While Annette, possessed by Sekhmet’s Akh, looked beautiful and dignified – the goddess of healing –, Erzsebet looked like a ferocious monster – the goddess of war.

She was extremely powerful now. Alucard could feel her pungent power from miles away; the horrid stench of profane magic. She brought fear with herself, as if gravity became heavier around her, luring weaker creatures into submission.

Erzsebet locked eyes with Alucard. Anyone else would’ve passed out with that simple feral gaze. She grinned, exposing her sharp teeth – a smile filled with vanity and anger.

“Alucard!” She yelled at the top of her lungs. “Where is my Ruby?!”

Alucard wanted to kill her.

Right then and right there.

But that was not part of the strategy. He had to keep his own emotions in place. Annette and Richter would take responsibility over fighting her; Alucard had to care for the men behind him.

He held himself back from attacking her. That would dismantle the plan. That would be irrational and Alucard had to be rational regardless of how he felt for her.

From afar, he heard a beautiful unknown male voice singing in a foreign language; Creole, he understood with a bit of surprise. Soldiers, attack. Those who die, so what?

A war cry.

Very appropriate.

Alucard pointed his sword towards her.

“Now!”

Cannons ignited. Multiple explosions. A hailstorm of shots; the front lines of her battalion were immediately obliterated, rows of vampires being reduced to pieces without having a chance to react. The smell of iron became stronger. Smoke clouded the bridge.

“Again!” He ordered. More shots. More explosions.

That wouldn’t be enough to stop Erzsebet and he knew it. Alucard got out of the way the moment she attacked – too fast for a creature so big. She was strong, but hasty, disorganized, too angry for her own good. She was no warrior and that would be their upper hand.

Fuck, Alucard wanted to fight her. He wanted to impale his sword through her chest, he wanted to cut her horrendous head off. He looked at her strength and her size and her ferocity and remembered Ruby’s size compared to her, Ruby’s fragility, Ruby’s inherent fear which was hammered into her – and that made him hate hate hate hate Erzsebet. But the battlefield was no place for hate; hate clouds your perception, your senses, your intelligence. He had to trust his plan and his allies.

So Alucard turned around and ran.

He lead his men to the backstreets, abandoning the bridge. Erzsebet’s followers saw it as weakness. Vampires were predators; if you act like prey, they would naturally be attracted… and their instinct was their doom.

The streets were barricaded with meters and meters of rubble.

Before the vampires realized they were cornered, another hailstorm of shots fell over them – coming from above.

Soldiers hidden inside the street’s buildings shot again, and again, and again. Alucard’s vision sharpened as he attacked before they could regroup. These vampires knew who he was. These vampires trembled, knowing they had no chance against him – and their expression of fear would remain forever when Alucard sliced their heads off; in their vision, he was but a red blur of death, moving too fast to be stopped.

He moved on to the next street, and the next, and the next in a frantic pace, not stopping for a second to breathe. He needed to eliminate as many opponents as possible to minimize the chances of melee battle between humans and vampires while keeping the battalions focused on that part of the city – away from the refugee citizens and away from the tailor shop where Ruby was hidden. Alucard was like the grim reaper himself: no one could stand on his way. It seemed no one was enough of an opponent for him. No one made him lose his balance, no one was enough of a threat for him to wield his sword with both hands, no one broke his sprint. To witness that was like the fire of courage the soldiers needed to keep fighting. They had a strong ally; they could win.

Alucard already knew she was coming before she even appeared in his field of view.

He felt her presence, the flap of her gigantic wings behind him. When she halted her flight on the building in front of him, holding a maniacal grin and with the gaze of a killer, Alucard was ready to face her.

He already knew at that point that Drolta was the real danger. Drolta was the mastermind, the strategist behind everything. In this great chess game, Erzsebet might’ve been the King – the most important piece in the board, but Drolta was the Queen – the most powerful piece, the one that could move freely.

The ruby necklace sat on Drolta’s collarbones.

He’d been planning to defeat her for the past five years. He had killed her once and lost to her resurrected form once, too. Now, it didn’t only feel like it was his duty; it felt like justice.

Ruby’s frightened expression upon seeing Drolta again resurfaced in his mind.

I promise I won’t fail you again. Erzsebet and Drolta won’t get anywhere near you.

It was time to end this.

Drolta launched herself at full speed towards him. He gripped the hilt of the sword with both hands.

Alucard would not fail.

Mizrak had never felt so small as in the moment he landed in Paris.

With the help of Maria’s and Juste’s magic, they managed to fly to the capital in just a few hours. Mizrak ignored the dizziness and nausea, immediately focusing on the situation at hand.

Paris was in chaos. He could hear the screams and shots even from the sky – the sounds of battle. Blood painted the streets, made the air smell of iron. Spots of smoke peppered around the city, flashes of light illuminated the red sky. He’d never witnessed a battle so big, so heated, so violent before.

And at the center of the square where Richter and Annette waited stood the most gruesome creature he’d ever seen.

Mizrak took a second to understand that that was Erzsebet. She had transfigured herself into an even uglier, unholier thing; she was worse than any night creature he’d seen. Mizrak hated her. He hated that Emmanuel had placed all his bets on her and died for it. He hated himself for helping her to some degree; he was well aware that he had his share of fault in this.

He almost didn’t notice that Annette looked different – there were too many things to take in at the same time – and Richter explained that she was also possessed by this… entity, and that somehow granted them an advantage. Maria, Juste and Richter immediately took fighting positions. Mizrak unsheathed his curved sword.

He knew there was no way for him to face that demon. Maria, young and short the way she was, already proved herself to be a powerful magician; he saw Erzsebet’s servants gasp when she opened a huge golden portal and summoned a gigantic blue dragon from it. A part of him felt proud of her for being able to control her powers after so much effort.

Juste was an old man, but just as powerful as the blonde girl. He evoked lightning and ice and fire as easily as he breathed. And Richter united his magic prowess to his brutal fighting style and muscular physique – all the while Annette (or Sekhmet, whatever) worked on weakening Erzsebet.

As soon as they started fighting, the square became literal hell.

Their attacks seemed to shake the world itself. The three of them fought like a single body, in pure synchronicity, not letting Erzsebet stop for a second to recover. Their magic made Mizrak feel goosebumps, made his stomach drop.

Mizrak was just a man with a sword. He did not compare to them in any way.

But King David was a small boy and even so, he killed Goliath, a giant; because he had faith within him. Because he had God with him, guiding his movements, clearing his path to victory. Light always beats darkness – and Mizrak believed that God, the only true God, was on their side in this battlefield.

For the Lord is righteous and loves justice; the upright will see His face.

Mizrak might be just a man in the middle of beasts, but no man is ordinary when God stands by them.

He attacked.

His sanctified sword was the harbinger of justice against his enemies. Vampire after vampire, he slashed heads and stomachs, severed members; at every fallen enemy, he felt that he was little by little avenging all these poor soldiers killed in Machecoul by Drolta. He still remembered the smell of blood and fear that filled the air that afternoon; he still remembered the tears he shed, the despair he felt, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop that carnage.

Every cloaked vampire in the square was killed either by him, his allies, or even indirectly by Erzsebet in their violent fight. There was nothing he could contribute there anymore. He ran towards a nearby street.

His heartbeat throbbed in his ears. The ground beneath his feet shook – the result of the magical fight behind him or cannon explosions. The cobblestones were painted in blood; fallen soldiers were everywhere. Some already dead, some on the verge of it. Screams and shots came from all directions. Mizrak kept running, looking for more enemies; a tall wall of rubble that barricaded the street forced him to turn left.

More cloaked servants. With a scream of effort, Mizrak slashed the nearest one and jumped to the next. Vampires might’ve been stronger and faster than human beings, but most of these vampires weren’t fighters; they were just overconfident aristocrats that lived most of their lives inside palaces, hunting clueless humans in the night to feed. Mizrak doubted many of them ever faced anyone in battle before.

Of course, even a regular vampire was much more dangerous than a regular human. The multiple bodies on the floor he saw on his way was proof of it. Mizrak knew he had to be careful; a vampire is never too weak.

He moved on to the next street. Screams attracted him; three human soldiers tried to keep the barricade of rubble standing while an unknown force on the other side tried to destroy it. His heart dropped a little when he realized the soldiers were boys – probably even younger than Richter.

Mizrak rushed, leaning his back against the ruble with the strength of his whole body, replacing the skinnier looking soldier; the three of them were surprised.

“One of you, climb the wall and shoot!” He ordered through gritted teeth. Whatever was on the other side was too strong even for him; he wouldn’t take it for much longer than a minute.

Luckily, they weren’t too shocked to move. Two of the boys, a ginger one and a black haired one, immediately climbed over the tall wall with their muskets. Each could only shoot once, so they had to hope it would be enough to stop whatever waited for them. They silently counted to three before emerging, pointing their weapons down to the other side and shooting.

The pressure stopped.

Mizrak sighed in relief and leaned away, already feeling his arms and shoulders heavy with fatigue. But he couldn’t stop, not when his allies and these young boys were giving their all. Before the two soldiers could even climb down the wall again, Mizrak already had sprinted to the next alley, looking for opponents.

Mizrak kept running and running and running. A puddle of blood on the floor almost made him trip and fall. God, there were so many corpses; the remains of humans, vampires and night creatures… Mizrak already knew these images would stay with him for a long time. His throat felt dry, it almost burned. Sweat covered his entire body. He ignored all of that. The pain, the fatigue, his feelings, all of that brushed aside to the farthest corner of his mind–

And his mind went actually blank when the glimpse of a moss green skirt passed by him.

Mizrak widened his eyes. A woman? A human woman?! What was she doing in the middle of the chaos?! Maybe she didn’t evacuate for some reason? That wasn’t a vampire – she wasn’t wearing a black and red cloak. Cold fear immediately crawled his skin for that woman. She wouldn’t stay alive for much longer there.

He turned on the same corner she did – hell, that woman was fast. She had already almost reached the end of the street. “Mademoiselle, wait!” he yelled. The woman stopped for a second and looked back–

Wait.

He knew that face.

Worry immediately turned to suspicion; his widened eyes narrowed, his expression hardened. The woman stopped running, but he didn’t. She held some sort of golden staff in her hands.

She widened her eyes in shock when Mizrak grabbed her by both arms and slammed her against the nearest wall.

“What are you doing here?!” He demanded.

The young woman looked up at him with round scared eyes that almost made him feel bad. She gripped the scepter close to her chest, sweat dripped down her forehead, her hair was disheveled. What was her name again? It had something to do with a jewel stone… was it Jade? Pearl?– It didn’t matter. What mattered is that Mizrak never trusted her for a second.

He even questioned if Alucard was right by bringing her along to Paris, but decided to not argue since he knew the vampire was strong and could deal with the situation if she offered any danger. Now, though? Her running around the streets, alone, unsupervised?

That could mean no good.

She blinked a few times. “M-Mizrak, isn’t it?!” She asked in a breathless voice. “Please, I need your help. I need to–“

“Why should I listen to a word you say?” Mizrak pressed on. She visibly shrunk. Once again, he felt a bit bad, but decided to brush it aside. “You said you were helping Erzsebet summon eclipses, and yet look up. They did it without you. Liar!”

“I wasn’t lying!” She gripped the scepter with even more strength; for the first time, a glimpse of anger crossed her features. “Erzsebet reunited with the second half of Sekhmet’s soul, that is why she didn’t need me this time!”

“And you said you weren’t a witch, yet what is it that you’re holding?!” Mizrak ignored what she said and his eyes dropped to the golden scepter she held. It had a strange symbol of the sun on its tip and multiple scriptures in a language he didn’t know. Clearly paganism. “You were just waiting for an opportunity to act, isn’t it? Erzsebet’s witch!”

She looked actually angry for a second; but her eyes suddenly locked with something behind him and they widened.

“Watch out!”

She moved faster than him.

The jewel stone girl used her scepter to push Mizrak out of the way, pressing it on the side of his body; it wasn’t enough to send him flying away – Mizrak was way too heavy for that – but he lost his balance regardless. This saved his life. If he had stayed on that same spot a second longer, he would’ve had his head ripped off by a cloaked vampire.

Mizrak turned around and unsheathed his sword again in a quick motion, slicing the head of the vampire off with a scream of effort.

They watched the body on the ground, both breathless and in silence, for some seconds.

Mizrak turned back to her slowly.

She… had saved his life. But that wasn’t enough to convince him.

The young woman gulped and hardened her expression.

“Sir, I need you to trust me. Please, I just want to help them. Y-You’ve seen how many losses they’ve had. Erzsebet’s army is stronger and you know it.” She stepped closer to him.

Mizrak gripped the hilt of his sword harder. “All the odds are against you.”

She groaned.

Jewel stone girl looked fragile and scared the entire time he’d been around her at the ruins of Machecoul – and it didn’t quite convince him. At that moment, however, the heat of the battle seemed to get the best of her.

She was also on her limit.

“Fine!” And then her voice wasn’t quiet and controlled anymore. Finally, she’s letting her mask fall, a part of Mizrak thought–

But then she grabbed the blade of Mizrak’s sword and brought it close to her own neck.

Her hand immediately bled. The tip of the blade made a tiny cut on the base of her neck, yet she didn’t flinch; she stared at Mizrak with pure anger and determination. More than that – she was challenging him.

“Cut my head off, then!” She growled in a way that took Mizrak by surprise. He… he didn’t expect her to talk like that at all, not with the way he saw her behave before. “Go on, do it if you’re so suspicious of me! I won’t die anyway, I don’t care. But many more people will die and they can’t heal the way I do, unless we do something about it! Or will you keep wasting time questioning me?!”

Mizrak didn’t move.

Neither did she.

Blood dripped from her palm to her forearm, staining the white sleeve of her blouse. The way she didn’t flinch away from pain was impressive, he had to admit. The way her gaze didn’t waver was also a bit impressive… Mizrak was as muscular as a bull. He was the one holding the sword… and she didn’t look that scared of him – at least, not anymore.

And yet… Mizrak didn’t want to trust her.

Because trusting her meant trusting Olrox and he didn’t want to trust Olrox.

Hell, he didn’t want to think about Olrox – but he was the reason she was there anyway. It was Olrox who told Mizrak about jewel stone girl’s existence in the first place. Yes, he delivered the news to Alucard, but back then, he thought she would be a hostage; he never expected that Alucard and the others would simply let her walk freely.

Mizrak didn’t want to admit that his problem wasn’t with her directly; his anger was towards the damned green eyed vampire. The coward green eyed vampire that could be fighting with them at that moment but that chose to run away to the New World instead. The coward that had the audacity to invite him; as if Mizrak would ever run away from his duties and his beliefs.

Mizrak didn’t want to think about Olrox because if he did, he’d have to admit that a tiny hidden part of him was also relieved that he was away from this chaos, away from the maniacal vampire that would hunt him down eventually.

So he focused on the girl in front of him instead, the anger and determination in her eyes, the way she told him to cut her head off as if it was nothing, the way her palm bled and she didn’t move away regardless – and Mizrak decided that she wasn’t Olrox after all, which meant he could give her a chance.

Mizrak pulled his sword away from her grip and let his arm fall to the side of his body. He looked down at her with a high chin and a tightened jaw. She seemed uneasy for a moment.

“...I will cut your head off if I notice you’re acting suspicious for a second,” he declared with severity. “What is your plan?”

She was visibly relieved.

The young woman held the scepter with both hands again. “This scepter can storage sunlight somehow. I… I can awaken it. But I’ll need a high place to make it more effective.”

Mizrak frowned. “You can enter any of these empty buildings and go upstairs–“

“A higher place. The highest point in the area.”

The black haired monk thought for some seconds. The highest point in the city…

He heard steps behind him, which immediately made him turn around and lift his sword defensively – but it was not necessary.

The three young soldiers from earlier came running around the corner. They were all visibly tired, holding swords now that their muskets were probably out of gunpowder. Were they running after Mizrak since that moment?

But they didn’t seem to care for Mizrak, actually.

“Mademoiselle!” The ginger one widened his eyes. The three of them were shocked to see her here.

“What are you doing here, Miss Ruby?!” The black haired one said. The third blond boy frowned.

“Who said you could address her by her name?!”

Oh. So Ruby is her name.

The three boys reached them, immediately offering to get Ruby to safety at the same time. She tried to calm them down – Henri, Charles and Jules were their names – while Mizrak looked around the street.

The highest point in the city…

Then, it hit him.

It was obvious. It was in the eye of the hurricane. Most vampires and night creatures were focused there. Erzsebet was also close by. Mizrak wasn’t sure if bringing Ruby there, so close to that crazy vampire, would be a good idea… but there was no better place.

He turned around.

“Soldiers,” he called with authority; the three boys immediately turned to him. Mizrak wasn’t wearing a Revolutionary uniform like them, but you’d have to be a fool to argue with him. “We will escort this lady to the Notre Dame. No questions asked, we don’t have time.”

They wanted to ask questions, but they turned to Ruby – and the look she gave them made them became puddles over her feet.

“Please. I need your help,” she asked with impatient sweetness.

They immediately straightened their backs and nodded.

“Yes, Mademoiselle!”

“Anything for you!”

Mizrak refrained from rolling his eyes and gripped the hilt of the sword with both hands again. His body was aching, his throat was burning, his heart was confused – but he still had a fight ahead of him, so he brushed all that aside.

“Let’s go.”

They ran.

Mizrak took the lead; Ruby was right behind him, while the three boys protected her from her sides and rear. Just around the corner, they faced the first group of enemies; the monk, once again, took the lead and attacked first. He managed to take down two vampires while the third one tried to approach from the sides. The blond boy, Jules, blocked his attack with the sword, while the black haired one, Charles, sliced his head off.

Although they were successful, both looked extremely distressed with what they had just done; their faces went pale, eyes widened. They probably had been facing their enemies from afar, not on melee combat. Mizrak was about to yell at them – not because he didn’t feel empathy for them, but because the battlefield was no place to freeze.

But Ruby surprised him once again.

“We have to keep going!” She rushed them in an impatient tone, breaking them out of their trance. She wasn’t shocked at all. She didn’t seem to have a lot of empathy for them, actually, as if death was too casual for her to care...

But regardless of her methods, it worked. Mizrak went back to running, not waiting for them to recover, and they followed shortly.

Another corner turned, another explosion; they met a group of soldiers running on the opposite direction. They gesticulated vehemently for them to go back.

“Retreat! There are monsters fighting back there! You’ll be trampled like ants!” They yelled.

Mizrak knew they were right and knew to ignore them. No man is ordinary with God, he repeated it in his head over and over again to convince himself, to push him forward. The group kept running tirelessly. Another cloaked vampire. They attacked.

No man is ordinary with God. His knees were heavy. His wrists ached. The muscles of his arms burned. Mizrak brushed all that aside.A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand; but no evil will come near you. The next enemy came. He raised his sword and attacked. The next enemy came, and the next. They turned on another corner. The boys behind him protected and attacked from the sides. Mizrak didn’t stop to look back, putting blind faith in them.

No man is ordinary with God.

Mizrak knew this entire battle was already burned into his soul. He would never forget the horrendous faces, the bloodshed, the pain in his body. They would haunt him forever. Yet, he didn’t stop to think about anything; how these vampires were stronger than him, that if he let his guard down for a second, he’d be killed. But he reminded himself: The Lord is my light and my salvation; of whom shall I be afraid?

So he just moved forward.

Finally, they reached the square in front of the gigantic cathedral. Without the protection of buildings on both sides, they would have no way to hide – and the square was infested of night creatures and vampires. For the first time, Mizrak stopped running and signaled for the ones behind him to halt, crossing his eyes through the open area.

The cathedral’s front doors were closed. Mizrak realized with confusion that the night creatures were fighting among themselves, but he decided there was no time to question that; if the beasts were too focused in killing each other, they hopefully wouldn’t notice them passing by, which could be an advantage. Mizrak gulped, his burning throat begged for water. His entire body ached. But no, there was no time to focus on any of that. The task ahead of them was difficult; they had to try anyway. No man is ordinary with God. No man is ordinary with God. No man is ordinary with God–

A lightning slashed the sky.

The thunder that followed was stronger than any cannon; it made everything shake. Even the vampires and night creatures at the square looked up in confusion. There were no storm clouds in the sky, what could’ve caused that? One of Juste’s powers, maybe? But it felt different for some reason–

Another lightning. Mizrak was looking up this time.

It had a purplish color.

His heartbeat immediately increased, his eyes widened. He thought he saw a strange big shadow in between the tall buildings, it looked to be flying over the ceilings… was he going insane? He– He knew the color of that magic. His chest filled with unstoppable expectation and hope; was it… Was it who he thought it was–?!

Mizrak tightened his eyes and shook his head violently. No. No, you don’t have time for that. It’s not him. Don’t think of him. You have to cross that square.

The black haired monk looked back. Ruby also had a focused expression, analyzing what was in front of them, holding the scepter strongly. Although she was sweating, she didn’t look nearly as tired as the three boys or Mizrak himself. Did her healing ability also heal tiredness?

“Let’s take advantage of the distraction,” Mizrak said. She nodded. He looked ahead again and gripped the sword with both hands once more; his wrists and fingers hurt so much that Mizrak didn’t think he’d be able to stretch them for a while.

Mizrak took a deep breath.

No man is ordinary with God.

“Come on!”

They leaped into the square.

His heart throbbed faster than ever. His vision was focused on their destination. Growls, screams, flesh being pierced, shots, rumbles from the magical battle happening not far from there, more purple lightnings; chaos was what echoed from all directions, making his head ache. They avoided the spots of night creature fights without slowing their pace, moving as a single body. They were halfway there. No man is ordinary with God. No man is ordinary with God. No man is ordinary with God. No man is ordinary with God…

“It’s her!”

Mizrak whipped his head to the side.

A cloaked vampire pointed towards them – towards Ruby – with a ferocious expression.

“It’s the woman the Vampire Messiah talked about!” He continued, drawing the attention of the vampires around him. “Whoever takes her will be rewarded!”

Fuck!

“Keep running!” Mizrak yelled looking over his shoulder. As if it was needed. For the first time, he saw fear plastered over Ruby’s face again.

The vampires chased them now.

We’re almost there we’re almost there we’re almost there keep running keep running keep running–

Finally finally finally– the group reached the central doors of the cathedral.

And they were locked.

Henri and Jules tried to push them open with the strength of their bodies, yet they didn’t move. Meanwhile, the vampires gathered around them. They were cornered.

Rage filled Mizrak’s heart.

These vampires – they would not enter the house of God. His wrists hurt his fingers hurt his arms hurt his breathing was difficult. It didn’t matter. As if he felt empowered by colossal building behind him, the earthly materialization of the Lord’s fearing size, Mizrak stood tall, taking a defensive position. They would not stain the cathedral with their presence or their filthy blood. Mizrak would be its defender despite his aching body.

For no man is ordinary with God.

Jules and Charles took their places by his sides while Ruby and Henri kept trying to push the doors open. Nine vampires against three tired humans.

Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though war break out against me, even then I will be confident.

The vampires attacked.

The three defended.

Everything became a blur of blood and pain and screams and grunts and growls. Mizrak slashed, blocked, crouched down, jumped; one enemy fell. He pushed Charles out of the way before he could be stabbed. The second enemy fell. Mizrak pierced a chest with his sword. The third fell. Jules and Charles worked together to kill one of them; Mizrak slashed one more neck. The fifth and the sixth. The seventh was taken down from behind – someone shot him from across the square, though he could not see who exactly was helping them.

A loud scratching noise behind them.

“It’s opened!” Ruby screamed; he turned briefly to see that they had burst the locks. Henri and her pushed the heavy doors open with their backs. “Quick, let’s get in!”

The three retreated with their backs still facing the cathedral, blades still held up; a slight breeze of relief hit Mizrak. The vampires wouldn’t follow them inside. They couldn’t step in, he was confident of that. No man is ordinary with God. The Lord had helped him achieve this, had held his hands, guided his blade towards victory.

An eighth enemy still stood. Mizrak stepped forward to face it.

“Come in, Mizrak!” Charles rushed him; Henri had entered, Jules too, and they were trying to pull Ruby in, but she seemed to refuse to until Mizrak joined them.

He looked ahead again. Blocked an attack, slashed another neck. There were vampires approaching from afar. He had to walk in to safety. Another purple lightning crossed the sky; Mizrak looked up for a moment, once more under the impression that he saw a strange huge shadow–

“MIZRAK!”

It was too late.

Mizrak didn’t have time to look back at Ruby.

Lacerating pain.

His body shook. His vision blurred. Strength left his legs.

Slowly, Mizrak looked down.

A dagger pierced through his stomach. A stain of blood grew larger over the cross on his uniform.

The ninth vampire.

Rage painted Mizrak’s vision in red; a scream erupted from within him while he raised his sword one last time, still carried by adrenaline, slashing the vampire’s torso and neck.

His enemy fell.

Mizrak couldn’t breathe properly anymore; a single tear slid down his cheek. He pressed his tightened fist over the wound, feeling his own warm blood drip down his clothes; the world twirled. The pain was nauseating. It was maddening.

It’s like he could hear Notre Dame’s bells ringing in his ears.

Mizrak… Mizrak was a step away from entering the cathedral.

Yet, he couldn’t walk anymore.

Freezing cold crept over his body. He fought and fought and fought in the name of the Lord; he prayed and prayed and prayed, tried to repent, tried to convince Emmanuel to repent before his death. He had cut ties with Olrox. He… he did everything.

No.

“Mizrak!” He heard Ruby’s voice again, but she sounded distant; he felt the soft touch of her hand on his shoulder, but he pushed her away with the little strength he still had.

“Get in, woman,” he groaned, feeling the taste of iron in his tongue. “You… you said you had a plan. I will… protect the entrance.”

He knew he couldn’t. She knew it, too, and still hesitated.

Mizrak refused to look at her.

“Get in, now!” He screamed.

After a few seconds, he heard steps behind him retreating – then, the sound of the heavy doors being closed again.

Another tear fell down Mizrak’s cheek.

His legs had no strength anymore. He fell to his knees.

He felt so, so cold. Not only the wound hurt, his entire body ached. He panted, the grip around the sword finally loosened.

A quiet sob escaped past his lips. Mizrak looked up. The statues of Kings of Judah seemed to be looking directly at him. Another purple lightning illuminated the sky, casting eerie shadows over their faces.

Angry faces. Judging faces.

Mizrak stood in front of the Portal of the Last Judgment – and he had just been judged.

Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God?

The tears were now unstoppable. Mizrak gripped the fabric of his uniform, his entire body trembled. How foolish, how presumptuous of him to think he’d keep these vampires away from the house of God when he was not allowed to get in; not anymore. That was the clear confirmation of all his worst suspicions, his most horrendous nightmares. What awaited him on the other side wasn’t Saint Peter’s welcoming words, wasn’t Virgin Mary’s motherly hug; what waited for him were the fires that would burn him eternally. What waited for him was the Devil that came to reap Emmanuel’s soul.

No immoral, impure or greedy person has any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God.

Finally, his body gave up. Mizrak laid on the cold floor, feeling all of his strength vanish and every centimeter of him shake in cold fear. It was so, so cold. It was so, so painful. It was so lonely and frightening.

God was not beside him anymore – and so, Mizrak became an ordinary man.

Another purple lightning. A shrilling bestial growl crossed the air. Mizrak was ordinary. Mizrak was impure. Mizrak was a sinner.

Mizrak wished, as death approached him like the freezing winds of North, that he could see Olrox again one last time.

And then – he didn’t wish for anything anymore.

Darkness.

The sound of the doors closing echoed within the gigantic cathedral like thunders.

Your fingers were shaking, the grip around the scepter wasn’t as determined as before. Mizrak… that wound would kill him, and there was nothing you could do. You begged for his help and you wouldn’t be able to help him in the end…

This has to work. It has to, no matter what, so his sacrifice won’t be in vain.

“Mademoiselle, we’re here. W-What do we do now?” Jules asked while he and Charles kept their backs leaning against the doors. The three of them were panting and sweating, you didn’t know how long it’d take for them to be completely exhausted.

“I need to climb the tower!” You said, looking around the great entrance hall of the cathedral, pushing your worry and guilt for Mizrak to the back of your mind. The noises of the outside battle were muffled, every small sound you produced echoed. The cathedral was, in a way, even more magnificent than the Louvre; it wasn’t as opulent, and that perhaps was what brought this chilling sense of greatness. The high vaulted ceiling made you feel small; the reflex of the stained glass on the floor being illuminated by the strange purple lightnings out there was somehow eerie. The place was dimly lit by candles.

You were surprised to notice that, at the very back of the cathedral, after rows and rows of wooden benches, there were people; knelt down in front of the great altar where hundreds of candles burned slowly. They were too far for you to even recognize any face, but they seemed surprised by your presence. They wore monk tunics. Oh… you understood. They refused to leave their temple even in the middle of a war. You could respect their courage and nobility.

One more group of people that would be dead soon if you didn’t succeed.

“I’ll stay here and hold the doors,” Jules spoke up. “You two, help her get up there!”

Charles and Henri nodded. “This way, Mademoiselle!” The redhead exclaimed, pointing toward the stairs that led to the north bell tower. You nodded.

The monks were fast approaching. Before turning around and following the two boys, you looked at them; “Please, help him barricade the doors!”

Luckily, no one wanted to argue – they understood the gravity of the situation. Before finally disappearing inside a corridor, you had time to see the group of monks dragging wooden benches toward the doors in order to lock it again.

And then, you were faced with hundreds of hundreds of steps to climb.

The spiral staircase was made of stone, just like the walls around you; it was a small passage, almost claustrophobic. You held some of your skirt and started your way up; Charles took the lead while Henri covered you from behind. The tower was humid and dark; there were small windows in regular gaps, but as the sun was hidden behind that maleficent shadow, it didn’t provide much light.

“We- We should’ve taken some candles…” You heard Henri complain through ragged breath behind you.

That’s when a new source of light appeared.

They hadn’t noticed it before because you weren’t in such a dark environment, but the inscriptions of the scepter had been glowing faintly for a while now, probably fueled by your fear and apprehension; its glow got a bit stronger after you saw Mizrak being stabbed. The object was slowly becoming warmer, too.

Charles looked behind his shoulder with a shocked expression.

“How–?”

“I don’t know. Let’s keep moving,” you rushed them.

They didn’t argue.

The three of you were panting, and the sound echoed within the tower. You didn’t dare to look out the small windows, trying to not get more desperate. There were so many corpses out there… how many of the men you helped yesterday, distributing uniforms or water or food, had already been killed? How many wives wouldn’t have their husbands back, or how many children would never see their fathers again?

Of course, all the volunteers were well aware of the possibility of dying. You can’t weave into war and expect no casualties. But that didn’t change the fact that there was a great imbalance in the scales; Erzsebet’s side had much more men, and a single vampire is worth ten regular humans, not to mention the night creatures – although, surprisingly, most of them seemed to be too busy trying to kill each other down there.

Finally, the stairs opened to another great hall. The large stained glass windows indicated that you had only arrived at the second level of the cathedral.

“That way!” Charles indicated another set of stairs that led to a mezzanine; from there, there was a door that seemed to lead up the tower.

Inside that door – more spiral stairs.

Your knees were starting to feel heavier and heavier; you felt sweat dripping down your entire body, gluing your blouse to your back. Your muscles seemed to burn and a sharp irritating pain tugged on the right side of your stomach. Yet, you didn’t stop for a moment, leaping two steps at time. Your discomfort was nothing compared to what Mizrak endured down there, these boys that had cuts and bruises on their bodies, or all the other soldiers that got hurt in battle.

May Annette and Richter be safe, you wished for the hundredth time. May that goddess leave Annette’s body soon.

You looked down briefly to the red string tied around your right wrist.

If anything happens, anything at all, untie this string. It’s what Alucard asked of you.

He’d probably be so angry and disappointed that you disobeyed him. But you refused to untie that; Alucard had his duty to comply, the same way Annette and Richter had theirs. It wouldn’t be fair to simply call him at that moment. Not only did you not want to interrupt them, there was a part of you – a proud part, perhaps? Since when were you proud of anything? – that wanted to accomplish this without them. You didn’t want to feel useless anymore.

If you didn’t succeed, it’d all be for nothing. You’d have put these three young men in danger, gotten Mizrak hurt – probably killed – and would bring even more trouble over Alucard’s shoulders.

It’s going to work. I know it will. Something inside me is sure of it.

Five minutes of unstoppable climbing and you saw the outside light again.

The balcony extended around the entire structure of the cathedral, crossing it over the main hall and going around the south tower as well; the north bell tower stood tall behind you. However, it was so narrow that more than two people wouldn’t be able to walk side by side comfortably. A refreshing gust of wind hit your body; you felt hot and drenched of sweat after so much running and climbing. You leaned on the stone guard rail, giving yourself a second to recover your breathing.

Maybe you shouldn’t have.

It was tall. Unnervingly tall. You had a good view of most of the city from there – and it only made you feel more desperate.

Fire outbreaks peppered here and there; it was a complete and terrible chaos. From this distance, everyone looked like ants. The strange purple lightnings had stopped. You wondered what was causing these things; Richter’s magic was blue, and as far as you knew, he didn’t know how to fly to be the source of it. So what was that? And why did it make your stomach drop?

Was it part of Sekhmet’s power? She had told you to keep away; maybe, for some reason, her powers would make you feel ill like that?

Charles was also leaning over the guard rail, catching his breath, while Henri leaned his hands over his knees. They were probably already exhausted, much more than you after all that running and fighting. Your throat burned, desperately begging for water. You adjusted your grip on the scepter.

“Is… Is this… enough?” Henri asked, panting.

You looked around.

This height was decent – but not enough.

How you knew that? You couldn’t tell, and you didn’t have time to question it. You decided to just follow your instincts.

You looked up to the top of the bell tower. It was imposing, scary. The stone gargoyles up there seemed to be gazing at you; it was like they didn’t like your presence. Well, they’d have to bear it.

You pointed up. “I need to get to the top.”

The two eyed each other. You couldn’t even be mad at them. Henri was ready to point the direction–

A hiss slashed the air.

You turned back to see that a vampire had climbed the tower, too, from outside; he jumped over the railing onto the balcony, right behind Henri.

You moved before your mouth could speak.

Repeating the movement you made with Mizrak, you pushed him out of the way with the scepter – but this time, you weren’t fast enough; the cloaked vampire’s sharp claws gnawed his right shoulder. Henri yelled in pain; blood splashed on your skirt.

The thought process behind your next action was fast.

You remembered how that vampire burned just by touching the scepter at the alley; you looked at how it was glowing – not as bright as it was at that time, and not as hot as well, but it was awakened anyway. Anger crossed your vision. You couldn’t do anything to help Mizrak; this time, you wouldn’t just stand and watch Henri get hurt.

You held the scepter with both hands. Putting all of your strength, you swung it towards the vampire.

The rays of the sun symbol were actually very sharp.

They slashed the vampire’s eyes; he screamed in agony, the spot where the scepter touched burned. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but he was certainly blind. His blood on the sun symbol boiled and evaporated in seconds.

While the man was completely disoriented, screaming in pain, Charles run towards him and pushed him over the stone railing.

You didn’t wait to see him hitting the ground.

“Henri!” You rushed towards him; the redhead boy gripped his shoulder, blood spilled from the wound.

Henri groaned. Charles put his good arm over his own shoulders. “Let’s get inside! There are more coming!”

You ran ahead this time and entered through a door that led to – sigh – more spiral stairs. They were even narrower this time, more claustrophobic. The two boys walked in and slammed the door shut; Charles took Henri’s sword and used it to lock it between the hinges. Someone tried to push it open and the two leaned their backs against it.

“Go, Mademoiselle!” Charles said. “We’ll hold them back!”

You hesitated for a second. Henri was hurt, both of them were tired. But would you have another chance if you stayed to help them?

So you turned and ran up.

You ignored how heavy your legs felt, how breathless you were, how your knees already wanted to fail you. The scepter was slowly but surely getting hotter as your desperation increased. You jumped two, three steps at once, trying to get there faster faster faster. You tripped and hit both knees on the edge of a step, immediately scratching both of them, but ignored it and kept climbing. Would they be able to fight down there? Would they survive? What if you left them behind to get killed? Would you be able to live with this guilt?

I have to make it. I have to make it. I have to make it.

Finally – a door appeared. You ran past it.

The very top of the bell tower.

The balcony was wider than on the level below you. The view was nauseating – you were so, so high up; you could see the Seine surrounding the cathedral on both ways, hundreds of ceilings as far as the eye could see. There were no taller buildings. Nothing that could hinder the power of the scepter.

You were shaking. You were panting. Your legs hurt. Strong wind played with your skirt and hair, it even felt that if you stood too close to the stone railing, it’d push you over the edge. Strange colorful explosions popped down there, but you couldn’t see what or who was causing it.

None of that mattered, not at that moment.

You walked to the middle point of the balcony and held the scepter with both hands once again. The inscriptions still glowed faintly, it was starting to feel uncomfortably hot.

A deep breath.

This is going to work. It will. It will.

You held it in front of you with the sun symbol pointed up at a close distance from your body. The chaos in the city extended up until where your eye could see. The sky still had that horrible red color, as if it was painted with blood.

Ruby. The same color of your delicious blood.

A shiver ran down your spine.

You didn’t know why you remembered this at that moment. Just the thought of that horrendous vampire made your stomach twirl. She, who treated you worse than an animal for longer than your brain could register; she who fed on your blood constantly as if you were but a meal. She who broke your very spirit to pieces until you became nothing but the compliant shell of a woman; empty, having no more strength to fight anymore. Because you fought her. You tried to push her away, to claw her face, to pull her hair; you tried so many times and failed so many times that you were too tired to keep trying.

She who made you lost who you truly were. Would you ever be able to retrieve it? Would you be able to find within yourself, in your memories, the person you really were before she called you Ruby that night?

Who was I before Ruby?

The inscriptions glowed a little brighter.

Your breath hitched when you realized that you could see her from up there.

Blocks and blocks away at some square – the source of the strange colorful lights you saw earlier; you couldn’t understand exactly what was happening, but recognized that blue fire… Richter’s fire. And then yellow lightning and red fire, too… A blue dragon flying over the buildings. All of that directed at her.

Erzsebet was but a dot in the distance, but you recognized that red hair.

A part of you – the part that was trained to fear – immediately shook, had the instinct to run inside the tower again and hide. What if she saw you there? She’d grab you and never let you go. She’d hurt you again and again and again until you forgot about everything; all the people you’ve met, all the things you discovered and experienced in these few days, and then you’d be just an empty shell again.

The other part of you felt angry.

Erzsebet was fighting against the people that took care of you, the first people that were ever kind to you, the people that treated you like an equal. She was hurting them the same way she hurt you so many times before.

You hated her.

You hated her with every fiber of your being.

It ignited your soul, set it on fire. That woman had to die. She had to die.

You used this hatred when you started to read the inscriptions on the scepter.

Alucard had advised you against it – but you knew at that moment it was the right thing to do. Once again, you could not understand what these words meant; but, while reading the moon book you felt disgusted and weak, now you felt stronger. Exhaustion completely vanished from your body, your scratched knees didn’t hurt anymore.

The scepter glowed brighter; brighter, brighter, brighter. The sun symbol started to shine. Not as bright as it did at the alley – so you kept reading.

It felt like you fell on a trance.

All the times Erzsebet drank your blood. All the times Drolta punished you. All the pain. All the humiliation. Being dragged from place to place, not having the right to even walk out of a room; all the humans you had to watch getting killed. That woman has to die. She has to die.

The golden glow of the scepter enveloped your body. The artifact was hot. It burned your palms. You were hot – that same devastating heat that cloistered around your heart came back. It burned as if you were thrown into the pit of a volcano.

The sun symbol was shining… but not nearly as bright as it did at the alley.

No.

This isn’t supposed to happen. What’s wrong?!

You kept reading, feeling despair mix with your hatred; the shine wasn’t enough to brighten the city, but it was enough to draw attention to you. Weren’t these the feelings that made the scepter awaken at that moment? Why was it acting different now?

The sun wasn’t shining that bright, but the burn in your heart didn’t ease. No, it was increasing. Not just your heart – soon, it felt that someone had thrown boiling oil over your skin. It burned burned burned burned burned; you wanted to drop that thing away, you wanted to scream in pain. Every muscle burned, every vein, every centimeter of your skin; it was unbearable, it was maddening, you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts anymore, you couldn’t keep your eyes open, your face distorted in a scowl of pain. Drop it! Throw it away! It hurts! IT HURTS!

“You will burn from inside out, ???.”

What?

Who said that?

You felt a hand touch your shoulder softly, but couldn’t open your eyes to see who it was.

Who– Who is it?

Who is it?

The sounds of the battle down there– all gone.

It is tranquil. A soft breeze caresses your face. The scepter burns your palms.

She doesn’t back away.

“You’re always too angry, ???.” She continues in a soothing voice. Her touch on your shoulder is featherlight. “This won’t get you anywhere. Breathe slowly.”

You inhale. You exhale.

“This ritual isn’t meant to kill; it does not go well with hatred. This ritual exists to protect the ones you love. If you let anger take the lead, it will consume you; it will burn you. Love does not burn. Love warms up.”

Your frown softened.

Your tense members too.

It exists to protect.

You brushed the memories of Erzsebet and Drolta aside. It was hard – they were mostly all you knew. But you decided to focus on something else.

Annette’s encouraging words. Her strength and her kindness.

The moments Richter fought to protect you, the way you felt some sort of odd affection towards him.

The three boys that gave you the lily that was still safely stored in the pocket of your vest. Henri, Jules and Charles, who bravely helped you get to the cathedral. All the men you helped yesterday, all of them getting ready to fight to protect their families, to help defeat a force much stronger than them.

And…

Him.

His serene smiles. His soft touches. The way he respected and cared for you from the moment you first met; the way he never looked down on you, always talked to you as an equal. The way he was always willing to make you feel better. The way he showed kindness through small gestures. The warmth of his hug.

And there was something else, too. At that moment, other faces flashed in your mind – faces your mind didn’t remember, but your heart did. One of these faces was of the little boy you saw on your dream and many more.

All of these moments, all of these faces – though they weren’t much, though the bad experiences were far more, were enough to overwhelm them. Were enough to comfort you in the midst of so much pain.

And then – you weren’t burning anymore.

You just felt... warm.

This warmth consumed you. It eased your mind, your spirit, your soul. It strengthened you. There was no pain anymore, no hatred; the warmth in your heart extended to every corner of your body, expanded to your entire consciousness.

All that existed was light.

All that existed was sun.

All that existed was… love.

No one saw it coming.

Erzsebet’s servants didn’t see it coming. The night creatures didn’t see it coming. The soldiers didn’t see it coming. Alucard didn’t see it coming.

Out of nowhere, the sky started to get clear.

The white-haired vampire looked up; the eclipse was still very much intact. So what the hell was happening?

Then – it hit him.

His eyes widened. Alucard flew to the top of the nearest ceiling and looked around–

He had time to see a small dot shining atop of Notre Dame, probably two kilometers away from where he was.

The small dot grew larger. Larger. That light got brighter – so bright that he had to protect his eyes; so bright that for a moment, the sky wasn’t crimson red anymore. Goosebumps roamed his skin. That… that was pure power.

And then, he heard the screams.

Yells of agony all around the city. The vampires tried to run, tried to hide – but most of them didn’t have time to react; as soon as light hit their bodies, they burned. They fell to their knees, hollering in excruciating pain, until there was nothing left of them but a pile of ashes. The human soldiers looked around, confused at why that light didn’t harm them, only their enemies.

A strange feeling tugged at Alucard’s heart.

But he heard another scream – a scream of pure hatred this time that slashed the air of Paris.

It was Drolta.

She was flying like a cannonball towards the cathedral.

Alucard wouldn’t let her.

He gripped his sword with both hands; red glow enveloped his body. He sprinted over the ceilings of Paris on a beeline, so fast that glass windows shattered after his passage.

He got to the top of Notre Dame faster than her, standing on top of the stone railing – putting himself between Ruby and Drolta.

The night creature had a completely insane expression, maddened by rage; Alucard, on the other hand, stared at her with controlled anger.

When she was just meters away, Alucard slashed the air with his sword in a wide swing.

It produced a red energy shockwave that hit Drolta in the stomach with the force of a thousand tons.

She was sent flying back all the way she came from; she hit one, two, three, four buildings, destroying everything on her way.

That would keep her quiet for a while.

Alucard released his sword for a second, keeping it floating near his body, and turned around.

His eyes widened in shock and… admiration.

Ruby was levitating in the air, holding the scepter in front of her body with both hands; she had her eyes closed in a serene expression, almost as if she was asleep. Her hair was loose, it swayed behind her figure. A golden aura enveloped her body, but it still looked different than what happened to Annette in a way.

She looked beautiful.

The shine of the scepter was diminishing. So was the aura around her. Slowly, she started to get closer to the ground again. Alucard jumped from the railing onto the balcony; he extended his arms and took her before she could hit the floor.

Alucard knelt down with her cradled in his arms.

He put the scepter aside; it slid from her grip easily. Her eyes were still closed. The white-haired vampire pressed his hand on her forehead and neck; she felt warm, but not nearly as hot as she was that moment at the alley. In fact… there was a strange healthy aspect to her face. Her right sleeve was stained with blood, though he couldn’t see any injury.

She ran all the way from the tailor shop to the cathedral? Did she remember something? How did she know she’d be able to do this?

Alucard had so many questions – but all of that was brushed aside when Ruby frowned slightly and groaned; immediate relief washed over his body. She is awake.

She opened her eyes.

At first, Ruby looked at the sky with half lidded eyes. Then, she looked at him – and didn’t have much of a reaction. It was as if a part of her wasn’t really there. It made Alucard wonder if she was still under some sort of trance…

For a moment, Alucard thought that she wasn’t recognizing him.

And it surprisingly made him feel scared.

But she left a soft groan again.

“Did it… work…?” Ruby asked groggily.

Alucard almost sighed in relief.

“Yes.”

She looked down for a moment and saw the red string tied around his right wrist. That seemed to bring back more memories; Ruby immediately got more agitated.

“I’m sor–“

“Don’t you dare.” He interrupted her softly, shaking his head. “Don’t you dare…”

Alucard wasn’t planning on it, the same way he didn’t plan to hug her back then. But he couldn’t help it. Sometimes, he had to let his annoying mortal heart speak louder than reason. And at that moment, when adrenaline still pumped through his system, he let himself be carried again; he brought her closer to him again, he rested his chin on the top of her head. He let himself feel relief and content that she was safe, she was warm, she was in his arms. She had somehow managed to overcome her fear. She had somehow managed to destroy more than half of Erzsebet’s army on her own.

And Alucard felt proud of this human he barely even knew that well.

The heart works in mysterious ways, after all.

He leaned away again and looked down at her. Perhaps… perhaps if she wasn’t clearly dazed, affected by whatever powerful magic she just had unleashed… if she was in her right mind… perhaps Alucard would’ve let himself be carried by his stupid mortal heart again. Perhaps he wouldn’t have fought against his will to press his lips on hers.

But the battlefield was no place for it.

That would be irrational and Alucard had to be rational regardless of how he felt for her.

Alucard heard steps fast approaching. From the door beside him, two young soldiers emerged. They were clearly exhausted, one of them bled from the shoulder. Their eyes widened.

“Sir!” The black-haired one – the one that wasn’t bleeding – saluted him. “We’ll take care of her!”

“Don’t worry, nothing will happen to her!” The ginger one said, even though a frown of pain was plastered over his face.

Alucard narrowed his eyes… oh. He recognized these two from yesterday. They were some of the soldiers that flocked around her like pigeons after bread crumbs. They didn’t seem ill-intended, at least, so Alucard would have to trust them.

The vampire helped Ruby to sit, keeping his arm behind her back while the soldiers also approached. Yes, she was definitely groggy; she almost looked a bit drunk. He’d worry about that later.

A terrible feeling settled in his gut.

Alucard got up and looked ahead. There was a massive beam of red energy concentrated in the opposite part of the city; it made shivers run down his spine. It was Sekhmet’s power, and it immediately made him worry for Annette and Richter.

He stepped over the railing again and took the sword in his hand. He’d sort everything else out later. Right now, there was still a battle to be won.

And Alucard would not fail.