At the top of one of the buildings, the leaders of both groups watched the massacre with neutral expressions.
Below, Lucien moved like a demon unleashed among hunters and cult members, tearing bodies apart without showing the slightest mercy. His every movement was a death that filled the air with blood and terror.
Even so, neither leader intervened.
They had reached a temporary agreement, yes... but trusting each other was impossible.
Both knew that the alliance was merely a fragile thread that could break at any moment, and even though the death of their subordinates hurt them, neither was willing to be the first to expose themselves.
The leader of the hunting party slowly opened his Bible. The pages fluttered as if they had a life of their own, and in a solemn voice, he recited:
"Lord, grant me your strength to overcome this trial. Without you, I am nothing; with you, all things are possible. Sustain my spirit, guide me, and grant me wisdom to face the darkness before me."
Immediately, behind him, a pair of warm, almost maternal hands began to materialize, enveloping him in a divine embrace.
The cult leader wasted no time in opening the Codex Gigas.
The book unfolded on its own, revealing letters of blood crawling in ancient Latin, forming words with blasphemous, repulsive movements.
Then, with a voice thick with twisted devotion, he proclaimed:
"Father of Demons! In the name of the great Satantas, I offer you five months of life. Praise your corruption. Send me your impure spirit to renew and strengthen me."
...
Below, Lucien bathed in the blood of both sides. He had just ripped out a heart and was about to drink it when, suddenly, something disturbed his senses. He turned his head...
And saw a giant golden fist coming straight at him.
BOOOOM!
Her body shot out like a bullet, smashed through a wall, and left a crater of dust and debris. Lucien stood up with a crooked smile as Mayla emerged from his shadow, only to immediately hide.
Lucien licked his stained lips and looked up at the two figures descending.
The leader of the hunters now wore authentic Templar armor, his body bathed in a holy glow that distorted the air around him.
And the leader of the cultists... had taken on a demonic appearance: illusory horns sprouted from his head, his legs had transformed into hooves, and his eyes burned with an unnatural red.
...
At the same time, in an abandoned building...
"Lady Chloe, why are you kidnapping this hunter?" asked a black-haired woman dressed as a maid who was there.
"You don't have to worry too much; I'll just ask a few questions." Chloe gave the hunter a powerful kick.
The hunter woke up feeling intense pain; there was a viscous gleam in his eyes, but when he saw the two vampires, his expression relaxed: "Lady vampire, what do you want to know?"
"Well, what a surprise," Chloe looked amused at the hunter's sudden change of attitude: "You see, Katya, the hunter is very eager to cooperate."
Katya, the maid, shakes her head slightly.
"I just like to live, and I don't like pain very much," said the hunter with a bitter expression.
"That's a surprise," Chloe gives him a disinterested look: "Why are you so active?"
"We're investigating the Cultists who are about to perform a ritual called Black Moon. And also to hunt down a vampire named Loic," the hunter explained without hesitation.
"Poor fools, they don't know Loic is using them," Chloe laughs inwardly, knowing that this half-mad vampire is in contact with the Inquisition and the Cultists.
Then the hunter continues talking:
In addition, they have sent a Saint and two Oracles. A woman named Sypha, a Dutchman named Luke Van Hellsing, and the Saint, a Romanian they call "D," who, as far as I know, has no name.
When she mentions the name "D," Chloe's expression crumples, I don't expect to hear that name now.
D is one of the oldest saints of the Inquisition. He can easily fight an adult vampire.
The last time she heard from him was when he wiped out a house of noble vampire viscounts in France.
"Lady Chloe, how is the Inquisition structured?" Katya asked, tilting her head slightly with genuine curiosity.
Chloe crossed her arms before answering.
"The hierarchy is simple: at the top is the Pope. Below him come the Seven Saints, and then the Twelve Oracles," she explained calmly, as if reciting something learned since childhood.
She paused briefly, her eyes barely darkening.
"Although... the Inquisition wasn't always so powerful. And D..." Her lips curved into a mixture of respect and alertness: "D is one of the oldest Saints. And also one of the most dangerous."
Suddenly, the hunter begins to speak.
"Of course, they are the strongest! They have been baptized, blessed, and chosen by God. They have divine powers," he said with enthusiasm and respect, joining his hands in prayer.
Chloe ignores the hunter and thinks:
'Hmm... Sypha, D, and Luke, two Oracles and a Saint. They're trying hard to cover up their alliance with Loic.' She began to reflect on the information she had obtained.
"Well... now that I've told you everything, can you release me?" asked the hunter with an almost childish smile, as if he were incapable of hurting a fly.
Chloe watched him silently. Her expression was completely neutral. She didn't need to say anything; her gaze alone conveyed a clear message: "Do you really expect that to work?"
The hunter opened his eyes with feigned surprise and let out a resigned sigh.
"Well, at least I tried... right?" he said with a weary smile, accepting without resistance the fate that was coming his way.
Chloe took a step forward.
And, in a single swift and precise movement, she pierced her chest and ripped out her heart. The organ beat weakly in her hand, bathed in a bright red that contrasted with the serenity of his face.
The hunter fell to his knees, but still found the strength to speak.
"I just... hope my mother doesn't... cry too much for me..." he murmured, as life slipped from his eyes like a candle slowly burning out.
His body fell forward, motionless.
Chloe looked at the heart in her hand with indifference, as if contemplating something beautiful that no longer mattered. Then she dropped it to the ground with a simple flick of her wrist.
The organ hit the ground with a wet, final thud.
"Let's go," she said without turning around.
Katya nodded, wiping the blood from her face.
Both turned around and disappeared into the darkness of the hallway, leaving behind the body, the blood... and the silence that always accompanies an inevitable execution.