Chapter 43: And With a Smile That Judas in Hell Might Be Proud Of, Part 12

Alex could feel the creature’s eyes piercing her with disbelief as she crawled away from him and the dead dragon, leaving behind a thick trail of blood because she had lost an arm.

Alex growled, clawing at the ground, dragging herself forward little by little. She had lost it, just like that, in an instant, before she even realized it. She was still trying to process it, resisting the belief that it had actually happened and what it meant.

She had lost her arm and her sword. Where the hell was the sword?

It didn’t matter. She was like a lamb at the slaughter. Nothing more than a lamb that had deluded itself into believing it could strike back at its predator. Nothing more, nothing less. But no matter how fierce a lamb believed itself to be, it was still just a little lamb at the mercy of true monsters.

Alex opened her mouth, doubled over, and vomited. There was more red than green in that vomit.

“Seriously,” repeated Dracula, tossing his sword aside and climbing down from the dragon, slowly approaching her. He didn’t need to look back, just trace the outline painted by the sounds. “After all the effort and preparation, all the dramatic sacrifice, so many years asleep—this is what the new era has to offer. Such an anticlimactic and accidental ending. I never thought I’d defeat you like this. Come on, get up,” Dracula said, kicking her in the side. “Get up, damn it. You can’t do this to me now. You simply can’t.”

If she had the energy, Alex would laugh.

Get up—what more could she want? But she could barely crawl on the ground like a damn worm. Standing up was far beyond her possibilities. Fighting back, in the same way, was nothing more than a dream, a mirage in the desert.

“You won, monster. Stop the nonsense and finish me already,” she murmured.

Dracula laughed. Unlike other times, there was no trace of amusement or malice in that laughter. It only sounded frustrated.

“What do you think I’ve won?” he asked. “Sure, from your limited human perspective, it must seem like a big deal. But it’s not like my life was at stake. So, what exactly have I won? Tell me.”

A thoroughly boring ending.

“This isn’t how I wanted it to go,” he continued. “Even if I had won anyway, I should’ve won in a more fitting way. Do you understand? No, of course, you don’t. How could you?”

Dracula ran his hands through his hair.

“This is the worst. Get up already. We still have time to fix this. You still have one arm. Come on, get up.”

Another kick to the chest. Alex writhed like a worm. She vomited blood.

For a moment, she seriously worried about choking on all the blood. Her lung must have been punctured.

She was practically begging him to get up. And his solution was to kick an enemy already at death’s door. How quaint! But of course, he wasn’t making logical decisions. He had completely lost his temper. How quaint, indeed! That he was like this over winning, not losing.

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He was like a damn brat who had accidentally broken one of his toys. That was the true nature of the being who had brought humanity to the brink of extinction countless times.

She felt like throwing up again. Not because she had just realized it. It wasn’t something new. But still, how banal! All this destruction, all this suffering—for what? Nothing. Just a drop of fun in the desert of eternity for a pompous monster.

She really felt like she could vomit up her guts.

“I said get up,” Dracula ordered, his eyes glowing red from corner to corner.

She vaguely sensed he was trying to exert some sort of supernatural influence over her. But whatever it was, it didn’t work. Alex stayed where she was.

“Shut up and kill me already,” she growled. “Or do whatever you need to do. I’ve come further than anyone else. What the hell more do you want from me?”

“I want you to get up,” Dracula replied. “I want you to be a heroine.”

“Stop using that word like a monster like you has any idea what it even means,” Alex retorted.

She lunged forward with her remaining hand. Her fist flew straight, but it didn’t land anywhere. She ended up biting the dust. The only thing Dracula had to do to dodge was take a step to the left. That’s how weak she was—how ridiculous it was.

Alex breathed heavily on all fours like a wild beast.

“Being a heroine means standing up when everything is against you,” Dracula said. “When it seems all is lost, and nothing you do matters at all, true heroes draw strength from those moments and keep fighting for what they believe in. Believe me, I’ve seen many heroes. I’ve died at the hands of many or torn them apart when their efforts weren’t enough. So you don’t have the right to give up. Come on, get up and try to punch me in the damn face. You know you want to, even if it’s the last thing you do.”

That, Alex thought. In that, he was absolutely right.

Slowly, still dripping blood from her arm stump, Alex got up. She could barely stay on her feet. Her head spun. Darkness threatened to swallow her vision. But he was right. It was too early to give up.

She wasn’t sure. Time would tell. But she felt like time was on her side.

“That’s more like it,” Dracula said. “Come on, come at me. Unleash all your rage, all your bitterness. I don’t have a sword either. Want me to make things even fairer? Fine, let’s go.”

Dracula grabbed his right arm, digging his dagger-like nails deep—through skin, flesh, and nearly to the bone. With astonishing ease, he ripped off his right arm. The wound stopped bleeding immediately, and he tossed the arm aside.

“See? Now you have no excuse,” he said. “Equal conditions. Show me you’re worth it, that you deserve the expectations I’ve placed on you. You’re the only human who can make this—all this crap—worthwhile. If not, this spectacle is just a sad circus of garbage. Let’s go.”

Dracula assumed a combat stance.

“Come on, come at me. Let’s settle this the way it should be: a knight in shining armor against a monster that lurks and crawls in the shadows. A true classic.”

Dracula laughed, shrill, beyond any possible definition of madness.

And With a Smile That Judas in Hell Might Be Proud Of, Part 12: END