Zellrid didn’t waste time admiring his carnage.

He immediately unsheathes his sword, sprinting towards the oncoming horde with an unquenchable thirst for blood.

The initial blast may have thinned their numbers, but it only enrages them further, fueling their relentless charge towards him.

He raised his sword high, the silver blade catching the moonlight as he bellowed a fierce war cry that echoed through the night. “Come! Feed on this!” Zellrid dared, his voice commanding and terrifying.

The ghouls answered his challenge with an equally bloodthirsty cry, their teeth bared and their eyes glowing with lunatic fervor.

Their movements became sharper, faster, as if they had a newfound purpose in the face of Zellrid’s provocation.

Zellrid met their advance with a fury of his own, slashing and hacking through their ranks with brutal efficiency.

His crimson eye seemed to have a life of its own, tracking the movements of the ghouls with deadly precision.

Each strike of his sword was like a whip cracking through the air, leaving behind only severed limbs and putrid flesh in its wake.

His lips twisted in a cruel smile as he noticed a pattern emerging from the horde.

Several of the ghouls were favoring their right sides, slowing their movements and leaving them open to Zellrid’s relentless assault.

He took advantage of their weaknesses, targeting the injured ghouls first.

With each swing of his blade, another ghoul fell to the ground, moaning pitifully as they dissolved into ash under the silver’s touch.

Zellrid’s heart pounded in his chest, and sweat beaded on his brow.

“Bloody too many,” he grunted between clenched teeth, as the horde seemed to go on endlessly.

Undaunted, Zellrid pressed on, carving a bloody swath through the undead horde.

Limbs flew and blood arced through the air as he vented his fury on the mindless creatures before him.

He was a whirlwind of death, his silver blade singeing the air with its lethal arc.

But for every five ghouls he felled, another ten took their place.

“Damn it.”

Zellrid swore under his breath when he spotted a group of ghouls heading towards the town.

Although it was still a way off, they would reach it within minutes.

With his jaw clenched, he intensified his efforts and pushed himself beyond his previous limits.

He leaped high and broke into a sprint towards the group, which was just a few feet away from reaching the town.

Zellrid’s crimson eye fixed on the ghoul in the lead.

He gathered the remaining two fire bombs in one hand, preparing to launch them at the horde.

As he sprinted towards the group, he hurled the bombs directly into the center of the advancing mass.

The explosion sent a towering pillar of fire into the air, engulfing the ghouls and slowing them.

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The heat was almost unbearable, but Zellrid didn’t hesitate momentarily.

With a roar, he swung his sword with deadly precision, striking down every ghoul that dared to cross the fire line protecting the town’s borders.

Guards sounded the alarm, and archers scrambled to take a position on the rooftops, ready to assist in defending against the onslaught of ghouls.

“Alright, enough’s enough. Time to kill the bastard behind this ghoul army,” Zellrid grumbled under his breath.

His eye flicked relentlessly over the barn in the distance, hunting for a glimpse of the elusive Strigoi as he continued his gruesome task.

Without hesitation, Zellrid’s commanding voice resounded towards a guard who was steadily shooting arrows at the approaching ghouls.

“Tell them to light the arrows on fire for an advantage. I’ll take care of the rest,” he bellowed. Then, without pausing for a response.

he sprinted towards the barn, his crimson eye laser-focused on his target.

The guards quickly followed his orders, lighting their arrows ablaze before unleashing a volley of fiery projectiles into the horde of ghouls.

The flaming arrows cut through the night, setting the undead creatures alight one by one.

Their agonized shrieks filled the air as they thrashed and crumbled into piles of ash.

Zellrid didn’t slow his pace, weaving through the chaos with practiced ease, his sword held at the ready.

As he neared the barn, the stench of death and decay grew stronger, assaulting his senses.

With a powerful kick, he burst through the weathered wooden doors.

Inside the barn, the Strigoi awaited, its dark presence palpable and suffocating. Zellrid regarded it with a steely gaze—no fear or hesitation.

No exchange occurred. Only the promised violence lingered. The strigoi’s last form was a sight that would cause the bravest of men to faint from fear.

Its pale, almost translucent flesh glimmered under the moonlight, revealing the grotesque outline of its organs beneath.

Yellow eyes stared out, devoid of any life or humanity, and a mouth hung open in a torn, jagged gap, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.

Each hand and foot ended in menacing, sharp claws that seemed to drip with blood and malice.

Zellrid’s face twisted into a snarl as he charged forward, his silver sword raised high above his head.

The ground shook beneath him as he moved at an inhuman speed, closing the distance between them in a matter of seconds.

The Strigoi roared, its voice echoing through the barn and sending shivers down Zellrid’s spine. But it was too late to retreat now.

Zellrid swung his sword with all his might, the sound of metal against bone echoing throughout the barn.

The Strigoi barely flinched as it easily batted away the strike, its monstrous strength on full display.

It lunged forward, extending its claws like deadly talons aimed straight for Zellrid’s face. With quick reflexes, he ducked under the attack but faced a flurry of blows from Strigoi’s other hand.

Desperate, Zellrid thrust his blade towards the beast’s impenetrable skin, frustration bubbling inside him as each strike seemed to have no effect.

Zellrid gritted his teeth as he felt Strigoi’s razor-sharp claws graze his arm, drawing blood.

The creature’s unholy howls summoned more and more ghouls, which now emerged from the earth surrounding the barn, their decaying forms shambling toward him.

The wave of ghouls overwhelmed Zellrid, knocking him to the ground and pinning him beneath their rotting weight.

The Strigoi towered above him, its monstrous form casting a deadly shadow over Zellrid’s battered and bloodied body.

The ghouls started devouring his flesh. They tore into him with their sharp teeth and claws. Zellrid fought back, but his strength was fading fast. His life’s blood poured onto the ground.

“you’re right,” a chuckle began to ripple from Zellrid, a laugh laced with madness that halted the Strigoi in its tracks.

The silence that fell upon the barn was deafening as Zellrid’s maddened laughter echoed through the air.

His eyes, now a sinister crimson glow, locked onto the Strigoi, and he began to speak in a voice that chilled the beast to its core.

“Swore an oath, I did. I swore to annihilate those beasts for peace’s sake,” Zellrid voiced out, his tone laced with a peculiar frenzy.

“But the true bargain was to satiate my blood cravings and look where it’s landed me—on the verge of getting eaten alive. I’m absolutely HIGH NOW!”

The Strigoi stared, unblinking, as Zellrid continued his maniacal laughter.

It had never seen one of the mortal kind lose their sanity in the face of death.

“~~Fuck ~~the innocent!” Zellrid’s voice thundered, the crimson glow in his eye morphing into a chilling blue hue.

The weather mirrored his fury, rain plummeting in torrents.

“Damn those bloodsuckers!” he roared, each word laced with bitter resolve. “And to hell with you, *cunt*!”