“Fame? Glory? Power? Come on kid, I thought you knew me. I’d rather live quietly with a happy family.”

 The clash of blades echoed throughout the baroque hall.

 His composed demeanor belied his fatigue. Beneath the surface, his breathing had become uneven and his mind began to wander—a fatal mistake for one dancing at the boundary of life and death.

 Without even a moment to breathe, the vampire forced him to raise his broadsword once more to slap away the needle-thin sword thrusting and slashing at him.

 The fiend’s audience hall was dimly lit, so merely following her movements was taxing his senses.

 They’d been a party of four. He’d met two of them in the human capital of Soldaga, and while crossing the endless green hills belonging to the Plainstriders they encountered their final member, a female Wizard by the name of Tatyana.

 They wouldn’t have even reached the Shadowed Lands of Aphtangloa without her help, but…

 There was a lull in the fight as the monster fell back, allowing him an instant to compose himself and wipe the sweat beading beneath his dark black locks.

 Not because he’d gained ground, but because she’d chosen to back off for some reason; she’d long since dictated the pace of the engagement, perhaps even from the very start.

 It was obvious that she was simply toying with him, but he was just fine with being underestimated.

 It’d only take a single opening…

 The moment the party arrived in the capital city, Tatyana revealed her true colors, selling them out to the vampires in exchange for misbegotten promises of power and ascension. The madness in her jade eyes was seared into the back of his eyelids, bile rose in his gut as he wondered what fate befell her.

 The three of them somehow made it through the city, but Elham made the ultimate sacrifice to create an opening, allowing him and the Hero to infiltrate the Tyrant’s Palace.

 Shaking away the image of the vulgar woman, he saw instead the scarlet glow of the devil’s eyes, and then she vanished into thin air.

 The veteran knight roared in defiance as he threw his weight behind his hefty blade, carving a half-crescent through the air. The ringing of steel signaled the beginnings of a fresh rally.

 With only two members left—himself and Mizar, the Hero who’d promised to bring peace to humanity—the odds were stacked against them to say the least.

 In spite of odds and vampire alike, they carved a path through the lower floors of the Demonic Tyrant’s Palace. They’d butchered their way to the teleportation array, but…

 In the midst of their duet, the monster planted her heel, pivoting for a feint but catching her foot on the fabric of the long crimson carpet. For just one instant, her scarlet eyes widened in surprise as her balance failed.

 He seized the opportunity with all his might.

 Unfortunately, the moment they arrived on the other end of the portal, guards began pouring out of every hallway and passage, quickly overwhelming them. As capable as the pair were, they couldn’t hold out against the vampiric royal guard forever. They were both powerful fighters, but vampires were fundamentally stronger, and every guard who fell was seemingly replaced by two more.

 When they finally reached the Tyrant’s throne room—against all odds—The Hero entrusted his sword to the ex-lieutenant and sacrificed himself, turning his very body into a divine briarpatch to seal them inside.

 After that, well…

 She adjusted the angle of her sword and brought it straight through the center of his, trivially halting what he’d thought was a decisive blow.

 The shrill cry of steel pierced his eardrums as her long scarlet razor split his claymore from tip to handle.

 Every step of the battle had been under her control from the beginning…

 Perhaps even before they stepped into her palace.

 “It seems that’s checkmate, Templar,” her voice languorously echoed through the hall.

 He’d put his faith in his own blade, never drawing the sword supposedly gifted by the Goddess Herself.

 Perhaps that’d been a mistake.

 Or perhaps, it’d saved his life.

 He subtly reached for the sword concealed beneath his cloak with trembling fingers.

 “Sorry, I never actually learned how to play—”

 —But frustratingly the vampire was eight steps faster, as the tendons in his arms and legs all succumbed to the sting of her blade in the same instant.

 Falling to his knees, he stared up at the leering woman in her silky white dress, ostentatiously adorned with twilight-blue frills and gold-threaded seams that glittered like stars. It must’ve been worth more than his entire village, even after being stained by his blood.

 More embarrassingly, it was proof she’d considered him so trivial a threat that she had no need for armor.

 Her snow-silver hair finished its rondo as she tossed the blood-red wing-shaped blade away.  Though its tempered black grip marked it as orichalcum, it simply melted into flecks of dark blue blood and splattered against the obsidian stonework like paint.

 “Oh, really? Then we must rectify that!” Her tone lacked the malicious bite he’d expected.

 “Sorry, don’t think I can move the pieces anymore,” he couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity, flopping one of his useless arms, “Unless you expect me to use my teeth, perhaps?”

 “No, no, of course not,” she shook her head, placing a finger to her lips as she looked upward.

 It was an innocent gesture that would’ve made him think she was an ordinary woman, if not for the sharp ears peeking out from her hair, and the even sharper fangs jutting out through her smile.

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 She looked the same age as the Hero had, not a day over twenty-something, though he knew that her reign of terror started long, long before even his grandparents were born.

 After apparently settling whatever it was that weighed on her mind, she locked eyes with him like the predator she was, her slit pupils narrowing as the dim light the stained glass cast from behind highlighted only her silhouette.

 The monstrous waif of a woman steadily approached, her fangs gleaming as she leaned down in front of him. On his knees, he was only a head or so shorter than—

 “AAGHCK!” He yelped.

 She’d bit him.

 Well, that was to be expected, she was a vampire. This was where he’d meet his end, his soul devoured as sustenance, never to return to the Goddess’ side. Such was his punishment for embarking on this reckless four-man crusade.

 It was hardly a fair punishment, but he’d accepted this potentiality all the same; his only regret was leaving humanity in such a precarious position… this should’ve been their chance to fix all that, but the only taste in his mouth was bitter regret.

 If only they’d succeeded, surely mankind would be able to prosper, surely…

 After three heartbeats, he wondered why he was still alive. The monster hadn’t moved at all, her fangs were still embedded in his neck.

 After another three, an agonizing pain suddenly wracked his body, a flash sweat breaking out on his brow as he felt what he could only describe as molten fire spread through his veins.

 His vision blurred and his muscles spasmed, his body falling to the floor with a heavy clang as she drew away.

 What’d she just do to me!?

 It felt like she’d injected venom into him; his bones creaked, his organs prickled as if melting into soup—hopefully not literally.

 “Shhh, there there, it’ll be over soon. Thou art doing quite well, indeed.”

 As the bizarre form of torture stretched on, his armor felt lighter, or perhaps looser. He wasn’t sure if her words were supposed to be sarcasm; his body refused to obey him, he couldn’t raise his head to read her expression; every single centimeter of his flesh boiled with raw anguish; his bones crushed together as though a golem were squeezing him; even his scalp felt as though it was crawling with hungry hornets.

 “Ahh, right, we simply must cut thee free from that unsightly armor. Still thy body, ‘twould be quite the waste for us to accidentally mar thy skin.”

 Alright, she’s definitely fucking with me.

 Perhaps she’d injected some sort of venom that’d reduce him to a bloody puddle, for ease of drinking? Admittedly he knew little of how vampires actually fed, as before this trip he’d only ever encountered them on the battlefield—and rarely at that…

 With laughable ease, she split open and peeled apart his armor, pulling his sweat-soaked body out and holding him in her arms, his feet barely dangling off the floor.

 If she could manage that with her bare hands, then she really was holding back their entire duel.

 Wait, what—

 “My! Thou turned out even cuter than we could’ve hoped!” She beamed brightly, making a face unbecoming of the elegant ruler of the world.

 As the haze of pain finally receded, he found himself able to focus once more.

 The room came back into painfully sharp clarity, the lighting illuminating the black and red throne-room with an eerie auburn brilliance he’d somehow failed to notice—perhaps because of how focused he’d been on the Tyrant. His eyes briefly glanced toward the stained glass triptych in the back, where the light emanated from.

 Three exquisitely crafted, towering works of art filled the wall, more than a match for even the grandest of cathedrals to the Goddess back in the Kingdom. But instead of venerating Her Radiance, they depicted crowds kneeling before some sort of ruler, a world engulfed in calamity and flame, and finally, a resolute queen staring forward into the distance.

 “U-Unhand me, you harlot!” he rasped. His voice felt rough, like the muscles in his throat had atrophied.

 “My you’re quite energetic, too!” her register had changed too, sounding much more cheerful and less… noble. “We had assumed you would pass out from the pain of our embrace, but here you are, kicking and screaming with all the vigor of a newborn babe!”

 She closed her eyes and smiled warmly, giving him a chance to kick himself free.

 But when he tried, he finally noticed how… short his legs had become.

 “What… have you done to me!?”

 “Why, whatever do you mean? Did we not just state that we embraced you?”

 As he wriggled free from her grasp—or perhaps she’d simply allowed him to—the grand reception hall stretched high above him, the furnishings all towering over him as he huddled near the shredded remains of his armor.

Even the fiend herself leered down at…

 No, the throne room hadn’t grown bigger at all. He looked down at his lithe arms, every trace of tanned muscle and scar having vanished from the now lily-white skin.

 As he staggered up to his feet, he felt his now-oversized tunic slip down one of his shoulders.

 He’d been at least a head or two taller than the vampire before, but now he barely came up to chest-height on her.

 “Answer the question, monster!” The more he spoke, the more he realized how… cute…? His voice sounded.

 And at the same time, he felt something dragging on the ground behind him, sending a shiver through the back of his head.

 “Hmhmhm, our daughter is quite adorably naive, isn’t she?”

 “You… I… I’m sorry, what?”

 “Surely you have all the pieces to assemble the puzzle, no?”

 Trembling slightly, as the words clicked into place within his mind, he turned his head around. Touching the ground behind him was a trail of pure silver hair.

 Looking down, he saw a petite girlish figure, his dirty green tunic loosely hanging off its frame.

 Pressing his legs together, he felt nothing.

 “H-How… W-W-Why!?”

 His head spun, the weight of what she’d done striking heavier than any blow in their battle.

 “Oh, you know… It’s getting to be that time for us, and just as we’d surmised, you shall make for a most suitable heir!”

 He staggered backward, tripping over himself and gazing up in horror at the beast’s cheery smile.

 “Now then, let us cleanse your body and free you of those boorish threads. We have quite a wide array of clothing that will suit you to a T, o’ sweet little Lycoris.”

 No longer able to face the weight of reality assaulting him from all sides, he finally collapsed, and darkness embraced him once more.