"We were supposed to be the hunters, not the hunted..."
Vampire hunting was all Alexander had ever known. The Hunter Society of Russia was a vast, intricate network, plagued by corruption more times than he cared to admit. Yet, there was nothing that made him feel more alive than the thrill of the hunt. On a cool fall evening, Alexander and his two comrades were dispatched to investigate a location nearly two hours from the main headquarters. The trio, composed of three proud and seasoned hunters, approached their target—a grand, gothic mansion sprawled across acres of flat, desolate land.
They paused at the edge of the property, the moonlight casting long shadows over the mansion's worn exterior. Their mission was clear: survey the area and confirm the presence of the vampire clan they were hunting. Headquarters had been explicit—engagement was off the table. Their small, three-man squad wasn’t equipped to handle a full-scale confrontation.
Hours slipped by, the night growing colder as it edged toward morning. The squad, growing restless, began to believe their mission would yield nothing. Then, in a burst of impatience, Argen, one of Alexander’s teammates, decided to take a more proactive approach. He crept closer to the mansion, ignoring the lack of obvious defenses. Within minutes, he was peering through the windows, his breath fogging the glass.
A knot of unease formed in Alexander’s gut. Something was off. His instincts screamed at him to pull back, but when Correl, the newest member of their squad, followed Argen’s lead, Alexander had no choice but to join them.
As they approached the building, Alexander's sharp eyes scanned the surroundings. The mansion, once grand, was now a shadow of its former self, with ivy-covered walls and overgrown shrubs choking the life from the grounds. It was hard to believe that vampires lived here, let alone committed crimes severe enough to warrant a hunt. Alexander knew the corrupt nature of the Hunter Society, particularly this branch. Often, missions were driven not by justice but by the desire to profit from the sale of vampire fangs and venom. It was a dirty business, but it was all Alexander knew. His comrades were his brothers, and the thrill of the hunt was a freedom he couldn’t find anywhere else. Morality was a luxury he didn’t afford himself.
A sudden, sharp scream shattered the silence. Argen’s voice, filled with pain and terror, echoed through the night. Alexander’s heart pounded as he scanned the darkness, searching for any sign of what had attacked his friend. But all he found was silence, the scream dying as quickly as it had come. A chill ran down his spine.
“Argen!” Correl called out, his voice trembling. The two remaining hunters drew their weapons, their senses heightened as they backed away from the mansion. They didn’t get far before something heavy landed in front of them with a sickening thud. In the dim light, Alexander’s eyes widened as he realized what it was—Argen’s severed head, his lifeless eyes still wide with fear, blood oozing from the ragged neck.
Correl stumbled back in shock, his weapon lowering. It was all the opening the enemy needed. A blur of movement, a thud, and Correl was on the ground, a female vampire straddling him. Her claws slashed at him with terrifying speed, tearing into his flesh with inhuman ferocity. Alexander stood frozen for a moment, his mind struggling to process the carnage before him.
He snapped back to reality, his fingers tightening around his lance, the silver blade glinting in the moonlight. With a swift motion, he spun the weapon, plunging it into the vampire’s side. She screeched, a high-pitched sound that sent shivers down his spine, but quickly turned her attention to him. Alexander ripped the lance free, a small spatter of her blood staining the grass. Satisfaction surged through him, brief as it was.
The vampire paused, her crimson eyes locking onto his. She was smaller than him, but her speed and ferocity were beyond anything he’d faced before. As she grasped the wound he’d inflicted, her mouth parted in a hiss, exposing her shiny white fangs. “Silver,” he muttered in reference to his blade, pride creeping into his voice. But his confidence was his downfall.
She lunged at him, faster than he could react. He blocked her initial strikes with his lance, the sound of claws scraping against metal echoing through the night. But she was relentless, each blow pushing him closer to the edge of his endurance. Alexander’s cool demeanor began to crack as he realized he was outmatched, and worse—alone.
A final, powerful strike knocked him to his knees, his lance falling uselessly to the ground. Blood seeped from the deep gashes that marred his body, staining his clothes and pooling at his feet. His vision blurred, a trickle of blood running from a cut above his brow. The vampire circled him slowly, savoring her victory. Her hand gripped his shoulder-length hair, yanking his head back to force him to meet her gaze.
“You’ve got balls,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery. “You actually fought me instead of cowering and waiting for death.” She tugged on his hair again, her smile widening as he winced in pain. “You have potential,” she continued, her tone almost playful. She didn’t bother hiding her intentions, even as faces appeared in the mansion’s windows, watching the scene unfold.
“You’re dying anyway,” she whispered, her voice taking on a seductive edge. “Why don’t you put that potential to use... for me?” Her fangs gleamed in the moonlight as she lowered herself, her grip on his hair tightening. Alexander struggled, but his strength was gone. Her fangs sank into his neck, the sharp pain overwhelming his senses. He wanted to scream, but the venom was already working its way through his veins, sapping the last of his energy. His vision darkened, the sounds of the world fading away as he exhaled his final breath.
“When you awake,” she murmured, her voice the last thing he heard, “you’ll serve your new family with the same might you showed here today, my spawn.”
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