Apex-rank

Eleanoir began to unbutton Leonhardt's shirt. That’s when her eyes widened in surprise—the moment she saw it.

A seven-pointed star marked his chest.

“Leon… you…”

Leonhardt clicked his tongue, his gaze sharp as it locked onto her. He expected fear or caution—after all, he was one of the Fallen mentioned in the Saintess' prophecy. But contrary to his expectations, a smile slowly crept across Eleanoir’s lips.

Her eyes gleamed with bloodlust, even stronger than before, like a predator who had just discovered a rare delicacy.

She couldn’t hold herself back any longer. Like a starving beast, her head lunged forward, her teeth sinking into Leonhardt’s neck. Blood trickled down as she drank deeply.

The moment his blood touched her tongue, a rush of euphoria washed through her.

The taste.

The texture.

The warmth...

Sweet. Thin. Hot.

This was what she had been searching for—blood so pure, untouched by mana particles, yet containing something... divine.

She couldn’t stop. The pleasure was overwhelming.

Leonhardt felt it too. Her hot breath grazed his skin. Her soft lips clung to his neck. That intoxicating scent wafting from her body fogged his thoughts.

He gritted his teeth as the pain and pleasure blurred, a flush coloring his cheeks.

It was the “Kissing Bite,” a vampiric effect—where a portion of their pleasure flowed into the victim through mana.

Leonhardt’s body trembled under the sensation. Yet he still resisted. Slowly, his fingers twitched. Then, with effort, he lifted his arm and shoved Eleanoir away.

“Leon~ why… did… you do… that~?” she murmured, her voice slurring like someone drunk on wine.

She collapsed moments later, passed out on the floor with a pleased expression.

Leonhardt quickly buttoned his shirt, then glanced at her limp form.

He frowned. “Eleanoir…”

His hand instinctively reached for his knife.

"You’ve seen something you shouldn’t have."

But after a pause, he let go of the blade and sighed deeply.

Her knowing his secret no longer mattered. She couldn’t return to the Fire Tower—especially now that the knights knew her identity. Killing her was unnecessary. And frankly… Leonhardt didn’t want to.

He turned his gaze skyward.

The three moons watched silently above.

"A vampire will always be a vampire. Hunting at night… under the moons," he muttered.

He winced, rubbing his neck. Warmth still radiated from the bite.

“She didn’t have to bite so deep… These marks… they remind me of back then in the palace.”

He remembered it clearly—a maid with a similar mark. Back then, he’d thought it odd, but she wasn’t the only one.

Were there vampires in the royal palace?

…Or was it Arthur?

If that were the case, it would explain how he lived for so long.

Leonhardt chuckled. “No way. I’d have figured it out long ago.”

Yes, it was impossible.

Arthur von Celestia couldn’t be a vampire.

Shaking the thought away, Leonhardt pulled on his cloak and grabbed his mask. He approached the smoldered firewood, kneeling beside it.

He bit his finger.

“Dios Prana.”

Blood floated from the wound, forming a glowing pattern in the air. A magic circle appeared—a triangle inscribed within. He pressed his bloody thumb to its center.

[Lesser Fire Spell: Ignite]

The firewood burst into flame, crackling softly with ember light. He dragged Eleanoir gently aside, then sat on a nearby tree trunk, watching the fire.

He glanced down at her sleeping form. So peaceful. Nothing like the bloodthirsty vampire she had been moments ago.

Even though he was exhausted, he stayed awake. The forest might look calm, but danger could strike at any moment.

So Leonhardt kept watch, the fire crackling softly beneath the moonlight as his mind wandered back to old memories… and the path he’d take come morning.

***

The Next Morning...

The fire had long burned out. Sunlight streamed through the canopy, bright and golden, yet a chill still lingered in the air.

Eleanoir lay still, mumbling in her sleep—soft and cute—before she jolted upright.

She yawned, rubbing her eyes. “Leon…”

A pause.

“I’m sorry about last night…”

She looked around.

Leonhardt was gone.

“…My, this is the first time I’ve been abandoned,” she sighed. “How tragic.”

She rose, brushing snow from her crimson robe. The cold wind teased her silver strands as she looked up at the clear sky.

A faint smile tugged at her lips.

“Leon… I’ll find you, no matter where you go~”

She turned, walking north.

***

Elsewhere...

That same morning, Leonhardt trudged through the snow. He sneezed sharply.

Oddly enough, it was snowing—even though not a single cloud floated in the sky.

Just another mystery of the Dark Continent.

He rubbed his neck—it still burned faintly where Eleanoir had bitten him.

Still, that was the least of his problems.

The Adventurers’ Frontier loomed ahead.

A massive stone wall with a wooden gate.

But guarding that gate was a monster.

A Glacial Bear.

C-ranked. Twice the height of a man. Three times as wide. Its claws looked like frozen blades—able to slice through trees with a single swipe.

Leonhardt pulled out his map.

He could go around—but it’d add two days, and who knew what was waiting on the other side?

He sighed, rolled the map back up, and tucked it into his rucksack.

Then, he drew his dagger and stepped forward.

There was only one way through.

“Dios Prana.”

[<Lesser Wind Spell: Speed Boost>]

With a gust of wind, Leonhardt surged forward—his figure a blur—aiming straight for the bear’s neck in a surprise strike.

The dagger connected.

But it was like striking steel.

Sparks flew. A loud clang rang out as Leonhardt was thrown back, skidding through the snow.

The bear let out a deafening roar, its cold breath turning the air to mist.

Leonhardt’s eyes narrowed.

This wasn’t just any Glacial Bear.

It was Apex-ranked.