Blood Eagle vs. Wolfsbane

"Fuck! What the hell is that? Why is it so bright?"

The sudden light in Smuggler's Wood sent the tense little players into an uproar.

It was nothing like fire. If he had to describe it, it was more like the blinding arc of a giant searchlight, illuminating an entire area and making everything around it seem even darker.

But Murphy could clearly see more than they could.

He was something of a psionic himself, and Femis's notes had recorded something similar.

"Solar psionics! The most effective way to deal with creatures of darkness, and one of the rarest and most mysterious forms of psionics. Looks like the young lady's run into a tough one."

Murphy murmured the words. When the little players realized their underhanded plan had worked, they erupted in celebration. They looked just like fishermen watching a snipe and a clam fight, waiting for both sides to wear each other out so they could rush in, pick up the scraps, and call it a day.

But their glee didn't last long. Just a few minutes later, Murphy's keen senses picked up the faintest disturbance in the darkness.

"Shh!"

He quieted the players, then reached down and pressed a hand to the ground, letting his psionic power seep into the earth. Soon, the clear sound of hoofbeats reached him.

"Someone's coming. They're closing fast—about five minutes out. Get ready to intercept!"

Murphy swept out his hand, and the little players immediately scrambled back to their positions. Before the vampire turned and disappeared into the night, he gave Maxim a signal.

The white-haired loyal servant took a deep breath, lowered his face covering, and hurried over to the players waiting in the ambush.

He knew what he had to do.

He had to play "Murphy" and buy his master safety and an opening.

He had no complaints. Murphy himself, meanwhile, hid in the darkness that was everywhere around them. As the strongest fighter in the little players' group, he had to wait patiently for the crucial moment to make his entrance.

Twenty cuirassiers from the Plantagenet Kingdom soon appeared on the deserted path through Smuggler's Wood. They weren't wearing full armor, keeping to a lighter, more agile kit. Each carried a lance, and they cautiously led the way.

Behind them rolled a heavy black carriage pulled by two horses, with armed foot soldiers guarding it from both front and rear.

As the group rapidly approached the kill zone, Yang Hen, the sniper in the tree, settled in and took aim. The young lady's psionics specialist had camouflaged the area, making sure ordinary people couldn't detect them.

But just as the cavalry neared the horse traps, a voice suddenly came from inside the carriage.

"Ambush ahead! Idiots! Stop!"

"Bang!"

The well-trained cavalry were already slowing down. Yang Hen's heart tightened, but she didn't fire at them. Instead, she swung her rifle around and pulled the trigger.

The bullet didn't hit a person. It slammed into the rump of one of the horses pulling the carriage.

The pain and the spray of blood sent the horse rearing and charging forward with a terrified whinny. The driver couldn't control the suddenly crazed animal. All he could do was watch as the carriage plowed through the cavalry and barreled down the dim road ahead.

The poor horse stepped into a pit and tumbled in, its legs kicking wildly. The wicked wooden stakes inside pierced its body. The heavy four-wheeled carriage jolted violently, then crashed onto a land mine. The muffled explosion sent it flipping onto its side.

It spilled the boxes inside all over the road and crushed several foot soldiers beneath it, killing them in a tragic instant.

"It worked! Quick, open fire!"

Banzai Happy Stick, his heart in his throat, saw Yang Hen's miraculous shot and leaped up in excitement.

He didn't wait any longer. He roared at the top of his lungs, and the guys in the trench and the Dormitory Six Bros in the foxhole immediately popped up and let loose with every bullet and bolt they had.

Their aim was atrocious—practically blind fire.

But there were enough of them. One volley from a dozen or more players knocked several cavalrymen off their horses.

At the carriage parked on the flank of the ambush, Mud Truck and Forklift Operator, the two old buddies, grinned as they cranked up the heavy Automatic Hunter Crossbow. With the cavalry scattering before them, they let the thing rip.

The old weapon was terrifying.

Its bolts swept across the convoy like a storm, shredding the exposed horses and forcing the well-trained cavalry to take cover beside the overturned carriage.

Everything was going according to Happy Stick's plan, and the commander finally let out the breath he'd been holding.

He emptied his gun, grabbed the escort spear beside him, and leaped out of the trench with a roar. His blood surged as the Hunter Crossbow's covering fire echoed behind him.

"Bayonets fixed, everyone! Brothers, charge with me!"

"What bayonets? Get a grip, for fuck's sake!"

Meow Brother also leaped out, gripping a halberd. He complained as he charged alongside Happy Stick, who was getting carried away, then turned to the succubus Lao Qu and Brother Black Silk.

"Feels like something's missing without a charge horn."

"Yeah, it's not quite the same."

"Next time, we'll bring one! Get a brother who can play to be our bugler!"

The men charged down the foxhole toward the overturned carriage, their adrenaline surging. The Dormitory Six Bros watched their buddies charge so valiantly and figured that even though they were young, they couldn't afford to fall behind. They grabbed their weapons and joined in.

"Quick! Niu Niu, meat shield goes first!"

A-Cha shouted, gripping a pair of blades. Niu Niu was ready. He grabbed the sword his NPC had given him and a blood-red escort shield, then charged out in his leather armor with a roar.

The tall, long-limbed athlete was incredibly fast. He overtook Happy Stick, who was bellowing through his bayonet charge, and became the first to break into the enemy ranks.

He'd even thrown on the flashy Midnight Cloak, instantly becoming the most eye-catching guy in the crowd.

The dismounted cavalry, pinned down by the Hunter Crossbow's storm of bolts, saw a group attacking from the flank and immediately moved to engage. They were seasoned veterans of the Plantagenet Kingdom's Pioneer Legion, and they weren't afraid of close combat.

But as soon as the cavalrymen rushed out from cover, sniper Yang Hen picked one off with a shot. Niu Niu, charging up at that exact moment, watched the enemy's head burst right in front of him and jumped in fright.

But the atmosphere was already perfect, right?

He shut his eyes, bellowed, and swung his sword wildly. Using his height to his advantage, he slammed his shield into the second cavalryman and knocked him to the ground.

The unlucky man tried to get back up, but Happy Stick rushed in from the side and, shouting as he used textbook thrusting form, ran him through the chest with his spear. The two kills sent the players behind them surging with confidence.

Led by Meow Brother and the others as they charged headlong into the fray, they pressed the attack without fear of death. Their relentless hand-to-hand assault drove the stubborn cavalry out of cover.

The crafty Ge Bao and A-Cha even picked up lances the cavalry had dropped and fired them at random to sow confusion, pushing the enemy deeper into the kill zone, toward the trench meant to block their escape.

That pit was deep. If ordinary soldiers fell into it, they wouldn't be climbing back out anytime soon!

"We've won!"

Murphy, hiding in the darkness, saw how well his little players were fighting and finally relaxed. Tactics really did make a difference. They were much more effective than everyone simply piling in and swinging wildly.

This was sixteen against more than twenty, and their martial spirit was overflowing.

But right at that moment, a dark figure burst out of the overturned carriage and lunged at Mud Truck and Forklift Operator, who were still gleefully firing away.

The two middle-aged guys, having the time of their lives, hadn't even realized what was happening before crimson light slashed across their vision in a series of blinding claw marks. Mud Truck was cut to pieces, armor and all. With a gasp, he said goodbye to this savage, thrilling world.

Forklift Operator stared, dumbfounded.

He instinctively looked up—and a hand clamped around his throat, lifting him into the air. The solar psionics flickering far behind the attacker gave him a clear view of his assailant.

The man wore a proper English suit and a tall black top hat. His white shirt and green waistcoat made him look like a refined gentleman. His neatly trimmed beard and the bloodstone wolf-head ring on his finger suggested he was a man of some standing. He hardly looked like someone who belonged on a battlefield.

But the long, thin nails extending from the five fingers of his left hand were like wolf claws, and blood dripped from them.

"Blood Eagles sure know how to train their dogs."

The man gritted his teeth.

"Blood thralls this lively are rare these days."

"What the hell is this NPC babbling about? I can't understand a single fucking word!"

The thought raged through Forklift Operator's mind as he struggled in the man's grip.

Realizing he probably wouldn't survive, Forklift Operator decided to go down fighting. He drew the short knife at his waist and stabbed at the man.

Naturally, he missed.

The little players hadn't unlocked the leveling system yet, and the gap between their strength and the NPCs' was still enormous. Forklift Operator's desperate counterattack didn't even graze the man's clothes before the man snapped his neck with a crack.

The body hit the ground and vanished in a shower of light. The attacker's eyes widened at the sight. Then he realized something was wrong.

These weren't Blood Eagle blood thralls!

They were summoned creatures!

Damn it!

Was there a summoner hiding nearby?

Was this another trap?

He knew he was in trouble. Though powerful, he acted at once, activating his family's gift. Amid dancing starlight and a long, echoing howl, two enormous, ghostly white astral wolves appeared at his feet.

He waved a hand, and the savage creatures from another world charged at the little players, who were busy slaughtering the cavalry.

Then a blade stabbed toward him, forcing the attacker to retreat just as he finished the summoning. He blocked several strikes with the cane at his waist, then drew his sword with his left hand, pulling a cane sword into his palm as he backed away to face his opponent.

Maxim arrived and stood with his sword raised, wary of the man before him.

The pierced top hat drifted down through the air. The instant it finally landed, the attacker grinned, his eyes glowing an eerie green in the night.

He looked Maxim up and down, taking in his luxurious chainmail and weapons. His nose twitched, his fangs showed beneath his lips, and he licked them.

"You're a Blood Eagle dog! A true, loyal blood thrall. I can even smell your heart beating. Your blood must taste delicious. State your name, commander!

I need it for my report."

"Maxim Sener Vlad!"

The loyal servant knew what this meant.

He recognized that the attacker was a vampire, but not one of the Blood Eagle Clan. Following the teachings he had received, he answered in a low voice.

"Jade. No—Murphy's childe!"

"Murphy? Never heard of him. I doubt he's anyone important in the Blood Eagle Clan."

The attacker snorted and raised his cane sword into a peculiar stance. He stared at Maxim like a hungry wolf watching its prey and spoke in a sinister voice.

"Jopan Markich Gangrel! Grayclaw faction of the Wolfsbane Clan, childe of Korando!"

Introducing yourself was vampire etiquette.

The ancient tradition ensured that every clan learned precisely when one of its blood descendants died, with the surviving opponent responsible for passing on the news.

As soon as the words left his mouth, both men attacked.

Maxim was a skilled swordsman, but his physical abilities were no match for a true vampire. After just a few exchanges, he was on the back foot.

But Maxim wasn't afraid in the slightest. He only attacked more fiercely, relying on his sturdy chainmail to take the blows. Like a wolf cub on its first hunt, he was willing to get hurt if it meant leaving a mark on his opponent.

Jopan quickly knocked the sword from his hand. When the cane sword came down, Maxim didn't retreat. Even as his hand bones broke, he hurled himself forward and grappled Jopan, keeping him in place.

The Wolfsbane blood descendant realized something was wrong and kicked Maxim away. But a cold psionic force had appeared behind him, binding him in place. He had no time to retreat.

"Pfft."

The moment Jopan was pinned in place by a "proficient"-level Dark Shock: Binding Hand, the Blade of the Desire Lineage, wrapped in icy psionic power, plunged down with Murphy from above, driving deep into Jopan's back with the added force of the fall.

Murphy had blood at the corner of his mouth after the ambush. It was fresh blood he'd drained from an unlucky cavalryman, and the rush from satisfying his bloodlust had made him even more vicious and eager to fight.

That surprise attack wouldn't kill an elite vampire.

Not nearly enough.

But it was enough to draw the dangerous man's attention and give the little players more time to deal with the chaos on the battlefield.

"Ravnos Murphy Lasombra, Blood Eagle Clan, Fringe faction, childe of Triss!"

His voice rang in Jopan's ear. As the ancient etiquette of vampire duels demanded, he introduced himself just as Jopan had. But then his voice turned mocking.

"You Wolfsbane runt, what are you pretending to be an ancient bloodline for? You even got the etiquette wrong when you were fighting my servant. No matter how fancy you dress, you can't hide your pathetic lowborn stink.

Come with me, you shameful brute.

Let the blood of the eternal damned reach the heavens, and let Mother of Night bear witness to this eternal sleep."

"Bastard!"

The wounded Wolfsbane brute's face twisted in fury. His human disguise had shattered, leaving him closer to the true, inhuman form of a Wolfsbane vampire.

He had become a hybrid of a night bat and a wolf—the distinctive power of the Wolfsbane Clan known as the "Wilderness Abomination."

Jopan's wolfish gaze followed Murphy as he bounded through the darkness. He gripped his cane sword and glided after him on his small wings.

One vampire had challenged another to a duel to the eternal sleep!

No respectable vampire with any courage would refuse, especially with the centuries-old feud between the Blood Eagles and Wolfsbane. Besides, that man was the one summoning the creatures.

Kill him!

The crisis would resolve itself!

And so, let the hunt begin.