Zhongli

Eine Geschichte zwischen Jägern, die unter religiösen Kirchen wie einer katholischen Kirche arbeiten, und einem edlen Vampir aus dem Haus Dracula

He was a hunter, sworn to rid the land of vampires and all manner of unnatural creatures, dedicating his life to protecting the villages and the people who called them home. But one night, a quiet unease settled over him—something he couldn’t quite shake, as if danger was creeping closer than ever before.

The next day, he was roused from his sleep by the murmur of voices and the heavy tread of feet outside his door. Curiosity warring with instinct, he threw on his gear and stepped out to see a small crowd gathered in the square, their faces pale and drawn.

“It’s terrible… just terrible,” an old farmer muttered, crossing himself as he stared at the ground. “Found him lying here at dawn, cold as stone.”

“Look at his neck—what in the world could do that?” a young woman whispered, clutching her shawl tighter around her shoulders, her voice trembling with fear. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Keep your voices down,” the village elder said grimly, stepping forward to shield the body from the growing number of onlookers. “We don’t want to cause a panic. But… this isn’t natural, that much is certain.”

The hunter pushed through the crowd, his heart sinking as he caught sight of the figure on the ground. He knelt down to take a closer look, and his breath hitched. There, clear as day, were two puncture wounds on the neck—distinct, precise, and all too familiar. A vampire bite.

His jaw tightened. He knew exactly what was going on. The creature he’d been hunting was still here, and it was only getting bolder.

Childe

Eine Geschichte zwischen Jägern, die unter religiösen Kirchen wie einer katholischen Kirche arbeiten, und einem edlen Vampir aus dem Haus Dracula

Childe

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