The clash went on far longer than I would’ve liked.
Every strike, every dodge, every breath felt like a gamble with death.
Velra—no, the thing wearing her skin—was too strong. Each swing of her arm sent shockwaves through the ground, and getting close enough to land a hit felt less like bravery and more like suicide.
So, of course, I had to retreat.
I ducked behind a chunk of half-melted rock, my lungs burning from the heat, mind racing through options.
’Subduing that thing is one thing...’
But the real problem was what to do afterward.
Even if I managed to knock her out, how could I contain something like that?
Killing her would be the easiest option. Brutal, but simple. Just cut her down—her and the parasite both—and let the flames bury the evidence.
But then I looked toward the battlefield—the noble soldiers still scattered nearby, watching from a distance, eyes full of confusion and fear.
No. That would draw too much attention.
Besides... I wasn’t ready to kill Velra. Not yet.
Her body carried the blood of an ancient vampire clan. She could endure things that would have destroyed anyone else. If I could just knock her out and get her away from those soldiers, maybe—just maybe—I could find a way to save her.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
"Where do you think you’re going?"
Her voice came from above, sharp and mocking. "Don’t think you’re safe just because you’re hiding behind that."
-KWANG!
The rock shattered like glass.
I rolled back, bits of molten stone flying past my face.
The crater she’d made smoked, glowing red from the heat of her strike.
"Damn it," I hissed, gripping my sword.
She stepped through the haze, flames licking at her feet, her face twisted in a cruel imitation of Velra’s usual calm.
"How dare you imitate her voice, you vulgar trash?" I spat, my anger bleeding through. "You make me want to vomit."
The thing wearing her body laughed—a low, hollow sound that sent chills crawling down my spine.
"Hmph. You wouldn’t understand," she said, her tone cracking between madness and arrogance. "Without borrowing someone else’s mind, this miserable existence of mine would be nothing but a beast’s life!"
Her voice rippled with hatred—pure, unfiltered malice.
The air around us thickened, heavy with killing intent.
She wanted me dead. Completely.
I exhaled slowly, forcing my heartbeat to steady.
’Of course, I wouldn’t understand,’ I thought grimly.
Because despite what she said—despite the parasite’s attempt to sound human—I wasn’t like her.
I was only borrowing the name of a parasite.
I wasn’t one of them.
And I sure as hell wasn’t going to die to one.
Ha. How should I cook this guy?
"To whine like you’re the tragic protagonist."
I laughed inwardly and, with that single thought, deliberately abandoned the parasite-strategy I’d been shaping. Whatever subtle plan I’d been nesting in the back of my head evaporated—because some things deserved a more direct answer.
I hadn’t faced the sincere Velra since our first meeting. Had I misread her then, or had she changed?
—How dare you, a mere human riffraff, challenge me!
Vamps in games always had that same tired arrogance. Strong, yes, but so smug they forgot to really fight. The Parasite that had stolen Velra’s memories, mannerisms, even the way she spoke—she wasn’t different in that respect. She wore imitation like armor, but imitation could crack.
"Hmph," she snapped, annoyance flaring at my tone. "You call yourself a king, but your existence is petty—empty. With this body, I will take your life myself."
Her words dripped venom, but it was the show of force that mattered. Immediately she summoned her mana. The air around her shivered; blonde hair whipped as the magic built, a small storm in the corridor.
I fixed my gaze on her. Up close, the Parasite-Velra looked like a painting brought to life—beautiful and dangerous, all at once.
"If you think you can," I said, voice steady, "then try to kill me. It won’t be easy."
Something in my chest tightened. This was it—the start of phase three. No more hiding behind plans or tests. If she wanted a fight, the game had just moved to the next board.
I readied myself, not because I was confident, but because indecision was worse than any blade.
The Parasite had copied Velra’s smile—but not her restraint.
That made her either brilliant... or catastrophically reckless.
Either way, I had to be ready.
Before the fight began, I swallowed a pill, letting its bitter taste spread through my mouth. Preparation was everything.
Seeing the so-called ’king’ casually down something and then laugh, the figure wearing Velra’s face—’Freedman,’ or rather, the Parasite now imitating her—twisted his lips into a sneer.
Maybe he thought I’d taken some cheap elixir to boost my strength.
"How pathetic," he said, voice dripping with contempt.
A parasite mocking a human. How ironic.
Even if he claimed to be a king, he was still just a leech wearing borrowed flesh. How could a mere human body, even one fueled by an elixir, possibly stand against a vampire?
—Kwang!
The ground cracked under the force of his attack.
Yes, the body he possessed was powerful—strong enough to draw in mana and unleash devastating spells almost instantly.
"...Ugh..."
I gritted my teeth and barely dodged another blow. In reality, I was doing little more than evading, rolling, and gasping for air.
Velra’s brow furrowed slightly.
He couldn’t quite tell whether it was my skill or the remnants of the king’s instinct guiding those movements.
’He’s good at dodging... and using cover well,’ Velra thought, eyes narrowing.
But that was all.
’So what? His stamina won’t last.’
He had tried mimicking the human body’s movement before—quick, light, almost graceful—but there was a limit to how long such a fragile body could keep up.
No matter how fast he dodged, the human was already breathing heavily, every motion costing him more effort than the last.
’It was the same when I took this form,’ Velra mused, watching him stagger to one side. ’So it should be the same for him.’
He smirked faintly.
All he had to do was wait.
Soon, the "king" would slow down—
and when that happened, Velra would strike.