The squad remained composed, their weapons drawn and senses heightened as they faced the looming figure of the vampire. The leader, a seasoned hunter known as the Ironhand, assessed the situation with a calm, analytical gaze. “Judging by his aura alone, he’s likely an A-rank. We’ve handled worse,” he stated, his voice unwavering. The others nodded in agreement, tightening their grips on their weapons. Their strategy was clear: engage from multiple angles, use holy water to weaken his movements, and strike with precision. Despite the ominous presence before them, fear was a foreign concept—Vanguards didn’t falter.
With their formation set, the squad began to move in, each member executing their role with precision. They formed a wide arc around the vampire, closing in from multiple angles. The creature seemed unbothered, his piercing red eyes tracking their every step, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Confident in their strategy, the Vanguards believed they had cornered him, unaware that their target remained eerily calm, almost amused by their coordinated assault.
The Vanguards moved in unison, their strategy honed through countless missions. One of the scouts, quick on his feet, darted forward, landing a precise slash across the vampire’s arm. The creature barely flinched, eyes flickering with mild annoyance as the wound sealed itself almost instantly. The scout froze for a moment, realizing that the regeneration was far too rapid for an A-rank. The captain’s eyes narrowed, sensing that they had severely underestimated their opponent.
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The vampire cracked his neck, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he remained rooted to the spot, seemingly unbothered by the squad’s approach. One of the scouts, determined to prove himself, lunged forward, aiming for the vampire’s neck. In a blur of motion, the vampire’s hand shot out, gripping the scout’s head and crushing it effortlessly. Blood sprayed as the lifeless body dropped to the ground, leaving the squad stunned for a brief moment. A ripple of unease passed through them, but the captain quickly regained composure, barking orders. “Specialist! Request immediate reinforcement! We need a hunter—S rank or higher!”
The squad, despite their experience, had misjudged the vampire's true threat level. Vanguards usually assess vampires based on their magical presence, which usually correlates with their combat abilities. Lucian's magic power was indeed at an A rank, leading them to believe he was manageable. However, what they failed to account for was his immense physical strength and vast combat experience, making him a formidable opponent on par with an S rank in actual battle. This realization dawned on the squad too late, as the vampire's overwhelming presence became evident the moment he crushed the scout.
As the squad steadied their stance, the air around them grew heavier, charged with an unspoken tension. Lucian’s piercing gaze scanned each of their faces, a wicked grin forming as if he relished their growing unease. The captain tightened his grip on his weapon, his mind racing to reassess the situation. In the dim moonlight, Lucian seemed almost ethereal—a being too powerful for the mortal world. As the silence stretched on, one question echoed in the minds of every Vanguard present: Had they just cornered a monster far beyond their understanding?
