Chapter 11: Howls and Slythers Part 2
The air in the secluded part of Saint-Aubin's southern district felt unnaturally cold, as if the shadows themselves had gathered to watch the unfolding confrontation. Kuroka and Millarca stood back-to-back, their gazes sweeping across the Lamias encircling them. The snake-like women moved with a fluid grace, their human torsos bare and glistening faintly in the moonlight, their serpentine lower halves coiling and uncoiling with predatory precision. Each carried a long, curved blade, the metal reflecting a deadly glint.
"Ten of them," Kuroka murmured, her golden eyes narrowing as her tail flicked behind her. "They're not just pretty faces, nya. They know how to fight."
"Wonderful," Millarca replied dryly, her crimson eyes darting between the Lamias. "And here I was hoping they'd be all bark and no bite."
One of the Lamias, larger than the rest and with dark green scales, slithered forward. Her eyes glowed with a dangerous light as she hissed, "A Japanese demon and a vampire... What business do you have trespassing in our territory?"
Kuroka and Millarca exchanged a glance, neither seeming particularly fazed by the creature's presence.
"Think they're the ones responsible for the smell?" Kuroka asked casually, her tone light as if they were discussing the weather.
"Probably," Millarca replied, matching her nonchalance. "But the question is, do we stay and fight, or do we listen to Shirou and run?"
The serpent-woman's expression twisted into a snarl, her sharp fangs glinting. "Are you ignoring me?" she demanded, her voice rising in anger.
"Not ignoring," Kuroka said with a shrug. "Just deciding if you're worth our time."
The comment clearly struck a nerve. With a furious hiss, the serpent-woman lashed out, her tail whipping toward Kuroka with incredible speed.
Kuroka and Millarca jumped back in unison, narrowly avoiding the attack. The force of the strike cracked the ground where they had been standing moments before.
Millarca landed gracefully, her crimson eyes narrowing. "Looks like we're staying."
Kuroka smirked, her claws extending as she crouched into a fighting stance. "Yeah. Can't let them think they can push us around."
The serpent-women hissed in unison, their eyes glowing with predatory intent as they closed in. Kuroka and Millarca stood back-to-back, their expressions calm but focused.
"Ready?" Millarca asked, her dagger glinting in the moonlight.
"Always," Kuroka replied, her grin widening.
The two of them poised to fight, the tension in the air crackling like a storm about to break.
The Lamia leader hissed sharply, signaling the attack. The other nine Lamias surged forward, their movements a blur of scales and steel.
Kuroka reacted first, leaping into the air with the grace of a cat, her claws glowing with dark energy. She swiped downward, releasing a wave of magical energy that forced the closest Lamias to scatter. Landing lightly on her feet, she dodged a blade aimed at her neck, spinning around to deliver a slash across her attacker's arm.
Millarca, meanwhile, met the charge of another Lamia head-on. With vampiric strength, she caught the descending blade with her bare hands, her fingers gripping the metal tightly. The Lamia's eyes widened in shock as Millarca twisted the weapon away and delivered a powerful kick to her chest, sending her sprawling.
"They're fast!" Millarca called out as she ducked under another strike, countering with a punch that cracked ribs.
"I noticed!" Kuroka shot back, narrowly avoiding a thrust aimed at her stomach. She retaliated with a burst of magical orbs, forcing the Lamia to retreat.
The Lamias quickly regrouped, their movements synchronized. They struck from multiple angles, their agility and expertise with their blades keeping Kuroka and Millarca on the defensive.
Kuroka growled as a blade nicked her shoulder. She jumped back, summoning a protective barrier of swirling energy around herself. "They're better coordinated than I thought," she admitted.
"Tell me about it," Millarca said, her breath slightly labored as she parried another attack. She used her vampiric speed to dodge to the side, then slammed her elbow into the Lamia's temple, knocking her out cold.
The Lamias didn't let up. Two of them flanked Kuroka, their blades striking in perfect unison. Kuroka ducked and rolled, her claws lashing out to catch one of them across the face. The other swung her blade downward, forcing Kuroka to leap away.
"Getting tired yet?" Millarca asked as she tossed another Lamia into a nearby wall.
"Not a chance," Kuroka replied, though her movements were slightly slower now.
The Lamia leader hissed loudly, her voice echoing through the air. The other Lamias stopped their attacks momentarily, regrouping around her. The leader raised her blade, and a greenish mist began to seep from her mouth.
"What's that?" Millarca asked, her nose wrinkling at the acrid smell.
"Poison," Kuroka said grimly. "Stay back!"
The mist spread quickly, forcing the two to retreat. Kuroka conjured a gust of wind to disperse it, but the Lamias used the distraction to close the distance.
One Lamia lashed out with her tail, catching Millarca around the ankle and pulling her off balance. Millarca hit the ground hard, but before the Lamia could strike, she rolled to the side and retaliated with a burst of energy that sent the serpent-woman flying.
Kuroka found herself cornered by three Lamias. They struck with relentless precision, their blades cutting through her defenses. She managed to deflect two strikes but was forced to teleport a short distance away to avoid being overwhelmed.
"They're really starting to annoy me," Kuroka muttered, wiping a trickle of blood from her lip.
Kuroka and Millarca exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them. They couldn't afford to hold back any longer.
"Time to show them what we're really made of," Kuroka said, her voice filled with determination.
Millarca nodded, her crimson eyes glowing brighter. "Let's finish this."
Kuroka began chanting under her breath, her hands weaving intricate patterns in the air. A circle of glowing symbols appeared beneath her feet, and a wave of dark energy erupted outward, forcing the Lamias to retreat momentarily.
Millarca took advantage of the opening, moving with blinding speed to strike down two of the Lamias. She didn't kill them but left them incapacitated, their weapons shattered.
The Lamia leader hissed in frustration, rallying her remaining forces. "Don't let them win! Kill them!"
The battle raged on, the Lamias refusing to back down, and Kuroka and Millarca pushing themselves to their limits.
The streets of Saint-Aubin were eerily quiet, save for the distant rustling of leaves and the occasional drip of water from cracked gutters.
The situation in the Northern area of Saint-Aubin town is just as tense as the situation in the Southern area of the Town.
Just a few minutes ago, Shirou and Valerie were witnessing the Lone Werewolf brutally slaughtering several creatures that have the torso of women and the lower body of serpents. But now, that Werewolf has Its sight on them.
Shirou tightened his grip on Kanshou and Bakuya, their familiar weight steadying his nerves as the werewolf began to circle them. Its glowing yellow eyes were predatory, calculating, as it gauged their movements. Valerie stood behind him, her breath shallow but steady, her hands faintly glowing as she prepared her magic.
The werewolf's growl deepened, the sound vibrating through the air. Its claws flexed, gleaming in the pale moonlight, still wet with the blood of its previous victims. The tension in the courtyard was palpable, like a coiled spring ready to snap.
Then, without warning, the werewolf lunged.
It moved with blinding speed, a blur of fur and claws that closed the distance in an instant. Shirou barely had time to react, raising his twin swords to intercept the attack. The impact was bone-rattling, the sheer force of the werewolf's strike driving him back several steps.
"Stay behind me!" Shirou barked, his voice sharp but protective.
Valerie didn't argue. Instead, she began chanting softly, weaving her magic into the air around them. A faint glow emanated from her hands as she prepared a defensive spell.
The werewolf didn't give them any breathing room. It pressed the attack, swiping at Shirou with relentless ferocity. Shirou ducked under one strike and sidestepped another, his movements precise and calculated. He countered with a quick slash of Kanshou, aiming for the creature's side. The blade found its mark, cutting into the werewolf's flesh.
The beast howled in pain, but the sound was more enraged than wounded. Its yellow eyes burned with fury as it turned on Shirou, its claws lashing out in a vicious arc. Shirou blocked the attack with Bakuya, the force of the blow reverberating up his arm.
"This thing's strong," Shirou muttered under his breath, his gaze never leaving the werewolf.
"And fast," Valerie added, her voice tinged with unease.
The werewolf lunged again, its claws aiming for Shirou's chest. Shirou twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack, and countered with a slash from Bakuya. The blade grazed the werewolf's arm, drawing another shallow wound.
But the creature didn't falter. If anything, it seemed to grow more aggressive, its movements faster and more erratic. It lashed out with both claws, forcing Shirou to block with both swords. The impact sent him skidding back, his boots scraping against the blood-slick cobblestones.
As Shirou fought to keep the werewolf at bay, Valerie finished her incantation. A glowing sigil appeared beneath the werewolf's feet, pulsing with crimson light. The sigil erupted into chains of energy that wrapped around the creature's legs, momentarily immobilizing it.
"Shirou, now!" Valerie shouted.
Shirou didn't hesitate. He dashed forward, his blades flashing as he aimed for the werewolf's exposed side. Kanshou struck first, followed by Bakuya, each blade cutting deep into the beast's flesh. Blood sprayed from the wounds, staining the cobblestones beneath them.
The werewolf howled in fury, its muscles bulging as it tore free from the magical chains. It turned on Shirou, its claws slashing through the air with deadly precision. Shirou parried the first strike, sidestepped the second, and countered with a spinning slash that left another gash across the werewolf's chest.
But the wounds began to close almost instantly, the beast's regenerative abilities erasing any sign of injury.
"Great," Shirou muttered, his tone laced with frustration. "It heals faster than I can hurt it."
"I'll slow it down," Valerie said, her hands glowing as she began casting another spell.
The werewolf seemed to sense Valerie's intentions. It turned its attention to her, its glowing eyes narrowing as it crouched, preparing to pounce.
"Not a chance," Shirou growled, stepping between Valerie and the beast. He crossed Kanshou and Bakuya in front of him, bracing for the attack.
The werewolf lunged, its claws slamming into Shirou's blades with enough force to knock them from his hands. Shirou cursed under his breath, projecting a fresh pair of Kanshou and Bakuya with a flash of blue light. He raised the new blades just in time to block another strike, the force of the impact sending a jolt through his arms.
The creature pressed the attack, its movements a blur of speed and power. Shirou parried and dodged as best he could, but the werewolf's relentless assault was beginning to wear him down slightly. Its claws eventually manage to grazed his shoulder, tearing through his reinforced jacket and drawing a thin line of blood.
"Shirou!" Valerie called out, her voice tinged with concern.
"I'm fine," Shirou replied, his tone firm despite the sting of the wound. "Just keep doing what you're doing."
Valerie nodded, her hands glowing brighter as she cast another spell. A series of glowing glyphs appeared in the air around the werewolf, each one pulsing with energy. The glyphs released bolts of crimson light that struck the beast, staggering it and giving Shirou a moment to breathe.
Shirou took advantage of the opening, launching a counterattack with a flurry of strikes. Kanshou and Bakuya moved like extensions of his arms, each slash precise and deliberate. The blades cut into the werewolf's flesh, leaving deep gashes across its torso and arms.
But no matter how many wounds he inflicted, the creature's regeneration erased them almost as quickly as they appeared.
"This isn't working," Shirou muttered, his breathing heavy as he dodged another swipe from the werewolf's claws.
"We just need to hold out a little longer," Valerie said, her voice steady despite the tension in the air.
The werewolf snarled, its claws lashing out in a brutal arc. Shirou blocked the attack, but the force of the blow sent him stumbling back. The creature pressed the advantage, its movements a blur as it closed the distance.
Shirou raised his blades to defend, his focus unyielding. The fight was far from over, and he knew they couldn't afford to let their guard down.
The Lamia leader's enraged hiss echoed through the battlefield, reverberating off the stone walls of the courtyard. Her scaled tail lashed violently, leaving cracks in the ground as her glowing, slit-pupiled eyes scanned the scene. The once-dominant force of Lamias had been reduced to a handful of bloodied and bruised warriors, their weapons still clutched tightly despite their faltering morale.
"Don't let them win! Kill them!" the leader screamed, her voice filled with fury. Her command snapped the remaining Lamias out of their hesitation, and they surged forward, weapons raised and venomous fangs bared.
Kuroka, standing tall despite a gash on her shoulder, smirked as her golden eyes glimmered with amusement. "These snake girls just don't know when to quit," she said, her voice carrying a mixture of annoyance and thrill.
Millarca, beside her, remained calm, though her crimson eyes burned with intensity. Her porcelain skin was stained with blood—most of it not her own—as she adjusted her grip on her dagger. "Persistence can be admirable," she remarked coolly, "but it's going to get them killed."
Shirou raised his blades to defend, his focus unyielding. The fight was far from over, and he knew they couldn't afford to let their guard down.
The Lamias came in waves, their agility and coordination forcing Kuroka and Millarca to stay on the move. But Kuroka had no intention of fighting them head-on. Her fingers danced in intricate patterns, weaving illusions that shimmered into existence around her.
Suddenly, there were six Kurokas on the battlefield, each one moving in perfect sync. The Lamias hesitated, their predatory eyes narrowing as they tried to determine which one was real.
"Can't figure it out, can you?" Kuroka taunted, her voice seemingly coming from all directions.
One of the Lamias lunged at a clone, her curved blade slicing cleanly through the illusion. The image dissipated into smoke, leaving the attacker momentarily stunned.
The real Kuroka appeared behind her, a wicked grin on her face. "Wrong choice," she said, releasing a burst of energy that sent the Lamia sprawling across the ground.
Another Lamia attempted to flank her, but Kuroka was already anticipating the move. With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a glowing barrier that deflected the incoming strike. The force of the impact reverberated through the air, but Kuroka remained unfazed.
"You're going to have to try harder than that," she said, her tone dripping with mockery.
While Kuroka played a game of deception and misdirection, Millarca took a more direct approach. Her movements were swift and deliberate, her dagger flashing as she parried strikes and countered with brutal efficiency.
A Lamia lunged at her with a spear, the tip aimed directly for her heart. Millarca sidestepped at the last moment, grabbing the shaft of the spear and yanking it forward. The Lamia stumbled, and Millarca used the opportunity to deliver a sharp elbow to her attacker's jaw.
The sound of bone cracking was audible even amidst the chaos, and the Lamia crumpled to the ground. Millarca didn't hesitate. She flipped the spear in her hand and drove the butt of it into another Lamia's chest, sending her sprawling.
Another opponent tried to capitalize on her momentary distraction, swinging a curved blade toward her exposed back. But Millarca was faster. She twisted her body with inhuman grace, catching the blade with her dagger and locking the Lamia's weapon in place.
"You're predictable," Millarca said coldly, her strength overpowering the Lamia's. With a sharp twist, she disarmed her opponent and followed up with a devastating kick that sent the snake-like warrior flying.
The Lamias, however, weren't done yet. One of them reared back, her fangs dripping with a sickly green venom. With a guttural hiss, she spat a stream of venom toward Kuroka.
The sorceress narrowly dodged, the venom sizzling as it splattered against the ground where she had stood moments before. The acrid smell of burning stone filled the air, and Kuroka grimaced.
"Seriously?" she muttered, glancing at the corroded ground. "Acid spit? That's just nasty."
The Lamias began to shift their tactics, using their venom to control the battlefield. Streams of the corrosive liquid forced Kuroka and Millarca to reposition constantly, breaking up their rhythm.
One Lamia took advantage of the chaos, coiling her tail around Millarca's leg and yanking hard. Millarca stumbled, her balance momentarily compromised.
The Lamia hissed triumphantly, raising her blade for a finishing blow. But Millarca wasn't so easily defeated. She drove her dagger into the Lamia's tail, causing her to release her grip with a pained shriek. Millarca sprang to her feet, her crimson eyes blazing with fury.
"Big mistake," she said, delivering a brutal uppercut that sent the Lamia crashing to the ground.
Kuroka, meanwhile, had been studying the venom. She observed its color, its consistency, and how it reacted with the environment. Her sharp mind worked quickly, piecing together a countermeasure.
"Gotcha," she muttered under her breath, a triumphant smirk spreading across her face.
She began chanting, her voice low and melodic as dark purple energy swirled around her hands. The magic coalesced into an orb, which she hurled at one of the Lamias. The orb exploded on impact, releasing a mist that spread rapidly across the battlefield.
The Lamias began to cough and wheeze, their movements slowing as the mist sapped their strength. Most of them collapsed, their bodies immobilized by the potent magic. Only the leader remained unaffected, her powerful aura protecting her from the curse.
"Well, that takes care of the small fry," Kuroka said, dusting off her hands.
Millarca stepped forward, her dagger gleaming in the faint light. "That just leaves her," she said, nodding toward the Lamia leader.
The two women exchanged a glance and nodded. Without a word, they launched their attack, working in perfect harmony.
Kuroka distracted the leader with bursts of magic, forcing her to stay on the defensive, while Millarca darted in and out, landing precise strikes with her dagger. The Lamia leader fought back fiercely, her blade flashing as she countered their attacks.
But the combined efforts of Kuroka and Millarca were too much. With a coordinated strike, they disarmed the leader and brought her to her knees.
"Looks like this is the end for you," Kuroka said, her voice cold and commanding.
The Lamia leader glared up at them, defiance burning in her eyes.
"Wait," Millarca said, raising a hand. "We should bring her to Shirou. He'll want to interrogate her before we deal with the rest."
Kuroka considered this for a moment before nodding. "Fine. But if she tries anything, I'm finishing it."
"Be my guess. Well, I'm going to call Shirou and Valerie, and tell them to meet us here." After saying that, Millarca then took her phone and dialed Shirou's phone number.
With the leader subdued and the rest of the Lamias immobilized, the two women prepared to regroup with Shirou. The battlefield was theirs, but the fight had left them weary, and the night was far from over.
The werewolf crouched low, its glowing amber eyes fixed on Shirou and Valerie with an unsettling mix of fury and hunger. Its fur bristled, dark as midnight, and its blood-stained claws dug into the dirt. Despite the wounds Shirou had inflicted earlier, the creature stood tall, its rapid healing ability making a mockery of their efforts so far.
"This thing doesn't stay down," Valerie said, her voice tense but steady. Her hands were already weaving a complex pattern of magical sigils, glowing faintly in the dim moonlight. "We need to hit it harder, faster."
Shirou nodded, his twin swords, Kanshou and Bakuya, still held in a defensive stance. "I noticed," he muttered. His sharp eyes tracked the werewolf's every movement, waiting for it to make the first move.
The creature let out a guttural growl, its muscles coiling like springs. Without warning, it lunged, covering the distance between them in the blink of an eye.
Shirou reacted instantly, his blades crossing in front of him to block the incoming attack. The werewolf's claws clashed against the steel with a screeching sound, the sheer force of the blow sending vibrations up his arms. Shirou gritted his teeth and shoved back, creating just enough space to counter with a sharp slash aimed at the creature's midsection.
The werewolf twisted its body unnaturally, avoiding the blade by a hair's breadth. It retaliated with a sweeping claw strike, forcing Shirou to backpedal.
Meanwhile, Valerie was already at work. She slammed her palm into the ground, activating a series of glowing runes that spread outward like ripples in water. A burst of ethereal chains shot up from the earth, wrapping around the werewolf's legs and halting its movement.
"Now, Shirou!" Valerie shouted.
Seizing the opportunity, Shirou dashed forward, his blades gleaming under the moonlight. He aimed for the werewolf's exposed flank, delivering a powerful slash that tore through its fur and flesh. The creature howled in pain, the sound echoing through the night, but even as blood poured from the wound, it began to knit itself back together.
Shirou cursed under his breath, leaping back as the werewolf broke free of the chains with a violent jerk. "This isn't working," he said, his frustration evident.
Realizing that Kanshou and Bakuya weren't enough, Shirou dismissed the twin swords with a flick of his wrist. In their place, a yellow spear materialized in his hand. Its design was intricate, the shaft adorned with rose carvings that glowed faintly.
"Gáe Buidhe," Shirou said, his voice firm. "The Yellow Rose of Mortality."
Valerie's eyes widened as she sensed the strong curse from the weapon. "A cursed spear?" she asked, already piecing together his plan.
Shirou nodded, his gaze never leaving the werewolf. "It can inflict wounds that don't heal. If the Werewolf relies on fast regeneration, then this is our trump card."
The werewolf snarled, sensing the shift in the battle. It charged again, its claws tearing through the ground as it closed the distance.
Shirou stood his ground, the spear held at the ready. When the werewolf lunged, he sidestepped with practiced ease, spinning the spear in a wide arc. The blade bit into the creature's shoulder, cutting deep. The werewolf roared, the wound refusing to close as dark energy from the cursed weapon seeped into its flesh.
It turned, swiping at Shirou with its claws, but he ducked under the attack and thrust the spear forward. The blade pierced its side, driving in deep before Shirou pulled it free with a swift motion.
The werewolf staggered, blood dripping from its unhealing wounds. Its movements grew erratic, a mix of desperation and fury driving it to attack recklessly.
Valerie, not one to waste an opening, conjured another spell. This time, a shimmering barrier formed around the werewolf, momentarily trapping it. "Shirou, finish it!" she called out.
With a determined look, Shirou charged forward. The werewolf thrashed against the barrier, breaking free just as Shirou closed the distance. But it was too late for the beast to avoid the final strike.
The cursed spear plunged into its chest, the force of the blow sending the werewolf sprawling to the ground. It let out a guttural snarl, struggling to rise, but its injuries were too severe.
The werewolf's amber eyes flickered with something akin to fear as it realized it couldn't heal. With a pained growl, it pushed itself to its feet and began to retreat, limping away into the shadows of the town.
Shirou didn't give chase, his body tense as he watched the creature disappear into the night. He kept the spear at the ready, his sharp eyes scanning for any sign of an ambush.
Valerie let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her shoulders slumping slightly. "It's gone," she said, though her tone was cautious.
"For now," Shirou replied, dismissing the spear. He turned to Valerie, his expression softening. "You okay?"
She nodded, though her face was pale. "Just a little drained. You?"
"I'll manage," he said, rolling his shoulder.
As they began to catch their breath, Shirou's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen before answering. "Millarca?"
Her voice came through, slightly breathless but steady. "Shirou, how's it going on your end?"
"We had a run-in with a werewolf who were in the middle of killing several creatures that have the upper body of female human and lower body of a snake. We have to fight the Werewolf because it suddenly attacked us." Shirou said, his tone matter-of-fact. "It's injured and fled, but we're fine. What about you?"
Millarca's reply was immediate. "Kuroka and I just encountered some… interesting company. Snake women. Upper body human, lower body serpent. Same type like the one you describe as being killed by the Werewolf you encountered."
Shirou's brow furrowed. "You're sure?"
"Positive," Millarca said. "We managed to subdue the leader and her minions, but there's a lot we need to discuss. Can you and Valerie head to our location? Southern side of town, near the old cathedral."
Shirou exchanged a glance with Valerie, who nodded. "We're on our way," he said before ending the call.
He turned to Valerie, quickly summarizing what Millarca had told him. "Snake women and Werewolf," she repeated, frowning. "This is getting odd. Why are they in this town, so close to our hide out?"
"Let's move," Shirou said, already heading toward the southern side of Saint-Aubin. "The sooner we regroup, the sooner we get the answer."
Valerie followed, her steps steady despite her fatigue. The battle may have ended, but the night was far from over.
The southern part of Saint-Aubin was eerily quiet. Shirou and Valerie made their way cautiously through the deserted streets, their eyes sharp for any signs of danger. After the intense battle with the Werewolf, their nerves were still on edge, though the calmness of their expressions betrayed little of the tension they carried.
As they approached the designated meeting spot, Millarca and Kuroka came into view. Millarca waved at them with a mixture of relief and worry, her crimson eyes narrowing as she scanned them for injuries. "You two took your time," she said, her voice laced with concern. "Are you alright?"
Valerie nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "I'm fine. Just a bit tired," she replied. Her tone was steady, though the faint tremor in her voice hinted at the exhaustion creeping in.
Millarca's gaze shifted to Shirou, who stood a few paces behind Valerie. "And you? It looks like you were wounded earlier." Millarca commented as she points at the small tear on his jacket around his shoulder.
Shirou rolled his shoulder experimentally, as if to prove her concern was unnecessary. "I'm fine," he said simply. "It's healed."
Millarca tilted her head, scrutinizing him. She could see no sign of the deep gash he'd sustained earlier. "Completely healed, huh?" she muttered. "The Excalibur sheath is really is something else, isn't it?"
Shirou gave her a faint smile but said nothing more. Instead, his attention turned to the ten Lamias bound in makeshift restraints a few feet away. One, clearly the leader, glared at him with a mix of defiance and disdain, while the others avoided eye contact entirely, her expression a blend of fear and uncertainty.
Kuroka leaned casually against a wall of the old cathedral, her golden eyes gleaming with curiosity. "So, what's the plan, nya?" she asked, her tone teasing but with a hint of genuine interest.
"We interrogate them," Shirou replied, his voice firm. "But we do it without unnecessary cruelty."
Kuroka raised an eyebrow, a sly grin curling her lips. "You're no fun. A little curse magic could loosen their tongues real quick."
Shirou shook his head. "No torture. We don't need it."
"Tch. Suit yourself," Kuroka muttered, crossing her arms.
Shirou stepped forward, his eyes locking onto the Lamia leader's. "You're going to answer our questions, whether you like it or not," he said calmly. The leader sneered but said nothing.
Shirou sighed. "Fine. If you won't talk willingly…" He raised his hand, and golden light shimmered in the air. A moment later, a pair of intricately designed shackles materialized, glowing faintly with magical energy. He walked over to the leader and clasped the shackle around her neck.
"What the hell is that?" Kuroka asked, leaning forward to get a better look.
"It's a replica of a magical item I came across on a job a while back," Shirou explained, his tone casual. "It forces the wearer to tell the truth. Useful for situations like this."
The Lamia leader struggled against the shackle, but her movements stilled as the enchantment took hold. Shirou decided to test it. "Let's start simple. What are you?"
The leader's jaw clenched as she tried to resist, but the magic compelled her to answer. "I am a Lamia," she spat.
Satisfied, Shirou nodded. "Good. It works." He turned to his companions. "Now we can get some real answers."
Millarca crossed her arms, watching the exchange with interest. "Alright, then. Let's hear it."
Shirou's gaze returned to the leader. "Where are you from?"
The Lamia's expression darkened, but she answered. "We are from Greece. Exiles, cast out from our kind for being heretics."
Kuroka smirked. "Heretics, huh? What kind of heretics are we talking about?"
The leader's eyes burned with resentment. "We are part of the Gorynych Cult," she admitted.
Millarca's eyebrows shot up. "The Gorynych Cult? Never heard of it."
"It's an extremist faction most likely." Shirou explained. "And they're probably rejected by the main Lamia groups for being too radical." He leaned in closer to the leader. "Why are you here? Why Saint-Aubin?"
The Lamia hesitated, but the shackle forced her to speak. "Because this town is sacred ground. It is where our god, Zmey Gorynych, lies buried."
The revelation hit like a thunderclap. Valerie's eyes widened. "Zmey Gorynych? As in the three-headed dragon from Slavic mythology?"
The Lamia nodded reluctantly. "Yes. His body rests beneath this town. It is our holy duty to reclaim it and bring him back to life."
Millarca frowned. "And you think that makes this town your territory?"
"It is ours by divine right," the Lamia hissed. "This land belongs to Gorynych, and by extension, to us. You are trespassers here."
Shirou's expression hardened. "And what exactly are you planning to do?"
"To resurrect him," the Lamia replied, her voice trembling with both fear and reverence. "We have been preparing for years. Excavating his burial site. Performing the necessary rituals. Gathering power from the ley lines. Soon, he will rise again, and we will be unstoppable."
Shirou exchanged a glance with his companions. The weight of the situation was clear. If the Lamias succeeded, the consequences would be catastrophic.
"Why now?" Shirou pressed. "Why didn't you act sooner?"
"The balance of power has shifted," the Lamia admitted. "Disturbances in the ley lines. Supernatural conflicts weakening the barriers. The time is right."
Shirou stepped back, running a hand through his hair. This was worse than he'd anticipated. He turned to his companions. "We need to act fast. If they're this far along, we don't have much time to stop them."
Millarca nodded grimly. "Agreed. Let's figure out where this burial site is and put an end to this cult before it's too late."
Shirou looked back at the Lamia leader. "You're going to tell us everything we need to know. Starting with the exact location of Gorynych's remains."
The Lamia glared at him but said nothing, the tension in the air palpable. Shirou's resolve, however, was unwavering.
Shirou tightened his grip on the mystic code shackles, watching as the Lamia leader writhed uncomfortably under its influence. The faint blue glow of the shackles illuminated her pale, scaled skin, reflecting her struggle against the magic's effect. His eyes narrowed, his patience thinning.
"You've got nowhere to run," he said firmly, his voice calm but edged with steel. "The sooner you answer, the sooner this ends for you. Where are the remains of Zmey Gorynych?"
The Lamia leader glared at him, her reptilian pupils narrowing into slits. Her lips quivered as if trying to resist, but the shackles pulsed again, sending a ripple of magical compulsion through her body. A strained hiss escaped her mouth before she spoke in a raspy, broken tone.
"Beneath the shadow… where the twin rivers converge… and the dragon's fire once scorched the earth."
Her cryptic answer hung in the air like an ominous echo, puzzling Shirou and his companions. Shirou frowned, tilting his head slightly. "What the hell does that mean?" he demanded, stepping closer. "Speak clearly. Where exactly are his remains?"
The Lamia leader's lips curled into a sinister smirk, her sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. Her golden eyes glowed faintly, sending a shiver down Valerie's spine. Before Shirou could press further, a sudden surge of energy radiated from the Lamia leader. Her body began to glow faintly red, and the air around her grew thick with the scent of iron.
"Wait—" Shirou began, but before he could react, the Lamia leader exploded in a violent burst of blood.
The sound was deafening—a wet, grotesque pop that sent a wave of crimson spraying over everyone in the vicinity. The other captive Lamias followed suit, their bodies detonating in a synchronized eruption of blood and viscera. Shirou instinctively threw up his arms to shield his face, but it was too late. Warm blood drenched him, dripping from his hair and coat.
The aftermath was eerily silent, save for the sound of dripping liquid. Millarca wiped a splatter of blood from her cheek with a finger, staring at it in mild disgust. Valerie stood frozen, trembling as she stared at the crimson-stained ground where the Lamias had once been.
"What the hell just happened?" Shirou muttered, his voice sharp with disbelief. He glanced at the empty space where the Lamias had been restrained, now reduced to nothing more than puddles of blood and scattered bits of flesh.
Kuroka grimaced, shaking her hands to fling off some of the blood coating her claws. "Tch. Looks like they performed some kind of self-destruct spell," she said bitterly. "Probably a failsafe to prevent them from spilling any more secrets about their cult."
"Great," Shirou said, running a hand through his blood-soaked hair in frustration. "Just what we needed—more mysteries and less answers."
Kuroka hissed in annoyance as she examined the state of her kimono, now stained with streaks of deep red. "And look at this mess! My favorite kimono, ruined! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get bloodstains out of silk? This is going to take forever to clean!"
Shirou raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sure Valerie would be happy to help. Isn't that right, Valerie?"
Valerie, still visibly shaken, flinched at the mention of her name. She looked at Kuroka and managed a weak smile, her voice trembling. "I-I don't mind…"
Kuroka smirked, clearly amused. "Good girl. I'll hold you to that."
Meanwhile, Millarca dipped a finger into the blood splattered on her arm and brought it to her lips, tasting it with a thoughtful expression. She frowned slightly. "Not bad, but human blood tastes better."
Shirou shot her a deadpan look, wiping blood off his face with his sleeve. "Millarca, I swear, if you start turning random people into vampires just to satisfy your cravings…"
Millarca grinned mischievously, leaning toward him. "Oh, I wouldn't do that, Shirou. Not if you'd be so kind as to let me have a taste instead."
Shirou blushed, taking a step back. "Not happening. I have no intention of turning into a vampire, thank you very much. Besides," he added, pointing a finger at her, "I've got plenty of blood transfusion packs stocked at the Rook for you and Valerie. Use those."
Millarca sighed dramatically, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. "You're no fun."
"Yeah, yeah," Shirou muttered, shaking his head. "Speaking of the Rook, we're done here. There's nothing left for us in Saint-Aubin."
Kuroka nodded, already beginning to trace a glowing circle in the air with her finger. "Finally. Let's get out of this blood-soaked dump."
With a flick of her wrist, the teleportation spell activated, surrounding the group in a soft, shimmering light. Moments later, they vanished from the streets of Saint-Aubin, leaving behind the gruesome remnants of the Lamias and the haunting mystery of Zmey Gorynych's cryptic burial site.
Flat Escardos stepped out of the airport and into the cool evening air of a bustling Bulgarian city. He paused, taking a deep breath and stretching his arms wide, his duffle bag slung lazily over one shoulder. The faint scent of roasted chestnuts mixed with the smoky tang of grilled meats wafted through the air, making his stomach growl. He smiled to himself, taking in the sight of the vibrant city around him.
"This place is... lovely," Flat murmured, his voice carrying a note of genuine admiration.
The city's nightlife was in full swing. Strings of warm, glowing lights crisscrossed between old stone buildings, illuminating narrow streets filled with people. Vendors lined the sidewalks, their stalls bursting with colorful wares—everything from handwoven scarves to intricate jewelry and steaming plates of local cuisine. Musicians played lively tunes on street corners, their melodies blending harmoniously with the chatter of locals and tourists alike.
Flat wandered aimlessly for a while, letting the energy of the city guide his steps. He stopped at a small food stall and bought a skewer of grilled meat, savoring the smoky, spiced flavor as he strolled along the cobblestone streets. He couldn't resist picking up a small trinket—a carved wooden pendant shaped like a wolf's head—from a cheerful vendor who insisted it was a charm for good luck.
"This might come in handy," Flat mused, tucking the pendant into his pocket.
After an hour or so of soaking in the atmosphere, Flat decided it was time to settle in for the night. He found a modest motel not far from the city center, its neon sign flickering faintly against the darkening sky. The receptionist greeted him with a warm smile, and before long, he was unlocking the door to a small but cozy room.
Inside, the room was simple but clean. A single bed with a thick, quilted blanket sat against one wall, a small desk and chair against another. The window overlooked a quiet street, where the glow of streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement. Flat tossed his bag onto the bed and sat down at the desk, pulling out a rolled-up map from his bag.
He spread the map out on the desk, smoothing the creases with his hands. It was a detailed map of Bulgaria, marked with various cities, towns, and landmarks. He pulled out a notebook filled with hastily scribbled notes from the Clock Tower meeting earlier that day.
"Let's see," he muttered, flipping through the pages. "The werewolf sightings... small town... urban area... about thirty kilometers from a hill..."
His finger traced the map, scanning for a location that matched the description. After a few minutes, his eyes landed on a small town labeled Saint-Aubin. It was tucked away near a forested area, with a hill rising prominently to the north.
"Gotcha," Flat said, tapping the map triumphantly. "Saint-Aubin it is."
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the map thoughtfully. The werewolf's last sighting was intriguing enough, but Flat couldn't help but wonder what else might be happening in Saint-Aubin. If the Clock Tower professors were right, this wasn't just any ordinary werewolf. And if it had been spotted there, something big might be brewing.
Curiosity got the better of him. Instead of waiting until morning to investigate further, Flat decided to take a sneak peek at the town using a bit of magic. He grabbed a bottle of water from his bag and headed to the bathroom.
The bathroom was small, with white tiles and a slightly cracked mirror above the sink. Flat filled the sink with water, watching as the rippling surface stilled into a glassy calm. He held his hands over the water, his circuits flaring faintly as he chanted a modified spell under his breath.
"Spatial observation formula... tweak the coordinates... and there!"
The water shimmered, and the reflection shifted, showing an image of a quiet town under the cover of night. Flat grinned. "Let's see what's going on in Saint-Aubin."
He directed the spell to focus on the southern part of the town first. The image in the water shifted, revealing a chaotic scene. A figure with black cat ears and a long tail—Flat immediately recognized her as a Nekoshou—was locked in fierce combat with a group of snake-like women.
"Lamia," Flat muttered, his grin widening. "Well, this is already interesting."
He watched the battle unfold for a few moments, marveling at the Nekoshou's agility and power. The way she moved was mesmerizing, each strike precise and devastating. Beside her, a silver-haired vampire fought with equal ferocity, her movements graceful and calculated.
"Okay, that's enough for now," Flat said, shifting his focus to the northern part of the town.
The water shimmered again, showing a different scene. This time, it was a lone werewolf, its massive form illuminated by the moonlight. It was locked in combat with two figures—a blonde-haired vampire and a young man with short, messy red hair.
Flat's breath caught. He leaned closer to the sink, his eyes narrowing as he studied the young man's face. "No way," he whispered. "It's him."
He recognized the young man immediately. It was the same participant he had faced in the final round of the Fem's Casa tournament a month ago. The sight of him wielding a yellow spear, striking the werewolf with pinpoint accuracy, was enough to send a thrill of excitement through Flat.
"Well, isn't this fascinating," Flat said, a wide grin spreading across his face.
He watched as the werewolf fled into the darkness, its howls echoing through the night. The young man and his companion stood in the aftermath, their faces illuminated by the faint glow of moonlight.
Flat deactivated the spell, the image in the water fading back to a simple reflection. He drained the sink and dried his hands, his mind racing with possibilities.
"Looks like I'll be heading to Saint-Aubin first thing tomorrow morning," he said to himself, already planning his next move. "And I'll definitely need to find that guy again. This is going to be fun."
With that, Flat climbed into bed, his thoughts buzzing with excitement. The hunt had officially begun.
A/N: Hello readers! Happy Holiday! I intend to upload this chapter during Xmas, unfortunately I wasn't able to finish it on time because I'm facing a writer block a few Times while writing the fight scene. But, I'm glad I can finally finish it. Hope this chapter Will be entertaining enough to read.
Anyway, that's all for now. Please leave me some reviews and happy holiday everyone!