Vampire Master - English Version

The Savior in the Dusk

After returning the books to the library, I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped outside. The late afternoon sun painted the campus in warm, golden hues, casting long, lazy shadows on the pavement. The air had that familiar mix of freshness and heat, the kind that always followed a long day of classes and drills. My muscles were still buzzing from volleyball practice earlier, a pleasant ache that reminded me of how much I pushed myself on the court.

The faint hum of distant chatter and the occasional screech of tricycle brakes drifted through the air, but the campus itself was mostly quiet now. Students were heading home, and a soft stillness began to settle over the place. I adjusted the straps of my bag, letting the rhythm of my footsteps match the calm beat of the afternoon.

"Hmmm... I should take the shortcut," I murmured, my gaze shifting toward the narrow, less-traveled path to the left of the campus.

The shortcut wasn't popular. Hardly anyone used it, and my dad had warned me countless times to avoid it. "Ella, don't take that route," he would say, his voice laced with unease. "People have gone missing there."

I always nodded and promised to stay away, but curiosity and convenience often got the better of me. The rumors about the path were strange. It was just a straight road, flanked by tall walls covered in graffiti. There were no hidden turns, no dense trees to obscure the view—nothing that screamed danger. Yet the stories persisted.

Despite his warnings, I'd taken the shortcut plenty of times, especially on days like this. The other end led directly to the edge of our subdivision, and I liked the solitude it offered. It was a reprieve from the noisy streets, a quiet space where I could think or hum my favorite tunes without distraction.

As I stepped onto the gravel path, a cool breeze brushed against my skin, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth and sunbaked stone. The rhythmic crunch of my sneakers against the gravel echoed softly, mingling with the distant chirping of birds. I adjusted my bag again, humming to myself to fill the silence.

The graffiti on the walls caught my eye. Swirls of color and bold, uneven letters were scrawled across the stone, remnants of fleeting visits from others who had dared to take this route. I traced my fingers along the rough texture of the wall as I walked, my thoughts wandering.

Then, it happened—a sudden, prickling sensation at the back of my neck.

I froze mid-step, the hum dying on my lips. The path was still and silent, but the uneasy feeling lingered. Slowly, I turned, scanning the way I had come.

Nothing.

Letting out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, I shook my head. "Get a grip, Ella," I muttered, trying to laugh at myself. Still, I quickened my pace, the light-hearted mood from earlier slipping away.

But then I heard it: footsteps.

At first, they were faint, blending almost seamlessly with the echo of my own steps. But as I walked, they grew louder, heavier. My pulse quickened, a cold knot of fear forming in my chest. I stopped abruptly and spun around.

This time, I wasn't alone.

A man stood about ten paces behind me. His shadow stretched long against the wall, dark and imposing. He was tall, his broad shoulders filling the narrow space. Dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, camouflage shorts, and black running shoes, he looked ordinary enough. Yet, there was something about him—something in the way he held himself—that sent an icy chill down my spine.

I forced myself to stay calm, to keep walking as though nothing was wrong. My heart hammered in my chest, but I refused to let the fear show on my face.

Then, before I could react, he was in front of me.

I stumbled back, my breath catching in my throat. There was no mistaking it—no human could move that fast.

"Hi, Miss Beautiful," he said, his voice laced with mockery. A sinister smirk curled his lips, and his eyes gleamed with something dark, something dangerous.

"What do you want?" I demanded, my voice trembling despite my effort to sound strong.

He tilted his head, reaching into a small belt bag at his waist. When his hand emerged, it held a syringe. The sight of it made my stomach drop.

"W-What are you planning to do with that?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"Oh, don't worry," he sneered, taking a step closer. "It'll just feel like a little ant bite."

That was all I needed to hear.

I bolted. My legs, honed by years of volleyball drills, carried me faster than most people could hope to run. The gravel scattered under my feet as I sprinted forward, every muscle in my body screaming to escape.

But it wasn't enough.

He was there again, blocking my path. His smirk widened, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.

I turned to flee in the opposite direction, but his hand shot out, grabbing my arm and yanking me back with a force that knocked the air from my lungs.

"Stay still," he hissed, his grip like iron.

"Let me go!" I screamed, thrashing against him with everything I had. But his strength was overwhelming, unyielding. The sharp tip of the syringe inched closer to my arm, and tears blurred my vision.

Then, a deafening crash shattered the moment.

The man's grip vanished, and I fell backward, landing hard on the gravel. Dazed, I blinked through the shock, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

He was gone—no, not gone. He was flying through the air, slamming into the wall with enough force to crack the bricks.

Before I could process it, strong arms encircled me, lifting me effortlessly from the ground. My head spun as I looked up into the face of my savior.

He was tall, his presence commanding. His features were sharp and striking, his piercing eyes glowing faintly with an intensity that seemed to cut through the fading light. His touch was firm yet gentle, his cool skin a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from him.

"Who... who are you?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he loosened his hold slightly, allowing me to stand. But as soon as his arms left me, my knees buckled, and I fell against him again.

"You're not okay," he said softly, his voice steady and calm, yet laced with concern.

I tried to speak, but the adrenaline and fear had drained every ounce of strength from my body. My vision blurred, the world tilting around me.

"Ella," he said, his voice the last thing I heard before everything faded to black.