In that arena, there had been forty-eight at the start.
Forty-eight champions, among whom the twelve chosen by the gods were present, gathered before the eyes of the world, filled with glory, hope, and power. Forty-eight stories. Forty-eight reasons to believe we were about to accomplish something greater than ourselves. That our battle, however bloody, would still carry meaning.
But that illusion had already begun to crack.
And now… there were only forty-seven of us.
Just one body less.
But the silence it had left behind still echoed in the bones of the arena.
Tension was at its peak.
Not just in the eyes. But in the air. In the stone. In the barely raised weapons, ready to strike. In the spells that trembled at the tips of fingers. In the legs that had not yet run, but were already searching for where to flee.
And at the center…
At the center, there was this thing.
Not a figure. Not an ally. Not a name.
A beast.
The vampire.
