Kleir came to a standstill, his gaze fixed on the huge figure in front of him—a colossal minotaur that stood like a behemoth in the way, oozing horror and primaeval might.

Its gigantic shape towered over Kleir, reaching nearly double the height of a normal minotaur.

Sinewy muscles protruded from beneath its thick, matted fur, pulsing with primal power.

Jagged horns grew out from its forehead, viciously pointed and sickening in colour. Its eyes were a fierce crimson glare, the epitome of rage and ferocity.

Deep within its throat, a guttural growl rumbled, and drool flowed from its wide maw, producing a terrifying spectacle.

The minotaur's face twisted into a horrific grimace, revealing razor-sharp teeth, each tooth gleaming with malevolence.

Its breaths were loud, rumbling snarls that echoed across the air like a frightening battle cry.

"Mooo..." The sound emitted by it was more than just a bellow. It was a gut-wrenching shout, a primordial proclamation of supremacy and uncompromising wrath.

This minotaur was unlike any he'd seen before, a horrible deformation of the species.

Something feels different about this monster.

Sure, Colossal minotaurs are very huge and scary but this one looked too different from that of normal ones.

But to be honest, I am feeling weird right now.

The monster in front of me, it was not something I had ever seen in my past life. It is so gruesome, that it can be the main villain of some super scary movie.

Yet, what are these sensations? I am not scared but it is as if…

Kleir's mouth contorted into a nasty grin, his eyes shining with cruel delight. His cheeks turned a deep scarlet, indicating that his vampiric instincts had awakened.

A primitive need consumed him from within, dripping saliva from his fangs.

"What a day... What a delightful day! Finally, some insect who can face me!" he said, his voice full of venom.

Each remark slithered from his mouth, loaded with malicious delight that sent shivers down all who heard it.

His excitement rose as he peered at the gigantic minotaur.

I'm quite excited...

My heart is racing so quickly.

It's as though my mind is telling me to kill the creature in the most heinous way conceivable.

"Oh, how long has it been since I last savoured the blood!" he mused, savouring the darkness that engulfed his thoughts.

Kleir's reaction to the Colossal Minotaur was a warped combination of amusement and pride.

His instincts surged as he accepted his vampiric nature, becoming stronger with each passing instant.

Vampires, beings of grandeur and vanity, saw all other beings as insignificant insects. The recent human incident has had little effect on their arrogant demeanour.

However, due to the lack of human blood, their formerly tremendous powers gradually diminished.

To compensate, they drank monster blood, a poor alternative that did not supply the same nourishment as the red elixir that flowed through human veins.

Despite this, their ravenous hunger for the crucial fluid remained unsatisfied.

A wicked determination sparked in Kleir's eyes as the minotaur charged towards him, its thunderous footsteps ringing across the air.

He unsheathed his rapier with deft precision, showing the illustrious crest of the Brume household, a mark of their great lineage—the symbol of roses with wings gracing its hilt.

The blade itself, made from the rare metal platonia, shone with a razor-sharp edge, ready to taste its enemies' blood.

Kleir took a composed and confident position in the face of oncoming peril, his body language projecting a terrifying tranquilly.

His fingertips caressed the cool metal with a familiar intimacy as he strengthened his grip on the rapier.

A wicked grin flickered across his lips, expressing his joy at the impending battle with the minotaur.

Kleir's voice dripped with diabolical joy as he let out a loud battle cry that echoed across the battlefield.

"Entertain me, you vile creature!"

His comments, an insult targeted at the horrible creature, contained a dark sense of humour.

As the colossal minotaur closed in, its massive claws slashing through the air with deadly intent, Kleir's agility became a sight to behold.

He escaped each attack with beauty, his motions a dance of grace and amusement. With each missing attack, the monster's rage grew stronger, further adding to Kleir's delight.

"What? Is that all you've got? You're disappointingly weak!" Kleir taunted, his words mocking, inciting the minotaur's rage.

Enraged, the monster let forth a tremendous growl that rang throughout the forest, making the animals around it panic and flee in terror.

Kleir, on the other hand, remained unaffected, his eyes shining with sadistic pleasure as he loved the mounting struggle.

Suddenly, to Kleir's surprise and amusement, the minotaur summoned a fireball, conjuring magic with its massive, hulking form.

Kleir was piqued by this unexpected performance, his thoughts racing with questions.

"A physical beast that uses magic? How intriguing!" he thought, his mind racing with excitement. "Well, then, let's see what you're capable of!"

The minotaur flung the burning projectile with incredible force at Kleir. But the vampire stood still, his expression immovable.

In a moment, he brought his sword up to his face, blade raised high, tip pointing skyward.

As the fireball hurtled towards him, Kleir's voice resounded through the forest, his words carrying a mysterious power. "Eyes of the Xaphier, awaken and defend!"

Kleir was surrounded by an ethereal shield of complex blue designs. The fireball ricocheted back against the shield, racing towards the minotaur with double the force.

As the flame impacted it, searing its huge form, the monster let out a piercing howl of anguish.

Undaunted, it persisted in its assault, releasing a barrage of fire-based spells—fire arrows, hellwaves—to no avail.

Each attack was rendered ineffective upon contact with Kleir's shield, leaving him unharmed.

"Boring," Kleir mumbled, his voice tinged with disappointment.

Kleir's grin changed from amusement to superiority as the minotaur panted, its stamina dwindling.

He slashed through the air with precision and delicacy, swinging his rapier in a triangle pattern.

He then took a distinctive stance known as "stesso tempo," an antique fencing style, with his back straight and one gracefully curled hand behind his back.

With a cheerful yet haughty tone, he declared, his voice echoing with confidence, "Behold! Witness pure magic in all its splendour! Such displays are rare and fleeting, a sight not to be taken for granted!"

"Blood of the roses that shine at night, pierce the foe and savour its nectar!" chanted Kleir, his voice vibrating with terrible force.

As he said his magical words, a giant red sphere engulfed the scene, engulfing both Kleir and the surrounding forest.

The formerly tranquil surroundings have now been converted into a crimson nightmare, a disaster scene.

The minotaur's basic instincts shouted for it to leave, but its trembling legs revealed its terror and kept it fixed to the spot.

Kleir opened his eyes, and his crimson gaze became even more intense, the darkness within enhanced by the already crimson atmosphere.

Kleir's lips curved into a vicious smile as he declared, his voice dripping with sadistic enjoyment, "Perish!"

Hundreds of tall roots, studded with razor-sharp thorns, erupted forth from the earth with an explosive burst of force.

Panicky, the minotaur eventually got its footing and bolted, drops of sweat mixed with its terrified expression.

The thorns followed the monster like vipers, their lethal tips closing in with deadly precision.

Before the minotaur realised what was happening, the thorns stabbed its body from every angle, raising it off the ground.

As one thorn penetrated its brain, another pierced its heart, and countless others damaged its once mighty physique, blood poured like a horrible fountain.

Kleir took a step forward, a nasty sparkle in his eyes, loving the horrible scene in front of him.

"Kekeke! That is the cost of daring to oppose a noble vampire!" His malicious laughter resonated through the woodland like a chilling triumphant symphony.

The red sphere faded after a few moments, releasing its grip on the ground.

The roots retracted and went into the ground, leaving a ghastly beauty in their wake. Glowing red flowers fell from the sky, a frightening aftereffect of the terrible ability.

The talent Kleir had wielded was "Bed of the Roses," the fifth most lethal in his bloodline.

It was a family legacy, a horrific expression of beauty and terror intertwined.

***

The flickering candlelight danced across the aged wooden walls of the hut, throwing long shadows.

Two people sat across from each other, their brows furrowed in thought. The expectation and weight of their words filled the air.

The wooden door of the cabin burst open with a strong thud, shattering the tranquilly of the moment, in the midst of their serious discourse.

A man staggered in, his face pallid and his eyes wide with dread. Sweat beads dripped down his brow, glittering in the faint light.

"It... Is dead... Boss!" he stammered, his voice trembling with fear and disbelief.