Vampire Queen and Her Four Mates

"Ha! I've always despised this woman, and now I can finally confront her openly!" Echo covered her lips with a sly grin, a chilling laugh escaping her.

She and Elena were sworn enemies.

Why? Because Vincus had rejected her and chosen to be engaged to Elena instead!

"Don't celebrate too early," Morgar sneered, issuing a warning, "Be cautious. Lunar Dawn is no small threat."

"Do I need your concern?" Echo retorted with biting sarcasm. She cracked her whip, which stirred up a fierce gust of wind that lashed out at Elena in an instant.

The whip was laced with a special powder designed to kill members of the Vampire Clan. Even the slightest touch would cause lower-ranked vampires to dissolve into white smoke on the spot.

"Damn it!" Elena cursed under her breath, darting across the rooftop in a frantic escape.

She couldn't overuse her silver eyes now. Excessive strain could lead to blindness—a risk she couldn't afford.

Cyril leaped onto the roof, positioning himself directly in front of Elena.

He held a Silver Radiance Umbrella, his black cloak billowing around him, exuding an air of ancient mystery.

His light brown eyes carried a frosty glint as they locked onto Elena. His voice, cold and detached like a frozen mountain stream, pierced the tension:

"Elena, come back with me."

Elena dodged another strike from Echo's whip.

Without pausing, she responded icily, "Go back with you to die?"

"I will protect you," Cyril replied, his pale lips tightening as his deep, ocean-like gaze remained unwavering.

For centuries, he had wanted to say those words. For centuries, he had held them back.

"Too bad I'm not interested. If you want me gone, you'll have to kill me." Elena's lips curled into a cold smirk, a ruthless determination flashing in her eyes.

Her lithe figure brushed past Cyril, leaving behind a sharp gust of wind.

Ever since the Vampire Clan began hunting her, she had stopped trusting anyone.

"How enviable, such devotion. Cyril, I knew you'd soften up. Good thing I have no heart and no feelings!"

Zethar appeared behind Cyril suddenly, his voice dripping with mockery. He twisted his neck as though trying to tie it into a knot.

Cyril cast him a frosty glance, his tone like the bite of winter:

"I won't kill her, nor will I stop you. But the payment is mine to share."

Zethar gave him a twisted grin and a thumbs-up. "Brilliant. Simply brilliant."

Cyril withdrew his gaze, his expression indifferent, his eyes an abyss of cold detachment.

If Elena couldn't evade Zethar and Echo's attacks, how could she ever hope to return to the Vampire Clan?

Zethar's weapons were twin iron hooks, also coated with the deadly powder.

Like Echo, his mission in the mortal realm was clear: capture Elena, no mercy.

With a sharp whoosh, the heavy iron hooks flew toward Elena, slicing through the air with a menacing howl.

Mid-air, Elena twisted her body and stepped on the rooftop tiles, flipping backward to dodge the attack.

But before she could land, Echo's whip lashed out again.

Simultaneously, five other attackers rejoined the fray, leaping and pursuing Elena relentlessly.

In an instant, she went from fighting six to battling seven.

The single additional opponent significantly tipped the balance, forcing her onto the defensive.

Cyril stood on the rooftop, umbrella in hand, still not intervening.

Yet his gaze never left Elena for even a moment.

Before long, Elena spotted a gap and delivered a rare Lunar Dawn strike to two of her attackers.

The pair screamed as they fell to the ground, their bodies half-burned and writhing in agony.

Morgar glanced at the injured duo, then addressed Echo and Zethar with a cold voice:

"The Lord is injured, and Lunar Dawn's power has been halved. You can rest assured."

"Haha! Fortune favors me!" Echo laughed maniacally, attacking Elena with renewed fervor. Her madness was palpable.

Zethar paused to glance at Cyril before twirling his hooks again. Each strike was precise, ruthless, and unrelenting.

The battle grew ever more intense, the tension escalating with every moment.

The Vampire Clan pressed closer, leaving Elena no room to breathe.

She darted and dodged, fighting when possible, fleeing when necessary—desperately trying to buy herself time.

It wasn't that she couldn't fight; she simply couldn't afford to.

This battle was merely the prelude. When the human hunters arrived en masse, she would need every ounce of strength to escape.

This was a high-stakes game, and she had to win.

Crack!

A moment's distraction cost her dearly—Echo's whip struck her wrist.

White smoke rose from her skin, revealing a palm-sized wound that exposed blackened bone beneath.

The pain was excruciating, enough to make her curse aloud.

The wind stirred gently across the rooftop.

Cyril's silhouette swayed faintly, his black cloak rippling like liquid shadows, painting mesmerizing ripples in the air.

Zethar craned his neck like a gloating crow and cackled, his voice carrying a mocking edge:

"Look! Cyril's heart is aching—aching for her!"

"Shut up, you cursed fool." Cyril's face darkened as he flicked his sleeve, scattering a fine white powder in Zethar's direction.

"Consider it hush money."

Zethar pinched his nose shut and muttered through muffled grunts. He hated Cyril's silencing powder—it was the reason his voice had become raspy and aged.

Morgar, watching the absurd exchange, took a deep breath.

Unable to contain his anger any longer, he commanded the Vampire Clan, "Attack!"

The lower-ranked vampires, drunk on blood, responded to the order like intoxicated men to chaos.

They leapt into the fray, swarming Elena with reckless abandon.

Morgar himself joined the battle, knowing that victory here would bring him wealth, power, or both.

Dozens of vampires lunged at Elena, their attacks relentless.

Standing on the rooftop, Elena clenched her jaw and glared with glowing silver eyes that burned like radiant stars.

She looked like a cornered beast, fighting in the darkness.

But then—Jingle, jingle!

Above the battlefield, a silver net descended from the sky, its delicate chime heralding its arrival. It shimmered with an otherworldly glow, laden with a special powder crafted to counter vampires.

The net, a deadly tool for entrapment in large-scale battles, closed in swiftly.

At the same time, a flying skillet struck a vampire mid-attack. The creature didn't even have time to bite before dissolving into smoke.

"Aaargh!"

The vampires caught in the silver net screamed as their bodies erupted into black smoke.

Amid the silver radiance, they fell like rain, writhing and howling in agony.