We climbed the stairs as fast as our feet could carry us, and our group is not as numerous as it once was. Since Elise split off to save her half-sister Maria, we've taken more casualties than before - her extensive combat experience really shows when she's not around. As if that weren't enough, we've split into three factions. One, led by Tiberius Blackthorn, is attempting to continue the main assault against Dracula; another, led by Van Helsing, is attempting to find the Belmont heir; and a third, led by my father and Sakura, is attempting to locate our sisters. The werewolves are divided into equal parts, each trying to fulfill his team's mission.

  This horrible Halloween night has been nothing but one problem after another - none of which is what I expected from tonight's battle. Instead of a heroic frontal assault, with a slow but steady advance against the enemies of humanity, I found scattered troops trying to give orders and organize themselves. Instead of unity in our army, I am faced with selfish individuals looking out for their own interests. We are giving the Dark Lord the advantage because we are not strong and determined enough.

  But how can I blame others for what I am doing? I am following my father's orders to save my sister as well - the first daughter, the true heir to the responsibility of our house.

  But what surprised me most wasn't the palpable fear in the air, but my father's behavior. Far from the cold, calculating strategist I had always seen in him, sweat and tears now appeared on his face as he desperately searched for Ivania at every door he turned, his voice repeating the same name over and over again, drawing the attention of enemies we could have easily avoided. His fear for his daughter is obvious, there's no doubt about that, but he never once looked at me during all that time. At first I thought it was because he was afraid - understandable, after all - but after the third time those damned gargoyles ambushed me, I haven't even seen him pause to check on my condition after the battle. He's always on the move, looking for Ivania. Is she really so important? More than me, who is right here at his side at this very moment?

  I’m getting distracted—the important thing is here, now, and the mission.

  More stairs - what a nuisance. It's impossible to go more than five meters in this damned place without encountering either an up or down staircase somewhere. I'm already tired of them; my father didn't even look around before he started climbing. I have no choice but to follow him if I don't want to be left behind. I put my foot on the first step, then I slide and wave my body to move forward, and instead I only see the ground rapidly approaching my face.

  *BAM!*

  Huh?

  Did I trip?

  I was just climbing a staircase, nothing more - it wasn't that difficult, I've done it thousands of times, I just have to... ......

  But my mind was extremely confused. There were stairs in front of me - I knew how to use them, I knew what to do, and yet I felt strange and lost. It was as if I suddenly tried to pay attention to how I was holding a spoon while eating, and suddenly the way I was doing it made no sense to me. My own body was doubting the right way to climb stairs. Is my mind really so excited that it forgets something so simple at such a crucial moment? I cannot afford to hesitate now; I must get up and continue.

  One of the werewolves stops and offers me a hand to lean on so I can continue my march - one step, then another, the next follows; I have to be extra careful to climb each step of what I was doing before. It's difficult, but I can't let something so stupid affect the team, so it's better to keep it to myself and not let anyone notice.

  It was clear that something was wrong. The stairs seemed to never end, and yet my father continued to climb at a frantic pace, not caring if I followed him or not. I was struggling to keep up; my legs felt as if they had been stretched to the limit.

  My father's distress was nothing new, but the way he had ignored me - not even glancing in my direction - had made me question something inside of me since my stumble on the stairs. Something just didn't fit with who I was; why was I so worried about all this? What was the point of all this effort? Why bother when it was clear that my sister was more important? But those thoughts couldn't be mine - I was the fourth daughter of the Lecarde household, and commitment and duty are the very reasons I exist, to defeat the evil of the inhuman is the sole purpose of my existence. To deny my mission was to deny myself, yet these thoughts kept flooding my mind.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  What did the others have that I didn't?

  Because they were all different from me, so preoccupied with a group, with their numbers? wouldn't it be better if everyone just saw things from their own perspective? It is all so inefficient.

  I only have myself to look after; everyone else is either my enemy or my prey.

  But such thoughts are not worthy of a monster hunter like me.

  .......

  Hell, my head.

  Is this some strange attack from that mage Cornelius? Is this the effect of a disorientation spell?

  I can't let it get to me, I have to concentrate on my mission. Everything else can be dealt with after today's crisis, when things have calmed down, far away from the battle.

  The group arrived at a large door with intricate details of dragons carved from golden metals, jade carvings, and neon crystals. A door this opulent and ominous could only mean that something important lay behind it. We all looked at each other, silently wondering if we were ready, but it was Sakura who made the strong decision to carry the weight of the decision.

  It is a deformed shrine, a cathedral for something that should never have been worshipped. A strange and cruel being, selfish as it is strong, blind in its ambition. The floor was black marble, cracked as if the stone itself had tried to escape this place. A thick, dark liquid bubbled between the cracks, emitting strange fumes that curled around my ankles. Each step I took echoed with a muffled sound, as if I were walking on something alive, this strange thing. The columns that supported the vault were carved with twisted human forms, their mouths open in an eternal cry of supplication or ecstasy. In the corners of the room, crystal bowls held a liquid that was neither fire nor water, but a viscous, translucent thing pulsing with its own pale blue glow. It did not reflect off the walls or the floor. It gave off no heat. It just existed, pulsing like the inside of a sleeping creature, casting shadows at odd angles. Beneath my feet, the floor was a mosaic of figures entwined in acts of obscene worship: twisted bodies, faces distorted in ecstasy or terror, and at the center of it all, the drawing of an open cyclopean eye, staring at me from the heart of the stone. The altar in the middle of the room is an abomination. A monolith of obsidian, blackened by centuries of dried blood, rises like a nightmare tombstone. On top of it, chained, were two figures-and then I saw them. My sister Ivania, beside her a girl I didn't know, but Sakura mentioned her name, Mitsuki, her sister.

  With my limited vision, I could see the cursed mage hiding in a corner, but before I could sound the alarm without thinking, Sakura began to move. She didn't hesitate or falter. She just ran towards Mitsuke, completely ignoring the other allies and enemies. With her sword, she quickly cut through the chains - but she did not free the other girl, her companion, my sister Ivania. The creature in the darkness launched a single, sudden attack.

  Her scream tore through the air as the knife sank into her chest. A choked exhalation, a muffled sound like a bird falling from the sky - the girl closed her eyes for the last time.

  Why didn't Sakura do anything to save her?

  No one moved for her.

  No one.

  And then my father's fury erupted.

  There was no warning. There were no battle cries or words of condemnation - just the clash of his weapons and magic against the dark priest and his untouchable smile. Henry attacked with the unrelenting force of a warrior scarred by pain and tragedy. I tried to help as my duty demanded, flipping through pages of spells, preparing my staff to channel my magic; electricity bursting from its core in search of the black mage. But the bastard only smiled, taking the blow without flinching at my attack, while my father seized the moment to strike at him in his place with his magical dagger.

  Amidst the chaos and flashes of battle, I saw two bodies passing quickly near the wall - Sakura trying to secretly get her sister out, silent, not helping in the fight, paying for the death she had caused with her selfish actions.

  But who was I to judge? At least she was concerned about getting her family member out alive.

  I looked at the lifeless body of the girl - my sister - now lying there, abandoned. Blood was still dripping from the altar, seeping into the grooves of the mosaic on the floor, as if the design of the patterns themselves were drinking it to nourish the pulsating, living blue liquid.

  But I felt nothing.

  Nothing at all.

  Just the cyan glow in the light of the floor.

  Just the growing certainty that something inside me was... wrong.

  But I cannot stop; I must endure to the end, to fulfill my mission of defeat.