All the children could only watch as the rest of the building collapsed atop Chester and Alvis. A cloud of smoke, ash, and dust covered their vision. They stood for a brief second in stunned silence, before Bentham rushed back into the flaming ruins. He screamed in horror, trying to look for signs of life amongst the rubble.

"Please..!"

The smoldering concrete did significant damage to his hands. Sheila and the other children snapped out of their stupor and joined him before a gauntleted fist came out of the rubble, weakly grasping for anything to hold on to.

"Chester-! Hold on, we're getting you out!"

Together as a group, they helped to pull out the illusionist from the rubble. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. But after several tense seconds, the concrete moved, revealing a dusty, matted mane of brown hair. Chester's face was dirtied, slightly injured from the collapse. Blood trickled down his forehead, covering one eye. But he seemed more concerned about what he was dragging underneath him.

"Pull!" He clenched his jaw with extreme effort to yank his remaining appendage from the ruins.

With most of his body out, the man had all but his arm left trapped inside. He yanked as hard as he could, with the other children helping him pull from behind. A massive, Attainium pod was ripped free from the burning ruins, peeling back to reveal a heavily injured Alvis. Lacerations and contusions were scattered all around. Black soot was peppered all over his body. His legs had been crushed after the rubble collapsed on him. The teen looked like he was on death's door; the only sign he was alive was the soft up and down of his chest.

Chester kneeled beside him, neglecting the injuries he sustained in order to treat Alvis. He reached into his bag, shaking slightly as he looked for a healing potion. Withdrawing the highest-grade one in his inventory, which was supposed to heal fifteen percent of his HP in one fell swoop, able to mend bones and heal wounds within an instant, he tilted open Alvis' mouth and made him drink.

Although his complexion improved somewhat, it wasn't to the degree the man had expected. Alvis' legs were still in terrible shape, although most of the boy's wounds had stopped bleeding. Thinking that a percentage-based heal was the problem, Chester changed his strategy. He grabbed a lower-grade potion, one which restored fifty points of HP, and gave it to the unconscious boy. He hoped it would do more to help. As the bright-red concoction was consumed, there was no tangible effect on Alvis' physical condition. The boy was still in critical condition.

'Damn it, is this that healing limit thing they were talking about?'

The man had gone through the same thing not too long ago. Healing magic and potions were subject to limits, and it depended on many factors. But seeing the ineffectiveness of the potions, Chester assumed it was what Alvis was suffering from at the moment.

His eyes were fraught with concern, wondering what else he could do to help the boy.

'Alda and the others said the only way to get better was through regular healing..! But what the fuck do I give him after this?! An ice pack?'

He dug through his pack, looking for anything of note. Apart from some gauze and miscellaneous supplies, the illusionist had nothing to offer.

Sounds of battle and blades clashing occurred from afar, making the adventurer remember that there were other pressing matters to attend to. He set down several bottles of water, along with the medical supplies he had taken from his extradimensional backpack. He turned to Bentham, Sheila, and the other children.

"Wipe him down and make sure there's no soot. Wrap him up nice and tight. We're going to look for a hospital. But first, I need to help Damien with...Where did I put it? Shit!"

The man returned to the rubble, haphazardly throwing out huge chunks of rubble to the side, searching for something. He breathed a sigh of relief upon finding the Vorpal Striking Head, dusty, but in pristine condition otherwise. It glittered in the dark as he clasped it back onto his Attainium chain.

He turned to the children with a small, reassuring smile on his face.

"I'll be back. Just sit tight and stay safe, okay?"

With that, the man vanished into thin air.

Damien raised his shield, deflecting another arrow aimed at his foot. He glared at the demihuman armed with a crossbow. In one smooth motion, he withdrew a pale-white arrow with a silver tip and reloaded his ranged weapon with practiced ease. His helmet was essential in protecting him from any wayward projectiles, only needing to tilt his head to deflect an arrow that would've otherwise pierced through his skull. It gave him the leeway to comfortably engage in battle against the berserker and his holy weapon.

Seeing his chance, he changed targets and coldly analyzed his next moves. Taking out the crossbow user was a priority.

Pushing himself forward, the vampire raised his spear and charged at the man. With pure mana and darkness amplifying his every move, he chased after the bloodhound with murder on his face.

CLANG

Sensing his change of target, Oliver Wood dived in to interrupt his attack. Their weapons met in a tense stalemate, but it was clear Damien had the upper hand in terms of sheer strength.

"You're going to die, you know that? Just like those kids. You're fucking dead."

The veins on the boy's neck pulsed, and his sclera turned an even deeper red as the enforcer reminded him of his failures. Self-loathing and rage went hand in hand as he initiated an attack. He was the first to break the stalemate, closing the distance between him and the berserker to deliver a devastating headbutt. Combined with his helmet, the crunch from breaking Oliver Wood's nose was immensely satisfying.

Flinging him backward, Damien leapt in the air, intent on ending him once and for all. Power coalesced into the tip of his spear, before another arrow forced him to dodge. It scratched the tip of his nose, and a small cut opened up. A white, starsteel blade careened towards his head and the vampire was forced to disengage entirely. That small gap was more than enough for the enforcer to recover, slinking back with blood gushing down his nose. His blade gleamed with holy power, making Damien ask himself exactly how he got ahold of such products.

It was a matter that concerned Wisperium's allies, although it wasn't the most pressing issue at hand.

'It's difficult.' The teen thought quietly. The man was his lesser in combat, but the adjustments he made in equipment, alongside support that slowed him down with timely attacks made the battle that much more difficult. 'But not impossible.'

He had been taught that facing multiple, weaker opponents was the norm. It was the plight of the strong. On an individual scale, a vampire was exponentially stronger than the average human. Memories of dedicated 'vampire-hunters' were brought to the forefront of his memory, although their lack of success had been a reason why he disregarded such groups. But now, the lesson was more relevant than ever.

'Divide and conquer. The crossbow user is annoying, but the right target is...'

Deciding on another strategy, Damien set the butt of his spear down and smirked at the enforcer. He forced his face to relax into a smug, taunting expression while the two opponents observed his every move.

"Go."

That brought both men to a halt, wondering if the child had gone insane. They tensed up as he crossed his arms, expecting a trick up his sleeve.

"You clearly can't bridge the gap between us even with all this," Damien drawled, smug as he could ever be. "I'll allow you to get more men. Go! Maybe then, you'll actually be worth my time."

He had enough time to observe the man's demeanor. The vampire knew the enforcer was especially arrogant; unwilling to let go of the fact a mere child defeated him and in such a public manner. It was likely the entire reason he used his authority to hunt the boy down.

Damien would capitalize on that information, and make a weakness in their strategy.

'I can't let this drag on. The kids are still inside. I need to help Chester as soon as possible.'

"You think that petty taunts are going to work on me?" Oliver said in disbelief. He pointed the blade in his hand at the child, but the grip he had on his weapon showed that the taunt was effective. "Keep dreaming, kid."

"Don't forget that this kid beat you within an inch of your life," The vampire chortled in amusement. His eyes were full of vindictive intent. "How do you sleep at night knowing that? I'm guessing those children are the reason why your face is like that too? Seems like you get outsmarted by kids a lot."

Even with chunks of his skin missing, seeing the way Oliver's face distorted was a sign his ploy worked. Damien dodged another blade and deflected an arrow at the same time, watching as the berserker lost his mind upon being mocked. The red aura surrounding his body intensified, and he peppered the teen with dozens of strikes, each one aimed to maim.

"Ollie, keep yer head in the game! Dinnae get yerself sidetracked!" The bloodhound shouted, raising his crossbow to support the attacking enforcer. But Oliver didn't seem to care; Damien was slowly being pushed back by the onslaught of attacks.

'Come on, just a little bit closer...'

"YOU-! I'LL MAKE YOU EAT YOUR-"

With the berserker positioned in a way that made it difficult for his companion to get his shot off, Damien went on the offensive.

The vampire used the length of his spear and stabbed at Oliver's arms. This forced him to go on the defensive otherwise the lightning-charged weapon would slice his fingers off. His bracers sparked in the clash, sufficiently insulated, preventing any sort of shock from traveling past the vambraces.

But that was merely a distraction for Damien's true goal. Charging up intense amounts of energy at the tip of his spear, Damien intended to deliver a devastating blow right at the enforcer's midsection. Thrusting his spear, he activated the weapon's built-in skill.

"Bolt!"

A quick arc of lightning struck his opponent square in the chest, making the enforcer seize up for a split second. Oliver's eyes widened in fear and pain, realizing that it was merely a prelude to the real finisher.

"SHADOW-"

Absorbing any light source, the distance between Oliver and Damien was encompassed by pure darkness. The Shadow Knight pumped as much mana as he could into the spell, going the extra effort to overcharge the attack to make sure it would be a decisive one.

"-SMITE!"

The man's mouth hung open in a noiseless scream as he was flung back. The breastplate he wore, coated with magic enchantments and runes, was destroyed in the process. It crumbled to pieces while he was in mid-air, and he fell into a heap by his support's side. At the same time, the building behind him began to collapse. Damien's eyes flitted away from his opponent, worrying about the children. He had hoped Chester managed to escape in time. The sound of the demihuman shouting brought him back to the battle.

Kelzar, contrary to expectations, put his hands to his head and shouted in agony. But not over the enforcer's well-being.

"Bloody hell! Ye've gone an' done in ma meal ticket!"

But Damien knew the man was still alive. He didn't receive a confirmation of the kill, and the red aura surrounding the man's body hadn't been fully extinguished. As he expected, the berserker jumped back to life, crawling back to his feet with blood staining his entire upper body. His chest had been shredded in the aftermath, and he was seemingly on his last legs. His eyes were an unfocused mess of fear, anger, and realization. The boy he had made his target of resentment became an object of fear. In the darkness with only the fading flames for illumination, Damien looked like a monster beyond compare.

Oliver Wood learned that there were levels to this world, and he was far below Damien's own.

Oliver turned tail and fled without a moment's hesitation, his speed still surpassing Damien's own. Even at death's door, the man had enough energy to keep up his frantic pace. It boggled the boy to see someone on the verge of death running even faster than he did in peak condition. Knowing he wouldn't be able to catch up, Damien planted his feet firmly on the ground and held his weapon in an underhanded grip.

The vampire drew his arm back, with muscles rippling like coiled serpents under his armor. His spear crackled in anticipation of its target, and Damien closed one eye while steadying in aim. He knew he only had one shot to do this before the enforcer escaped his clutches once more. Then, he heaved and threw.

It sliced through the air like a bolt, hurtling towards Oliver's exposed back with deadly precision. Even without turning, the enforcer could feel the very wind being displaced from the force of the vampire's throw. In one last-ditch attempt to survive, he tried to parry it away with his blade. But the power put into the blow was unlike any other; his arm flew back as Stormbringer's Might pierced him in the outer thigh. His attempt to deflect it changed its trajectory, preventing the spear from piercing through his torso.

Even as he cried out in agony, Oliver Wood kept running.

Wrenching the weapon out of his leg, he threw it to the side and continued to flee, albeit at a slower pace. It didn't make sense. The blow should've outright crippled the enforcer, but Damien watched as the man limped away at a pace one could not expect from someone on the verge of death.

'He's like a cockroach.'

Damien knew that if the man lived, he would come back. Oliver Wood would come back and seek revenge once more. The boy wasn't foolish enough to let him go so easily. Calling the spear back to his hand, he readied himself to throw it once more to end it once and for all.

Just one more. It was like a predator, keenly aware of when its prey was well and truly dead. Damien's eyes dilated, seeing that the support had lost all will to fight, and scampered off as he gave chase to the enforcer. He wanted to see blood. He wanted to rend the man limb from limb for all the agony he had caused.

Seemingly picking up on Damien's killing intent, the shaggy-haired man limped away even faster than before. Even hobbled on one leg, the berserker continued to flee and scream for help.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?! GET HIM! GET HIIIIM!"

A group of bandits, led by a man of massive proportions with bandages around his body, had turned the corner. Orcsbane's eyes shook upon seeing the crippled form of his immediate superior, as well as the armored knight chasing after him. Their reinforcements had finally arrived. Damien growled like an animal, as one obstacle popped up right after another.

Armed with his spear and shield, he was fully intent on running through the small group like a scythe through grass. But just as he was about to charge into their formation with reckless abandon, a hand grasped his shoulder.

"Damien, we have to go."

The curly-haired illusionist popped up behind him, and Damien turned on him with a vicious glare.

"I have to finish him off. Otherwise, he's going to come back. I'm ending it now. "

Oliver's retreating figure could be seen further away. The man stared at him for a moment before closing his eyes and shaking his head. As loathsome as it was to leave a loose end untied, Chester knew they couldn't afford to waste time while Alvis was in such a delicate state.

"Alvis is hurt. We need to get him medical care. Now. He's reached that whole healing limit thing I dealt with back in Welton."

That seemed to snap Damien out of his rage-like state. He looked back to see the group of children, worse for wear, corraling a prone and unconscious boy on the ground. His eyes were closed and it reminded the boy of a familiar scene. Of his companion on Alda's back, looking pale as death. He took a sharp intake of breath and looked at the group of bandits readying themselves for a battle. They didn't seem to invested in the battle, clearly afraid of the boy that left their leader in such a broken state.

"Leave." Damien said, his anger having turned from a vicious flame into a smoldering ember. "Turn around right now and I will guarantee all your lives. But otherwise..."

He reactivated Darkness and Mana Infusion, and he swung his blade to remove the last bit of blood remaining on his spear, pointing it at the group. Orcsbane gulped down his anxiety, watching as the two stood firm against a dozen armed bandits. There was no nervousness in their gait. He had more people at his disposal, but the giant's body remembered very well what happened the last time they clashed.

The curly-haired man started spinning his flail in a threatening manner, and Orcsbane swore the spiked head swelled up in size, going from the size of a grapefruit to a cannonball.

Like any person with self-preservation would, the part-giant signalled to retreat.

"...Let's go."

"Sir?" The bandit in front of them turned to their leader with mild confusion coloring his face.

"Turn back!" He clenched his gauntlets and waved his fist in a threatening manner. "We're collecting Enforcer Wood. We've got what we came for. Unless you want to go ahead and try your luck with that bloodsucker over there."

With that, the giant and his entourage shuffled away into the night, leaving Chester and Damien alone.

They trudged through the mud, towards the crumbled ruins the orphans once called home.

The victory was tainted with ash and smoke, casting a dark shadow over both adventurers' faces.