Garden Of The Abyss

Donovan moved around the room, attaching small objects to the vacant slots on his seemingly custom-built gauntlets as he answered, "Not quite. I simply used a sample of authentic 'Moon Anchors' to create my own version."

"You would just have to create some pretty durable threads, right? Doesn't sound too bad," he asked. 

The enigmatic man replied, "The sharpness and toughness of the threads are only one factor. What was truly pivotal was deciphering the true aspect of 'Moon Anchors'--their ability to weaken magecraft one cutting into someone." 

"Weaken magecraft? Is that possible to replicate?...that sounds like a godly ability, to me at least," he questioned, placing his hand against his chin. 

Donovan adjusted his coat after hiding magical utensils underneath their obscuring fabric, "It is possible. Anything is possible with wisdom, dedication, and science." 

By the urgency Donovan marched with after answering, he could tell something was up now as the man picked up his barreled-weapon. 

"They're here." 

"Who? The vampires? How do you know that? I haven't heard a thing," he asked. 

By the silence of Donovan as the man walked over to the right side of the room, fiddling with the loose, stone bricks that were layered in miss, he knew what was said to be the truth. 

"...Hold on, you've encountered them before, right? Do you know how they fight? What kind of magic they use? Anything?" He asked. 

Donovan answered without turning, "Worry not, Sir Ren. You're a third floor combatant, are you not? They're strong, but if you've made it this far, you will not fall on this day. However...if you must know--I do not know what they're capable of. But, if we're going off of the capabilities of a vampire in general, then know that they possess vast physical capabilities and regenerative abilities." 

"Got it...what're you doing?" He nodded before asking further.

The armored man was running his hands over the wall before suddenly plucking a loose stone from its place, revealing a hollow hole sitting behind. 

"A fool's death would await us if we simply waited here with only a single, sealed entry point. Victory is earned by the diligent," Donovan answered. 

With another pull of the wall, the man crumbled the loose stone as the decayed slabs broke once meeting the ground. 

The new, large hole opened in the wall revealed a secret space that Donovan stepped into without any further word. All he held in his hand was the barreled, shining weapon as the crevice of his helmet shined with a sable glow. 

A rumble resounded through the entire structure, sending a tremor along the walls as dust rained down atop both men. It was clearer than ever that the enemy had arrived; a realization that forced him to swallow his doubts as he clenched his sword tightly. 

"What do you want me to do?! You've barely told me anything!" He asked urgently. 

Donovan turned back briefly, patting a layer of stone dust from his shoulder, "Wait. The battle will come to you, and victory will come to the patient."

"What about you?" He asked. 

Donovan paused for a moment before answering, "I'll flank the enemy and use the walls to my advantage. Worry not."

Before he could even ask him for further details, the armor-wearing man disappeared into the false room, leaving him alone in the trap-filled chamber. Respite was at least found in the fact that this time, the traps were on his side. 

Standing there in silence, he realized just how tired he was--he had only earned a wink of sleep before being thrust right back into action. 

"This guy…" He sighed. 

Should I just make a run for it? He thought. 

Glancing back at the wall behind him, the eroded, clammy stone that was flooded by nature looked easy enough to knock over with a single spell. 

I could blast through and escape...I'd be back in the snow, but I think I'd rather take my chances with the cold than a group of blood-sucking vampires, he thought. 

Weighing his options he left out a perturbed sigh before ruffling his snowy locks, drawing his blade from its sheath. Just the thought of holding his sword made him tired, but he learned a long time ago how to push through exhaustion. 

"Dammit, having a conscience is a real pain in the ass…" He huffed. 

Leaning the dull side against his shoulder, he kept his eyes diligently forward on the guarded door. 

I'm not doing it just out of the goodness of my heart, okay...if I help him out here, he'll return the favor. Having allies is never a bad thing in Purgatory, he thought, and I'm for sure earning a full eight hours of sleep after this! 

Any such thoughts were concluded by an abrasive, body-stiffening thud that slammed against the heavyset doors. 

The force alone that shoved itself against the metallic doorway caused the entire structure to echo under the immense strength straining it. Gulping his fears and doubts down his throat, he intertwined his fingers with the blue-handle of Belus, holding forward. 

Here they come, he thought. 

All he could wonder is what part in this Donovan played from positioning himself in such a weird area--but there wasn't much freedom to ponder such things. 

Wait, hold on a second...they're in front of the door already? Wasn't there an entire assortment of threads in the corridor? How?! He wondered. 

"Open up!" A voice roared from behind the doors. 

By the sound of the rough, commanding voice, it was surely a man--and a burly, frightening one at that. 

Wait, is this like in the movies how vampires can't enter without being invited in?! Did I luck out?! He thought. 

That momentary respite was completely rejected as another slam collided against the doors, busting them open as the metal caved completely from the force. 

He fell completely frozen for a moment as the wind generated by the impact brushed against him, blowing his snowy locks as his hazel eye stayed wide. 

Stepping onto the threshold was the one responsible for the breaking of the door, stomping down with enough force that the stone cracked beneath his step. 

"Huh? It's just a damn brat in here?" The man growled. 

As expected, the strength and voice matched his appearance as he stood tall enough to have to bend over to fit through the doorway; his physique accompanied such harrowing height as his muscular, uncovered arms were as thick as tree trunks. 

Despite the frosty weather that inhabited the floor, the man wore a sleeveless, scruffy jacket that looked to barely fit over his massive pecs. The oak-brown jacket matched his hazel, bushy locks that hung down to his waist like an overwhelming mane. 

"Are 'ya with that creepy, helmet-bastard?" The gargantuan man asked with his scarlet eyes locked onto the young man. 

For pants, all he wore were trousers that were ripped and dirtied, with dirt-laden boots that completed the man's rough aura of lacking any sense of properness. 

The man didn't hold any seeming malice towards him, as if unchallenged by the snowy-haired young man's presence. Stepping into the room, a single grasp of the corner caused the man's grip to crush the stone that made up the wall as he approached the human. Every step taken resounded through the entire stone structure like a boulder slamming down against the ground repeatedly. 

The threads placed in front of the entrance caught the man's body, though he only smiled in glee at the challenge. 

Veins pressed against his bulging muscles as he stepped forward, tearing away the threads with seeming ease as he left out a joyful sigh. 

"Nice! Those were pretty strong!" He complimented the torn threads. 

Is this real? He said those could carve right through steel...and he just walked right through them? I'm supposed to fight someone like this? He thought. 

It was impossible to coax a single word out of his mouth as he was face-to-face with the vampire who stood at twice his height, with legs that were the size of his body. 

An unmatched aura of a warrior is what emitted from the muscular man; though he looked to be youthful, in his late-twenties, his arms were layered in hair as was the portion of his chest protruding from his strained jacket. 

Around his hulking biceps, he wore black bands that almost seemed to constrict his bulging muscularity. 

"I-I'm…" He stammered out. 

"You're?...C'mon, spit it out, brat," the man folded his arms across his burly chest. 

Before he could answer the surprisingly patient, brutish man, an explosion sounded out, echoing off of the mossy, stone walls as both he and the vampire were caught off-guard. 

A yell from within the bowels of the stone keep resounded---one that the giant man seemed to recognize as worry plastered itself on his face. 

Donovan is engaging with one of the others?...That's right, there were three! He remembered. 

"Crap! Vale!" He turned around. 

It was as if he didn't even register the young man as an existing threat. As the burly vampire took a single, thundering step to go check on his companion, he was stopped. 

Though he felt a sense of relief in the fact the man was going to spare him, something stood out more: his pride. Being so utterly ignored as if as insignificant as a bug, he felt the flames of battle roar within him. 

"Stop right there…!" He commanded through his teeth. 

He gripped tightly onto the thick forearm of the man, stopping him from taking another step. In confusion, the messy-haired, scarlet-eyed man turned back. 

"Hey, brat--" 

--Before he could say anything further, his forearm was squeezed with such a grip that his bones began to crack. A temporary expression of shock and pain overtook the man's expression, but it was quickly replaced by joy. 

"So, 'ya want to fight?!" He smiled like a giddy child, "I don't recommend it, brat." 

"Shut up, and fight me!" 

He confirmed his intentions as he jumped up, landing his knee directly against the large vampire's nose, all the while he maintained his hold on the man's forearm. 

Shaking off the blow, the hairy, tan-skinned man laughed as a bit of blood dripped from his nostrils. 

"Not bad, brat! What's 'yer name?" He asked. 

It was worrying to see his opponent smile and continue talking after receiving a full-strength knee directly to the bridge of his nose, but he obliged. 

"Ren," he answered. 

The man smiled ear-to-ear as he stood up completely straight, escaping from the young man's grip as his forearm muscle flexed with enough strength to do so. 

"...Ren? You've got balls on 'ya, brat. I'll recognize 'ya as an opponent! I'm Leonid! Nice to 'meetcha!....Now die!"