Chapter 12: Vampire Phaga

“Oh, so you heard me.”

Phaga spoke calmly, extending his hand.

“Ugh, how can you be so shameless?”

Ellen shut her eyes with a sigh of disgust, then smacked Phaga’s parasol hard into his palm. The sharp crack that rang out sounded painful just to hear.

She immediately regretted it, opening her eyes again with a trace of guilt. “S-sorry… I didn’t mean to hit that hard.”

After all, they were companions who had endured hardship together. Even if Phaga’s personality was strange, she shouldn’t have gone too far.

“It’s fine. I was feeling guilty earlier for hurting you with my words. But after that hit, I realized my guilt was unnecessary.”

Phaga eagerly opened the parasol. Under the blue sky, a patch of shade appeared as if the sun itself couldn’t touch it. Ellen clearly saw his previously stiff face soften into one of contentment, his tense body instantly relaxing.

They hadn’t rested at all, yet his condition seemed to improve in an instant. How strange.

Ellen nodded to herself. His so-called “skin allergy” must be quite severe. Just hiding from the sun for a moment was already a relief for him.

Still, she muttered, “If you keep talking like that, no one’s ever going to want to be your friend.”

“Do I have a lot of friends now?” Phaga asked with a puzzled look.

Tsk!

Ellen slapped her forehead in frustration. Damn it—after the Hollow descended, Phaga’s sudden display of strength had impressed everyone, making him unexpectedly popular. She had completely forgotten that before all this, Phaga had never had any friends at all.

“Never mind. I don’t really need friends anyway. Let’s focus on the problem in front of us. Once we’re out of the Hollow, I still need to find a job.”

He waved his hand dismissively, turning his gaze toward the icy mist. His eyes flickered shut and open again, their color shifting back to a deep crimson.

A job, huh? Then why even bother going to school?

Ellen sighed, then suddenly froze as she realized something was wrong.

Wait—what did Phaga just say?

“Focus on handling the problem in front of us.”

That’s right… the Dead End Butcher…!

Her eyes widened in shock. She whipped her head toward the icy mist just as a streak of white light shot out. Narrowing her eyes, she realized—

Damn! It’s coming this way!

Ellen tried to dodge, but her legs buckled beneath her.

Not now, damn it!

But instead of piercing her, the flaming blade she had struck earlier was suddenly expelled—rebounded straight toward her. Before it could hit, Phaga caught it in his hand.

“So it was repelled… The Dead End Butcher’s second form can actually purge debuffs and throw attacks back. Fascinating.”

He held the blade flat, inspecting it carefully. Finding no damage, he calmly sheathed it inside his parasol. “Ellen. Same as before—I’ll suppress, you find the chance to land the finishing blow.”

But Ellen didn’t answer.

“Ellen?”

Phaga tilted his head in confusion, glancing back.

She was already on her knees, eyes half-lidded, clinging to consciousness by sheer will.

Tsk, the high energy consumption of the Thiren…

Phaga sighed just as he felt a rush of wind approaching.

When he turned his head, the Dead End Butcher had already burst out of the mist, fist crashing down. The gale from the strike filled his vision completely.

Boom!

The impact sent Phaga flying, clutching Ellen as they slammed into a wall. The bricks caved inward, rubble raining down and covering them in dust.

“Cough… cough… Damn, that hurt!”

Phaga pushed aside debris, brushed dust off his head, and staggered upright, leaning against the wall. A sharp pain shot through his arm.

Looking down, he saw his right arm twisted grotesquely, bone shattered from taking the Butcher’s punch head-on.

That one strike nearly ruined him.

“Hey!”

He reached toward Ellen with his left hand but kept his eyes fixed on the Butcher, who had discarded its axe. From its shoulders sprouted two new arms, its hulking body crouched low and glaring like a beast ready to pounce.

“Time to run, Ellen. Our escape plan failed. Let’s think of a stylish way to retreat.”

“You’re only funny when it doesn’t matter…”

Ellen’s voice was weak, her eyes struggling to stay open. “You go… If you can, just take me with you. Thanks…”

Before Phaga could reply, the Butcher struck.

Boom!

It stomped, collapsing the ground beneath. In a single bound, it smashed through the wall and barreled toward them.

Seeing no choice, Phaga grabbed Ellen’s arm and hefted her up. His left hand pressed against her tail.

“My tail…” she mumbled faintly.

But Phaga didn’t hear. Slinging her over his shoulder like a sack, he ran.

Thud!

Thud!

Thud!

Each punch shattered the earth behind him, rubble exploding as death hounded him like a rabid beast. The Butcher’s core glowed red, fury fueling its relentless pursuit.

Then, it suddenly crouched and leapt.

The sound alone told Phaga what was coming. He dove flat, letting the Butcher soar over him, then scrambled up and sprinted in the opposite direction—straight through the hole it had smashed in the wall.

The Butcher landed, spun, and froze.

Where was he?

No rush. The Hollow was its domain. A drowsy duck and a broken-winged duck couldn’t fly anyway.

So it prowled slowly, searching.

“Finally… a chance to rest.”

Phaga whispered, setting Ellen against a wall.

Her cheeks were flushed—perhaps from when he’d touched her tail. She glanced at his bloody arm, guilt clear in her eyes.

“Um… Phaga, your arm…”

“It’s fine. Just a scratch.”

He forced a smile, as if it truly were nothing.

“How can you call it a scratch when the bone’s broken?!”

She suppressed her voice, but her heart ached all the more for it.

Phaga shook his head, tugging at his coat. “It’s nothing… Forget it. You already think I’ve got a skin condition, what more can I say? Here, help me with this.”

“Take off your coat? Why?”

She was puzzled, but didn’t question further. Fighting to stay awake, she helped him. Her head drooped heavily, on the verge of sleep, yet she refused to collapse completely.

That sheer stubbornness piqued Phaga’s curiosity. Still, he said casually, “Didn’t think you’d be so tough. But you should sleep—what comes next might be bloody.”

Her eyelids sank. Clutching his coat, she lay down, biting her lip to fight the drowsiness. Her voice slurred, defiant even as consciousness slipped away.

“Victoria Housekeeping… doesn’t allow… disgraceful retreat. Even if… I can’t… still…”

“All right, all right, stop talking. You sound like you’re about to keel over.”

Perhaps sensing the looming danger, Phaga no longer bothered masking his voice.

The Butcher’s heavy footsteps, which had been little more than background noise, suddenly quickened, pounding heavier with each step.

But Phaga ignored it, muttering, “Actually, I do have another way.”

What way?

Ellen didn’t ask—she couldn’t. Half-asleep, she only felt her body being lifted, her back resting against his chest, his heartbeat steady in her ear.

So calm… so strong. Could this really belong to someone whose arm was broken?

As a fighter, she knew what such a heartbeat meant.

And his scent… faintly sweet.

Wait—what am I thinking? This isn’t the time—

Her eyes flew open, breath catching.

Phaga was tearing her clothes open.

With his left hand, he ripped away fabric, baring her pale shoulder and swan-like neck—utterly enticing in his crimson gaze.

Without hesitation, he lowered his head, teeth piercing her flushed skin. Her sweet blood filled his mouth.

“Mmm—!”

Ellen jolted, face burning in shame and fury. She bit her lip to stifle a cry, her long legs kicking weakly at him—half resistance, half… something else.

Only she knew the tangle of emotions inside, the way her toes curled tight in her little shoes.

So he’d never been human at all.

Phaga was a vampire.

Time dragged.

At last, he lifted his head, whispering against her ear. “Thanks for the meal.”

Then he raised his right arm.

The shattered limb was whole again. He smeared the blood across his lips with his thumb, the crimson staining his mouth.

“Now then—”

He tilted his head toward the ruined wall, where the massive head of the Dead End Butcher loomed.

“You just witnessed the last vampire of New Eridu feeding. Don’t you think that deserves a fee?”

“Of course, I know an Ethereal can’t pay in dennies.”

“So how about this—let your death be the capital I use to secure my future job.”

“How’s that sound?”

The moment the words left his lips, dark crimson wings burst from his back. With a single beat, he soared into the sky.

From the Butcher’s view, Phaga’s face was hidden—

For he stood with his back to the sun, wings blotting out the light.