National Guardian's Gone and We're Done

Suddenly, a giant bat came flapping over from the distant horizon. Its wings beat powerfully against the night sky, producing a dull, rhythmic thrumming.

As it drew closer, its form shifted rapidly. By the time it was about to reach the building’s rooftop, it had already transformed from a monstrous bat into a human figure.

His movements were light and silent, like a ghostly breeze, as he landed on the rooftop.

He bowed slightly, his posture one of extreme reverence. With his head lowered, not daring to meet Ye Lingyun’s gaze, he reported to her, "Clan Leader, the entire White-Red Empire has been almost completely assimilated. Under your brilliant leadership, our Vampire Clan will reach new heights. The glory of a great new age will soon be upon us."

His voice was low and hoarse, as if it had risen from the very depths of Hell, carrying the stench of decay.

Ye Lingyun nodded slightly, her face betraying little emotion. All of this was proceeding according to her meticulous plans and expectations.

"Good."

Her voice was cold and calm, devoid of any warmth. "Next, we will let the entire world know that the age of the Vampire Clan has come."

On the street below, the newly turned Vampires seemed to sense Ye Lingyun’s will. As if receiving a silent command, they began to move, all heading in the same direction.

Their movements were perfectly synchronized, as if manipulated by an unseen hand. Each step was heavy and deliberate.

Their footsteps echoed through the silent street, a dull THUMP, THUMP, like a countdown to death, each beat pounding against the hearts of all who heard it.

...

On the outskirts of the city, some humans who had not yet been fully assimilated huddled in dark corners. Their bodies trembled, their eyes filled with terror and despair.

They had witnessed their homes being devoured by darkness, their friends and family turned into soulless Vampires.

They knew their world had been turned upside down. The reign of the Vampire Clan had begun,

and they were about to become casualties of this Dark Age.

"What are we going to do?"

a young girl asked, her voice trembling. Tears welled in her eyes, her voice growing shrill with terror.

"I don’t know."

A middle-aged man shook his head, his face a mask of despair. "We’re no match for them. Maybe... maybe all we can do is wait for death to come."

His voice was filled with helplessness,

as if he had already given up all resistance, able only to await judgment in the darkness.

But in the crowd, one young man clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white from the force. A resolute glint shone in his eyes.

"No, we can’t just sit here and wait to die," he said in a low voice that, though quiet, was filled with power. "There has to be a way. We can’t let the Vampire Clan rule our world like this."

His eyes burned with unyielding defiance, like a spark of hope ignited in the darkness—faint, but burning tenaciously.

...

In an old, abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city, the air was thick with the stench of decay and despair.

Paint peeled from the mottled walls, revealing the drab brickwork beneath, as if mercilessly gnawed away by time.

The handful of remaining survivors huddled in the factory’s dark corners. Their breaths came in short, heavy gasps, each one seeming to taste of death.

The overwhelming danger of their situation was like an invisible net, trapping them completely.

In the suffocating atmosphere, some had already been utterly broken by fear.

An elderly man sat slumped on the ground, head in his hands, his body trembling uncontrollably as he muttered, "It’s over... It’s all over..."

His voice was filled with despair.

And yet, in this dark and desperate place, some of the younger survivors kindled a different kind of hope.

They remembered the protagonists from the anime and novels they had read—heroes who fought tenaciously through every crisis and never gave up.

A fiery conviction began to burn within their hearts. It was a flame forged from an unyielding will and a desperate desire for survival, an invisible force that began to spread to the others.

Their gazes gradually hardened with resolve. They gripped their crude weapons—worn steel pipes, rusty kitchen cleavers—as if clutching their last shred of hope.

Just then, the sudden, eerie sound of footsteps shattered the dead silence.

One by one, figures in gorgeous, elegant formal wear appeared as silently as phantoms.

Their footsteps were light, yet carried an unspeakable menace, each one landing like a hammer blow on the hearts of the survivors.

Their faces were so pale as to be almost translucent, appearing especially sinister and terrifying in the cold, stark moonlight.

A sneer played on their lips, a smile filled with derision and contempt, as if mocking the insignificance and fragility of humanity.

"Found you."

One of the Vampires tilted its head back slightly, its voice cold and sharp. Like the shriek of an owl, it tore through the silence of the night.

The voice was like a death sentence, instantly causing the survivors’ hearts to hammer in their chests as fear washed over them once more like a drowning tide.

But the youths did not back down. They charged with a furious roar, swinging their weapons in a last, desperate stand.