My Blood Legacy: Reincarnated as a Vampire

Dante arched an eyebrow as he stared at the massive sandstorm, carried by an aura... strange... very strange...

And the desert heat did nothing to change that perception. It seemed like everything was becoming more suffocating, more tense, more concentrated with the presence of both sides merging.

Lilith curiously observed the sandstorm while still wrapped in Dante's touch. She stood beside him, holding his arm, completely engrossed as she calmly watched the strange storm.

Her eyes gleamed as she looked in its direction. 'Oh... how interesting...' she murmured, sensing various auras emerging.

Valentina, on the other hand, was doing the same, gripping Gungnir tightly, curious about what was coming...

'He wants to attack us directly? How strange... Doesn't he have a general? This strategy is really dumb,' she thought. Having fought many wars, she knew that attacking first was nothing but foolish.

"This is strange..." Siren murmured, watching with an expression of exhaustion. The whole situation seemed increasingly bizarre.

The wind began to roar in the distance, carrying with it a wave of sand approaching at an absurd speed.

The sandstorm was dense and chaotic, swirling like a wall of destruction moving relentlessly toward them.

Everyone felt the shift in the air—a wave of powerful, wild energy causing a visceral sense of discomfort.

"Really... it's strange," Dante commented as he peered deeper into what was coming their way, his senses screaming as he caught the scent that accompanied the storm...

A nauseating, repulsive odor, something he had never smelled before. His nostrils flared as he tried to identify the source, but all he could gather was a growing feeling of disgust. That smell... it was like rotting flesh mixed with something inhuman.

"What a horrible stench..." Dante murmured, slightly covering his nose with his hand. Not just him, but even the hardened Valkyries—trained for war—shouldn't show discomfort so easily, yet even they seemed to falter before the smell permeating the air.

Dante clenched his fists, his face contorting in disdain. "Hybrids..." he muttered, almost spitting the word. "Werewolves... mixed with something... something disgusting."

Lilith raised an eyebrow, also catching the stench with her own heightened senses. "Mixed with what?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she tried to discern the nature of the creatures approaching.

Dante shook his head, his eyes locked on the quickly advancing sandstorm. "Not sure... but whatever it is, it's not natural. It's abominable."

Valentina, still irritated with Lilith, lowered Gungnir and faced the storm heading their way. "Werewolves, huh? They've never been very bright, but... this seems different."

"Hey, I'm right here, okay?" Siren questioned, looking at Valentina, who shrugged, "Few exceptions," she replied while continuing to gaze at the horizon.

Dante adjusted his vision, expanded his perception, and most importantly... he stretched his demonic energy to its fullest, just to identify what this could be. And well... he identified something.

"They're being used by someone," Dante said, his voice not worried, but more curious. "No one in their right mind would try creating hybrids like this... unless they wanted something very specific," he added.

Luckily or unluckily, Dante already knew about some of the practices the former prince Ethan Smith had. When he met Eldrax in the Empire, he witnessed what human capability could achieve. The man who dreams of becoming a god—or rather, a progenitor. There were enough failures to prove that creating new species and hybrids was a complete failure.

But... what if a hybrid replicates what it is?

Dante gritted his teeth, looking at the mass of energy approaching...

"Damn Beast of the End," he muttered, sensing the strange energy coursing through the bodies of those coming toward them.

"Damn it," Dante growled, his red eyes glowing as he watched the first silhouettes emerge from the storm.

The grotesque figures that emerged were large and disproportionate, with bodies that clearly belonged to werewolves, but their forms were twisted and wrong. Their claws were longer and crooked, their snouts deformed. Some had spikes protruding from their backs, while others had multiple rows of teeth that didn't belong to any known creature.

Whatever these things were, they weren't just werewolves—they were failed experiments, abominations.

"That bitch," Valentina growled. "She shared her power with them, but they couldn't handle it, so she used alchemy and fused them."

"They're not just hybrids; they're failed hybrids of werewolves and divine essence," Dante said, his voice dark. "Fenrir," he snarled.

Thousands of werewolves had died to create these monstrosities. Siren's face hardened—this was unacceptable. As the queen of her people, it was the worst thing she could witness.

Siren's eyes narrowed, her body began to transform with rising fury. Within seconds, she had assumed the form of Fenrir, towering over them at five—no, six meters tall. Her white fur bristled, glowing with power. "I'll kill them all," she growled.

"They look like they're in pain," one of the Scarlet Valkyries muttered beside Valentina, her voice low, filled with disgust.

"That's the point," Dante responded, his gaze darkening. "Whoever did this wanted to create something that only knows suffering and killing. They forced them to become uncontrollable. Pain breeds rage, and rage breeds strength. They're fighting to stop feeling the pain."

The sandstorm continued its advance, and soon, the hybrids were fully visible to everyone.

The ground beneath Dante and his companions vibrated with the pounding of the hybrid werewolves' massive paws against the sand. Each of them growled with animalistic fury, their eyes glowing with a sickening gleam of madness.

"They're coming in waves," Valentina muttered, tightening her grip on Gungnir. "We'd better deal with this quickly."

Lilith smirked with grim satisfaction, her eyes locked on the approaching creatures. "If they seek death, we can oblige."

Dante stepped forward, his muscles tense, ready for action as he watched the horde draw closer. "No more talking. Finish them. All of them."

The Scarlet Valkyries immediately prepared for battle, their swords and spears gleaming under the dimming sunlight. Valentina, with Gungnir raised, appeared like an incarnate force of divinity, her aura pulsating with the energy of a goddess ready for war.

Meanwhile, Siren's aura flared brighter than ever, a natural green energy enveloping her massive form. Her power was escalating in a way Dante had never seen before.

"A legacy…" Dante muttered as he watched her. "Another legacy… If this keeps up, I don't want to see what happens to the others here…" he whispered, drawing demonic runes in the air.

"Zaszaker," he spoke, and the rune shattered. "At least this way, she won't accidentally kill her allies."

And then, finally... it began.

The hybrids were close now, their snarls echoing through the air, and the first one lunged in a colossal leap, claws extended toward Dante.

With a swift, precise movement, Dante dodged, drawing his sword, Rebellion, and delivering a brutal strike that cleaved the creature in half before it even touched the ground. Thick, dark, foul-smelling blood sprayed through the air as the body fell, dissolving almost instantly into the scorching sand.

"Should've brought a mask," Dante muttered, his vampiric senses overwhelmed by the stench of the grotesque blood.

More of them surged from the sandstorm, and the battlefield descended into violent chaos. The Valkyries fought with lethal precision, cutting down the hybrids that got close. Their blades sliced through the deformed flesh, dismantling the creatures with ruthless efficiency.

Valentina, wielding Gungnir, unleashed blasts of pure divine energy, incinerating the hybrids before they could even approach. Every strike she delivered thundered like a storm, the ground shaking with the raw power of the spear. She showed no hesitation, no mercy—only pure destruction.

Lilith, in turn, moved with predatory grace, like a deadly shadow. Her demonic claws gleamed with dark energy as she tore the hybrid werewolves in half, her eyes glowing with excitement as she reveled in the carnage. Any hesitation she might have once felt about her place beside Dante had completely vanished. She was a queen of hell, and this was her domain.

"You call this an army?" she laughed as she destroyed one of the creatures with a single swipe of her claws. "I expected more of a challenge."

Dante, beside her, was equally relentless. He moved like lightning, each swing of his sword cutting down multiple enemies at once. He had fought werewolves before, but these hybrids were an insult to nature—a grotesque parody. Every time he caught the foul scent of their blood, his anger grew.

Yet, as fierce as they were, the hybrids were no match for the combined strength of Dante and his allies. Within minutes, the battlefield was littered with torn bodies, the black blood of the hybrids saturating the air with its unbearable stench.

The sandstorm began to dissipate, revealing the devastation they had left behind. The creatures, once violent and savage, now lay as lifeless corpses, their grotesque forms crumbling into the sand.

Dante stood still, gazing at the remains of the creatures with a look of disgust. He wiped his sword with a sharp motion, the black blood dripping from the blade like tar.

"What an abomination," he muttered, shaking his head. "Fenrir is behind this... and somehow, she knows exactly what she's doing."

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