Danmachi: Echoes of a Vampire God

Naaza's footsteps echoed more than she'd like to admit. The walls of living wood on the 20th floor mocked her clumsiness with every misstep through moss and roots, as if whispering — "you don't belong here."

She walked behind Kael, like a shadow. He didn't speak much — almost nothing, really — and when he did, his words were brief, precise, always functional. He wasn't rude or cold. Just… distant.

And for some reason, that was harder to endure than if he simply ignored her.

"Are you sure this is the way?" he asked, without turning around.

"Yes… I managed to see some of the materials I need before those monsters chased us," she replied.

Naaza walked a few more steps before tripping on another root. She didn't fall, but she cursed under her breath. "Idiot," she muttered to herself.

She wanted to prove she could be useful — that she wasn't just a clumsy girl with an empty bow on her back. He had saved her, yes, but that didn't mean he had to carry her out of pity or treat her delicately like a child.

The path narrowed as they entered a less explored section of the floor. The walls seemed to pulse at times, as if they were breathing. The blue glow from the moss was faint, the corridors growing darker with every step.

Naaza paused for a moment, watching Kael walk a few steps ahead with that unsettling calm… as if nothing could disturb him. As if he wasn't even really there, just walking through a dream he already knew by heart.

'…He's young,' —she thought, furrowing her brow slightly— 'He can't be more than… seventeen? Maybe less. But he fights like he's spent half his life in this Dungeon. And still, I've never heard of him. That face… I'd remember it if I'd seen it before. It's not exactly forgettable.'

"Are you… part of a Familia?" —she blurted suddenly, without thinking too much.

Kael didn't stop, but his pace slowed. The faint crunch of his boots on the damp wood was the only answer for a few seconds.

"Something like that," —he said at last, without looking back.

Naaza blinked.

"'Something like that'…? But… you're alone. Are you a solo adventurer? Does your Familia have very few members?"

"You could say that."

Nothing more. Nothing less. As if every word was carefully weighed before leaving his mouth. As if he didn't want his voice to reveal anything he wasn't forced to share.

'…I guess he doesn't want to talk about it.'

Naaza pressed her lips together, frustrated.

It was like talking to a wall. A wall with a sword that could slice monsters in half and eyes that were strangely… captivating.

She didn't want to seem nosy,

But every second at his side made the fire of suspicion grow hotter in her chest. He wasn't normal. And not just because of how he moved, how he fought, or the cold way he read every corner of the Dungeon.

There was something else.

Something deeper. Something that made her stomach twist if she thought about it too long.

Countless theories floated through her mind.

Maybe he belonged to a new Familia —one of those that had just arrived in Orario, created by a silent, discreet god, formed of only one or two members. Maybe he was a prodigy, trained since childhood in some forgotten corner of the continent, and his deity had finally decided to join the visible world.

It sounded logical… until she thought about how strong he was.

Because Kael wasn't just agile or precise. What she had seen… was something more fitting of a level 3 adventurer. Maybe more. His reflexes, his posture, his technique, his cold blood… everything gave him away.

That was what unsettled her most. In Orario, adventurers who reached level 3 at such a young age were rare. Very rare. And they were all known. They had history. Rumors. Battles. Recognition. No one got to that point without being seen. Without leaving a trace.

Especially when most gods paraded them like trophies before the others.

And yet… she'd never heard of him. Not a word.

Only one possibility crossed her mind, but she dismissed it almost as quickly as it came. Almost.

Her common sense —the one she had built over years as an alchemist and adventurer— told her no one could reach that level without a Familia. Without a god's blessing. Without divine skills guiding every step.

In fact, if Kael told her to her face that he didn't belong to any Familia… she wouldn't believe him. She simply couldn't.

It would be like saying a fish could breathe outside water. Something impossible. Something against the rules of the world. Something not even ancient books mentioned without speaking of lost eras, forgotten wars, times when gods still didn't walk among mortals.

'That was more than a thousand years ago…' she thought, and a shiver ran down her spine.

She looked again at Kael's back, still walking forward without haste, saying nothing. He didn't turn around. He didn't ask. He offered nothing in return.

He was a shadow with a human shape.

She lowered her gaze and took a deep breath. Maybe she was exaggerating.

Maybe he was just that —a new adventurer, with a past she didn't know, with a strange story yet to be told. There could be many explanations. And, after all, he had saved her.

He was even helping her collect the ingredients for the potions her Familia had commissioned. He hadn't been cruel. He hadn't left her behind. He hadn't even asked for any compensation for helping her.

And yet…

What disturbed her the most wasn't his silence, or his strength. It was that moment. From before, when he saved her.

That instant when she saw him bleed. She saw him injured.

And then… nothing.

Not a drop. Not a scar. Not a wince of pain.

Not even a bandage.

His clothes had been torn where he was hit. Blood had splattered. She had seen it. She remembered.

And when she offered him a potion, he refused.

When she insisted on checking his wound, he simply stepped away.

But she pushed again. And saw. Or rather… saw nothing.

Not a mark.

Nothing.

Not even a scab suggesting rapid healing. Just intact skin, as if it had never been touched. As if the blood, the cut, the impact… had been nothing more than a mirage.

And the most unsettling part —she hadn't seen him use a potion. She hadn't seen him cast magic. No healing spell. Nothing.

Just silence. And then…

"I drank a potion earlier," —he had said.

She looked him in the eye then. She knew he was lying. Because she, more than anyone, knew how healing potions worked —and they didn't have that kind of delayed effect. At least… not any she knew.

But she didn't confront him.

She didn't question further.

Because something inside her —something primal, something that didn't come from her training as an alchemist or her time as an adventurer— told her it was better not to.

That some truths needed to simmer slowly, left to rest, until they were safe to touch.

So she lowered her gaze and nodded, pretending to believe him.

'…Maybe it's a secret potion from his Familia… or something like that.'

And while she followed him through the root-covered path, the silence of the Dungeon wrapped around them, thick, almost comforting… if it weren't for what ran through her mind.

But before she could continue unraveling her thoughts, they reached a wider area. A natural clearing, where the roots intertwined on the ground forming an almost circular pattern.

Naaza raised her gaze with some relief —she recognized that place. According to the map Lord Miach had shown her, it was one of the hidden fields where uncommon ingredients grew.

And yes, there they were.

Small sprouts of white-rooted flowers. Mushrooms with thick sap that glowed under the bluish light of the moss. Some translucent pods filled with a purple liquid used to craft potions.

"Perfect," —Naaza crouched and began collecting the materials carefully— "With this, I'll have enough for several flasks..."

She worked quickly and gently, using her nails and a small knife to avoid damaging the structure of each root. Kael, for his part, stood behind her in silence. He didn't speak. He didn't move. He just kept watch.

He looked like just another shadow of the forest.

Naaza glanced sideways at him while delicately pulling a flower from the stem. His expression was the same as always —still, serious. His eyes didn't blink. His breathing was barely noticeable.

'Who are you really, Kael?' —she thought, with a small knot forming in her chest— 'How is it no one knows about you? Why don't you want to talk about your Familia? How can you be this strong and… young… and…?'

A sharp noise, like branches snapping, pulled her from her thoughts.

Kael turned. She stood up.

From one of the cave's entrances, three reptilian figures emerged from the shadows. Lizardmen. Medium-sized, armed with claws and gleaming scales.

Kael stepped forward, placing himself between Naaza and the monsters in one fluid motion. As if he had done it a thousand times before.

The Lizardmen didn't hesitate.

The first one charged straight at them. Kael twisted his body smoothly, blocked the strike with a horizontal slash, and felt the impact reverberate through his arm. He didn't stop. He used the force of the blow to propel himself and drove the blade into the exposed side of the monster. The steel pierced muscle and bone, and the body fell with a dull thud.

Naaza held her breath.

The second Lizardman roared, raised its claw, and slashed in a downward arc. Kael rolled to the side, dodging by mere inches. He sprang to his feet, turned the blade, and sank it into the monster's back right between its bony plates. It dropped without even being able to scream.

But the third was faster. It came from his blind spot. Its claw tore through his sleeve. Kael grunted under his breath. The same monster launched a second strike, straight to his chest. The impact was strong. It made him stagger back a step.

She shouted before she even realized.

"Kael!"

"I'm fine," —he said, not looking at her.

The monster attacked again, but Kael was already moving. His body flowed like water. He dodged the next swipe, stepped forward, and with a quick motion, drove the tip of his sword into the creature's eye. The Lizardman fell immediately.

Three magic stones glowed faintly in the darkness of the cave.

It had all lasted less than a minute.

Naaza ran up to him.

"You're hurt!" —she said with a tense voice, pulling one of her potions from her pouch— "Let me see. I can treat it. It's the least I can…"

"No need." —he replied, stepping half a pace back, as if avoiding her closeness.

"I saw them hit you," —she insisted— "Twice. You're bleeding."

"It's over."

The answer was curt, almost irritated. Naaza clenched her teeth.

She ignored his tone and quickly stepped forward, grabbing his sleeve before he could pull away again. He didn't stop her. She pulled at the torn piece of fabric on his arm… and froze.

There was nothing...

Just like last time— The skin was smooth. Warm. Unmarked. Bloodless.

She frowned, and with slightly trembling hands, pulled at the torn edge of his shirt over his chest. That's where the hit had landed hardest—she remembered. The cloth had a ripped line… but underneath, again, nothing.

Not a scratch. Not a scab. Just intact skin.

Naaza stepped back, open-mouthed. A chill ran down her spine.

"What… how?"

Kael lowered his gaze. He didn't answer right away. In the end, he murmured softly—

"I used a potion."

"I didn't see you use anything," —she whispered, angry, with a mix of fear and confusion— "You didn't make a move. Not a word. I didn't take my eyes off you for a second. I would've noticed."

Kael shrugged, as if trying to downplay it.

"It was fast. You couldn't see it."

Naaza watched him for several seconds. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes searched his, trying to find a crack in that mask of indifference. A blink. A twitch. Anything.

But he said nothing. Offered no further explanation.

She lowered her gaze. She was now sure he was lying —even from before— but she knew pressing him wouldn't get her anywhere. Still… that doubt was burning her from the inside.

Stronger than ever.

Earlier, she had thought maybe he'd used some kind of special delayed-effect potion she had never heard of. But clearly, that wasn't the case this time —she had never taken her eyes off him.

Never.

And to begin with, he didn't even carry a pouch where he could keep potions. Just that small bag where he stored a few magic stones.

But knowing he wouldn't reveal anything else, she changed the subject.

"You're… incredible with that sword," —she said, lowering her voice.

Kael sheathed the weapon with a simple motion. He glanced at her from the side. He felt what she meant. But didn't mention it.

"Just enough."

The answer made her frown. For some reason, it hurt a little. As if he himself thought he wasn't worth anything.

But she didn't press. Not on that.

"Thank you, again… for protecting me."

Kael didn't answer. He only nodded, that brief gesture seeming to be all he was willing to give her.

Then, he pointed toward one of the side tunnels.

"We need to keep moving."

Naaza took a deep breath and nodded as well. She said nothing more. She put away the potions, gathered the remaining flowers, and fell into silence.

She had seen no magic. No special ability. No sign of a spell or trick.

Only a sword. And a rough, but dangerously effective technique.

And still… none of it explained anything.

She walked beside him without asking any more questions. It wasn't worth it. If he didn't want to talk, he wouldn't. She knew that. But the doubts kept turning in her head like the hands of a clock she couldn't stop.

'That wasn't normal.'

And yet, for some reason, it didn't scare her. It only made her want to understand him. To know what he was hiding.

"I've… got everything now." —she finally said, in a low voice— "We can go."

Kael nodded.

The nearest exit was to the south, according to the maps Lord Miach had shown her. A side route, rarely used, but safe.

Or so she thought.

The ground trembled. At first it was just a faint pulse, like a distant echo, almost indistinguishable from the constant murmur of the Dungeon. But in a matter of seconds, the tremor became a real quake. The roots cracked under their feet, and the earth seemed to breathe.

A roar rose from the depths, deep, thick… like the sound of dozens of claws and feet advancing at once, crashing, dragging, trampling whatever life still remained in their path.

Naaza froze. The hairs on her neck stood on end.

"What is that…?" —she asked, unable to control the tremble in her voice.

Kael stopped. He raised his face, focused his senses. He said nothing at first, but his body tensed.

"They're coming this way," —he murmured.

"Who…?"

"Monsters. A lot... Too many."

And without giving her time to ask more, he turned to her, picked her up in his arms effortlessly —as if she weighed nothing— and began running down the nearest tunnel.

Naaza screamed at first, from the surprise, from the contact, from how fast everything was happening. But she didn't fight it. She remained still in his arms, her face brushing against Kael's neck, her hands instinctively clinging to his torn clothing. She could feel the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his breath, the tension in his muscles.

And behind them… the horde.

Screeches, roars, buzzing, furious footsteps that shook everything. There was no way to tell how many there were. Only that they were getting closer.

Kael said nothing. He just ran. His speed was remarkable even without using his energy. But even so, it was clear they wouldn't be able to keep that lead for long.

And then, suddenly, he turned toward a crack in the wall. A narrow opening hidden by roots, hard to spot at a glance. He slipped inside sideways —it was a tight fit. He pushed as far in as the space allowed and, without hesitation, crouched behind a cluster of moss-covered rocks and tangled roots.

Darkness fell over them like a damp blanket.

Naaza barely breathed. Her heart was beating so loud she felt like he could hear it. The horde passed close by, so close she felt the air brush past the entrance. Claws and hooves scraped outside their hiding place, beyond, without stopping.

The roar gradually faded, dissolving into the distance.

Only then did Kael exhale. Slowly. Deeply. Relieved.

Naaza looked at him. Their faces were just centimeters apart. Her nose almost brushed his. His arms still held her.

The silence became unbearable.

Her tail twitched nervously from side to side, uncontrollably, and her face was burning. She could feel it all the way to her ears. He looked at her too, for a second. Then looked away.

"S-sorry," he whispered, lowering her gently.

She could have sworn she saw a faint blush on his face.

"I-it's okay…" she murmured, her voice barely audible.

She turned to adjust the bow on her back, more out of a need to do something with her hands than anything else. She couldn't look him in the face. It was ridiculous. He had just wanted to help her. But… the way he had held her. The warmth of his chest. The way he breathed…

'Stop it!' —she told herself— 'You're acting like a child…'

Kael had already stepped out of the hiding spot. He was checking the surroundings. She followed him silently.

They took a side path. It was narrow, steep, poorly lit. Naaza didn't recognize it. But the hope was that it would lead them away from the horde. So she didn't complain.

They walked for several minutes, accompanied only by the sound of their footsteps and the distant dripping of moisture. The air was heavier. From time to time, a root hung like a dangling arm in front of them, forcing them to duck.

Finally, the tunnel opened into a wider cave.

A hidden clearing, surrounded by vines, dense roots, and natural pillars of old wood. The moss on the walls was dimmer, barely glowing. Naaza frowned —she didn't like it. Something felt off.

Kael stopped.

He didn't say why.

He just went still, as if his shadow had frozen with him.

Naaza felt a chill run down her back. An invisible pressure settled over her shoulders. Heavy. Cold.

"K-Kael?"

He didn't answer. His eyes were moving side to side, scanning the cave.

"What's happening…?" she asked again.

Kael's hand was already on the hilt of his sword.

"…It was all a trap…" he whispered. His voice had a note of clarity, as if he had finally connected the dots.

She barely opened her mouth to ask what he meant when a shadow moved. Fast. Very fast. She barely caught a flicker of motion. But it wasn't heading toward her.

It was heading for him.

Kael sensed it just in time to turn —but not in time to dodge. A sharp blow —precise, brutal— struck him on the back of the neck. His body reacted by reflex. He staggered. Let out a choked sound.

Then fell to his knees.

And then, to the ground.

Unconscious.

"Kael!" Naaza screamed, running toward him. Her voice echoed through the seemingly empty cave.

The figure that had struck him was no longer in sight. It had vanished into the darkness around them. But then, other presences stirred. They made no sound. No breaths. Only the sensation.

Silhouettes. Creatures. Red eyes floating like embers suspended in the dark.

Naaza dropped to her knees beside Kael's body. She shook him.

"Kael… wake up! Please, come on… wake up!"

But he didn't move. His eyes stayed closed. His face, though uninjured, was pale, almost serene.

Naaza gritted her teeth. Her heart pounded against her ribs. The creatures were getting closer, surrounding them. She didn't know how many there were. Or what they were exactly.

She only knew one thing.

This time… they were trapped.

And he couldn't help her.