Danmachi: Echoes of a Vampire God

The air inside the cave was dense, humid, almost throbbing. The yellowish light of the moss covering the walls flickered softly, casting gentle shadows over the roots hanging from the ceiling like living curtains.

Lyd moved between the intertwined trunks and knotted roots, guiding Kael with silent steps to a more secluded chamber, where a faint murmur of water echoed in the distance. There, under the protection of a natural vault of living wood, lay Naaza.

"The best option is to keep her asleep until you leave," said Lyd in a deep voice, pointing toward her.

The chienthrope lay on an improvised bed, formed by carefully braided roots and covered in glowing moss. Her breathing was calm. Her face, serene.

"The sap we used..." —Lyd continued— "keeps her stable. Heals, hydrates, and wraps her in a deep sleep. She'll be fine for two or three days, without pain, without disturbance."

Kael frowned. Crossed his arms. Watched Naaza's body for a few seconds.

He didn't like the idea. Not at all. But he understood it.

The Xenos didn't trust the surface dwellers. They couldn't. Not after everything that had been done to them.

Although Dix and his subordinates had been the most recent and cruel hunters, they weren't the first. Nor the only ones. Long before, when the Zeus and Hera familias were still active in Orario, they too had fallen victim to ambition. Several Xenos were kidnapped during that period —captured in secret, used as raw material for experiments that were hidden beneath the rug of great heroic feats.

That's why the distrust didn't stop at Dix and his men. It included the gods in general and their familias. Because even those who came from the heavens could be worse than the monsters they claimed to fight.

Since then, the fear persisted. And with it, caution. The Xenos had learned, through pain and loss, that the surface was a dangerous place. That not everyone who smiled did so with good intentions.

So Kael couldn't be angry with them for their caution. And even if nothing happened… there was another problem…

'After what happened… waking up here, surrounded by talking monsters… wouldn't be fair to her. Not now.'

Kael had noticed every small tremble in her body whenever a monster appeared. Even if he defeated them easily, even if Naaza hadn't suffered more injuries since then… the fear was still there. Latent. Not like an open wound, but like a shadow clinging to the skin.

He remembered clearly how her body tensed, how her hands closed into fists. How her eyes opened a bit wider than usual, as if expecting to see something worse than what was actually there. It was subtle. Hard to notice for anyone who didn't know her… but Kael had seen it.

And although it wasn't serious enough to call it full-blown trauma —not like the one he knew she lived through in the original story— it was there. Silent. Like a splinter buried too deep.

One that, sooner or later, would hurt.

But even so… it hurt him. Because she didn't know anything. Not who the Xenos were, nor what they had done for him, nor what he had done for them. She was someone foreign to it all. When she woke up, he would have to lie to her. Hide the truth.

In the end, he let out a long sigh and nodded.

"Alright."

Lyd nodded back, like someone who understood a burden without needing to put it into words. Then he stepped back, giving him space.

Ranye was in the back, among the shadows of the cave. She hadn't said a single word since they entered, but her presence was… slightly suffocating. Her red eyes followed every gesture Kael made, every tension in his shoulders, every held breath.

She didn't judge. Didn't question. But she didn't… stop watching him.

Kael felt that weight on the back of his neck. It wasn't hostility. Nor hatred. Nor fear. Not even suspicion.

It was… something deeper. Sharper. As if she were trying to understand him through silence.

That distrust toward the gods and their children wasn't paranoia. It was memory. Pain turned into instinct. That's why the Xenos were cautious even now, with Kael among them. Because even if he wasn't fully human, he wasn't one of them either. And until they knew what he was… they couldn't lower their guard.

After making sure with Lyd that Naaza would be alright until his departure, Kael began to explore the refuge. The hidden village of the Xenos was a serene labyrinth, woven between living roots and damp wood, with ceilings that breathed and walls that pulsed to the rhythm of the surroundings. It was strange… but comforting.

A network of platforms and walkways interwove through the central cave, suspended by hanging roots and supported by materials that seemed to grow from the ground itself. The lighting didn't come from fire, but from small natural torches —branches infused with bioluminescent sap— that cast warm and dim tones amid the green moss. The air had a sweet aroma, a mix of damp earth and fresh sap. An organic home. Pulsing. Alive.

As he walked along one of the moss-covered paths, Kael saw a familiar figure approaching —short, with silver armor that seemed made from reinforced scraps, his body hunched like that of a tired old man… but his eyes gleamed with cunning. He wore a frayed red cap, matching his worn scarf of the same color.

Let.

"Well… Kael," —said the goblin with his raspy tone, raising an eyebrow as he studied him— "Even with all your weirdness… I'm glad you're still alive."

Kael couldn't help a brief, discreet smile.

"Likewise."

There were no pats on the back or grand greetings. Just a brief exchange of respect between two who had shared a cell. Who had seen together the worst face of Knossos' darkness, and had managed to escape it.

"Most of those who made it out… still can't believe it." —Let continued, hands behind his back, walking alongside him— "But you… you made it possible."

"We all did what we could," Kael replied without boasting.

Let chuckled softly.

"Sure. But you were the one who grabbed the keys and unlocked our cages one by one, remember? I do. And that's not even mentioning what happened after."

Without saying more, Let veered into a small tunnel, greeting with a light two-finger gesture as he left. Kael watched him for a few seconds. In his chest, something like relief stirred briefly. Then he kept walking.

Further ahead, Kael heard a rhythmic sound —heavy steps, accompanied by the soft dragging of thick branches. It was Cliff. The hippogriff walked calmly along one of the wider paths, carrying vegetal materials to reinforce an elevated path in the cave. His feathers were still a bit ruffled, but better groomed than the last time Kael had seen him. The blue scarf fluttered slightly with every movement, and his yellow beak gleamed under the soft moss light. Despite his imposing size, he moved with an almost silent grace.

When Kael appeared, Cliff stopped abruptly.

His golden eyes shone with intensity. He let out a low sound, somewhere between a snort and a soft chirp. A warm emotion filled the air. And then, without a word, the hippogriff approached.

Kael didn't move.

Cliff lowered his head slowly until his forehead touched Kael's, with a delicate gesture full of meaning. It was a light touch, but firm. Recognition. Gratitude. Affection.

Kael closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of the gesture. There was something deeply comforting in it… something that needed no words.

Then, without another sound, Cliff stepped back, turned around, and continued his task as if nothing had happened. But the tension in his wings had disappeared. His tail moved more lightly. His stride, more relaxed.

Kael watched him go for a few seconds. Said nothing. He didn't need to. They had been together in the darkness, when all seemed lost. And now… they were free. Both of them. Still alive.

He continued walking.

The air was still thick with vegetal humidity, with that faint scent of sap and living roots. The soft lights of hanging moss outlined the paths between platforms and natural terraces.

A little further ahead, a small Xeno —one of those who had been trapped with him— was watching from the curve of an elevated root. It was small, with a slender dark body and large, bright eyes like violet moons. In its hands, it held a glowing flower —a bioluminescent plant that pulsed softly with a purple glow, as if breathing with life.

The Xeno said nothing, maybe because it couldn't. It just extended its small hands, offering it.

Kael stopped. Hesitated for a second… and then took it with both hands. It was soft to the touch, warm, like a flame turned into a flower. He didn't fully understand why he accepted it. Maybe out of courtesy. Or instinct.

But when his fingers brushed those of the small Xeno, something loosened inside him. And then, he smiled.

It wasn't a fake smile. Nor one born out of obligation, or to hide pain. It was real. Small, even awkward… but sincere. For the first time since waking in the village, his face relaxed without a defense.

The small Xeno seemed to smile with joy, made a gesture like a clumsy bow, and ran back to the platform that served as its refuge.

Kael kept walking for a while, until he reached a sort of central plaza —a more open area where several colossal roots intertwined like natural columns—. He slowed his pace. The place looked like an organic forum, an open chamber formed by the living architecture of the floor itself. The moss light shone more intensely here, as if it recognized the heart of the village.

Aude stood beside one of the cracks in the ground, his shadowed figure outlined by the dim glow. The dark armor covering his entire body absorbed the surrounding bioluminescence, making him look more like a fully equipped adventurer than a War Shadow. He was crouched, carefully moving aside root fragments to extract a herb Kael had seen Naaza harvest before —likely for making some kind of poultice for wounds.

When he saw Kael, he stopped.

He said nothing, of course. From what Kael remembered, Aude was one of the few Xenos comparable to a Level 4 who couldn't speak, but his body straightened, and a moment later, he extended a "shadow hand" toward him —a translucent, dark limb that emerged from his body like an incorporeal extension. It vibrated softly with energy, as if it had a will of its own.

Kael stopped in front of him. And without hesitation, he raised his hand and took it.

The contact was brief. But there was weight in it. It wasn't just a greeting. It was recognition. A silent thank you. A welcome that needed no words.

From a nearby corner, Let appeared out of the shadows, his small body wrapped in his red cap and scarf fluttering lightly in the cave's air. He smirked, as if he'd been watching the entire time.

"That's Aude," —he murmured in a low, almost conspiratorial voice— "As you've probably guessed, he can't talk. But he tries real hard to be understood despite that."

Kael didn't reply. He just bowed his head slightly in a sign of respect. He knew what Aude had done. He was one of the Xenos who, in the other world, had died alongside Ranye. He had loved his people. Would've protected them even if it cost him his life. He was that kind of person.

'I guess waking up in this world wasn't a complete mistake... if I can keep changing things for the better…'

With those thoughts in mind, and after bidding a silent farewell to the War Shadow, Kael resumed his steps.

And as he walked, his thoughts inevitably turned toward Marie.

The Mermaid he had fallen for.

He didn't want her to be alone. Not while he, trapped between decisions and secrets, searched for a way to bring her to the surface without putting her at risk. This place… this refuge of braided roots, warm sap, and calm bioluminescence, was the closest thing to a home Kael had known since waking in this world.

There were no walls. No spears. No eyes full of fear. Just room to breathe. To belong.

'She'd be safe here…' —he thought, stopping for a moment— 'Here she wouldn't have to hide or be afraid. Here, they knew what it meant to be hated just for existing. For being born and seen as a monster by the world.'

A quiet exhale escaped his lips. But not from exhaustion. It was relief. Or something close to it.

Then, a barely perceptible murmur in his awareness brought him back. Not a sound. Not a word.

A presence. The same one that had followed him since before. The one that never truly left.

Ranye.

She was up high, standing on an interwoven platform of roots. She didn't move. She didn't speak. But her crimson eyes remained fixed on him. Not like the other Xenos, who watched with respect, curiosity, or cautious distance.

No.

Hers watched with intention. As if every step he took carried weight. As if every reaction was being recorded —not to be judged, but to be understood.

Kael couldn't help but meet her gaze a second longer than necessary. And in that instant, he understood something —he didn't know what Ranye thought of him. He didn't know if she approved of him, hated him, or simply analyzed him as just another possibility among the many hard decisions she had to make as one of the Xeno leaders.

But what he did know… was that she didn't ignore him.

If anything, she always seemed to be near him. Not in sight, not openly. But present. Hidden, yes… yet still there. Like a silent shadow among the roots and the soft glow of the moss.

And that, for Kael, was a good sign.

Because if she had simply erased him from her awareness, it would've been impossible to hold any kind of conversation with her. And even if he wouldn't admit it out loud… he wanted that conversation. He needed that second chance.

After what had happened earlier, when he arrived at the village… those brief words they exchanged —words that carried more weight than he could handle at the time— weren't enough.

There were things he didn't understand. Glances he hadn't known how to read. And in the middle of all of it… Ranye. Yes, it would be awkward. Maybe tense. But he couldn't leave it like this. Not without trying.

The Xeno village began to quiet down.

As time passed, the rhythm of life among the roots slowed, became more measured. The creatures who had once crossed living bridges or tended to gardens of glowing mushrooms now retreated into their personal caves —small hideaways where the darkness didn't bring fear… but refuge. The natural torches slowly began to dim, not because anyone put them out, but because the sap that fueled them knew when to rest.

Kael descended slowly down one of the moss-covered ramps, his steps softened by the lush texture beneath his boots. He headed toward one of the mid-level chambers, right where Naaza was resting. He hadn't forgotten about her, nor about his silent promise to watch over her. Even if there was no real danger anymore, he wanted to be there. Not out of duty —by choice.

The room was silent. The only sound was a distant drip, falling rhythmically from some root far away.

Naaza was still asleep. Her expression unchanged —serene, almost fragile. The bioluminescent sap surrounding her glowed with a gentle hue, and every time her chest rose with a slow breath, the roots around her seemed to embrace her just a little more.

Kael sat near the entrance, not too close. His back rested against one of the living walls, the soft curve of the wood providing strange comfort. His eyes, heavy from the day, began to close on their own.

'Just for a moment… I'll stay here, just in case…'

But before he could fully drift off, a sound broke the silence.

Steps.

Delicate. Measured. So soft they barely touched the ground —but clearly coming toward him. Kael didn't move. He didn't need to. He knew who it was.

"Ranye… right?"

She stopped a few steps away. She didn't respond immediately. The half-woman, half-spider silhouette emerged from the shadows as if she had always been there, merely waiting for the exact moment to reveal herself. Her crimson eyes glowed, catching Kael's like an invisible hook.

"The adventurer is fine." —she said, her voice firm but soft, closer to a whisper than a statement— "No abnormalities. Her breathing is stable. You can rest easy."

Kael nodded. He didn't speak. Even though he didn't look at her directly, he felt her gaze like a silent pressure, as if it weighed and measured his every breath.

Then, without warning, she turned.

"Come with me."

She didn't say it like a command. Nor like a plea. It was… an invitation that allowed no indifference.

Kael didn't answer. He stood up. Part of him already knew this moment was coming. That at some point, they would have to talk. That the silence between them would eventually have to break.

And even though every fiber of his being whispered discomfort, tension, unease… he knew that if he didn't follow her now, he would lose his only chance.

So he did.

He followed her.

They walked together, in silence, toward a conversation that had waited far too long beneath the roots.

They passed through tunnels darker than usual, where the roots grew denser, the lights scarcer. No other Xeno crossed their path. It was as if everyone knew this path wasn't meant for them.

Eventually, they arrived.

A deeper chamber, more secluded. Not as large as the central plaza, nor as warm as the cave where Naaza slept. But it had something else. Intimacy. Belonging.

The walls were covered in fine webs descending from the ceiling in silver threads, crossing over one another in almost impossible patterns. It wasn't a dirty or monstrous cave. It was… artistic. Symmetrical. Almost beautiful. As if the chaos of nature had been tamed with precise, millimetric care.

The entire space was meticulously decorated, as if every strand of silk had been placed with a very specific purpose.

In one corner, a black suit of armor rested against the wall. Nearby, several collected objects —a worn cloak, a broken sword, a cracked seashell, and many more— were arranged in small mounds on hardened silk mats. It looked like a collection.

Kael tilted his head slightly.

'Do all Xenos girls do this…?'

He thought of Marie, her small cave filled with surface-world trinkets, carefully arranged as if they held deep sentimental value. Now, he saw something similar in Ranye. Useless objects, yet imbued with meaning. Fragments of a distant world, kept as if refusing to forget them was the only way to stay real.

Before he could keep thinking, Ranye moved.

She crossed the room with that contained elegance of hers. Her legs moved without a sound, as if they brushed the ground instead of stepping on it. She approached a corner, searched among the small mounds with hunter's precision… until her human hands retrieved a small pouch, woven from dark plant fiber, simple and unadorned.

She returned to him. Slowly. When she stood before him, she paused. Observed him for a moment. Her red eyes, deep and unreadable, showed no clear emotion… but they weren't empty either.

Then she extended her arm.

"Take it."

Kael looked down.

Inside the pouch were over a dozen magic stones, of various sizes. Some still glowed faintly.

"I thought that…" —she began, a little nervous— "…maybe you were hungry.", she finished softly.

Kael looked up, surprised.

For a moment, he didn't know what to say. Then, simply—

"I don't… eat this," he said, a bit awkwardly, wearing an ironic smile.

She tilted her head. Slightly confused.

"Then… what do you eat?"

Kael went silent. One second. Then another. And in that space between words… she remembered.

The blood.

Her blood.

That moment in the room where her people were imprisoned, when she was wounded and on the verge of collapse. When he held her. When he buried his face in her neck and drank without permission. Not out of pleasure. Not cruelty. But out of need. That act had saved lives —she saw it, she understood it— but it was still a line crossed uninvited.

The tension grew. Silent. Dense, like the humid air of the cave.

Ranye didn't finish her question. She didn't need to. Her gaze dropped, for the first time since Kael had seen her. She no longer analyzed. No longer evaluated. No longer challenged. She just… looked away.

He swallowed hard.

He remembered too. What happened. What he had done.

"I'm sorry." —he said, in a voice as low as a whisper.

She didn't respond right away. She closed her eyes slowly, as if she needed a second to digest what she had just heard. Then she took a deep breath, holding in something that never quite turned into visible emotion.

"It wasn't... pleasant." —she finally admitted, in a whisper barely stronger than the murmur of the roots— "But I understand."

She didn't say it to soothe him. She wasn't trying to excuse him or console him. It was just a bare truth, accepted like an inevitable scar. A fact.

Kael lowered his gaze slightly.

"I thought… you'd hate me for it." —he confessed, his voice filled with a mix of insecurity and resignation.

Ranye looked at him, her eyes glowing without warmth.

"I don't have that luxury." —she murmured.

Those words hit him with a strange mixture of relief and sorrow. He wasn't forgiven. But he wasn't rejected either.

For a moment, neither spoke. The silence was tense, but not hostile. Just… dense.

Then she closed her eyes, as if she needed a second to gather her courage. She inhaled slowly, silently.

Kael swallowed. The silence stretched on. He didn't know what to do.

"Ranye…?"

"Do you want to drink my... blood?"

The question wasn't aggressive. Nor accusatory.

It was soft. Too soft. And that… made it hurt more.

Kael froze. For a second, his mind went blank.

'What… the hell…?'

His thoughts tangled like roots.

'Do all monster girls like donating blood? Because this is the second time this has happened to me…' —The scene gave him a strange déjà vu; Marie had asked him the same question not long ago.

His mind was pure confusion. He didn't know if he was dreaming, if it was a trap, or if Ranye was just… being Ranye.

She didn't look at him directly.

But her face…

There was a faint blush on her cheeks. Barely visible, but there. Beating under her pale skin. Her eyes shifted. They looked at the ground, to the side, anywhere but at Kael.

His heart sped up reflexively.

'Is she serious…? Is this really happening?'

She said nothing more. She just waited. As if her question was part of a routine —something that had to be said before the inevitable.

Kael, not knowing whether he should laugh, run, or thank her, murmured quietly—

"W-well… if you don't mind… a little would be nice…"

He wasn't stupid. He knew how important blood was for him. He had learned that with Marie. Since then, he understood that something inside him reacted every time he smelled or tasted it —but that also, with enough control, he could resist it. And now, before going up to the surface… he didn't want to lose the chance to get more if he needed it later.

Ranye nodded. Barely. A gesture so small it could have been mistaken for a tremor.

The silence between them grew denser. More expectant.

Kael took a step. Then another. He approached cautiously, gently, as if crossing an invisible line neither of them dared to name. She didn't back away. But she trembled. Slightly. Subtly. Like a taut string about to snap.

And when he was right in front of her, he leaned in.

He opened his mouth slowly. His fangs barely visible, like a shadow. He moved toward her neck, right where he could drink her blood —where it was easiest, where it was… most delicious.

But then—

BAM!

A sharp, precise blow to the stomach.

Kael flew backward like a cannonball, crashing into the soft, silk-covered wall of the cave. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs. He rolled, brushing the webs off his clothes.

"…what… the hell…?" —he mumbled, his eyes spinning for a second.

When he managed to focus, he saw her. Ranye was on the other side of the room, with her back to him, unmoving. Silent.

But Kael could feel it. She radiated it.

Red.

She was red. Her neck, her ears, her shoulders, down to the base of her back. Her whole face was dyed a deep red. Her skin, usually pale white, was now flushed so clearly that even the bright green moss around her couldn't hide it.

She didn't say anything. Didn't move. She just… stayed there. As if she regretted every second of the scene.

Kael got up awkwardly, brushing off the silk that clung to his clothes.

And laughed. A low, tired laugh… but honest.

"I guess that wasn't a "yes"..."

Silence answered him. Kael walked toward the exit, unhurried, with his pulse still slightly agitated.

"Good night, Ranye."

He didn't wait for a response. With her, silence always seemed to weigh more than words.

But just as he crossed the threshold of the cave's exit, a whisper reached his back —so faint it might have been only the wind, perhaps only his imagination, or the echo of his own heart—

"G-good night…"

Kael paused for a second.

And smiled. Not a forced smile. Not an awkward one.

A real one. Peaceful.

For the first time, the name Ranye didn't weigh him down.

It only made his chest… beat a little harder.

Just a little.