The vampires kept coming. Obviously. Because why would anything on this hellscape mountain operate on a reasonable schedule.
They dropped from ledges above with absolutely zero regard for gravity, trajectory, or personal safety.
One launched itself from a cliff face, missed all four wolves entirely, and slammed face-first into a boulder with a wet CRACK that echoed across the slope.
Xeon: That one missed.
Fin: I saw.
Another dropped directly onto the path ahead, landed on its own ankle at the wrong angle, crumpled sideways, and rolled off the edge before it could stand up. A third stuck the landing perfectly, shrieked in triumph, and was immediately bulldozed off the mountain by Rook, who hadn't even been looking at it.
Apparently dying was the only thing these creatures were genuinely efficient at, and even that required assistance.
Then a voice cut through the carnage.
