GrandLord Dreath’s command did not echo the way it usually did.

It did not ripple outward with unquestioned authority, nor did it immediately compel movement from those who stood beneath him. The words had been spoken clearly, firmly, with the same tone that once made entire regions kneel without hesitation, yet this time, the response was different.

No one moved.

Not a single vampire stepped forward.

Not one dared to approach the fallen bodies that lay scattered across the shattered ground.

They heard him.

Every single one of them heard him.

But their bodies refused.

Their instincts held them back.

Their eyes remained fixed on the Moonshade family members, not out of curiosity anymore, but out of a deep, lingering fear that had not yet faded even after those figures had collapsed.

Their skins still carried a faint red hue.

Not as intense as before.

Not burning like earlier.

But still there.

Still present.

Still reminding everyone of what had just happened.

"...Go."

Dreath repeated, his voice slightly firmer this time, though still controlled.

But again—

Nothing.

The vampires exchanged glances.

Hesitant.

Uneasy.

None of them wanted to be the first.

None of them wanted to step closer.

Because even now, even with those bodies lying motionless on the ground, something about them felt wrong.

Too quiet.

Too still.

"...My Lord..."

One of the nearby vampires finally spoke, his voice trembling slightly as he lowered his head.

"...Perhaps... we should wait..."

The suggestion hung in the air.

Dreath did not immediately respond.

His gaze remained fixed forward.

Watching.

Observing.

And then—

Something changed.

At first—

It was barely noticeable.

A faint alteration.

A slight difference.

The red on their skin—

Faded.

Not all at once.

Not in a single instant.

But gradually.

Slowly.

The deep crimson that had once covered their bodies began to recede, as if it was being drawn inward, as if whatever force had filled them with that color was now withdrawing, returning to where it had come from.

"...Look..."

Someone whispered.

The nearest of the fallen Moonshade members, the one closest to the center, showed it clearly.

His skin, once glowing with that terrifying red, began to pale.

The color drained.

Bit by bit.

Until what remained—

Was his original complexion.

"...It’s... disappearing..."

Another vampire leaned forward slightly, his fear not gone, but now mixed with something else.

Curiosity.

Confusion.

Hope.

One by one—

The change spread.

Another body.

Then another.

Then more.

Each of them losing that red hue, returning to their previous state, their skin no longer burning with that unnatural intensity, their forms no longer radiating that oppressive presence.

"...They’re returning..."

"...They’re normal again..."

"...Is it over...?"

The murmurs grew.

Cautious.

Quiet.

But growing.

The fear—

Loosened further.

Because what they were seeing—

Looked like an end.

Not an escalation.

But not all of them changed.

Some remained.

Still red.

Still marked.

Still unmoving.

And that—

Kept everyone in place.

"...Not all of them..."

Achilor spoke softly, his gaze narrowing.

"...Some are still affected..."

Dreath did not move.

He did not step forward.

He did not command again.

He simply watched.

Waiting.

Because even now—

He did not trust it.

Time passed.

Slowly.

Measured not by words, but by breaths.

By the shifting tension in the air.

By the fading red on more and more bodies as the minutes stretched on.

The world remained quiet.

Too quiet.

No one spoke loudly.

No one dared to break the fragile stillness that had settled over the battlefield.

One more body returned to normal.

Then another.

Then another.

The red faded from them one by one, until only a few remained, their forms still carrying that deep crimson color, their bodies still unmoving, their presence still heavy.

"...We wait..."

Achilor murmured.

"...Until all of them..."

Dreath gave a small nod.

Not outwardly.

But enough.

The waiting continued.

And then—

The last of them—

Changed.

The final red faded.

Slowly.

Until no trace remained.

Every single one of the Moonshade family members now lay on the ground—

Normal.

Unchanged.

As if nothing had ever happened.

"...Now..."

Vord exhaled, his voice quieter now.

"...Now we can..."

But before he could finish—

A sound broke the silence.

A small one.

Almost nothing.

But enough.

A movement.

One of the fallen bodies—

Shifted.

A finger twitched.

Then—

An arm.

Then—

A body rose.

Slowly.

Weakly.

Struggling.

But rising.

"...What...?"

The nearest vampire stepped back instinctively, his eyes widening.

The Moonshade member pushed himself up.

His movements were unsteady.

His body swayed.

But he stood.

Not fully upright.

Not strong.

But standing.

"...He’s... getting up..."

Another followed.

Then another.

Then more.

One by one—

They rose.

Not in unison.

Not in strength.

But in persistence.

Their bodies still weakened.

Their limbs still trembling.

Some could barely stand before collapsing again, their legs giving out beneath them as they tried to find balance.

Others managed to stay up longer, though their movements remained unstable, their breathing heavy, their expressions confused.

"...What is happening...?"

A voice came from among them.

One of the Moonshade family members, now standing, looked around with wide eyes, his gaze moving across the broken battlefield, across the surrounding vampires, across the shattered ground.

"...Where... are we...?"

Another spoke.

"...What... happened...?"

Their voices carried confusion.

Not anger.

Not rage.

Not that burning intensity from before.

But confusion.

Pure.

Clear.

Unfiltered.

They looked at their own hands.

At their own bodies.

As if trying to understand something they could not remember.

"...Why... am I injured...?"

"...Why is everything... destroyed...?"

"...What did we do...?"

More of them spoke.

More questions.

More confusion.

The entire Moonshade family—

Those who had turned red—

Now stood or struggled to stand, their expressions filled with uncertainty, their minds unable to grasp what had occurred.

"...I... don’t remember..."

One of them said slowly.

"...The last thing I recall..."

"...was... pressure..."

"...and then..."

He stopped.

Because there was nothing after that.

No memory.

No recollection.

No understanding.

"...What is going on...?"

The question echoed.

Repeated.

From one to another.

"...Why are we like this...?"

"...Why are you all looking at us like that...?"

"...What happened...?"

The surrounding vampires—

Said nothing.

Because they could not.

Because what they were witnessing—

Made no sense.

GrandLord Dreath stood still.

His skeletal form unmoving.

His hollow gaze fixed on them.

"...They..."

Vord spoke, his voice barely audible.

"...They don’t know...?"

Achilor’s expression tightened.

"...They don’t remember..."

The realization settled heavily.

Because it meant—

Whatever had happened to them—

Had not only changed their bodies.

It had erased something else.

Their memory.

Their awareness.

Their understanding.

"...You... don’t remember anything...?"

Achilor asked, his voice controlled, though the tension beneath it was clear.

One of the Moonshade members looked at him.

Confused.

"...Remember... what...?"

Silence followed.

Deep.

Unsettling.

Because now—

The truth stood before them.

They had faced something terrifying.

Something beyond reason.

Something that had pushed even the strongest among them to their limits.

And now—

The ones at the center of it—

Knew nothing about it.

GrandLord Dreath said nothing.

For a long moment.

His gaze remained fixed.

His thoughts unreadable.

But inside—

Even he—

Had no answer.

They had fought.

They had resisted.

They had survived.

And now—

They stood.

Alive.

Confused.

And unaware.

"...What..."

Vord whispered.

"...What are they...?"

No one answered.

Because no one knew.

And for the first time since all of this had begun—

GrandLord Dreath—

Was speechless.