Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls-Chapter 450: Vampire Problems

The scene begins in near-total darkness, broken only by distant lamps and the moon partially obscured by heavy clouds. The night seemed thick, suffocating, as if the very air had weight. Between narrow alleys and uneven rooftops, a female figure rushed forward, her body forcing limits long since surpassed.

She was beautiful.

Even in her absence.

Long, white hair fluttered behind her like a ghostly trail, stained with dark blood that didn’t fully reflect the light. Her crimson eyes shone frighteningly, sometimes intensely, sometimes clouded, betraying profound exhaustion. Her pale skin was cut in stitches, some wounds still open, others hastily healed. Each breath came short, tearing at her chest, as if her lungs were recovering from the insistence on continuing.

She ran.

Not by choice.

But because she wanted to die when she stopped.

The super speed was still there, latent, pulsing beneath her skin like a desperate instinct. The world around her distorted as she activated, buildings blurring, the ground disappearing beneath her feet. But something was wrong. The rhythm faltered. The energy came in jolts, like a heart beating out of rhythm. Each time she pushed, pain exploded through her muscles, bones creaked, and her vision escaped for dangerously long fractions of a second.

She stumbled as she landed on a rooftop, almost falling to her knees.

"No... not now..." she murmured to herself, her voice too weak for the silence of that night.

She was launched again, ignoring her own body’s warning.

The smell of her own blood followed.

And his smell too.

She could feel it.

Even without looking back.

It was like a shadow clinging to her existence, a constant presence imposed on the nape of her neck, cold, enveloping. No matter how many streets she crossed, how many leaps she made, but sometimes she tore through space with vampiric speed. He was there. Always the same distance away. Always getting closer.

Despair began to truly creep in.

Not immediate fear—vampires learned early on to live with that. It was something worse. The certainty that she was being hunted not out of hatred, not out of revenge, but out of efficiency. Out of duty.

She turned a corner at top speed, crossing a wide street, ignoring the cars that braked in panic at the sight of just a white blur crossing the asphalt. She jumped again, but her body failed in mid-air. Her right leg didn’t respond as it should. A jolt of pain ran through her hip, and the landing was clumsy, heavy.

She hit the wall of a building, using her hands to cushion the impact, but felt something warm trickle between her fingers.

New blood.

"Damn it...," she whispered, her knees threatening to give way.

That’s when she felt it. The impact came from behind.

There was no warning. No words.

His boot struck her side with brutal force, compressing her ribs, throwing her body against the wall with enough violence to crack the concrete. The dry sound echoed through the emptiness. She felt her lungs abandon her in a desperate gush, a vision exploding into white dots.

The world spun.

She fell to the floor, sliding down the wall until she hit the cold ground. For a moment, everything was distant. Muffled children. Her own heart seemed to beat too far away. She tried to move and failed. Her muscles simply wouldn’t obey.

"Get up, Princess."

The voice came calmly.

Coldly.

Too close.

She forced her eyes to focus. His silhouette stood out against the dim street light. Tall. Relaxed posture. No sign of hurry. No sign of effort. He didn’t even seem to have soiled his clothes.

She tried to laugh, but the sound came out as a painful gasp.

"You... are you having fun?" she asked with difficulty, bringing her hand to her abdomen. Her fingers were stained with blood.

He didn’t answer immediately. He just walked a few steps, stopping a few meters from her.

"No," he finally said. "This isn’t personal."

She relaxed her face with effort, her white hair stuck to her bloodied skin. Crimson eyes stared at him, full of anger, confusion... and something broken.

"Then why?" she asked procedurally. "Why are you hunting me like this? We are vampires. Of the same lineage. Of the same race." Her voice faltered at the end. "We shouldn’t be fighting like this."

She helped him up, leaning against the wall. She managed to kneel, but her legs trembled dangerously. Every movement made her body protest.

He watched her silently for a few seconds.

"Talk."

"Orders," he replied simply. "They came from above."

She froze.

The weight of those words was greater than any physical blow.

"From above...?" she repeated, almost in shock. "You’re saying that—"

"That someone decided you’re a problem." He tilted his head slightly, studying her. "Problems get solved."

She felt something inside.

It wasn’t just fear.

It was.

"I am a Valencrest," she said, her voice now heavy with something deeper. "I am a princess. This... this is madness."

He gave a humorless half-smile.

"Princess," he repeated, as if testing the word. "That’s exactly why."

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to organize the chaos forming in her mind. Her body ached. Her head throbbed. But what hurt most was the slow, cruel realization sinking in.

"So that’s how it is..." she murmured. "Not even our own are safe."

"Especially our own," he corrected.

She opened her eyes again, now filled with naked, raw despair. There was no more pretense. No more royal pride. Just a wounded, cornered woman, realizing that the world she knew was ready to devour her.

"Are you really going to do this?" she asked. "Are you going to kill me because of an order?"

He watched her for a few more seconds. For the first time, something resembling hesitation crossed his gaze.

But it was quick.

"I have no choice," she said. "Just like you didn’t when you started running."

He made a path.

She tried to activate super speed again, but her body simply didn’t respond. The energy failed completely. Her vision darkened at the edges.

Panic finally engulfed her completely.

She recoiled, dragging herself across the floor, her back scraping against the rough concrete.

"Wait...," she said, her voice broken. "Please... you know what this means. This will—"

He stopped in front of her.

His gaze was now completely impassive.

"It means the night will get a little quieter," he replied.

And as he raised his hand, ready to finish it, the vampire princess would see, too late, that this hunt was never about justice, honor, or balance.

It was about power.

And she was on the wrong side of him.

His hand never reached her.

The exact instant his fingers advanced, something closed around her wrist.

It wasn’t an impact. It wasn’t a push.

It was absolute restraint.

The vampire felt the world stop.

He tried to pull his arm back reflexively, the strength coursing through muscles trained by decades of combat. Nothing. It was like trying to move a mountain with his own tendons. The pressure didn’t hurt—yet—but it was total, perfect, humiliating.

"What...?"

He turned his face sharply, instinct screaming danger on every level.

Behind him, emerging from the shadows as if he had always been there, was a man with long red hair, eyes too light for that night, an expression too relaxed for that scene.

Kael.

"How cute," said the voice, speaking with a quiet, almost affectionate mockery.

The vampire tried to break free again, now with real panic beginning to creep up his spine. His aura exploded, vampiric power spreading through the becoming like an invisible wave. Nothing responded. Nothing reacted.

Then the cold came.

First at his feet.

Not like a breeze. Not like any ordinary cold.

It was a living cold.

The ground beneath the vampire’s boots cracked, fine cracks spreading as ice surged from the inside out, rising up the soles, engulfing his ankles in fractions of a second. The cold bit into the flesh, piercing leather, bone, nerves. It was genuine—not of pain, but of utter surprise.

"What—?!"

The ice continued.

It climbed up his legs, crystallizing the surrounding air, forming thick, translucent layers that trapped his movements with cruel efficiency. He tried to take a step. There was no step. There was no ground. Only imprisonment.

Kael tilted his head, observing the scene as if analyzing an interesting detail.

"How cute," he commented, his voice too soft for the terror it caused. "Are you pissing yourself with fear?"

The vampire’s eyes widened.

Now he understood.

Too late.

"You... you are—"

"Shhh," Kael interrupted, still holding his wrist effortlessly. "Stay still. You were so confident two seconds ago. Let’s keep this energy, okay?"

The princess, fallen against the wall, watched the scene with difficulty, her vision still blurry, her body trembling—but now not just from pain.

Confusion.

Relief.

And something more dangerous: hope.

She tried to speak, but her throat wouldn’t respond immediately.

The frozen vampire—literally—began to descend into genuine despair. His aura churned, colliding with Kael’s presence and being crushed unceremoniously. It was like throwing waves against an iceberg... and discovering the iceberg was moving toward him.

"I-I was just following orders..." he managed to say, his voice trembling. "It’s not personal..."

Kael finally looked at him for real.

The smile.

"Funny," he said, his tone still calm, but now sharp as a blade. "You said the exact same thing to her."

The ice advanced a little further, rising to knee height. The vampire spoke as the sensation shot through his nerves, a white, absolute pain that made his brain fail to process it.

Kael released his wrist.

His arm didn’t fall. He hung suspended, trapped by the ice that was already beginning to envelop his forearm as well.

Kael took a step forward, placing himself between the vampire and the princess, as if only now had he decided to acknowledge her as part of the discovery.

He spoke without looking back:

"Hey. Princess."

She squeezed her eyes shut with effort.

"Y-yes...?"

"Relax," he said simply. "You’re not going to die today."

The vampire tried to shout something, perhaps a threat, perhaps a plea.

Kael slipped.

"Dude... you picked a terrible target."

He snapped his fingers.

The ice exploded upward.

Not in fragments—in dominion.

Absolute cold covered the entire alley, the walls covered in a layer of ice, or became heavy, crystalline. The vampire was swallowed up to his waist, then up to his chest, his body completely immobilized, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. Kael moved away from him, his footsteps echoing off the ice like dry ones.

"Let me explain something to you," he said, leaning slightly to be at his eye level. "When someone uses the word ’orders’ to excuse bullshit... it’s usually because they never had the courage to decide anything on their own."

The vampire tried to speak.

His lips were beginning to freeze.

"Now," Kael continued, straightening up, "you’re going to stay there. Thinking. Very quietly."

He took her hand.

The ice rose to the vampire’s neck, stopping there with surgical precision. Only his head remained free, his face contorted in utter panic.

Kael then turned to the princess.

His expression changed again. Not gentle. But... less deadly.

"Can you stand?" he asked.

She tried. She groaned. But nodded.

"I can."

"Good." He gave a crooked half-smile. "Because the night isn’t over yet."