A Game Of Chess With A Vampire
Chapter 48: Am I...Dreaming?

Chapter 48: Am I...Dreaming?

Draven did not want to snap at him, so he simply nodded. He entered the room and slammed the door shut.

Reluctant and bewildered, Santino lingered a bit at the door before deciding to leave. He can’t really explain it, but he was having a terrible premonition about that night.

Draven ambled to the table and dropped the stack of books. His attention shifted to Avelina, who was fast asleep on the bed, and he gently covered her properly with the duvet.

It was already seven in the morning, and he needed to sleep as well, so he went through the entire process of taking his shower, drying his hair, and changing into his night suit.

However, while he was in the dressing room, the door suddenly creaked open. Six masked men, draped heavily in black clothing, sneaked into their room. Their movement was quiet enough to not initiate any unwanted sounds or alert anyone.

They didn’t bother to shut the door in order to make their escape much easier.

"Is that her?" the shortest one asked in a very low voice.

The one who was the tallest nodded. "I smell a human scent from her. It’s definitely her."

"It is her. I can smell it too," the skinniest of them affirmed. "Let’s do this quickly and leave."

He was the first to make an approach to the bed where Avelina lay. The rest followed suit.

They gazed at Avelina, and the skinny one pulled out his knife, so sharp that even the source of light coming in through the window reflected it.

"Hey! Hold on." the one who had the least courage out of all spoke, his tone quivering a bit. "Where is the third prince? He should be here too, right? I mean, we are up to this number because of him. Left for just this human lady, only one of us needs to carry this task."

The rest glanced at each other.

"That is true, but...does it matter? Isn’t this luck? I mean, now we don’t have to worry about the probability of dying at his hands," the latter, with the deepest voice, said, a bit annoyed. "Let’s do this as quickly as possible and leave this place."

The others nodded in agreement.

The skinny one, with his knife out, proceeded to carry out the deed, but he came to a stop at the sudden creak of a door.

In unison, they turned their heads, and their gazes fell on Draven, who had stepped out of the dressing room.

Their ghost leaving their bodies was an understatement, because these men felt themselves die and resurrect again, all in the flicker of a moment.

"What are you doing?" with his head tilted to one side, Draven asked.

The masked men swallowed so loudly that he caught on to it. Their bodies shivered, and they rapidly blinked their eyes.

"Do you idiots have any speck of an idea that I do not like intruders who come into my space unannounced?" Draven was actually annoyed.

Yes, he was already expecting these people, but to sneak into his room like that—how rude!

He wrapped his hair into a quick bun and dragged up the arms of his shirt. He began to advance towards them, and with each crack of his knuckles, the masked men gulped and flinched.

The scared one glanced at his crew. "Are we going to die?"

"No!" The one with the deepest voice glared. "Get ready to fight. It’s either him or us!"

The rest nodded, agreeing. It was not like they came there without expecting Draven. They took on this task knowing very well that there was a high chance of encountering him.

With such a sudden will to fight, they charged toward Draven.

Draven, on the other hand, stretched out his nails, sharper than a knife. His eyes reflected heavy killing intent, and he licked his fangs, a devilish grin manifesting on his face.

For a moment there, these masked men felt like they saw a deadly being different from the third prince, but they did not have time to think about it.

With a swift move, Draven lunged forward, his movement a blur of intense precision. His every strike aimed to incapacitate them.

Each of his movements was with lethal intent as he seamlessly transitioned between evasion and attack.

Unable to ignore the abrupt noises even in her dreams, Avelina slowly blinked her lashes apart. She sat up on the bed, only to become as still as a statue in shock. She couldn’t even make a sound or scream.

The event unfolding before her eyes was something she didn’t see coming. She could make out Draven, but the rest were unfamiliar. Their movements were even too blurry for her to comprehend due to the inhumane speed they were fighting with.

It was as though she was watching someone turn on and off a torch light. That’s how flickering and swift their movements were.

Am I...dreaming?... Avelina was momentarily dazed with widened eyes.

The masked men only narrowly dodged Draven’s attacks with deep-cut wounds on their bodies and arms. They staggered back and took deep, continuous breaths to control their nervousness.

They needn’t be told, for it was clear that they would become corpses in the next round.

Draven, on the other hand, glanced at Avelina. He did not say a word to her but averted his gaze to his hands.

He watched the thick blood dripping from his fingers drop onto the marble floor and his face scrunched in disgust, completely repulsed by their filthy blood. He waved it off and raised his eyes to look at them.

"Don’t waste my time any longer," he said to them, lunging at them.

His moves this time were even more swift compared to his last. The masked men attacked back, but it was more than obvious that they stood no chance.

Draven’s hands, their touch as cold as death, became a deadly weapon. With rapid strikes, his nails aimed for the vital spot on their necks and he slit their throat one by one, killing them.

Blood vigorously pumped out of the assailants necks in such a way that Avelina began to breathe heavily, her chest rising and falling. Feeling nauseous, she covered her mouth, the urge to puke overwhelming her.

The bodies of the masked men dropped lifelessly to the floor like a lump of meat.

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