The next morning at the Himura household, Husa awoke alert and prepared. He sensed, no, he felt that, because of the actions taken the previous night, he needed to remain vigilant. The Lovecrafts might attack at any moment, especially if they figured out the death of Brock was at the Himura family’s hands.

Daylight had just broken, nearing seven o’clock. Vampires required little sleep, but after the intense aura expenditure used to defeat Brock, Husa knew he needed rest, and surprisingly, he had rested more than usual.

He approached the desk beside his bed and reached for his necklace, a carved triangular Seal of Samuel, etched with a pentagram. His gaze sharpened as he stared at it intensely before slipping the amulet around his neck. Suddenly, a vivid flicker flashed through his mind, a mental image of his father. Downstairs, at the mansion’s entrance, Malcolm and Artemus, the family’s frontmen, stood on guard duty. It was their night shift, and they would soon be replaced by Vellesca and Hemphia to guard during the day. Thorian had decided that he needed to restructure the brethren to better protect their family, and now he was waiting in the master chamber for Husa’s report.

Husa entered quietly and approached Thorian, offering his respects.

“We are in a very dire situation, Himura,” Thorian said, his back turned as he gazed through the windows, calculating their next move.

“What would you have me do?” Husa asked directly.

Thorian hesitated for a moment, frustrated. “I can’t quite understand their motives, and this whole situation makes no sense. Why, on earth, would they send their, most likely, strongest member to his death alone?” he speculated, voice tinged with confusion.

Husa nodded somewhat, realising that his own emotions, his anger, his drive had heavily influenced his decision to kill the Lovecraft guard.

“Think about it,” Husa continued. “If they truly wanted to attack us, they would have done so as a family, together. Something tells me Brock came for us on his own accord.”

Thorian slowly turned to face him, eyes narrowed. “That’s what I’ve come to see, too.”

“If that’s the case,” Husa said firmly, “then there’s going to be a bloodbath. I think it’s better if our family strikes first before they get the chance.”

Thorian’s expression hardened, considering Husa’s words. “I agree,” Thorian said quietly.

“And I have an idea that might work.” Husa replied.

Thorian’s eyes sharpened with curiosity. “Go on.”

“Send me alone,” Husa proposed, “to eliminate as many of them as I can, or even all of them if possible.”

Thorian’s face shifted into a serious, concerned expression. He studied Husa’s steadfast gaze before speaking again.

“Are you crazy? You can’t take them all by yourself,” Thorian replied sternly. Raising his voice in frustration, he firmly added. “Remember what happened to Brock after he attacked our family? He was strong, yes, that much is certain, but he wasn’t invincible.”

Thorian, listening intently, hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly, understanding the determination in his subordinates’ eyes. Despite the risks, he knew Husa might be the only one capable of such a desperate gambit. Husa understood the risks, though, his combat strategy was to catch foes off guard. He believed he could use this to his advantage, picking them off one by one.

“A counterattack formation,” Thorian remarked slowly, considering the idea. “That could be interesting.”

“Proceed,” Thorian continued. “But if it gets too hectic out there for you to handle, then retreat and come back for aid,” he advised firmly.

Husa nodded sharply in agreement and set off, silently moving to execute his plan. Later, as he was leaving the mansion, he quickly approached Vellesca and Hemphia at the entrance. The two had replaced Malcolm and Artemus who were now resting.

“That was quite an impressive technique you pulled off,” Hemphia said with a small smile.

“Yeah, you’re just full of surprises,” Vellesca added sarcastically.

Husa could see her eyes flicker with annoyance, an unwelcome sense of resentment, but he paid it no mind.

“Surprise your enemies, catch them off guard that’s how you beat them,” he said simply.

This comment made Vellesca think about her past mistakes in battle, how her shouts and movements often revealed her position. Hemphia, understanding his point, placed her finger on her lips. She nodded, realizing the wisdom behind his attitude. She found herself somewhat impressed by him. But Vellesca only felt more insecure about her disappointing performance the night before.

Without delay, Husa turned away from the mansion and headed out, resolute in his mission to end the Lovecrafts once and for all.

Later, in the Hanford Inn, after a night of passionate indulgence, Croid awoke with Felicity sleeping beside him. He slipped out quietly, careful not to wake her. As he moved, he observed the gaping wounds and scars across his back, deep and fresh. His abdomen was bruised and aching, yet somehow, Felicity hadn’t reacted to them. He looked at himself in the mirror, surprised that the marks seemed to bother her so little.

Still cautious, he hurriedly covered himself up, having woken before she did, hoping to avoid questions. Felicity, in bed with her eyes still closed, shifted around, searching for comfort. She believed Croid was still there, but when she opened her eyes, she saw him gone. Her curiosity no longer held back, and this time, she was determined to have a personal conversation.

“Geez, what time is it?” Felicity asked groggily.

Croid hadn’t realised she’d just awakened. He grabbed his shirt and quickly slid into it. “I’m not sure,” he replied hurriedly.

She sat up slightly, eyeing him carefully. “Let’s cut to the chase. What’s with the scars on your back?” she asked.

He hesitated, then smirked. “I was wondering when you’d ask that. It didn’t bother you last night, though. It’s personal and none of your business,” he said curtly.

She rolled her eyes. “It is my business if you’re planning to stay here rent-free for now,” she retorted with a sly grin.

Croid turned to face her politely but kept his distance. “You’re not a Confederate, are you?” she suddenly blurted.

“What’s with all the questions all of a sudden?” he replied, narrowing his eyes. “So… you’re with the Union, then?” she pushed, eyes gleaming.