THE GHOST HUNTER .

Lancelot gripped both swords, his purple aura surging, crackling like untamed lightning.

Each step toward the three-headed Hydra made the ground tremble.

The beast swung its massive claws, trying to swat him away—

A mistake.

SLASH.

In one swift motion, Lancelot severed both of Hydra's hands.

The beast let out a deep, guttural growl.

Lancelot smirked, his voice filled with defiance—"Is that all you got?"

The Hydra chuckled, its deep, monstrous voice shaking the air itself.

"Fine. You want the hard way, human?"

The temperature around them spiked instantly.

The Hydra opened its three jaws, releasing waves of blazing fire.

The flames roared toward him—a storm of destruction.

But Lancelot didn't flinch.

He parried each flame with his swords, effortlessly weaving through the inferno.

With each step, his white slashes danced through the air, cutting through the fire itself—

And in the blink of an eye—

SLASH. SLASH. SLASH.

Both of Hydra's hands were gone again.

The Hydra snarled, now truly angered.

"Enough games!"

With a monstrous roar, it lunged forward, faster than before.

Lancelot raised his swords—

BOOM.

The impact sent him crashing into the earth, bones shattering under the sheer force.

Blood exploded from his mouth.

His entire body screamed in agony, yet—

He stood up.

Using his aura, he forced his broken bones back together, holding himself upright.

The Hydra sneered. "Impressive. But futile."

The beast moved again, its speed now nearly incomprehensible.

Lancelot dodged, barely keeping up—

A massive fireball surged toward his home.

His wife and daughter were behind him.

No room to dodge.

With sheer willpower, Lancelot spun both swords at blinding speed, creating a vortex of slashes—

DEFLECTING THE FIREBALLS AWAY.

But the Hydra wasn't finished.

It lashed out with its three tails, raining fireballs like a meteor storm.

Lancelot deflected them, one after another—

But his body was failing.

His bones were on the verge of turning to dust.

Then, for a single frozen moment in time—

SLASH.

Three Hydra heads fell.

Silence.

But—

Flesh regenerated.

The Hydra laughed.

"Did you really think you could kill me so easily?"

Lancelot's breathing was ragged.

His aura flickered, barely holding his broken body together.

He knew it now.

He wasn't going to survive.

The Hydra smirked. "Now, die."

It lunged—

CHOMP.

Lancelot's arms were torn off.

Blood poured like a river.

His swords clattered to the ground.

The Hydra sneered. "You are finished, knight."

Lancelot fell to his knees.

His body was beyond broken.

Yet—

He did not kneel in defeat.

With his teeth, he picked up his sword.

The Hydra's smirk faded.

For the first time—it felt fear.

Lancelot's eyes were not of a man facing death.

They were the eyes of a hunter.

He stood, blood dripping from his mouth, his aura now a raging inferno.

The Hydra roared, unleashing its full wrath.

Its body expanded, fire swirling violently, claws growing sharper, its eyes burning with fury.

"This is your end, knight."

Lancelot screamed back, dashing forward—his last charge.

The final clash shook the land itself.

Flames and slashes collided in a blinding explosion.

For a moment—there was nothing but pure, raw destruction.

Then—

Silence.

The Hydra stood still.

A second later—

Its entire body vaporized into ash.

Lancelot stood there, victorious.

But he was barely alive.

---

The True Tragedy

He crawled back to his home, every movement agony.

His vision blurred.

But as he reached the entrance—

His wife's shield collapsed.

And then—

A beast appeared.

A flash of silver.

Two heads fell through the air.

His wife.

His daughter.

Their heads landed before him.

Time stopped.

Lancelot couldn't breathe.

He tried to scream—but nothing came out.

With shaking hands, he reached forward—grasping their lifeless bodies.

He sobbed.

And in the next second—

A blade flashed.

His own head was severed.

The last thought in his mind was their faces.

Their voices.

Their love.

And then—darkness.

---

The Forgotten Tragedy

Centuries passed.

The house remained.

Now, Kael, Ray, and Emily stood within it—unaware of the blood-soaked past beneath their feet.

And the ghosts of the past still lingered.

Waiting.

Watching.