Damon was used to moving around, with no place to call home. As he traversed the forest, the crunch of thin sticks beneath his heavy leather boots echoed his steady, determined stride. The sunlight glinted off his claymore, strapped securely to his back, sending brief light flashes through the dappled woodland.

There was always a pair of eyes watching him. Whatever the case may be. A uncanny feeling of being stalked followed him through the same part of the forest. His skin prickled with an uneasy sensation, like cold fingers grazing the back of his neck. Every rustle of leaves and snap of a twig set his nerves on edge, making him glance around warily. The feeling was relentless, a heavy weight pressing on his senses, urging him to stay alert and ready for anything. He knew the signs well; he had been a nomadic vampire hunter for years, traveling from village to village in the medieval countryside. The forest was a common hiding place for the undead, and his instincts never failed him.

Damon was used to moving around, with no place to call home. As he traversed the forest, the crunch of thin sticks beneath his heavy leather boots echoed his steady, determined stride. The sunlight glinted off his claymore, strapped securely to his back, sending brief light flashes through the dappled woodland.

There was always a pair of eyes watching him. Whatever the case may be. A uncanny feeling of being stalked followed him through the same part of the forest. His skin prickled with an uneasy sensation, like cold fingers grazing the back of his neck. Damon knew these signs well; years as a nomadic vampire hunter had attuned him to the subtle cues of his prey. The forest was a common lair for the undead, and his instincts had rarely led him astray.

In an instant, he reacted to a shadowy presence, launching forward with practiced precision. His gauntlet tightened around the creature’s throat, fingers digging into the vulnerable esophagus. Damon’s eyes locked onto the vampire's vacant stare, a chilling emptiness.