Modern Cultivation : The Strongest Couple Bonded by Vampire System

Legendary classes were powerful, sure, but not omnipotent. No sane soldier would claim one person could shield an entire army.

Not unless they knew something the rest didn't.

Alex didn't call her out. Not yet. He kept his posture easy, his tone even, turning his gaze back to the treeline like nothing was wrong.

"So," he said softly, almost lazily, "try and get some rest, Aira. Tomorrow might not be so quiet."

She hesitated, just for a second too long, then gave a small nod. "Yes, Captain."

Alex frowned, scanning the quiet darkness.

That's when his ears perked up. A faint sound, too soft for an ordinary soldier to catch, brushed against the edges of the night. Fabric shifting. Armor brushing.

Alex stilled, his ability kicking in. He quickly ran the numbers in his head.

The sound came from roughly seventy meters to the northeast. Judging by the flow, the spacing between steps, and the faint metallic clinks, he guessed at least a squad, seven… No, nine people, moving carefully through the forest.

Allies? Impossible as they move in the rear.

Conclusion? Unfriendly.

Alex narrowed his eyes. If he rushed back to wake the others, they could set up a proper defense, but the movement and noise would risk alerting the enemy before they could trap them.

Ambushing together would give certain win, but also a high chance of being spotted.

Acting alone?

Safer.

One man slipping into the shadows was far easier to miss than a squad rousing an entire camp.

Alex quickly made his decision. In a blink, he slipped into the underbrush, his figure vanishing into the darkness without a sound. 'Time to greet our midnight guests.'

***

The night was thick with mist, the air cold and biting as the small group of soldiers run through the forest, moving with desperate urgency.

Their armor was a patchwork of dents and bloodstains, some pieces missing entirely. Mud clung to their boots and legs.

Their faces, those not hidden beneath cracked helmets, were pale, hollow-eyed, worn from exhaustion.

At a glance, Alex could pick out their classes just from how they carried themselves.

The man leading the group wore partial plate over chainmail, a heavy shield strapped to his back and a longsword slung low at his hip. His posture screamed Knight, a rare defensive class.

Next to him a woman clad in light leather armor, a broken crossbow clutched to her chest. Her movements were fast despite her injuries, Ranger, no doubt, a rare class.

Behind them limped a tall figure cloaked in a mage's robe, torn and singed at the edges. He held a staff tight in both hands like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Elementalist or Spellbinder, Alex guessed, based on the faint traces of residual magic flickering around his fingers.

Two more soldiers rounded out the group: one with a battered spear and a cracked helmet, likely a Lancer, and another, smaller figure hauling a bag of potions across his back, Field Medic, from the way he was constantly glancing at the wounded.

Their breathing was ragged, their steps uneven. But still, they pressed on.

"Damn it…" the Ranger hissed through clenched teeth, wiping blood from her brow. "Should've never trusted the second line to hold. Cowards bolted the second the gate went down."

"Enough," the Knight growled, voice like gravel beneath steel. "We're alive. That's all that matters right now."

The Elementalist stumbled, barely catching himself on his staff. His robes were torn, stained black with soot and dried blood. "If this is what you call living… I'd rather not."

"We can't stop," the Medic said, glancing over his shoulder with wide eyes. "If they're tracking by scent, we're already dead, we just haven't caught up to it yet."

Another soldier, one of the younger ones, with a cracked pauldron and a limp, let out a bitter laugh. "I've still got two lives left. Maybe I should just burn one. Better than running like this."

"Don't joke," the Ranger snapped, eyes flashing. "I've only got one left."

The Elementalist let out a dry cough. "Half the battalion didn't even make it out with one…"

The group slowed, tension rising, the silence between words growing too heavy.

Then the Knight stopped and turned to face them all. His eyes burned behind the slit of his helm, voice sharp enough to cut through despair.

"Enough," he said, low but absolute. "We're still breathing, and that means we move. I don't care how many lives you've got left, we're a unit. We survive together. No one falls behind."

He shifted his shield, letting it rest with a low clunk beside his leg. "I've still got three lives left. If anything happens, you run. No arguing. You break formation and you run."

The Medic's voice trembled. "Captain, "

"No." The Knight raised a hand.

"We can't win this. Not here. Not against that thing. You saw what it did. You all saw it.

The kingdom's done for. But if even one of us escapes… we can warn the others. I'm sure they won't stop on our kingdom."

A heavy silence followed. Only the wind moved now, brushing through broken leaves and cracked stone.

Then, slowly, the Ranger nodded. "Understood."

The rest followed, silent, grim, but resolved.

The Knight turned, tightening the grip on his sword. "Let's move. Find safe place. We last the night, then we run."

The others nodded weakly, falling back into silence, each step carrying the heavy weight of defeat.

Hidden in the shadows, Alex watched them, unmoving. 'Monster? What monster? The legendary class?'

At first, he thought it was some kind of support class, maybe something with mass healing or large area wide buffs. Something big enough to shift a battlefield by sheer presence.

But listening to their words, their fear, That wasn't support. A class like that wouldn't be called a monster.

Alex exhaled slowly through his nose, refocusing his mind, pushing the speculation aside for now.

'What should I do now?' he mused, eyes following the battered group's slow, desperate march through the trees.

They were no threat, not to him, not even to his squad. They were just broken soldiers trying to survive another night. But reality didn't care about pity.

It was only a matter of time before they crossed paths with his squad's camp.