Vampire Knight (32mm). Pre-supported.
Beneath a blighted moon, they stood as one: three silent figures in obsidian plate, their faceless, horned helms turned toward the crumbling fortress. No banner announced their house, no heraldry adorned their shields save for the deep scratches of countless battles. They were known only by the dread they carried on the wind—a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. In their gauntleted hands, they held broadswords, heavy and unadorned, tools of a grim and eternal purpose. They moved without sound, a synchronized specter of violence, their true faces hidden behind steel, their true nature betrayed only by the faint, crimson glow that smoldered in the depths of their visors. They were the final verdict for those who sheltered in the light, a relic from an age when the night held dominion.
As the fortress gates splintered, they flowed into the breach. There was no war cry, only the efficient, terrifying music of combat: the resonant clang of sword on shield, the sharp crack of bone, and the wet silence that followed. They fought not as individuals, but as a single entity, each move anticipated and supported by the others, a perfect, deadly dance honed over centuries. They did not feed in the heat of battle; that would come later, a private sacrament. For now, they were but instruments of extinction. When the last soldier fell, the three knights stood motionless in the courtyard, their bloody swords held at rest, their horned silhouettes casting long shadows in the torchlight—monuments to a darkness that would never be banished.
