Upon deciding that you would rather wait for the rest of the Monster Council to arrive before you made your move on Simon, you took this opportunity to partake in refreshments at your grandma's house. If it weren’t for the fact that you were in the middle of a zombie invasion, you might have tried to sneak in a nap too, your energy reserves weren't so depleted that you couldn’t soldier on for at least another day. A mix of conditioning and half-demon physical attributes were to thank for that.

When your grandmother realized that she couldn't tempt you with at least a short power nap, she eventually gave in, and showed you her finest collection of silver daggers. Mercy snatched up right away and strapped them to your back, where they were hidden by your white hair.

She seemed mildly unnerved by the sight of your costume moving of its own volition, but she said nothing about it. Instead, she confronted you about something far more serious.

“You intend to fight Varnae alone, don't you?”

You stared up at her in shock. Briefly, the idea of lying to her crossed your mind, but the look in those bright red eyes of hers told you that there would be no fooling her.

“I have to, grandma. Varnae won't be able to ignore a direct challenge from me, and it's our best shot of taking him down without having to assault his castle.” you argued.

“Even if it means cementing everyone's belief in the ‘Slayer myth’?” she asked. “There will be no escaping it after this. You will become a person of great interest to the Underworld at large.”

The look you gave her was one of resolve, and of deep anger.

“Good. Maybe it's time I made my debut.”

Grandma Young folded her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow at you. It was meant to be a judgmental look, you were sure.

“I mean it, grandma. I'm tired of people messing with our family because they think they can get away with it.” you went on, guiding Mercy’s cloth tendrils to readjust the potions strapped to your chest. “If my new reputation is scary enough to scare monsters away, then I'll let them think what they want.”

She muttered a curse, reached over, and started fiddling with your explosive potions.

“You are driving me crazy with these! Move the knives to your lower back, the transformative elixirs to your thigh, and for the love of that moon god you love so much, put these potions in a bag with cloth partitions!”

Mercy, of course, went right to work doing all of this, which caused your grandmother to back away with a mildly frustrated look on her face.

“Sorry. I've got it.” you said, hoping to ease her frustrations.

“No you do not. You are too young to be fighting a Vampire Lord on your own!”

“Maybe.” you admitted. “But I can't let him get away with what he's done to me. To our family. To all the families that live here.”

(Cont.)