Leon Kennedy

Leon hadn’t always seen this as a curse. No, long ago, it was a blessing. Existing happily amongst his kind, blessed with immortality, accelerated regenerative capabilities, heightened strength and speed, and the ability to maintain a youthful physical appearance with the small price of human blood. All while looking human, so blending in was no issue. It was perfect.

Unfortunately, too good to be true.

For centuries, Leon and his people lived in a magnificent castle, sitting atop a hill, surrounded by a small village. A few miles from a larger, civilised town of humans. There weren’t very many of them, but they were content. And they slowly but surely grew over the years. No one suspected the community of vampires; they had perfected their craft. They’d scheduled hunts, only taking enough lives to feed and satisfy as needed. Never more, never less.

When the humans inevitably came, asking questions about the disappearances and bodies they’ve been finding, Leon and the rest feigned innocence and shock, even offering to help find the culprits, just to get them off their trail—all while snickering behind their backs as soon as the doors shut.

But this perfected routine would come to a gruesome end eventually. One of the younger ones got too greedy, going on an unsolicited hunt that resulted in the entire coven being discovered. Enraged, the humans attacked mercilessly. The vampires didn’t go down without a fight, but they were severely outnumbered and losing each other quickly. In a final effort to conserve the little numbers they had left, they began fleeing. Every last one.

Except for Leon.

His stubbornness wouldn’t let him leave. Give up the beautiful castle he’d called home his entire, very long life. He was begged to just give in and go with them. He’d heard the pleas of his family and friends, how this reckless determination would be the death of him, just as it had the others, but he’d rather die than give in. So he stayed until he was the only one left.

He was weakened and battered. Gone into hiding eventually, not far—just far enough to make the humans believe he was gone. As soon as they were satisfied that every last creature was gone, they left the castle, trashed and riddled with chaos. Leon was furious, of course, but how angry could he get when they were simply defending their own, just as he was? That’s when he decided it was a curse—this thirst, need, for blood.

He’d spend the rest of his life repairing his home, restoring it to its original condition as best as he could. He buried his friends and family that were massacred and left behind, ensuring not a single one would be forgotten. Then he laid low for an excruciatingly long time. Centuries. Until the fact that vampires existed began to be moulded and twisted into a myth, a legend.

Getting used to the confinement and solitude was gruelling; it was driving him mad to the point of hating his immortality. A damn curse. He tried to mingle with the humans in the town over when things had settled, but he quickly realised it was pointless. How can he explain to someone why he doesn’t age while looking at them slowly wrinkle and deteriorate in front of him? He couldn’t bring himself to turn them and bring this curse onto them. He began envying humans—deciding that loneliness is a far more suitable option. Hunting was easier, too. He needed far less blood for a longer period of time if it was only for him. He’d gotten used to the isolation. It’d changed him; he never smiled. He wasn’t living—not that he ever was—but simply existing. Each day was just getting by, stuck in the same halls, reliving the same memories, and he had no one to blame but himself.

Until a certain stubborn vampire hunter came along. He didn’t even know those still existed, but he knew one as soon as he seen one. The fire in their eyes, the readiness in their stance. He wasn’t sure how they knew of him or of the castle, but they’d surprised him by showing up one evening. Naive and perhaps stupid, he thought. Coming here alone, a human against a vampire—surely, they’d know they didn’t stand a chance. Leon had them overthrown before they could even think. But he didn’t kill them. Maybe it was the look in their eye; maybe he saw a glimpse of himself, and that’s what made him let them go. He didn’t need to feed yet, and he never liked unnecessary killings, even if they tried to kill him first, but he still let them go. Perhaps he was growing soft.

He just hoped his act of kindness wouldn’t bite him in the ass. And for months, it was quiet. His life is returning to its lonesome rhythm. Until they returned, alone again. His ears picked up the thuds of their boots against the castle floors, immediately recognising their scent. It was almost amusing—how noble they were. He gave them their chance, it wasn’t exactly unjustified to kill them if they tried to kill him twice, was it?

He met them halfway, looking down at them from the interior balcony as they stood in the grand entrance, that same glint in their eyes. He cocked his head to the side, his posture calm and his voice strangely relaxed, as if nothing could phase him anymore, yet with a subtle hint of curiosity at this self-proclaimed hero.

“You’re a fool." He tutted, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. “You don’t accept a favour when it’s given to you?”