Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

"What should I do?" Castio asked firmly.

Liz smiled, this time with a hint of appreciation in her smile.

“First, learn how to use this knife.” She gestured, “Then come with us to hunt. You’ll learn very quickly, angel.”

The scratching sounds from the monster outside the door continued.

Inside the door, Castio gripped the bone knife tightly, his gaze gradually hardening.

He is no longer that lost angel.

He is no longer that arrogant 'new God'.

He is just Castillo.

A witcher who wants to bring his comrades home...

There is no day or night in purgatory; time loses its measure here.

Dean could only estimate the timeframe based on his level of fatigue and the healing progress of his wounds, estimating that approximately three days had passed.

It could also be four days.

On this dark red, rotting land that perpetually reeks of decay, every second seems to be stretched to its limit.

He and Sam stood back to back amidst a pile of monster corpses.

The corpses were melting, like wax figures under high temperatures, with pale yellow slime seeping into the ground and being absorbed by the worm-like matter.

The air was filled with a pungent, burnt smell and a sweet, putrid stench, which mixed together to create a nauseating toxic fumes.

Dean had a new, deep wound on his left arm that exposed the bone, and Sam's right leg had been pierced by the monster's tail spike during the battle. Although it had been pulled out, dark red blood seeped out with every step he took.

"How many bullets do we have left?" Dean asked breathlessly, his eyes scanning the surroundings. In the dark red mist, new shadows were moving about.

"Seven shots." Sam checked the shotgun. "Three salt shots, four borax shots, and the knife is almost worn out too."

Dean's demon-hunting knife, forged by Grayson, was chipped and covered with fine cracks.

The bones and scales of the infernal monsters are harder than imagined, and every slash consumes the weapon's lifespan.

The shadows in the fog became clearer and clearer.

This time it's not one of those six-legged monsters, but a humanoid creature, or rather, something that was once humanoid.

They walk upright, but their joints are twisted, their arms are too long, and their fingertips are sharp bone spurs.

The face was reduced to a huge mouth, filled with spirally arranged sharp teeth, at least twenty of them, which surrounded it from all directions.

"Damn it." Dean spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva. "Run or fight?"

"I can't run anymore," Sam said with a wry smile; his leg injury was too severe. "You walk, I'll drag you."

"Shut up," Dean interrupted him, gripping the chipped blade tightly. "If we're going to die, we'll die together, same old rules."

The monsters began their charge.

Unlike their previous clumsy movements, they were agile, traversing the writhing ground as if it were flat, like a pack of hunting hyenas.

When the first one lunged at him, Dean swung his knife to block, but the blade broke completely the moment it collided with the bone spike.

Half of the blade flew out, and the remaining hilt shook him so badly that his hand cracked. The monster's other claw slashed at his face, and a gunshot rang out.

It wasn't Sam's shotgun; it was a different kind of crisp, high-pitched shot with a unique sonic boom.

The monster's head exploded, splattering slime. Then came the second shot, the third shot... precise bursts, each hitting the monster's eyes, mouth, and vital joints.

Half of the monsters that surrounded them fell down within ten seconds.

The remaining monsters stopped, letting out wary growls, but did not attack immediately. They turned towards the direction from which the gunfire came. A figure emerged from the mist.

No, not human, or at least not entirely.

He was wearing a tattered but still recognizable black leather jacket, faded jeans, and boots covered in sticky residue.

He held a modified pistol in his hand, with an extended barrel and complex runes engraved on the gun. His face was pale, two sharp teeth were visible at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes gleamed with a dark red light.

It turned out to be a vampire.

But he was unlike any other vampire Dean had ever seen.

Those guys were either arrogantly haughty or as despicable as rats, but this vampire's eyes were... calm, as calm as an old soldier who had seen it all.

"Step back." The vampire's voice was hoarse, but clear.

The monsters hesitated.

They appear to be assessing this emerging threat.

The vampire raised his left hand, and a dark red ball of energy appeared in his palm—something ancient and closer to the essence of purgatory.

The energy ball spun, emitting waves that instilled instinctive fear in the monsters.

They retreated, slowly and reluctantly disappearing into the thick fog.

The vampire lowered his hand, the energy ball dissipated, and he turned to look at Dean and Sam.

“Winchester brothers, I’ve heard of you. I never expected to meet you here.”

Dean stared at him warily, still gripping the broken hilt of his knife: "Who are you?"

“Benny Lafitte.” The vampire walked to a monster’s corpse and kicked it to make sure it was dead. “He used to be… well, a freelancer, hunting in the human world and occasionally helping witchers with the dirty work they couldn’t do themselves. He was sucked into this place three years ago.”

Sam leaned on Dean, struggling to stand: "Why did you help us?"

“Because you are human.” Benny put away his gun, took a small bottle of dark red liquid from his pouch, and tossed it to Sam. “Drink this. It will temporarily stop the bleeding and relieve the pain. Don’t ask what it is. It’s definitely not human blood.”

Sam hesitated for a moment, then uncorked the bottle, took a sniff, and found it had a pungent smell, like strong liquor mixed with herbs.

He took a sip, and the burning sensation burned from his throat to his stomach, but the excruciating pain in his legs did lessen.

"Thank you," Sam said.

Benny waved his hand, walked to the side, squatted down to examine the monsters' corpses, and used a dagger to cut open the chest cavity of one of them, digging out a yellow crystal that was still pulsating slightly.

“Energy core.” He wiped the crystal on his clothes and put it in his pocket. “Here, it’s hard currency. You can exchange it for food, weapons, and… information.”

Dean watched his practiced movements: "You've lived here for three years?"

“To be precise, it’s been two years and eleven months.” Benny stood up and looked around. “When I first came in, I had seven companions. Now I’m all alone. I’ve learned how to tell which monsters I can kill, which I should avoid, and which areas I should never go to. I’ve also learned… how to stay sane in this hell.”

He walked up to Dean and held out his hand: "Let me see the knife."

Dean handed over the broken knife.

Benny glanced at it and shook his head: "It's ruined. The materials from Purgatory will corrode metals brought from the human world, unless they are specially made. I have spares that I can give you, but we need to exchange them."

“We have nothing,” Sam said.

“Yes.” Benny looked at Dean. “You have names. The name Winchester carries some weight here, at least it has appeared in the mouths of many demon and monster progenitors. I will help you, and you will have to help me in the future, if there is a future.”

Dean stared into his eyes.

The vampire's gaze was direct, without flinching or calculation, only a deep weariness and a certain... unspoken expectation.

"Deal." Dean and Sam exchanged a glance and slowly nodded. (End of Chapter)