Night finally came. Or rather, how soon it came. He was scared shitless, but despite everything, the hours had vanished in the blink of an eye. And the time for the combat arrived.

  Tara and Ayame wouldn't accompany him. They wouldn't watch. He had to do this alone.

  So, he prepared everything and headed out into the forest. It was indeed a full moon. Even though the academy was asleep, he could see quite well. Besides, he was a village boy. He was used to walking through the woods, to hunting and tracking. Even if he was only a blacksmith's son, it wasn't something you could escape. Everyone knew those things to some extent. They had to.

  Part of him was afraid. He was nowhere near as sure of his victory as Ayame. And if he lost, well, then he would surely lose her forever. Not just him, Tara too. He couldn't forget they were a team, they were friends. Would it hurt her as much as it would hurt him? he thought. Maybe not as much. Maybe not as much, but Vincent shook his head. He had to find Judai and tear him to pieces.

  He stumbled on a branch but quickly regained his balance. That's what happened sometimes, not paying attention, lost in thought. It wasn't much further to the agreed-upon spot. He had to focus. He had to invest everything in his absolute destruction.

  "There's no one here but us, you goddamn idiots," he protested, grumbling under his breath as he kept moving.

  Well, "absolute destruction" was a bit melodramatic. Judai was Ayame's brother, after all. It wasn't like she would thank him if he seriously hurt him. But he highly doubted the vampire would hold back, no matter how much it might hurt his sister.

  Anyway, he had gotten himself into this. It was too late to back down. No, rather, it had never been an option in the first place. The moonlight filtered through the leaves and branches, illuminating his path. He had never seen a vampire fight with the moon's support. Not at their full strength, in any case. It was that damned city. Ayame had been so weakened that, even with the moon, she had seemed weaker than usual, and it hadn't even been a full moon. He knew Judai's stats, he knew all his skills—and he had quite a few—but he couldn't really know what awaited him. And still, the grass crunched under his boots, the branches too. Soon, it would be the bones of the enemy standing in his way.

  I swear it, he thought.

  He finally reached a clearing, the arena for these stupid gladiators.

  "I didn't think it would be like this, that this is how things would be," Vincent said. "Well, I didn't think I'd meet any of her family."

  On the other side, shrouded in shadows, his eyes glowing and the gold trim of his cape glinting, Judai pierced him with his gaze.

  "You shouldn't even be fighting me. If you really care about her, you'd help me get her away from here."

  "Oh, yeah, right."

  He didn't hesitate for a second. He might be drooling over her. Vincent grimaced. Was it that obvious?

  "But she's surrounded by hatred. Does she even have any friends, besides you two?"

  Vincent's grimace deepened. No. What was he going to do? Lie? What was the point?

  "And how many times have you had to defend her?"

  "Not many. We sent a strong—" Not many. We sent a strong message from the beginning, but enough times. Besides, the hatred he was talking about, the hatred he wanted to protect her from, didn't just come from those who dared to step forward and act on it. Whispers were enough. Glances were enough. The daily contempt was enough to wear down a heart. He knew that perfectly well.

  "You understand then?" Judai whispered, as if responding to his thoughts.

  The wind blew through the clearing.

  "Oh, I understand, all right. I really do. Yeah, but I'll fight."

  "You're not her friend then? Just another selfish human?"

  The accusation stung. Well, he was selfish. Who wasn't? Anyone who didn't put themselves first was a little naive.

  "Yeah," Vincent replied, drawing his sword and assuming a combat stance. He spread his legs and frowned to focus his gaze on the shadow he had to cut to pieces. He was already moving past the conversation. Still, one last blow: "Are you really here to save her, or do you just miss your sister?"

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  The way Judai's expression twisted told him he was right. He spat on the grass. Then he slid a cold, inhuman mask back over his face.

  "Fine, we'll do it your way. Three."

  Vincent smiled. There was something wild in his smile, worse than the vampire's grimace.

  "Let's dance, vampire!"

  And why not? His world didn't revolve around Ayame. After all, he had come to Runehaven to challenge his fate, to prove to everyone that he could become more. And now he was facing an opponent that would make many real knights tremble. Why shouldn't he be excited? The fear vanished like morning mist. The stakes were high. He could lose. Lose everything.

  But if he won, it would be like another rebirth. The phoenix rising from its ashes. Stronger each time. Brighter.

  He needed worthy opponents. He needed walls to tear down. He needed all of that. Not just companionship.

  In short, he felt like dancing.

  Therefore, they shot forward. They clashed in the middle of the gladiator arena, under the light of the full moon. Vincent tried to run him through with his sword, fearless. Judai, to his surprise—though perhaps it shouldn't have surprised him at all—fought like his sister: with his bare hands. With slashes and claws. He was as fast and graceful as a black panther, melting into the night and appearing just long enough to pounce on him with open jaws and gleaming fangs. Not to mention his eyes in the dark: like rubies, like torches, like pools of blood.

  Vincent barely dodged an attack, ducking and bending backward. The swipe passed dangerously close to his chin, his nose, and finally cut a few locks of his hair. It had been a claw attack. If he were fighting a swordsman, he'd be dead already. Or at least seriously wounded. It was laughable what he had to be thankful for.

  The fight continued up close. So close that Judai once parried his sword with his teeth, deflecting the attack. But not just that: he bit down, as if trying to shatter it into a thousand pieces. He didn't know if he had that kind of strength in his fangs, but in any case, he managed to free his sword before anything happened.

  It went on like that, but it would be a mistake to think they were at a stalemate, perfectly matched. The vampire, as he had known all along, was clearly superior to him. It didn't matter if Vincent dodged twenty attacks; if the twenty-first hit him, it was strong enough to be enough. He could be an iron wall, but if he kept this up, he would crumble. It was inevitable.

  He might be his enemy and his greatest obstacle yet, but he couldn't help but admire his power a little. He wished he were that strong. He wished he had been born privileged. Of course, it was a stupid thought. If he had been born with the strength and skills to easily stand out at Runehaven or any other academy in the world, then he surely would have found himself retiring to a village with a hammer in his hand. The grass was always greener on the other side of the fence, or something like that. But he thought it anyway. It was inevitable.

  He was landing a few blows on the vampire, too, but he knew he wouldn't be the one to break first, so his defeat drew closer with every passing second. He had to do something to overcome this impasse.

  In the end, Judai himself backed away. Leaping, he covered more than ten meters in an instant, regaining the original distance.

  Judai ran a hand over his mouth and spat on the grass again. Only this time, to Vincent's satisfaction, it wasn't just saliva. He had made the vampire bleed.

  Good.

  The other boy stopped, looking at him. So Vincent also stopped in the middle of his dash to close the distance. Maybe it was a mistake, but he stopped.

  "I didn't know what to expect from my sister's chosen champion," Judai said slowly and carefully. Something in his eyes had changed. Maybe it was caution. Maybe even fear. "But even if you're just a first-year brat, at least it seems you're not a simple chew toy."

  A murderous intent lit his cold eyes.

  "Even if it makes her cry, I'll take you seriously. Try not to die."

  Vincent laughed. He knew he was serious, but he was still crazy enough to feel excited, to see matching this unconstrained enemy as a victory. But no, he wouldn't be satisfied with just matching him.

  "Same to you."

  He intended to surpass him and leave no room for doubt.

  The vampire took another incredible leap, but this time upward. The black cape spread against the canvas of the night sky like black wings. Somehow, from somewhere, he manifested a spear as red as blood. But this was no surprise to Vincent: it was one of the abilities Ayame had been able to warn him about. He wasn't even surprised when the spear, floating near the vampire, split into hundreds. The steel gleamed under the full moonlight and also made the gold trim on the cape shine brighter. The rain of red steel was ready.

  "Arrogant cockroach," Judai spat, and then the downpour began.

  Red Curtain, it was called. The vampire's ability wasn't like a knight's or his poor imitation. That is, it wasn't that the extra spears were an illusion. Each and every one of them could kill him, but they weren't real either. There was only one real spear. If he found it—well, if he didn't lose sight of it—he would easily survive. If not, well, if he did, his chances of survival would drop exponentially.

  Vincent gritted his teeth, planted his feet on the ground, and stood firm as death rained down on him.

  The sky was stained red. Still, he had good eyesight. He didn't have to lose the true spear, the correct one. Once it fell within his reach, he would strike it, and that would be enough for the rest of the weapons to disappear. If you didn't know the details, the secret mechanism seemed like a terrifying ability, but it had an immense weakness that Ayame had handed to him on a silver platter.

  He used his shield to protect his head, the most important place, but only to the extent that it didn't block his view of the spears, because otherwise he'd be lost anyway.

  Frankly, there was a limit to willpower and fearlessness. There was a limit for a mere blacksmith. No matter how hard he tried, he would never be a knight. Since he had been born that way, he would never be fully equipped for fights like this. Sooner or later, he would find the limits of a blacksmith and pay for his audacity.

  Still, even though he believed it would happen today, even though it was close, it didn't happen today.

  Vincent found it. He spotted the real spear through the red curtain and shattered it with a blow from his sword.

  He was sore from the impacts of the spears on his armor. He felt blood running down his neck from the small cut one had made as it passed.

  But he had overcome it.