With a shrieking clash of steel, I was flung backward, barely managing to parry the orbiting blades before they carved into me. My arms trembled from the impact as I twisted midair, forcing my sword to chase the crimson crescents that pursued me without mercy. They did not relent. They did not tire. And unlike me, they did not bleed.
My reserves were nearly gone. What little blood remained within me burned at an alarming rate. I had activated Bloodburn simply to reach this level of strength just to stand in front of him. Now it was devouring me from the inside out.
"Mhm. If this is all you have to offer, I might as well end it here and finish carrying out my lord's directive."
Minister Viza retracted the blades with a lazy motion, studying me with faint disappointment. The sudden space granted to me felt less like mercy and more like an executioner measuring the neck.
I staggered, heaving for breath, my vision pulsing at the edges.
"Look at you," he continued calmly. "On the brink of killing yourself with Bloodburn. Are you aware, boy, that the moment the last drop of blood leaves your body, you become nothing more than a mindless husk? You will either shrivel into a withered corpse, awaiting blood to be poured into you… or the sun will greet you kindly and reduce you to ash."
His gaze sharpened.
"I do not understand why you are so weak… unless…"
His expression darkened.
"No. That's it. You have been intentionally starving yourself. No wonder you lack strength."
He vanished.
A violent backhand struck my face before I could react, sending me hurtling across the battlefield. I collided with the ground, skidding, bouncing, tumbling until friction finally stole my momentum.
"Boy!" his voice thundered above me before I could rise. "How do you expect to grow stronger if you deny yourself the one thing that allows a vampire to survive and evolve? Blood is not indulgence it is foundation. Do you think brute force alone makes us powerful?"
A crushing kick drove into my ribs. The air exploded from my lungs as I was sent flying again, my body no longer responding the way it should. My vision blurred heavily now. Bloodburn was running on fumes. My circulation felt hollow thin like empty veins pretending to function.
Then something coiled around my neck.
Cold.
Unyielding.
I was lifted into the air.
One of the crimson orbits tightened around my throat, suspending me effortlessly. Minister Viza's face came into view, calm and almost bored.
"Well. The novelty has worn off. It's time to clean house."
Darkness crept inward from the corners of my sight. The last thing I felt was the tightening pressure around my throat before consciousness slipped away.
"That's enough, Viza!"
The voice cut sharply through the battlefield.
Viza's attention shifted from my limp body. Not far away stood a tall, powerfully built man. His frame was broad and dense with muscle. A mask concealed the lower half of his face, and long hair veiled one eye, giving him an air of quiet menace.
"Well, if it isn't a member of the House of Lust," Viza remarked coolly.
"Drop the newborn, Viza," the man said as he approached. "Do not cause unnecessary trouble."
"Oh? I must disagree, Lennon," Viza replied lightly. "This boy will perish by my blade today."
He began to pull the handle of his cane. The dark staff slid apart, revealing the gleam of a hidden blade within.
In that same instant, Lennon vanished.
A blood-hardened fist blackened and dense collided with Viza's sword arm. The shockwave from their clash erupted outward, blasting the unconscious body from Viza's orbit grip and sending me skidding across the field.
"Damn it all," Viza muttered beneath his breath.
"I warned you," Lennon said evenly, stepping between Viza and my fallen form. "I was ordered to ensure the master's pet project survives. I will say it once more. Leave now… or we duel to the death."
"I will "
Viza stopped mid-sentence.
Silence passed between them. After a tense moment, Viza hissed in irritation and stepped backward toward the transport dome. He sheathed the blade back into the cane with a smooth motion.
With a sudden burst of energy, he released a sharp pulse that signaled the remaining troops. They retreated immediately, flooding back through the portal.
Before stepping through, Viza locked eyes with Lennon, cold, simmering promise lingering in his gaze.
Then the portal sealed shut.
The battlefield did not settle when Viza left.
It tightened.
Lennon remained standing where he had intercepted the blade, shoulders squared, posture relaxed but only in appearance. The air around him felt heavier, denser, as though pressure itself answered to his presence. The blood that had coated his fist did not drip. It hardened further, dark as obsidian, crawling slowly up his forearm in faint branching veins before receding beneath his skin as if called home.
He exhaled once.
The mask concealed his expression, but his single visible eye held no warmth. No anger either. Just a calculation.
Behind him, Caleb's broken body lay crumpled in the dirt.
Lennon glanced down briefly.
"So this is the master's investment…"
There was no mockery in his tone, only assessment.
He walked toward Caleb. When he crouched, the faint scent of iron thickened in the air.
"Starving yourself," he muttered quietly. "Idiot."
He pressed two fingers lightly against Caleb's neck. The contact was brief but deliberate. A small thread of blood seeped from Lennon's fingertip, unnaturally dark, unnaturally dense. It slipped beneath Caleb's skin like ink dissolving into water.
Not enough to restore him.
Just enough to keep him from crossing the line.
"You burn yourself hollow chasing strength you refuse to feed," Lennon continued under his breath. "If you intend to defy the order of things, you had better become strong enough to replace it."
He rose to his full height again, turning his gaze toward the now-closed portal. The faint residue of Viza's energy still lingered in the air.
"Minister Viza…"
The name left his mouth flat and cold.
"You push too far."
For a moment, the air around Lennon trembled. Not violently but subtly, like the pressure before a storm breaks. The blood within the soil itself seemed to answer him faintly, shifting, humming beneath the surface.
Then it stopped.
The weight lifted.
He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve as though nothing had happened.
"Recover," he said without looking down at Caleb. "You are not allowed to die yet."