Three hours.
That's how long Seko had fought.
Three hours of relentless sparring, clashing with a blade that refused to obey like a proper weapon. The composite sword didn't follow commands—it tested them. And Seko's body, even his vampire-enhanced one, was bruised with fatigue. His breathing, shallow but controlled.
Now seated in the corner of the Guardians' library—one of the few quiet places in the whole facility—Seko rested with his arms on his knees, the cursed sword wrapped in a cloth and resting beside him. Its energy was still there. Still humming. Still watching.
Across from him, Izanami sat with her back against a bookcase, sipping a steaming herbal drink. She watched him carefully, breaking the silence between them.
"You're not as negative as I thought," she said, voice low, honest.
Seko didn't look at her. "That's what I hate."
She raised a brow. "Hate?"
"Being told I'm better than I think I am." His voice was flat, distant. "It's false hope. That kind of thinking gets people killed."
Before Izanami could respond, a flirtatious voice chimed in from behind the shelf:
"Hey, handsome~ You look stressed~"
Both Seko and Izanami turned.
There she was—Akemi Takahashi, the librarian. Late twenties, cropped black hair streaked with glowing blue, eyes that sparked like a thunderstorm, and an aura warm enough to short-circuit circuits. Her outfit was as casual as her attitude—sleeves rolled up, gloves fingerless, and a faint shimmer of static flickering around her as she leaned on the bookshelf with a grin.
"Too much swordplay, not enough foreplay?" she teased with a wink.
Izanami blinked slowly, unimpressed. Seko, predictably, scowled. "I don't flirt with lightning."
Akemi's smile only widened. "Oh, I'm not flirting, sugar. I'm diagnosing. And trust me—your energy field is a mess. That sword's darkness is chewing on your nerves like candy."
She walked over and knelt beside him, tapping two fingers gently against his forehead. A soft jolt of electricity zipped through him—light enough to feel, sharp enough to irritate.
"Oi," Seko grumbled.
"Relax," Akemi said. "If you keep pushing like this, you'll end up either possessed or permanently pissed. Neither's cute."
Izanami sipped her drink, watching the exchange like a spectator at a duel. "You planning to fix him?"
Akemi shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe I'll just keep shocking him until he lightens up."
Seko sighed, standing. "You all talk too much."
Without missing a beat, Izanami took a slow sip of her drink and replied coolly,"You are the weakest of us three here."
Seko paused mid-step, narrowing his eyes over his shoulder.
"Is this librarian that strong?" he asked, half-skeptical, half-curious.
Akemi tilted her head, flashing a lazy, teasing grin. "Aww~ Don't sound so surprised, Mr. Vampire. You think they let anyone watch over a collection of forbidden, living, and occasionally bloodthirsty grimoires?"
She stood up, crackling static trailing off her fingertips as her tone dropped, just a notch more serious. "I don't just file books. I seal them."
Izanami added, "Her control over positive energy is surgical. She can reboot a heart or fry a soul in the same breath. She once reset an entire battlefield's energy output by herself."
Seko raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed.
Akemi winked. "And unlike you, I don't need a sword having mood swings in my hand to make a point."
Seko clicked his tongue and turned away. "Tch. Library's loud today."
"Love you too~" Akemi called after him with a smirk.
"She's like a gender-swapped Violet," Seko muttered, slumping onto a bench beside Izanami.
Izanami glanced toward the library door where Akemi had just disappeared, then shifted her gaze to the sparring floor where Kiyomi and Violet were mid-duel.She gave a subtle nod. "Less flowers, more voltage. But yeah... the chaos is identical."
And—right on cue—Violet ducked a high kick from Kiyomi, slid behind her, and whispered dramatically:
"You know, if you kick me again, I might just fall in love..."
Kiyomi didn't even blink. Her elbow shot back like a bullet, slamming into his stomach.
"Worth it," he groaned, crumpling with a dazed smile.
Seko rolled his eyes. "Yup. Same breed of disaster."
Izanami chuckled under her breath. "At least Akemi doesn't flirt mid-fight."
From across the room, they heard Akemi's voice echo through the library hall:
"I do if they're cute~"
Seko buried his face in his hand. "I stand corrected."
Izanami smirked. "You're the magnet for maniacs. You know that, right?"
"Story of my undead life."
"Undead?" Seko repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. He turned his head slowly toward Akemi, eyes wide—more curious than cautious now.
Akemi had just re-entered the room, a book in one hand, her usual flirtatious grin fading as she caught his expression.For a moment, the air around her shifted—less playful, more... grounded.
"You noticed," she said softly, gently setting the book on a nearby table.
Seko stood, slowly. "You're like me?"
Akemi shrugged, her fingers brushing back her hair. "Not exactly. I was human once… A vampire attacked me. Should've died that night."
She unbuttoned the top part of her collar slightly, revealing a bite mark unlike any other.Three distinct fang punctures, curved in a way Seko had only seen in old scrolls… and in his memories.
His body stiffened. "That mark—"
Akemi looked away. "Yeah. Not your average bloodsucker. The one who bit me was… something else. I don't remember their face, but their aura—pure dread. Still... somehow, I stayed conscious. Fought for control. Now I'm stuck between states. Alive, but not."
Seko's mind raced. Three fangs. That was no random vampire.That was his clan's signature. Only a handful even possessed the mutation of a third fang.
"Did they say anything?" Seko pressed, stepping closer. "A name, a place—anything?"
Akemi's gaze narrowed, trying to pull from her fragmented memory. "...Just a word. I didn't understand it then. But I think it was a name."
She paused."Madala."
Seko's breath caught.He turned away, hand trembling as he gripped the edge of the table. "Sujay..." he whispered.
From across the room, Izanami tensed. Kiyomi and Violet paused their sparring, sensing the sudden shift in mood.
Akemi tilted her head. "You know him?"
Seko didn't answer. His eyes, full of fire and confusion, stayed locked on the three-fanged scar burned into Akemi's skin."He's not just a monster... He's family."
The silence in the training hall was pierced by the echo of Izanami's boots as she marched toward Seko. Before he could react, she had grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall with a fierce glare in her eyes.
"Madala Sujay was your family?!" she snarled."You kept that from us?"
Seko didn't fight back. His hands didn't even twitch. He stared at the floor, expression hollow.
Then, softly—almost like a whisper of defeat—he spoke.
"He's not exactly my family… He was a human refugee, like me."
Izanami's grip didn't loosen.
"My biological family," Seko continued, "they used him. For experiments. He was strong—gifted in a way that terrified even them. But it didn't stop there."
The others leaned in. Kiyomi lowered her weapon. Violet's usual smirk faded. Even the hum of the training room seemed to pause.
"His younger brother... Pranav..." Seko's voice cracked slightly, "he was taken by vampires. And Sujay? He didn't even flinch. Didn't mourn. He just... stayed quiet. That's how he always was."
"Emotionless?" Kiyomi asked carefully.
"No," Seko answered. "He pretended to be. But his brother kept blaming him. Everything that went wrong, Pranav made it his fault. Even things out of Sujay's control. He never snapped. He never exploded. He just kept... compressing everything inside."
Seko finally looked up. His eyes were wide. Glassy. Terrified.
"That pressure—it forged something else. Not a man. Not a monster. Just… emptiness."
Izanami slowly released her grip.
"He always called himself that, too," Seko said with a faint, broken laugh. "'Emptiness.' Like one of those cringe 9-year-olds who writes edgy fanfiction for attention." He paused. "But this guy… he's real. He's genuine."
His knees buckled. He caught himself on the wall, panting. His entire body trembled as though just saying the name drained him.
"The thought of him—of what he endured and what he became—it scares me." He looked down, ashamed.A dark patch spread across his pants.
No one laughed.
"I acted like I didn't know him because..." he gulped, "because Madala Sujay was forged—not by nature, not by fate. But by his own choice."