When it came to unexpected variables disrupting carefully laid plans, one of the most famous quotes in magical history came from none other than Tom Riddle during his school years:
"Eliminate the obstacle!"
Interestingly enough, this sentiment seems to be universal across time and cultures, every major figure in history has had that thought at some point. Including Allen, right now, as he looked at the one responsible for his current mess.
He wanted nothing more than to drag that stupid bat out and strangle it on the spot. Aren't bats supposed to navigate with echolocation? You flew headfirst into such a huge obstacle, are you blind!?
Of course, Allen had misjudged the situation. These weren't literal bats; they were vampires. Turning into a bat didn't make them bat-creatures with sonar. And honestly, that wasn't the most urgent problem right now.
The real issue was that every single vampire's attention had locked onto him.
From ancient battlefields to modern warfare, history has proven one thing time and again: the flashier you are on the battlefield, the quicker you die, unless, of course, you're some unstoppable monster like the Achilles or Ares.
Unfortunately, Allen had become exactly that, a flashy target.
Normally, his wizard's robe wouldn't draw much attention. But in a battlefield full of werewolves and vampires? He might as well have been a beacon.
A rough diagram would've said it best:
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Vampires +1 +1 +1...
ALLEN
Werewolves +1 +1 +1...
Luckily, it wasn't all bad. Thanks to his efforts earlier that afternoon, Allen had at least made a good impression, the conscious werewolves didn't see him as an enemy anymore.
Still, that wasn't enough.
The question now was: How do you reduce your presence on the battlefield and make everyone forget about you?
Allen would soon demonstrate the answer.
"Invisibility Cloak, fly to me!"
Instead of casting an offensive spell, Allen's first move was to summon something from a patch of grass nearby.
A flash of silver shot toward him, and along with it, a grumbling voice appeared from the same spot.
"I was just passing through, damn it! Aurors are supposed to protect law-abiding citizens, you know!"
This man, presumably the Auror Allen had run into earlier, was clearly annoyed. Sure, the Ministry of Magic hadn't fully accepted werewolves yet, but was showing some support and friendliness really that wrong?
Meanwhile, the vampire leader, who had frozen for a moment in confusion, finally snapped out of it. In his eyes, two measly wizards were hardly a threat.
"Kill the meddling humans!"
Seven dark figures immediately broke off from the larger battle and darted toward Allen and the Auror.
The rest of the vampires began testing the werewolves' defenses, slashing and retreating quickly, or using magic from afar to probe the outermost werewolves. None of them were stupid enough to charge in recklessly. In a tightly packed formation like this, even a dragon would be shredded by werewolf claws and teeth.
If this had been any other time, the elite werewolf warriors could've formed small squads and torn the vampires to shreds.
Unfortunately, this wasn't any other time.
Too many of the werewolves were burdened, protecting their children, keeping an eye on the newly transformed youngsters still regaining their sanity. They were spread too thin.
But Allen wasn't thinking about any of that.
As the vampires closed in, he and the Auror came to the same conclusion, they turned and ran.
On a battlefield like this, standing out too much was a death sentence. With the werewolves unable to help and the vampires rapidly gaining numbers, drawing more attention was suicide.
The vampires weren't surprised at all. They were used to seeing their prey flee in terror. It was rare to see wizards panic like this, but still, nothing new.
Unfortunately, running was useless.
While vampires couldn't fly very fast or high in their transformed states, not as fast as when they turned into bats, they were still much faster than a human on foot.
Allen and the Auror exchanged glances and silently nodded, splitting up and bolting in opposite directions.
The vampires hesitated, then split into two groups.
Allen, probably seen as the weaker one due to his youth, had three vampires chasing him, including the very one he had knocked unconscious earlier.
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
Marvin was a fortunate vampire.
He had been born into a relatively peaceful time. His kind had already stabilized their presence in the region, and by the time he was able to walk upright in human form, he'd been given his own crypt and stone monument.
No constant hunts from the Ministry. No terror. Unlike the old days his elders still complained about, Marvin had never been chased by Aurors.
Aside from having to bring back muggles from far-off places to feed on (which only lasted two weeks tops), Marvin felt his life was pretty ideal.
Well, until recently, when rumors spread that a nearby vampire crypt had been wiped out by a werewolf-Auror alliance.
After that, their clan leader decided something had to be done.
"For the safety of our kind, we must eliminate the werewolves."
After all, both species had fled from Europe. Why should the werewolves be the ones tearing themselves apart? If that was their fate, then the vampires would help them along.
Werewolves, the clan leader said, were far more likely than Aurors to stumble across vampire crypts. If they weren't wiped out first, they would eventually wipe out the vampires.
As for the vampires' former pride and elegance? That was long gone.
Nowadays, hunger speaks louder than culture. Wisdom and grace? Marvin was far too young to have that kind of polish. He envied the older ones, those who were finally allowed to blend into human society under false identities. The leader had said that only those who had reached "maturity" after decades of life could leave the clan's protection and survive on their own.
Before this attack, the clan leader had called up the oldest vampires, organizing a joint assault with three of the largest nearby clans. The infiltrators who had already moved into human society were not included, supposedly to avoid attracting attention from the Ministry.
The werewolf pack they were about to attack, the clan leader said, was one of the seven largest. This battle, full of blood and iron, would be their rite of passage, the awakening of true vampire elegance and wisdom.
But unfortunately for Marvin, he had failed spectacularly.
As soon as he arrived at the battlefield, he'd been blasted to the ground by a single spell, in full view of three whole vampire clans.
It was the greatest humiliation of his life. Even Samantha, the vampire he admired, was now staring at him with mocking eyes.
So when the clan leader ordered the attack, Marvin was the first to charge.
He was going to suck that little brat dry and hang his corpse on the most terrifying crucifix they had, as a warning.
He was getting closer. And closer. The brat was just around the corner, once he rounded that bend, that fresh blood would be his!
His body, normally cold, was practically burning with anticipation. He could already taste the boy's blood on his fangs. It would be the perfect redemption.
But when he turned the corner...
He wasn't greeted by a terrified child.
He was met by a smirking young wizard... and the soul-piercing cries of dozens of crows.
Caw.
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