The battlefield was still shaking in the distance, the air thick with the metallic smell of blood and dust. He was about to leave until he felt it.
That unfamiliar rhythm of power behind him slowly, he looked over his shoulder. Tom was standing again.
There was no wound on him now, no exhaustion on his face. It was calm with determination. Beside him, something unseen floated. A silent, spectral presence sitting on a faintly glowing chair, legs crossed, as if observing everything from another reality.
Karma couldn't see it, but his instincts screamed. A spirit of control. Something ancient, layered within Tom's soul.
He smirked faintly. "You really don't know when to stay down, do you?"
Tom dusted off his arm, his voice steady. "Don't talk like you've already won."
Karma approached slowly, his boots crunching against the cracked ground. His crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dark. "You've seen how this ends. You're strong, yes but this…. this is a war that doesn't need more bodies buried in pride."
Tom stared back, silent.
Karma stopped a few feet away, lowering his tone. "I'll give you a choice. Leave this battlefield. Leave the Legion. Join us or walk away. Either way, I won't have to kill you."
Tom's Face still floating calmly on the chair. turned its head ever so slightly, observing Karma like a scientist watching a specimen.
Tom smirked faintly. "A word of mercy coming from a creature like you is nothing but lie!"
Karma's jaw clenched. "I don't want to kill anyone anymore, lad. After everything I've lost, don't make me."
Tom took a step forward. His shadow stretched long under the red eclipse. "You should've thought about that before helping the world to burn."
The tension snapped like lightning between them. Karma exhaled slowly, his aura flaring everywhere in crimson. "Then you've made your choice."
Tom's eyes glowed a faint electric blue, his hair lifting slightly in the rising energy. "I already did," he said.
Karma gave one final glance, regret flickering behind his fury.
"So be it."
The clash between Karma and Tom was destroying the battlefield.
Flashes of red and blue lighting the ruins.
He remembered the past. The nights before all this madness.
Forty years ago, vampires were not the proud, fearsome race they now were. They were slaves starving and crawling in the shadows of another race.
The Grandiors.
Those disgusting creatures walked nothing more like a rotting god, their bodies wet with a blue sheen, tentacles stretching from their wrists like whips of liquid. Their heads never stays the same. Morphing from one grotesque shape to another every few minutes. They spoke in their language that scraped the bones of whoever heard them.
Back then, Karma was nothing more than a frightened young vampire, just one among thousands. He had three siblings. Xamin, Sonia and their youngest, Fahrenheit.
They worked in a factory, obeying the Grandiors remaining afraid to lift their gaze.
If a vampire dared to resist, they were tortured deliberately. The punishment was worse than death. Those who still refused obedience were dragged out at dawn and thrown into sunlight burning alive while the Grandiors laughed.
Karma had always been timid. Not cowardly, just scared of losing the few people he knew. He would clutch the silver chain around his neck whenever he saw someone being burned, whispering, "One more day.… just one more day alive."
One night, the screams didn't stop. A young vampire, no older than Fahrenheit, was ripped apart in front of him for spilling blood on the Grandiors' ground. That night, something kicked him. He no longer prayed for another day. He prayed for the end either of them or their fear.
When he moved, he didn't remember doing it. He killed his first Grandior by accident, biting through its throat as it laughed at him. His hands were shaking, drenched in blue blood. But in that one act, the silence that had chained their kind for centuries shattered.
The rebellion had set in the order of Grandiors.
The rebellion spread like fire through the underworld. And though Karma never asked for it, every vampire looked to him, the same timid boy who knocked up first.
When they begged him to lead, he refused. When they insisted, he cried. But in the end, he accepted. Not because he wanted power but because he had to, there was no choice left for him.
Under his arm, the vampires learned to fight properly, using their powers. They learned to manipulate their own blood, to shape it into blades, different obstacles and rivers of crimson wrath. Karma studied under the oldest blood mages left alive on lands. Learning how to withstand pain into strength, sorrow into precision.
In three years, the name "Karma" reached far away every region, discussed like both a prayer and a warning. The Grandiors vanished from the territory hunted into extinction. Every vampire, every creature of the night, every shadow under the moon began to chant the same words,
"The Strongest."
For Karma, "The Strongest" didn't mean invincible. It meant bearing everything, every responsibility, every betrayal, every death and still walking forward without looking back at the dead child.
That was the curse of his crown.
The strongest are those who walk through their own darkness, not to escape it, but to illuminate it for others. Life's essence lies not in its length, but in the courage to etch meaning into its fleeting moments. We envy the ones who seem happy, not realizing they've simply mastered the art of pretending and the cruel thing about life is that peace often feels like numbness after too much pain. You only understand death when you realize how many living people have already stopped existing who were next to you. Perhaps pain exists because the universe needed something that would make us look inward. What will you do researching about your surroundings if you don't know yourself?
This were not just words but hope that ignited their hearts.
Every hit, every block, every movement had carried their own personal emotions. It wasn't wild anymore. It was pure calculation.
Either death or Immortality.
Karma blurred into motion, his body turned into black fog, streaking across the field like smoke given purpose. Tom barely saw the claws until they were right in front of his face. He twisted his torso, the claws tearing through his shoulder instead of his throat. Blood sprayed, but Tom didn't let out a sound. He planted his feet, countered with a spinning kick that should've crushed bones but Karma had already dissolved again.
Tom blocked, his arm trembled under the force of the fellow night watcher. The impact created a shockwave that split the sand beneath them. Karma moved with inhuman speed, attacking from every direction. Tom dodged consecutive critical blows but the a strike landed. A heavy blow across his ribs that sent him spinning through debris.
Karma landed silently, his crimson eyes cold and ancient. His claws dripped blood that turned to mist before touching the ground.
"Stay down or go away." he said, voice low. "I don't want to kill someone who still has reason live."
Tom's head lifted slowly. Breathing calmly.
"I thought you were the strongest," he said, his tone steady, mocking even harder. "Stop holding back."
Something in Karma's gaze flickered. A call of the monster that had once led a rebellion. His aura expanded like an explosion, warping the air. The sand beneath him turned black.
Karma vanished again. The fog was creating confusions on battlefield leading different outcomes. One hit could be the end....
Tom turned instinctively but it was late. Karma's claw pierced his side, sending him crashing into a broken wall. Tom coughed blood instead of weakening, his aura spiked.
The wound healed instantly, the blood reabsorbed into Tom's body. His muscles filled up, his expression darkened.
Karma saw that he had absorbed the impact.
Karma's lips parted slightly. "….You're feeding off my strength."
Tom cracked his neck, his transparent aura flickering like a mirror.
"I'm not feeding," he said coldly. "I'm learning."
The next moment, he was gone.
Their next clash split the ground. Tom's fists moved faster, sharper, each strike hitting harder than the last. Every time Karma landed a hit, Tom got quicker, sronger, more precise. Skeletons and vampires fighting nearby were torn apart by the sheer pressure of their exchange of fist and boots.
Karma attacked again, his claws glowed red charged with blood energy. He aimed for Tom's neck but Tom ducked, grabbed his wrist, twisted it, and punched him across the face. Karma slid back, wiped his lip and chuckled softly.
"You're interesting," he admitted. His grin widened, fangs glinting. "You don't understand what the strongest means."
He raised his hand. The blood from the battlefield, corpses,fallen vampires, even the dust around him began to swirl toward him. It gathered into a vortex, forming a sphere the size of a mountain.
"I don't fight to win," Karma said quietly. "I fight to end."
The blood sphere condensed into his arm, coating it in red flame. His claws gleamed like molten rubies. Tom stepped back instinctively, his own aura flaring silver.
The impact shattered the land, the shockwave flattening everything around. Tom's bones cracked but his eyes were glowing now. Every attack Karma landed made him faster, his strikes heavier. It was as if his pain was rewriting the laws of his body.
Karma realized it later but better. His eyes narrowed as admiration flickered beneath his calm fury.
"So that's your trick," he muttered. "Then I'll give you something you can't absorb."
He turned black again, faster than thought, splitting into afterimages. Each one was a clawed phantom, slashing from every angle.
Tom didn't back down. He stepped forward, charged straight through the fog, fists blazed, deflecting and returning every blow with twice the power.
When the dust cleared, both stood bloodied, breathing hard, staring into each other's eyes.
Karma wiped his mouth and smiled, darkly.
"….Not bad, lad."
The battlefield was a wasteland of crushed bone and evaporated blood. Nothing moved but only the heat of violence.
Across from Tom, Karma walked forward through the carnage, calm, composed, his eyes menacingly glowing red beneath the shadowed sky. There was nothing fear, only the dreadful certainty of someone who had always won.
"The Strongest" wasn't a title—it was a truth.
And Karma carried it like a curse.
He stopped a few feet away from Tom, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, his mouth curled into a smirk.
"You've done well," he said softly, voice echoing across the dead sand. "You've made me sweat. I forgot what that felt like."
Tom didn't answer. His eyes were calculating for a clean moment. Every movement he'd made until now. It was stacking variables, measuring the rhythm, learning Karma's fists, building a trap beneath the flow of combat.
Karma didn't know.
Or perhaps, he simply didn't care.
Karma lifted his hand. "You thought I was a creature of blood," he said. "But you forgot I am the law of it. Let me help you recognise it."
Tom's own blood began to rise from his skin as if streams of crimson pulling upward, defying chaos. It tore through his pores like needles, swirling toward Karma, who absorbed it greedily.
"Let me show you what it means to rule the nightfall"
His body ignited with bloodlight. Every drop he took from Tom became another star burning inside him. His aura reached beyond dimensions, he was no longer standing in the world but over it.
Karma looked divine, terrifying, beautiful in the way a supernova was beautiful.
He snapped his fingers once and the air folded like paper.
Tom fell to his knees. His veins were empty; his skin turned pale. His body shook violently, yet.… he was smirking.
Karma frowned. "What's so funny?"
Tom looked up through bloodshot eyes. "You're standing right where I wanted you to."
An abnormalilty appeared beneath Karma's feet.
The ground beneath him erupted in radiant chains of transparent light. They coiled around his limbs, anchored through dimensions, sealing his motion. The same concept he was mocking earlier. Tom had weaponized his Face's transparent realm, embedding it inside the physical battlefield.
Karma was now struggling.
Even being trapped, he smiled evilly.
"You clever boy," he whispered.
He forced his arms outward. The blood around him exploding into violent waves, cutting through the light like blades creating a personal room around him. He didn't break the trap by strength; he rewrote its law, blood against logic, defiance against fate.
Tom stumbled back, shielding himself from the gale. Karma stepped forward and his body barely held any shape now, more liquid than flesh.
He looked monstrous. A god who had forgotten mercy. He was marching at Tom to rip his head off.
A soft sound in Karma's mind stunned the chaos.
A lullaby.
"Hush now, my darlings, close your sweet eyes,
Drift to the starlight that dances in skies.
Soft is the moonlight, it cradles your dreams,
Carries you gently on silvery streams."
Karma heard the familiar voice, lines, lullaby. His expressions turned into nothingness. He couldn't decide how to react in reply.
""Feel the warm breeze, love, it whispers so low, kissing your cheeks where the fireflies glow. Angels are near us, their wings soft and wide, rocking you safely by heaven's bedside.
Sleep, my sweet treasures, no sorrow to roam,
Our hearts are together, forever our home.
The stars sing above us, their lullaby clear,
You're safe in my love, my babies, don't fear.
Rest now, my angels, the night eats you while, wrapped in my arms till the morning's first light.
Dream of soft meadows where love never ends, my heart holds you always, my dearest, my friends.""
He turned slowly shaking to the horizon.
There, in the fog, a woman stood. Her face was gentle, kind and charming. The same eyes he had before immortality. His mother.
".... Mother?" His voice cracked.
She reached her hand out. "It's time, Karamiel."
For the first time in centuries, he looked small as a son, someone called him by his real name. A forgotten, trembling child in the body of a monster.
Tom watched silently, his aura dimmed, understanding what he was seeing. His Face could feel the spiritual presence.
Karma's tears couldn't hold anymore. He looked back at Tom, his rage gone, his eyes were empty. Then he smiled sadly but soft.
"I wanted peace," he whispered. "Guess this is the only way."
He extended his hand, the blood he stole flowing back into Tom like a river returning home. Strength returned to Tom's body as Karma began to fade.
The wind rose, swirling around them both.
Karma turned to his mother. "Why.... Why did you leave me! I hate you! Go away! I don't want to see your damn face! Go away!!!"
Seeing Karma's monstrous body screaming at nothing, he smirked softly in silence. He approached Karma and took his hand on his shoulder. Karma was throwing abusive words in sorrow.... rage....? It was confusing but he understood that he was feeling insecure of that he will lose it again, seeing that spirit near him, even though he was seeing a spiritual body that can't be harmed.
"You, who carry grief so bravely, are the artist of your own dawn, painting hope where shadows once stood. Let go of the fight against your tears. They're not something shameful; they're the language of a heart wise enough to feel and bold enough to heal. Go, you need rest."
Karma started to cry like a child loudly after a stare at Tom.
His body broke apart into scarlet dust, dissolving upward like butterflies of blood.
"Sleep, my son.… somewhere only we know.…"
The Strongest was gone.