The battlefield thundered under their feet — sand turned black, air burning red with blood vapor and energy sparks.
Elior stood tall, his breath steady, his Face hovering behind him like a demonic constellation. A faint white outline of a branch like winged figure, its gaze burnt holes into the spafe.
Across from him, Xamin floated slightly above ground, calm and unshaken, his body flickered with vampiric sigils, skin coated in spectral smoke.
"You're a sharp one, Elior," Xamin said with a half-smile, his tone more calculating than mocking. "Fighting with the same logic you think with but logic doesn't beat instincts born from eternity."
Elior's eyes narrowed. "Instincts die against adaptation."
They both moved with a flicker and the ground shattered.
Elior swung his arm, his Face following the motion. A branch-like demonic wing on his shoulder, slashing through the air. The blow didn't connect but space ripped, leaving a glowing blue scar across reality.
Xamin dodged, but not cleanly. His coat sliced off midair, his body displaced ten feet sideways by the sheer distortion.
He smiled anyway. "Your wing rifts space, doesn't it? Dangerous, but you are slow."
Elior's reply came like a warning. "It's slow only if I miss."
Xamin twirled his fingers and suddenly, dozens of vampiric clones burst from his blood mist, moving like shadows with their own intent. Each had different abilities, one threw blood spears, another liquified, another exploded on contact.
Elior swung his demonic wing again. The air folded, clones blinked out of existence, sliced cleanly before they could even scream. But the moment Elior destroyed one, two more formed behind him, tightening the trap.
Xamin's voice echoed through the swarm. "You still think straight lines win fights, hunter?"
Elior crouched low, one hand pressing on the ground. His Face leaned forward, its many eyes opening fully.
"I don't fight in straight lines."
His shadow expanded, swallowing the clones whole, twisting their forms into oblivion. Only Xamin escaped, his body turning into mist before reforming above Elior.
He extended his hand and unleashed a wave of blood bombs, red flares detonating like a rain of meteors.
Elior crossed his arms, his demonic wing wrapping around him like a shield. Each explosion bent the air, breaking sound.
Elior was still standing, unharmed, his expression was grim. "You'll need more than fireworks."
Xamin smirked. "I expected you to say that."
He raised his palm, a crimson net of strings shot forward, sharp as wire, each one pulsing with life force. They sliced through stone, ground and even concealments. One grazed Elior's face, another nearly caught his ankle.
Elior used his Face and the wing shifted, splitting into hundreds of smaller branches, catching and breaking the strings midair. Some pierced him anyway, but he didn't flinch.
"You set trap while getting beaten." Xamin noted, circling. "That's why I like you."
"Stop talking," Elior said coldly.
Both disappeared once again.
Their clash was soundless now, too fast for the world to process. Each strike was a move in a mental chess match. Where One calculated probability, another calculated death.
Blood splashed on the ground, yet neither stopped.
Xamin shoved himself behind Elior, his claws coated in boiling blood. He slashed and Elior turned, his Face shielded his neck, but Xamin's claws bent around the shield, slicing his stomach open.
Elior stumbled back, clutching his wound only for the blood to reabsorb, flesh knitting back together.
"Regeneration?" Xamin mused. "I thought your Face was for toying space."
"It adapts," Elior said. "Unlike you."
Xamin grinned wider, showing his fangs. "Then let's see which adapts faster."
Sand swirled violently around the battlefield, whipped into spirals by Elior's control. Every grain shimmered like molten gold under the distorted, broken sky. His demonic wing of dark branches stretched wide behind him, black tendrils rippling like smoke.
Across him, Xamin hovered, one hand slick with liquid blood, his crimson eyes were calm but predatory. The air was tense, vibrating between them.
Elior raised both palms, sand gathered, swirling faster until it formed into two towering vortexes beside him, roaring like miniature storms. "You are annoying," he said flatly.
Xamin chuckled. "You are too interesting."
The sandstorm shot forward, crashing into Xamin's blood field. The two powers collided as sizzling, mixing, forming an eerie red-gold fog. From within that haze, their silhouettes darted like phantoms, every hit recalling with bursts of raw impact.
Elior tried to trap Xamin's feet by solidifying the sand beneath him, but Xamin evaporated into mist, then reappeared above, raining down blood spears. Elior spun, his demonic wing sliced through the space rippling, erasing half of the spears before they touched him.
Just as Elior was about to strike again, but something crashed between them.
A deafening sonic boom followed. A red meteor smashed into the ground between them, sand exploded in all directions. The shockwave hurled both back.
When the smoke cleared, a single figure stood at the crater's bottom.
Fahrenheit.
His eyes were burning red, hair in disarray, his entire body emanating pure rage. The ground hissed beneath his feet. His blood energy radiated heat so intense, it vaporated the air.
"Fahrenheit.…" Xamin muttered, tightening his jaw.
Elior didn't move, watching cautiously. "You came from the sky just to interrupt?"
Fahrenheit cracked his neck slowly, glaring at Elior like a beast ready to kill.
"LIES!" Fahrenheit roared, his scream vibrated through the desert. His aura expanded violently within fire mixed with blood, forming a crimson inferno around him. "You'll burn with the rest of them!"
Before Elior could respond, Fahrenheit lunged, faster than sound, his claws coated in flaming blood. Elior barely managed to block with his demonic wing but the collision blasted him backward, skidding across the sand.
Xamin stayed in the corner, watching for a moment. "Well…. looks like you've got another dance partner, hunter."
"Don't," Elior snapped. "Stay out of—"
But Xamin was already moved on.
Within seconds, Fahrenheit threw fiery punches that shook space, Elior countering with sand shields and spatial rifts, and Xamin launching blood shards from every angle, precise and deadly.
Elior was fast but even his calculations couldn't handle both of them at once. He ducked a blood spear, blocked Fahrenheit's claw and instead took a heavy punch to the ribs, sending Elior crashing into a wall of hardened sand.
Fahrenheit snarled, flames bursting from his hands. "You won't escape me!"
Elior spat blood, pulling himself up, breathing hard. "You're angry at the wrong person."
"I DON'T CARE!" Fahrenheit screamed and rushed again.
Elior's Face flickered behind him, wing spreaded fully open now. Sand rose like waves. Xamin joined Fahrenheit mid-charge, their combined forces looking like a red-black storm bearing down.
Elior inhaled slowly, his hand lowering to the ground. "Then come.…and I'll show you why the desert buries gods."
Xamin floated above them, one hand on his temple, muttering, "Don't do this, Fahrenheit.… not that thing, it's not the right time."
Fahrenheit didn't even hear him. His chest was heaving, the sound between his teeth half laugh, half snarl.
"Shut up!" he said, eyes locked on Elior. "She said she was scared…. that someone came in the dark and crushed her chains."
Elior frowned. "Chains?"
Fahrenheit's pupils widened when realization struck in. His aura surged instantly, burning scarlet.
"So it was you."
Xamin's expression dropped.
"Fahrenheit—"
Fahrenheit screamed. A scream that didn't sound even monster. It was blood, anguish and hatred turned into a roar. The ground beneath his feet cracked, bleeding red light from within the fissures. The air became heavy, as though gravity doubled in fury.
Then his power exploded.
From his back, countless blood threads burst outward, whipping and swirling around him. His veins glowed crimson through his pale skin. The air warped, distorting time itself for a moment and it reappeared.
A greatsword slowly formed in front of him, rising from the blood boiling at his feet. It was medium-sized but monstrous in aura shaped from coagulated blood and obsidian steel. The blade pulsed like a living organ, sticky red vines dripping from its hilt, twisting like veins searching for prey.
The sword let out a metallic growl — Tepès.
Elior's eyes narrowed. "...."
Xamin hissed, "Stop! Don't activate it! Fahrenheit, you'll kill yourself!"
It was too late.
Fahrenheit's hand gripped the sword, and the veins on his arm merged into it. The blade screamed and a wave of pressure rippled outward, tearing through the battlefield.
Xamin was pushed back, shielding his eyes. Elior stood his ground, sand spiraling beneath his feet, his hair whipping wildly.
Blood flames flared up around Fahrenheit's body but they didn't burn him. They shaped into an ethereal cape, dripping scarlet fire, hovering behind him like a living entity. His voice dropped lower, trembling with contained rage.
"Do you know what 'Tepès', means, hunter?"
Elior didn't answer.
"It means The Piercing of the Soul. The Ultimate Form of a Vampire!"
The blade glowed, glowed brighter, blood vines hanging from it twitched like tendrils hungry for flesh. Fahrenheit tilted his head slightly, eyes dark as abyss. "Every vampire who awakens it…. must gambit with their life!"
Xamin scratched his neck, cold and cracked. "I already lost mine catching a rabbit. Only Brother Karma was the one who has used it numerous times without any effort."
Every droplet of blood left from fallen vampires and skeletons started to float upward, drawn to Fahrenheit's blade. The sword drank them all, swelling with power. Lightning cracked in the sky, red lightning, rumbling with fury.
Elior's demonic wing flared open. His face hardened, energy building up in his hands. "If you're done showing off.…"
Fahrenheit looked up, eyes glowing like burning suns. "You'll wish I was showing off."
He vanished.
In an instant, he appeared behind Elior with a sword slashing down. The impact split the space with a sonic boom, the energy rippling through the field like an earthquake. Elior barely blocked, but the force hurled him back, ripping chunks of sand into the sky.
Fahrenheit didn't stop, he moved faster again, appearing in front, then to the left, then above. Every swing of Tepès leaving trails of crimson lightning. Each blow screamed with the voices of countless vampires who wields it.
Xamin stood back, watching the battlefield crumble under the sheer force of it, whispering, "You fool…. you might die after this!"
Fahrenheit slammed his sword down, cracking the ground, blood splattering into the air. His cape flared wide like wings of crimson flame, his fangs bared.
Elior landed on his feet, panting, then smirked.
"Alright.…" he muttered, tightening his fists, sand swirling violently behind him.
"Let's dance, vampire."