Resurgence II

Vaelor gritted his teeth as he felt the tremors in his blood astral energy, the crimson currents writhing beneath Arthur's relentless strikes. This couldn't be happening. It shouldn't be happening. Yet here he was, an Ascendant-rank Vampire Elder, pushed to his limits by a boy still bound by the constraints of Integration rank.

Arthur's blade gleamed, encased in two radiant layers of pseudo-astral energy, their resonant hum amplifying the force of each strike. The young human's movements were raw, unrelenting, his resolve searing through the air like a beacon of defiance. Vaelor's blood circle, a masterpiece of his astral art, cracked and splintered under the assault, each fracture spreading like a spiderweb through his defenses.

This human was dangerous—no, more than dangerous. He was a storm waiting to unravel, a tempest threatening to consume everything in its path.

Vaelor thrust his spear forward with a guttural cry, channeling every ounce of his blood astral energy into a wave of spikes that shot outward, aiming to force Arthur back. The cavern shook violently as the clash of their powers erupted in a deafening explosion. Smoke and dust filled the air, obscuring the battlefield as Vaelor's body was flung against the jagged stone walls with a sickening thud.

Pain lanced through his body, his regeneration faltering against the embers of pseudo-astral energy Arthur had embedded in his flesh. Each ember acted as a parasitic force, consuming his vitality and slowing the natural healing his kind were known for. His breaths came ragged, each one a reminder of the devastating exchange that had pushed him to this point.

'Is he dead?' Vaelor wondered, craning his neck to peer through the haze, a sliver of desperate hope igniting within him. His crimson eyes scanned the battlefield, seeking any sign that the threat had been neutralized.

Through the settling smoke, a figure emerged—battered, bloodied, but standing. Arthur staggered forward, his hand gripping his sword with an unyielding determination. His gaze was focused, his body trembling but refusing to collapse. The boy's breath came in heavy gasps, his chest rising and falling with the effort of staying upright.

Vaelor's heart sank. The boy wasn't just alive—he was unbroken.

A chill spread through Vaelor's body, colder than any wound. This boy, who hadn't even reached the Wall, had not only survived but had forced him into a corner. Against all logic, all expectation, Arthur had held his ground.

It was a draw.

For the first time in centuries, Vaelor felt something unfamiliar clawing at his chest: awe. Awe at the raw talent, the indomitable will, the terrifying potential of this boy. Arthur Nightingale wasn't just another human. He was a harbinger of calamity.

Such a human could not be allowed to live. Vaelor gritted his teeth, his mind racing as the realization took hold. This boy wasn't just dangerous—he was a threat to the very existence of his kind. If left unchecked, Arthur Nightingale would eclipse even Liam Kagu, the vampire scourge of legend.

But as the thought burned through his mind, his body betrayed him. Broken and drained, Vaelor could only watch as Rachel approached Arthur, her hands glowing with the soft, golden light of a 6-circle healing spell. The warmth of her magic flowed over Arthur's wounds, mending the damage with a quiet intensity. Her face was set with determination, her every movement precise as she poured her mana into restoring him.

Vaelor's lips curled into a grim smile as the shadows deepened around him. He could no longer move, his strength sapped by the battle, but his mind remained sharp. His consciousness flickered like a dying ember, yet it clung to the bitter satisfaction that even if Arthur had survived, his fate was sealed.

"You've done well, Elder. Rest now," came a voice, smooth as silk and dark as velvet.

Vaelor's fading consciousness registered the figure approaching through the gloom. A figure whose aura crushed the air around them, whose presence stilled even the echoes of the recent battle. The oppressive energy radiated from him like a tide, swallowing the remnants of resistance in its path.

'He's here,' Vaelor thought with grim satisfaction. 'Arthur won't leave this place alive.'

Cassius, the son of the Vampire Monarch, stepped into the light. His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement, and a cruel smile played on his lips as he surveyed the battlefield. He moved with a grace that bordered on arrogance, his steps deliberate and unhurried. The very air seemed to bow to his presence, his astral energy crackling like a thunderstorm held in check.

The moment Cassius appeared, the atmosphere changed. It was as if the air itself recoiled, thickening with oppressive weight. His gaze swept across the gathered students, his amusement growing as his eyes landed on Arthur.

"You've caused quite a mess," Cassius said, his voice carrying an almost casual disdain. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he assessed Arthur. "But I suppose I should have expected no less from the likes of you."

Arthur straightened, his body still weak but his resolve unshaken. He tightened his grip on his sword, the glow of his pseudo-astral energy dimming but not extinguished. Each movement was measured, his stance unwavering despite the clear disparity in their power.

"Stay back!" Rachel hissed, her light magic flickering as she stood protectively beside him. Her voice was firm, but her hands trembled slightly, betraying her fear.

Arthur knew better. Cassius wasn't just strong—he was beyond anything they could hope to face. An Immortal-rank vampire, his power dwarfed even Vaelor's. They stood no chance. None of them did.

Arthur stepped forward, his blade trembling in his grasp but his intent clear. "I'll handle this."

"Arthur, no!" Rachel protested, but Arthur didn't turn back.

Cassius raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Oh? You think you can stand against me, boy?"

Arthur knew he couldn't. But he had no other choice but to attack first.

Arthur didn't answer. Instead, he moved.

He launched himself forward, his body encased in a dazzling aura of pseudo-astral energy. Every spell formula within him synchronized as his mind split into multiple streams of consciousness, orchestrating each movement with precision. His blade, strengthened by Mythic Body and enhanced by Soul Vision, cut through the air with blinding speed.

Second movement: Hollow Eclipse.

Cassius's eyes glinted with interest as Arthur closed the distance. With a lazy motion, he raised his hand, the air around it shimmering as astral energy coiled into a dense nebula.

Arthur's blade struck—and stopped.

Cassius caught the sword mid-strike, his fingers curling around the blade's edge as if it were no more than a toy. The pseudo-astral energy sparked and flickered against his palm, but he remained unscathed.

"Not bad," Cassius mused, his voice almost mocking. "But not nearly enough."

With a flick of his wrist, he shattered the blade's aura, the resonating layers of pseudo-astral energy dissipating like smoke. Then, with a casual grace, he swung his arm toward Arthur.

Arthur barely had time to react. He cast a 6-circle teleportation spell, intending to warp away, but Cassius's eyes flashed. The space around Arthur distorted and shattered, his escape spell undone before it could even activate.

Arthur's heart pounded. He was out of options. The weight of Cassius's astral energy bore down on him as the vampire's hand closed in.

And then the world exploded.

A blinding light erupted between them, throwing Arthur back. He hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from his lungs. When he looked up, he saw a figure standing between him and Cassius.

Nero stood firm, his arm outstretched. But it was clear the cost had been severe. His left arm was gone, obliterated in the exchange.