Vaelor I

Arthur's sword shimmered, the enhanced aura around it flickering like captured starlight. He stood firm, his eyes locked on his opponent: Vampire Elder Vaelor.

The weight of Vaelor's strength pressed against him, invisible yet suffocating, like a forearm slowly tightening around his neck. The sheer power emanating from the vampire was undeniable. 

Vaelor was strong. Stronger than anyone Arthur had faced before.

Mid Ascendant-rank.

For most, the thought of fighting someone at that level would have been laughable. Arthur hadn't even reached the Wall, let alone begun to scale it. To face an opponent like Vaelor alone was the sort of gamble most would call reckless—or suicidal.

Yet Arthur didn't hesitate.

There was no room for doubt in his mind. Fear didn't creep into the corners of his thoughts, nor did it send shivers down his spine. His skin remained steady, unblemished by goosebumps.

He simply raised his sword, the tip gleaming as it pointed directly at Vaelor, a gesture as simple as it was audacious. 

Vaelor's crimson eyes narrowed, his brows furrowing as he regarded Arthur with a mixture of irritation and curiosity. The air seemed to hum with tension, the unspoken question hanging between them: 'How dare you?'

But Arthur didn't speak. He didn't need to.

The stance of his blade, unwavering and resolute, said all that needed to be said.

With a sudden burst of wind and lightning magic crackling at his feet, Arthur launched himself toward Vaelor, the air shuddering in his wake.

Luna's sigils blazed to life across his body, glowing faintly as he activated Lucent Harmony. Mythic Body honed his muscles and reflexes to their absolute peak, while Soul Vision sharpened his senses in concert with Seraphim's Embrace. 

Mind's Aegis hummed at the edge of his thoughts, splitting his consciousness into precise streams, allowing him to manage his mana with a clarity few could achieve. His Eclipse Blade gleamed as nearly a dozen layers of enhanced aura shimmered along its edge—a dazzling display of mana control and raw power that even Vaelor couldn't ignore. The vampire's eyes widened slightly, betraying a flicker of surprise as he raised his hand.

Vampires were creatures of blood and shadow, their magic steeped in the primal forces of the night. Darkness coalesced at his fingertips, pooling and twisting until it took on the appearance of the night sky itself—black as obsidian, speckled with silvery stars. A condensed void of night magic laced with astral energy.

Vaelor met Arthur's descending blade head-on.

The impact reverberated through the air, a clash of light and shadow as Eclipse Blade met Vaelor's night-tipped hand. The sheer force of the collision pushed against Arthur's arms, his muscles straining as the aura around his blade crackled and sputtered. 

Vaelor's expression remained calm, impassive as ever, though his strength was anything but. With a measured push, he channeled his astral energy into Arthur's strike, the pressure crushing through layers of enhanced aura like brittle glass. 

Arthur gritted his teeth as he felt the force driving him back. Vaelor pressed forward, relentless, his power a weight that Arthur couldn't yet match. Forced to retreat, Arthur shifted his footing, his mind already recalibrating, streams of thought strategizing his next move.

Vaelor's gaze remained fixed on him, cold and unyielding. For all his power, the vampire hadn't even begun to exert himself.

"You are strong," Vaelor admitted, his voice cold and measured. "But much too young to hope to defeat me, boy."

With a flick of his hand, spikes of blood materialized around him, their shimmering crimson edges laced with astral energy. They extended beyond his body, their presence bending the air as though reality itself recoiled from their unnatural force.

Human mages relied on the circle method for spellcasting, a method prized for its efficiency and precision. But vampires did things differently. Their use of astral energy was raw, primal—a force less refined but no less deadly. Though inefficient and clumsy by comparison, it was brutally effective, especially beyond the Wall.

The lances of blood began to rotate, their jagged tips whirring ominously as they gathered momentum. They homed in on Arthur's mana signature, hurtling toward him with lethal intent. Vaelor's strategy was precise—most of the lances were made of enhanced aura, conserving his precious reserves of astral energy while using just enough to amplify their destructive power.

Arthur watched as the blood lances tore through the air, their deadly trajectory aimed straight at him. His response was immediate. A 6-circle water spell erupted into being with a single motion, its cascading torrents crashing against the lances. 

The water met the blood with a violent hiss, tearing through the lances but failing to stop them entirely. The lances weakened, their structure breaking apart as the water diluted the blood's magical bonds. Arthur seized the moment, cutting through the remnants with precise strokes of his blade.

Vaelor, however, wasn't idle. As soon as Arthur cast his spell, the vampire Elder had already closed the distance, his nails extending like blades as they aimed for Arthur's throat. 

But just as Vaelor lunged, he froze, the tip of Arthur's sword brushing against his neck with surgical precision. He shifted his attack instantly, narrowly avoiding the strike, but Arthur's blade was relentless. 

One sword became two. Two became ten. Then a dozen.

Vaelor's crimson eyes widened as a storm of shimmering blades rained down on him, each one a masterful feint or strike, each one carrying the weight of deadly intent. He felt danger with every movement—not just from Arthur's real sword but from the illusions themselves.

'Incredible,' Vaelor thought, his mind racing. He slammed his foot into the ground, sending a shockwave through the air as he created distance between them, forcing Arthur to retreat momentarily.

Vaelor studied him now, his earlier disdain replaced by a grudging respect. Arthur's swordsmanship wasn't just refined—it was beyond anything Vaelor had expected. Each feint carried a lethal precision, and each strike resonated with a power that shouldn't have been possible for someone so young.

And then he saw it—the dark sword in Arthur's hand, its layers of enhanced aura shimmering and resonating in unison.

'So that wasn't even his full strength,' Vaelor realized, his expression darkening as the faintest flicker of unease settled in.

Arthur's movements shifted, a fluid transformation that was impossible to miss. His footwork changed entirely, his steps weaving through the battlefield with a rhythm that seemed to defy logic. There was grace in the way he moved now—a deadly elegance that belied the sheer force behind his strikes.

His blade multiplied once more, but this time it was entirely different. It didn't simply split into countless shadows of itself; it danced. The sword became an extension of him, a kaleidoscope of shimmering colors as the resonating layers of enhanced aura flowed and intertwined. 

A thrust, sharp and deliberate.

From the thrust, a slash, smooth as a blade cutting through silk.

From the slash, a downward strike, carrying the weight of a falling star.

From the downward strike, an upward sweep, rising like a cresting wave.

And the movement didn't stop. It couldn't. Each strike bled into the next, a ceaseless flow of attacks that felt as natural as the rise and fall of the tide. 

A stream tumbled into a waterfall. 

The waterfall crashed and twisted into a river. 

The river surged and swelled into a sea. 

And the sea stretched endlessly, its depths unfathomable, until it became an ocean.

This was Arthur's Grade 5 art—Tempest Dance Technique. It wasn't just an attack; it was a symphony of destruction, each movement harmonizing with the next, every strike a note in a deadly melody.

Vaelor's astral energy shuddered under the relentless assault, the resonating layers of enhanced aura crashing against it like storm-tossed waves. Cracks began to show, tiny fractures breaking away the edges of his defense. 

The Vampire Elder's confidence flickered as he felt the pressure mount. Arthur's assault wasn't just overwhelming; it was inevitable, as unstoppable as the tide itself.

Clang!

The sharp sound of metal meeting metal echoed through the chamber, ringing out like a bell. Arthur's sword froze mid-swing, caught in place by his opponent's weapon. Despite this, a faint, knowing smile curved across his lips.

"Finally showing more of your cards?" he asked, his tone laced with mockery. The words hung in the air, light and cutting, and they had the desired effect. Vaelor's pale face flushed with anger, his crimson eyes narrowing as his grip tightened.

Vaelor's weapon, a spear of resplendent navy blue, glinted ominously in the dim light. Its surface shimmered like a stormy sea, flickering with energy that seemed to pulse from within.

Then, it began to beat.