Once the banter faded, Heiman and Magnus faced off.
But it wasn't the kind of standoff you'd expect from bitter enemies. Sure, there was tension, but it was mixed with excitement, eagerness, and curiosity. If they hadn't both been perfectly willing to kill each other, you might've mistaken the whole thing for a friendly spar rather than a real fight.
Still, it couldn't last forever. For Magnus—always riding a wave of euphoria, always chasing something new—boredom was the true enemy. Even if he couldn't technically feel bored in this state, doing nothing and not chasing that next high felt like boredom anyway. So, naturally, he made the first move.
A tiny twitch ran through him, barely noticeable, and then he teleported—the quickest, most direct way to attack. But in that split second, right between when his body tensed and when he vanished, Heiman reacted. In the dim room, which might once have been an office, Heiman's eyes shone like crimson stars, catching the faint light from the hallway and music room. The glow from his gaze pulsed, growing brighter just as Magnus reappeared behind him.
There was no need for Magnus to wind up for his strikes—not with [Combat Assistant] controlling every movement—but at that moment, [Combat Assistant] suddenly halted the attack and pulled him back. The disturbance in the air around Heiman, the shimmer of the disintegration field, started to expand outward at a speed even Magnus couldn't match. Eyes darting, Magnus scanned the room, searching for a safe spot to lock onto for teleportation, while he leapt back in a quick jump.
But the expansion was too fast. Just before he could teleport, the field grazed the front of his body. The thin layers of skin and flesh over his chest and stomach vanished. When he landed on the other side of the office, the front of his clothes was shredded, his ribs exposed, organs visible like some kind of anatomy chart. Still, the injury was shallow, and Magnus barely glanced at it—his attention locked on Heiman, thrilled by the danger.
That lightning-fast burst from Heiman's field didn't just hit Magnus. Since Heiman couldn't predict where Magnus would pop up, he'd simply expanded his disintegration field in every direction. The result: the already ruined desk, papers, carpet, and even the top layer of the wooden floor were all shredded into particles too small to see.
Even the floating dust didn't escape. Heiman's power was that thorough. If it weren't for Magnus's [Absolute Fixation], he knew he'd be dead already.
So he can predict when I'm about to teleport? That's going to be a pain. He's probably watching the way my body shifts right before I move.
Even though Magnus didn't need to wind up before attacking, there were still certain stances that made him more effective. Getting into those positions before teleporting gave him the best edge in combat, but it also took a split second. Maybe someone like Nightborn or even the Hierarch would have trouble catching that, but for Heiman, it was obvious, as clear as the warnings Magnus got from the BGM Glitch.
The problem was, Magnus's body wasn't equally complex in every part. His limits on visualization were higher now, but not infinite. It was much easier to use [Absolute Fixation] on a limb or two than on his whole brain—the human body's processing unit was just too complicated.
Magnus's regeneration had reached a near-perfect state. Human bodies were actually great at healing; the real issue was that it was slow, and most people die or scar before anything fully heals.
There were also hard limits when it came to vital organs.
They could recover from partial damage, but not from being completely destroyed. That's where [Restoration] came in. If Magnus ever had an organ damaged past the point of recovery, he could literally delete it and create a new one from memory. The only places he couldn't do that were his brain, his heart, and his spinal cord. If any of those got deleted, he'd be dead before he could fix it.
So, the solution was simple: use [Absolute Fixation] to protect those areas when needed, and regenerate everything else. As long as he wasn't using [Absolute Fixation] on his brain, he'd have the processing power to cover a good chunk of his body, especially if he shifted the protection around to whatever was under attack.
Still, if my whole body gets caught in that field of his, I'll be in real trouble.
Partial disintegration was something he could bounce back from. When he'd fought the Hierarch of Compression, Urien, he used [Absolute Fixation] on whatever part was being targeted at the time—brain, heart, organs, whatever. The pressurized zones never covered a big enough area to threaten his whole body at once; if they did, the attack would have lost power. But Heiman was different. If Magnus's entire body got caught by his ability, pinpoint [Absolute Fixation] wouldn't be enough—there'd be no saving himself.
"Ahh, your ability is a pain in the ass, you know that?" Magnus complained, though the wide grin on his face ruined any sense of real frustration. He had a tool that could counter Heiman, but it wasn't perfect. There was a way to win, but also a way to lose.
One mistake—a single late reaction—could get him killed, wiped out without a trace.
"But, damn, that just makes this even more fun!" With a shout, Magnus charged straight at Heiman, not bothering with teleportation. On his second step, a simple mana formation took shape, but then it was instantly layered with new functions and modifications, pushing it to the peak of Adept Class Magic. The moment it activated, a ring of mana appeared around Heiman, just outside the range of his disintegration field. It shimmered, almost crackling with energy.
Heiman glanced at it with mild interest.
"You really think I can't handle magic?" Blackout—the go-to anti-magic skill among vampires—worked by flooding mana formations, the sensitive core of any spell, with raw energy. Vampires couldn't use mana the way mages could, and Heiman was no exception, but their flooding could destabilize magic. Of course, Heiman didn't rely on something so simple. He'd lived longer than most people could imagine, and he'd long ago merged his disintegration power with the ability to disrupt mana formations.
Heiman's eyes flashed again, sharp and fast, and ripples spread in every direction. The ring of mana was sliced apart, shattered into dozens of precise fragments. An ability that could not only break matter, but disrupt spells—a perfect offense and defense, all in one.
But when Magnus saw his magic broken, he just chuckled.
"You should be careful what spells you mess with. Every mage knows magical backlash isn't a joke."
Heiman frowned, suddenly noticing the shattered ring glowed even brighter than before. Then, with a booming eruption, each broken piece exploded. Magical shockwaves and raw vibrations engulfed Heiman's whole body.
In a flash, the office was destroyed, debris and dust everywhere, making it hard to see more than a few meters ahead.
Magnus had hoped to use the low visibility to his advantage, but [Combat Assistant] warned him of an incoming attack. Leaning back at a sharp angle, Magnus watched a wide slash tear through the dust. And that was just the start. More slashes followed, cutting at all different angles, each one moving faster than the last. First at the speed of sound, then twice that, three times, four times. The speed and the width of each strike increased, leaving clean, violent gashes not only in the air but in everything around them.
The slashes never seemed to lose momentum; they just kept coming until, finally, they vanished. What was left of the mansion was in ruins. Lines appeared everywhere, slicing walls and floors, sending parts of the second floor collapsing down. The Hierarchs who'd been in the music room were forced to ignore Heiman's orders and retreat, as the second floor was diced apart.
Walls crashed down and floors caved in, dropping into the first floor below.
Magnus moved like a streak of light, dodging the invisible attacks, putting as much space between himself and the source of the slashes as possible. His modified body boosted his senses and reaction speed, [Combat Assistant] could act without a hint of hesitation, and the BGM Glitch almost gave him a precognitive edge. It made Magnus nearly untouchable—almost. The attacks came so thick and fast that sometimes, there just wasn't enough room to dodge.
Even teleportation wasn't a perfect escape. He'd blink out of the way of one set of slashes, only to end up right in the path of another.
By the time the attacks finally stopped, the complex halls and rooms of the second floor were gone. There weren't any segments or separate spaces anymore—the entire floor had been turned into one huge, open area. There was nowhere to hide, but visibility was at its peak.
Magnus had lost entire sections of his body, cleanly erased. One attack had almost taken his head off; another had sliced open his gut, leaving his intestines nearly spilling out. Unlike his usual regeneration, recreating and replacing entire parts that couldn't heal normally took real concentration, not exactly something you wanted to do in the middle of a fight. So, as soon as the attacks ended, Magnus focused on restoring himself, eyes fixed on Heiman, who stepped out from the swirling debris.
A perfect hole seemed to open in the cloud of dust, leaving Heiman untouched. But he wasn't completely unscathed. The dark haze of his true vampiric form was already healing a minor wound on the side of his face.
Magnus couldn't help but smile at that.
Looks like I was right. Explosions use the physical world to travel through air, ground, or heated gases. But all that's useless against Heiman, since it's all just matter he can disintegrate. Magic, though, isn't bound just to the material world. It can affect matter, but mana itself is a form of energy vampires can't control. They can mess with spells, sure, but raw, wild mana? There's no formation to disrupt, no matter to erase, no energy they can command. It's one of the few things that can get through Heiman's defenses.
So, before Heiman could make another move, Magnus cast the same spell as before—but this time, he multiplied it again and again. Ring after ring appeared around Heiman, some small, some large, circling him like planets around a star. Some were close to the floor, some floated near the ceiling, some spun around themselves, others orbited Heiman directly. None of them touched his disintegration field; they all hovered just outside its reach. In an instant, Heiman was surrounded by a web of mana-filled landmines, each spell primed to explode with the slightest disruption.
None of this will kill him, but that's fine. I already know how to kill vampires, don't I? Once I've memorized every part of his body, all it takes is a single [Deletion], and that's game over. For him, at least.
But Magnus felt something was off. His constant joy made him eager, reckless even, but not foolish.
Still... is this really all Heiman—an Umbrarch—is capable of? Sure, his power is insane. Disintegrating whatever he wants, making most attacks pointless? That's practically Master Class Magic. But it's not invincible. He could destroy another vampire's body, but he couldn't hurt their true form. That means other vampiric abilities could still get through his defenses. And even if he's built up centuries of power, doesn't that just make him a stronger Hierarch? Is time and experience really all that separates a Hierarch from an Umbrarch?
Magnus glanced to the side, where the four remaining Hierarchs still stood, watching. They'd been surprised again and again during the fight—shocked by his regeneration, his senses sharper than any knight's, and by the fact that he'd managed to injure their Lord.
But they still hadn't tried to run. They never even considered escaping while Heiman was busy with Magnus. That said it all. Even now, they didn't see any hope of getting out alive if they ran.
"Thinking so deeply while I'm standing right here. I can't tell if you're brave or just arrogant," Heiman commented, pulling Magnus's focus back to him.
"What, a guy can't have a minute to himself after trapping his enemy in a minefield?" Magnus shot back, voice full of sarcasm.
Heiman looked around at the rings encircling him, humming thoughtfully. There were so many of the same spell, but each had slight differences—if he figured out how to counter one, it wouldn't necessarily work on the next. On top of that, they were so sensitive that setting off one would trigger the rest. Normal explosions and mana-based ones were nothing alike. The latter didn't always seem as destructive, but there was a reason uncategorized spells existed, and a reason why the very first barriers mages learned to cast were designed to block them.
Getting blasted with pure mana was brutal and messy. Any real mage wouldn't be foolish enough to get hit with such a blunt attack, but it was effective enough to tear apart a vampire's body and scatter their true form so wide that even their immortal selves would need time to pull themselves together.
Heiman understood that. He might not have been able to use magic himself, but after so many years, he'd managed to pick up plenty of knowledge, no matter how tightly guarded it was. Time solves everything.
Heiman nodded, sounding honestly impressed.
"Impressive. Very, very impressive. Almost every part of you is extraordinary. Your physical abilities can outdo even an Adept-level knight. Your regeneration is only a little short of our own, and your magic—even though it's at the Adept Class—is so close to Master Class it's almost hard to tell the difference. I still can't figure out where you got these strange powers, but I have to say, Magnus, in all my centuries, you're more deserving of the title 'anomaly' than anyone I've met." Magnus, listening to him, was about to comment how flattered he was, but that was when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder.
The feeling was so sudden—so out of place—it even made his usually racing mind go quiet for a moment.
"Still, you didn't take my warning seriously enough." The voice was Heiman's, but it wasn't coming from the version still trapped in the ring of mana.
In an instant, Magnus teleported, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the spot where Heiman had just touched his shoulder. Landing on the ground, he glanced back—and saw another Heiman waiting for him. A clone. Magnus had seen the Hierarch Urien use a similar trick before, but this was different.
Because Magnus could tell right away: both the original Heiman and this clone were fully conscious, both watching him with matching smirks.
"Okay, fair enough. I guess I should have expected you to pull off things even Hierarchs can't," Magnus admitted, giving a sly shrug, though inside, his mind was racing.
How did he make that clone? As far as Magnus knew, creating a clone meant sending out a part of a vampire's true form to condense another body, but the mana rings he'd set up around the original Heiman should've reacted to any change—even the slightest release of Heiman's true form should've set them off.
Meanwhile, Heiman raised a brow at Magnus's words and laughed, shaking his head.
"You still don't get it. I can't blame you, you're still so young. You really can't imagine what it's like to live as long as I have." His gaze sharpened, a flicker of light that
Magnus instantly recognized, and he tensed, ready to dodge. But no attack came. Instead, Magnus watched as the rubble around the clone began to disintegrate. Oddly, though, it didn't show the usual signs—no light distortion, nothing like Heiman's normal method.
"I've lived long enough to see races wiped out and kingdoms fall—the very first ones who started the war that's swallowed the world. I've seen the truth behind the legends your kind clings to, and witnessed more creation and destruction than you'll ever know. Did you really think, after all that, I'd be limited to a domain, like the fledglings you killed who've barely walked this earth compared to me?" The clone's voice echoed, the words carrying real weight.
Magnus watched as what he'd assumed was destroyed matter started to reappear in front of Heiman.
The Umbrarch tilted his head, and as if obeying, the debris from the collapsed rooms pulled together, forming a perfect sphere. It wasn't crushed or compacted—it just came together, smooth as glass. Then, with another flick of Heiman's eyes, the sphere lost its levitation and dropped and splashed against the floor by the clone's feet. But it didn't end there. The liquid stone pooled, then began to vanish—not by disintegration, but by evaporating, turning into gas that drifted upward. It heated rapidly as it went higher, until the gas became plasma—so hot and bright it could blind anyone looking directly at it, and heated enough to melt almost any metal.
That was when Magnus finally put it all together.
[Master...]
Basker's voice echoed in his mind, and Magnus nodded inwardly.
Yeah, yeah, I know.
His brain, rewired for nothing but euphoria, suddenly clicked back to normal, the playful smile vanishing as his real self took over. The reason was simple: even his euphoric side had realized it was outmatched. He couldn't keep fighting this way after figuring out the truth about Heiman's ability.
It's not just disintegration. Or maybe, that's just the most basic application. Of course—after all those years, how could that be all he had?
Staring at the plasma swirling around the clone's head, Magnus finally understood. Heiman's true ability was simpler, but so much more terrifying: complete control over matter. Any state, any shape—he could change it with a thought. In a world made entirely of material things, it was god-like.
Basker… I'm going to need the Nullfang for this one.
[On my way, Master.]
Heiman's clone, fingers weaving through the glowing plasma like it was nothing, chuckled when he saw the new look on Magnus's face.
"There we go. You're finally taking this seriously. Good."