"Minister Viza," the two cultists said in unison, bowing their heads with reverence toward the man who had just revealed his name.
"Fall back to the transport dome," Viza ordered calmly, his voice composed and deliberate. "And bring your comrade's body with you."
They obeyed without hesitation, lifting the corpse of their fallen companion with quiet deference. As they carried it away, Viza slowly turned his head back toward me.
"Now then," he said, planting his cane into the earth with casual finality, resting both hands atop its head. The cane itself was darker than shadow, blacker than ink or night, like a sliver of void carved into shape, capped with the golden effigy of a perched owl, its eyes seemingly watchful.
I watched the cultists disappear with the body and cursed inwardly. Damn it. A few more seconds, and I could've drained another one, maybe restored a touch more strength. Waste of meat, the lot of them.
"My, my... distracted at a time like this? How careless," Viza said with faint amusement.
Before I could react, a crimson blade shrieked through the air toward my neck. I threw myself backward, narrowly avoiding a clean strike. Pain flared as the blade nicked my throat, a thin line of blood now trickling down my neck.
"Hahaha! You dodged. Impressive," Viza said with a grin, his demeanor calm and mocking. "You're not as careless as you look after all."
He hadn't moved. Not a step. Still as a statue. Composed. Controlled. The blades, I realized, moved independently of him, dancing through the air with deadly grace, guided by the strange rings that orbited him. Some kind of Blood Art. That much was obvious. I'd need to understand its limits quickly if I hoped to survive. Test the boundaries. Learn the rules.
"Finished formulating your strategy?" he asked, the corner of his mouth curling upward.
"Maybe," I replied, surging forward then feinting hard to the left. No straight lines. If those blades relied on vision or direct control, erratic movement might confuse them.
I pushed the blood within me, forced it to race faster, amplifying my body, strengthening each muscle fiber. Faster. Stronger. Better. With a ringing clang, my blade came to a sudden halt, caught just two feet from his side.
"A sound deduction," Viza murmured, glancing at me. "The first thing to consider is my Blood Art bound by sight? I'm afraid I must disappoint you."
He turned his face toward me with a smile that was almost gentle, elegant, even, but no less unnerving.
A jolt of pain burst in my abdomen. I instinctively leapt back, and just before my foot touched down, I saw another blade screaming toward me. I twisted midair, darting into a tight zigzag to throw off its pursuit, pumping more blood through my body to heighten reflexes even further.
"Rash decision, young one," Viza said, eyes following me with a disturbing calm. "Blood acceleration comes with its benefits, yes, but even you must know the toll it exacts."
"Isn't that good for you?" I shot back, voice tinged with sarcasm. "If I burn out, wouldn't it be easier for you to finish me off for your lord?"
"I was sent to dispatch the undesirables, yes," he replied. "And I shall carry out my orders without fail. But I detest predictable, unfulfilling fights no matter the opponent."
He lifted the cane slightly from the earth.
"As a vampire who has served my lord for centuries, I'm rarely granted the privilege of engaging in battle outside his domain. So forgive me if I intend to savor this moment. I won't let it end early because of your lack of discipline."
In a blink, he was there right in front of me. I barely had time to register the movement.
CRACK.
His cane smashed into my face with bone-jarring force, sending me sprawling backward. My jaw clicked painfully back into place as I rolled, scratches along my cheek already sealing.
"You're burning through your blood acceleration," he said matter-of-factly. "A finite resource... and you're wasting it. Why not conserve?"
"Why save something I might not live long enough to use?" I growled. "This might be my last fight. Or my last breath."
A flicker of bitter regret crossed my thoughts. But I forced it aside, refusing to let despair color my focus.
"I'm really not seeing anything special in your capabilities," Viza said then, voice level but eyes narrowed in disappointment. "The famed escaper of Vespara? Student of one of the Grand Order Alliance's strongest Lords? Is that truly you, boy?"
He stepped forward, gaze unblinking. "One of humanity's strongest defenders… a disciple… and this is all you can offer me?"
His movements halted, just briefly. His face darkened slightly with a hint of displeasure.
"So this is how you planned to deal with a threat beyond you?" he said coldly. "Pathetic. I refuse to be disturbed by such mediocrity."
He turned his head toward the transport dome, raising his voice ever so slightly.
"Lord Ghetal, please send a representative of your household."
The portal shimmered violently, reacting to the command. A wave of oppressive energy surged outward as something stirred on the other side. Then it came through.
A creature, a massive owl, emerged, its form cloaked in mystery and menace.
"I thank you for answering this lowly minister's request," Viza said humbly, bowing his head slightly before facing me once more. His lips curled into a cruel grin.
"Well then. Let's see how well your support arrives before your demise."
My grip tightened on the hilt of my sword. "Crashing Flow Sword Art: First Form," I declared as I lunged forward, blade shimmering. A cacophony of metal rang through the air as my sword met his crimson blades in rapid succession, neither side gaining ground. But the tempo was shifting, I was slowly being pushed back, the orbiting weapons growing fiercer with each exchange.
"Crashing Flow Sword Art: Third Form!"
With a sudden surge of strength and momentum, I forced the blades back, scattering their rhythm and creating distance. The orbit retreated.
"Now this… this is the resistance I had hoped to witness," Viza said with satisfaction, his posture unchanged. The rings around him shifted once, three, now two, but their spin intensified, the blades extending into vicious crescent shapes that gleamed like blood-slick moons.
"Now then, boy," he declared, voice rising. "Let me see how best you fare!"
The orbits expanded outward, then shot toward me like hunting beasts, each one humming with lethal intent.