Since ancient times, formidable enemies have always possessed the ability to transform. Just look at Dragon Ball, Attack on Titan, One Piece, Naruto, Bleach, or Demon Slayer.
In short, a powerful enemy who doesn't go through several transformations simply fails to meet the audience's expectations, and Emiel Regis certainly did not disappoint.
He crossed his arms before his chest and swept them outward. The claws on all ten fingers elongated and curved downward, while his pale, gaunt cheeks contracted slightly and acquired a strange sheen. Bestial features emerged as his mouth protruded and his teeth sharpened.
He had revealed the true combat form of a higher vampire.
The transformation was dramatic yet retained a certain elegance, accompanied by an overwhelming sense of ferocity.
Even without Angoulême's exceptionally keen perception, Victor could feel his heart pounding faster. His instinctive desire to survive was pumping blood and adrenaline into his limbs in an unending surge.
Body and mind became one. Life and death hung in the balance.
Suddenly, Regis's figure blurred.
Without hesitation, Victor spun around and swept his silver sword through the air.
"Clang!"
Metal rang against metal as he intercepted the attack just before it could pierce his shoulder.
Before the witcher could bring his sword around for a counterattack, Regis had already flipped backward, retreating to the exact distance from which he had launched his assault.
Fast! Far too fast!
At the most dangerous moment, the tips of the vampire's claws had come within a few inches of Victor's shoulder armor. They had been so close that he could almost feel their razor-sharp edges with every breath.
Although they had agreed beforehand that this was merely a sparring session, Victor had explicitly requested that it be as realistic as possible.
In practical terms, apart from refraining from applying Vampire Oil to his blade, he had consumed "almost" every potion available to him.
And Regis clearly had no intention of holding back.
That lightning-fast strike had "almost" decided the outcome and brought the entire experiment to an end.
But therein lay the problem: "almost"!
In a battle between extraordinary beings, almost was simply not good enough. Failure was failure, however narrow the margin.
Although Victor was still slightly outmatched, the higher vampire's speed and strength did not grant him an overwhelming advantage against a witcher who had consumed his entire arsenal of potions.
Moreover, Victor had managed to intercept that lightning-fast attack, which had come perilously close to an ambush, through Lightning Reflexes despite being caught completely unprepared.
This meant the battle would not end anytime soon.
The witcher shifted from the Ox Guard into the Plow Guard.
Then he changed the configuration of his fingers and palms, casting two Signs in rapid succession.
"Quen! Yrden!"
The Quen Sign produced a faint golden glow around his armor.
The Yrden Sign created a pale violet field centered beneath his feet, spreading outward for ten yards and enveloping the higher vampire.
The gentle white light of the waxing crescent moon shone down unhindered. Ravens fluttered through the air, and the lake's surface shimmered with ripples.
Regis waved his claws lightly, testing the field's suppressive effect on his speed.
The magic seemed to make the air viscous. Every movement felt as though he were submerged in water, and the faster he attempted to move, the more resistance he encountered.
Fighting Victor within the Yrden field would leave the higher vampire with precious few advantages.
"An astonishing range and degree of control. Are you truly from the School of the Wolf? Even Geralt cannot cast Signs of such extraordinary potency."
"He once jokingly called me a griffin that had flown out of a wolf's den!"
"A most fitting description! Boom!"
A sonic boom erupted.
The instant Regis finished speaking, he lunged forward, bringing his razor-sharp claws crashing down.
"Clang!"
They collided with Frost's Lament, sending a brilliant shower of sparks flying.
The vampire transformed into a succession of afterimages, darting unpredictably around the witcher at close range.
Claws, fists, palms, and kicks came at him from every direction. His offensive was like a succession of enormous waves crashing against a rocky shore, throwing up towering curtains of white spray.
Victor responded with Lightning Reflexes, shifting and maneuvering within an extremely confined space.
He skillfully employed his elbow guards and silver sword to block and parry, maintaining an impenetrable defense without yielding an inch.
His body was like a mighty seawall holding back the raging surf.
Naturally, there was no possibility of emerging from such close-quarters combat completely unscathed.
"Slash! Whoosh! Screech!"
The vampire's long claws swept past Victor's forehead and armpit, even scraping across his shoulder armor.
"Slice! Hiss! Swish!"
The witcher's silver sword flashed across Regis's chest, cheek, and arm.
Their fierce exchange continued for a considerable time.
However, even the strongest defense would eventually reveal an opening.
Regis finally seized his opportunity and delivered a powerful kick, sending Victor tumbling across the ground and straight out of the Yrden field.
The vampire immediately lunged after him, intending to overwhelm him with speed once more.
But the instant the witcher struck the ground...
"Aard!"
The Sign erupted with tremendous force.
This shock wave was no ordinary column-shaped blast.
Under the exceptional control afforded by Magic Sense, it was practically equivalent to an entire wall surging forward.
Regis had originally intended to transform into mist and slip around the Sign.
He had never anticipated such extraordinary intensity or range.
Caught completely off guard, he was hurled backward by the impact and blasted directly into the lake.
The remaining force of Aard sent an enormous spray of water soaring into the air.
A brief silence followed.
The lake shimmered with shifting reflections as a gentle breeze whispered mournfully through the forest.
Then, beneath Victor's watchful gaze...
"Splash! Splash! Splash!"
The higher vampire chose to walk slowly out of the lake, step by step, leaving distinct footprints along the riverbank.
"My apologies. It seems I underestimated you earlier."
Regis smiled and nodded.
"However, I must now acknowledge that although I remain somewhat weakened from my recent resurrection, you are indeed an opponent worthy of a proper fight.
"Even against Dettlaff, I believe you would be capable of putting up a prolonged struggle. Therefore..."
Beneath the waxing crescent moon, his gaunt body began to fill out amid a succession of sharp cracking sounds.
His sleeves stretched taut, revealing powerful arms, while his mouth protruded farther and every one of his fangs gleamed a brilliant white.
"Hiss!"
The sight made Victor draw a sharp breath.
Holy shit! Regis was getting serious!
Although this was precisely what the young man had been hoping for...
Regis brought his claws together and scraped them against each other, producing a trail of sparks.
"Do not be afraid, Vic. I still retain my faculties!"
He was now utterly different from the gentle, cultured ordinary man he had appeared to be earlier.
At last, he displayed the imposing presence befitting a higher vampire.
The witcher extended one hand, palm upward, and beckoned him forward.
Regis burst into hearty laughter.
Once again, he charged gracefully toward Victor, moving with such lightning-fast speed that he seemed to teleport.
Silver sword and razor-sharp claws collided, scattering sparks in every direction.
This time, there could be no doubt that the vampire had gained the upper hand.
Although the Yrden field was still functioning normally, Regis's second transformation had granted him sufficient power to overcome these minor inconveniences.
Nevertheless, gaining the upper hand was one thing. Securing an immediate victory was quite another.
Claws and sword continued to clash with ringing impacts as the two combatants fought with extraordinary intensity.
And under this extreme pressure, Victor felt his understanding of swordsmanship deepening.
The more complicated elements of the swordsmanship techniques he had previously learned from Auckes and Serrit were finally coming together through this practical experience.
He suddenly understood how Babu, the saber-obsessed madman he had encountered in Novigrad years ago, must have felt.
Only a handful of truly formidable opponents could push a warrior to greater heights.
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