Chapter 46: The Purpose Of Vincent's So-Called Betrayal

Small droplets of blood travel down to a large circular patch of sandy soil one after the other. The sky is a cloudless dark blue filled with many stars and a big silver moon, yet a somewhat strong breeze is blowing pretty leaves from a bunch of Sakura trees in the background into the air, and onto the grass beneath them. Thousands of pink flower petals are clustered around their roots.

"Hmm, seems the change in scenery didn't help." Vincent frowns, titling his head to the side. "You've shown no improvement even though I've made this place into an exact replica of the training ground we've frequently sparred in."

Gritting his teeth while on one knee, Michael curls one hand into a fist, scratching the soil. His other hand is held lightly over his stomach. "Damn it, guess this is what I get for slacking off. Can't even dodge his punches like I used to." He raises his head spitting out blood, his face is slightly bruised with a thick line of blood leaking out from one side of his mouth. "Did you not hear me before? I said this wasn't sparring practice." He struggles to stand up, grunting at the searing pain in his abdomen. An embarrassingly clear sign that Vincent has been holding back all this time...

"Ah ahh, Michael. No cheating," Vincent says wagging his finger as if he's flippantly berating a child. "Healing as well as using any other form of magic is prohibited."

Now on his feet with his arm still over his stomach, Michael glares at him, offended by his accusation. He knows better than to heal his injuries. Not once did he do that during their friendly training sessions in the past, so why would he now? Wasting even a pinch of energy on anything other than his fists and feet will be his downfall. "I know that, but you've already broken the no magic rule."

"Not really. If I had of stated the regulations prior to our fight, then yes, I would have. But since I didn't..." Vincent gestures towards the closed-off landscape he created. "Doing this doesn't count." He smiles innocently.

Despite himself, Michael can feel the corner of his lips curling upwards a little, though his eyes are still narrowed. "Cheeky bastard."

Vincent chuckles. "Who have I been hanging around with for over sixty years?"

"Certainly not just me," Michael says flatly, his lips straightening into a line. A frown appears on Vincent's face, Michael can't tell exactly what he's feeling. He clenches his hand by his side, the pressure of his nails dulled by the dirt. "Tell me, Vincent, why the hell are you doing this? Is it because of that Ingrum guy?"

Vincent calmly shakes his head. "No, this was something I wanted to do. He merely came along for the fun."

"What?!" Michael cannot believe what he just heard, he doesn't know whether to be dumbfounded, angry or both. "You seriously think causing an uproar in the very building you created into an academy is fun?!"

Vincent's expression becomes stoic. "Michael, do you know why I made that mansion into a learning institute for our kind?"

Blinking, the noirette frowns confusedly at his query. "To help the younger generations acquire knowledge about themselves, past and current events as well as the history of their ancestors, and also provide them a place to stay, right?"

A brief look of shock appears on Vincent's face, then a small smile comes to surface as he nods his head. "Yes, you are indeed correct." Opening his eyes slightly, he gazes up at the night sky. "It's been almost 70 years since its making. I originally wanted a few humans to attend my academy also, but I'd figured it was too soon for that. So, I waited, hoping that by doing so none of the humans would've been seen as another source of food or worse, killed or turned into one of us." Sliding his eyes back closed with a frown, he lowers his head back in Michael's direction. "Alas, only two of those scenarios were avoided, but don't think you're at fault for this, Michael. You alone can't handle the hundreds of students there."

Even though Michael knows he's right, the lingering guilt deep down doesn't subside. "Still doesn't explain your reason for doing this. How long have you been-" Vincent holding up a hand forces him to cut his question short.

"I think we've talked long enough. If we continue with this idle chit-chat any longer, everyone in the academy will be dead by the time we're finished." Michael glares at him again. "If you want the rest of your questions answered," dropping his arm, a smirk spreads across Vincent's lips. "You're going to have to defeat me first."

Michael tenses up nervously. The ache in his stomach hasn't lessened at all, but he can't make it known to Vincent. Once this man discovers your weakness, he will exploit it as much as possible. "I won't be able to do that if you're beaten half-dead!" Relaxing his fist, Michael hurls the soft soil at Vincent's clothes.

Vincent stifles a laugh as he moves completely of the way from the soil's sprayed trajectory. "Wow, never thought you'd resort to such a cheap and pointless trick." Michael swiftly appears behind him. "And a failed one at that." Readying a tightly clenched fist to punch Vincent in his face just in case he turns around, the instant Vincent does as he expected the man promptly grabs his wrist when he attempts to strike him. The next moment, Michael's vision does a 180. Despite being abruptly thrown over Vincent's shoulder, Michael manages to instinctively land on his feet, wincing at the pressure on his wrist. If Vincent wants to, he can easily break it.

Michael attempts to punch Vincent again with his free hand, who catches his fist just as quickly in a firm hold. Michael scowls at him. "You've fought the same way before too, plenty of times in fact."

"I have done no such thing."

Michael thrusts his foot at the man's midsection. Vincent quickly lets go of both his hand and wrist to deflect the blow, retaliating by aiming a fist at his chest. Michael barely evades his attack, but doesn't get a chance to go back on the offensive for Vincent starts delivering an onslaught of punches. For the next couple of minutes, Michael is forced to either block or dodge the rapid strikes, unable to parry. Each hit that connects - especially at his stomach - weakens him even more.

"I admire your determination," Vincent says, not letting up. Caught off guard by his sincere compliment, Michael doesn't have time to defend himself against a jab trained for his face. Instead, he leaps back, creating some distance. "You're refraining from using any magic knowing you're at a huge disadvantage. I'm actually starting to feel a little bad now."

Michael was already aware of that fact. He didn't need Vincent pointing that out to him though he does have a tendency of rubbing salt in his wounds sometimes. "Don't even think about goin' easy on me any longer."

Vincent chuckles, folding his arms behind his back. "So you've noticed. But don't worry, I wasn't planning on it. You've taken beatings worse than this before. Instead, I will answer only one question of yours."

"Oh?" Michael raises a curious eyebrow. "Then tell me why you're trying to kill everyone."

Vincent frowns. "Of course that'd be the first thing you'd want to know." He sighs. "Very well. My motive for doing this is for you all's safety." He sticks out a hand just as Michael opens his mouth to voice out his disagreement. "In these past 65 years, nothing like this has ever occurred, which is a fortunate thing, really. However, despite the disastrous incidents that were caused by quite a few dozen students, mainly for idiotic reasons to demonstrate their pride and whatnot, there's nothing scarier than encountering a threat you least expect to appear."

The place falls almost utterly silent, only the wind rustling the branches of the trees are heard. When Vincent says nothing more, Michael begins to process his last set of words. "So, what you're saying is," he furrows his eyebrows. "You did this as a way of preparing us for this kind of situation in the near future?" Vincent just gives him a cryptic smile, neither denying nor agreeing with his assumption. "But was it necessary to team up with a fucking vampire hunter?!"

"Ah ah, Michael. I said I'd answer only one question. You know what you have to do if you want to know more."

To think a friend he's known for so long was plotting something like this in secret, it's just...unfathomable. Irate by Vincent's treason, Michael clenches his hands into fists, and the next second he's gone, leaving a small cloud of dust where he once stood.

Taken aback though quick to compose himself, Vincent blocks his punch, faintly wincing at his strength. "Oh my, are you just now starting to get serious? That's very insulting."

Michael hardens his glare. "You were holding back too, you damn hypocrite, and I'm gonna make you regret it." Vincent just smirks.

No more words are exchanged between the two men, only their fists and feet are doing the talking for them now. Neither are sure who will gain the upper hand in the long run.

"Kyle!"

Tweek watches as Kyle clasps both of his hands with Craig's, Tweek hurriedly stepping to the side as Kyle starts skidding backwards. Pressing his feet firmly to the floor, Kyle tries to stop himself by overpowering Craig, feeling that he's not making any progress. But he eventually manages to regain his footing, stopping himself from going back any further.

"I'll fucking kill you for what you did!" Craig seethes, squeezing Kyle's hands even harder.

"Yes, kill him, hehe."

"Kuh." Kyle winces, feeling the bones in his hands steadily being crushed. "C-Craig, calm down!" He says through gritted teeth.

"Shut up!"

Tweek observes the two anxiously, then focuses his attention on Kyle. "I-I have to help him, b-but...how?!" He doesn't know what to do. The only things he's accustomed to doing are teleporting and using telepathy. He can't use magic, and he has yet to get familiar with his enhanced strength. What if he goes overboard and ends up severely hurting Craig or worse-

The sound of bones being broken and Kyle's scream of anguish pierce over the rain hammering against the big building, the redhead dropping to the floor on his knees. His fingers...are not something one wants to see.

Tweek's trembling form goes rigid, twitching violently when he sees Craig roughly kick Kyle in the jaw, a string of blood flying into the air as he falls to the floor on his side. His blue-green eyes narrowing in a fit of rage, and his mind going blank, Tweek advances toward Craig so fast that the noirette himself is unable to react. Tweek punches him right in the cheek, sending him crashing into the wall, the impact creating a big crater the size of a car.

Stunned and in pain, Craig snaps his eyes open just in time to see his enemy wearing nothing but dark clothing and blue eyes coming for him again. "Tch, I forgot there was another one of you fuckers." Instead of getting up to dodge, Craig's pupils gleam light blue, and in that instant an aura of ice surrounds his entire body.

Tweek's senses warn him of the dangers of touching Craig, but he doesn't acknowledge it.

"Tweek, stop!"

He prepares to deliver another punch to Craig's face, but the second his fist comes into contact with the pale blue aura, his hand gets frozen in ice. Tweek snaps out of his angry stupor then.

Spitting the blood out of his mouth, Craig stands up smirking. "Heh, dumbass." Before he can return the favor, a fireball is hurled at Tweek's frozen hand, melting the ice. Tweek distances himself from Craig clutching his thawed hand in his other hand close to his chest, wondering what came over him just now. Craig snaps his furious gaze to the first look alike, his eyes a bright green and he's now standing on his feet. Craig shoots a beam of ice at him, who summons up wall made of fire, thoroughly negating his attack. "Tch, bastard."

"I told you to calm down," Kyle's stern voice sounded deep and mature in Craig's ears. Very similar to the man that beheaded Clyde. "Why are you even acting like this?"

That question strikes a nerve in Craig. "Playing dumb now, you son of a bitch?!" He dashes towards the male. "I'll make you remember by breaking you to pieces limb by limb!"

Tweek once again watches Kyle, whose fingers are now thankfully healed, place his palms against his shield, suck in the fire, and it encases itself around his hands in a fiery aura. Not caring that he's at a huge disadvantage, Craig still tries to freeze his enemy. Each attempt gets deflected, creating steam due to the heat of the male's aura. Tweek knows not to interfere this time, he would only just get in Kyle's way. He only seems to be knocking away Craig's hands, not attacking him. Despite getting his fingers crudely broken, Kyle still refuses to retaliate.

Tweek's ears suddenly pick up fast approaching footsteps. Looking down the hallway, his eyes widen in mild surprise at who he sees.

"Craig, what the hell are you doin'?!"

Hearing his name from the same voice but with a different tone, Craig jumps back, landing in front of the large crater in the wall. He looks at the third clone with light blue eyes slowing to a stop next the one with blue eyes. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me..." He doesn't know whether to be pissed or nervous as he glances back and forth between the three.

"Butters, he's gone fucking crazy!" Tweek practically exclaims to the other blonde.

Butters first surveys the area with narrowed eyes, then asks, "What happened?"

"We found him hunched over on the floor some minutes ago, then he suddenly attacked me saying he was gonna kill me for what I did," Kyle says.

Butters' expression hardens. "What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"Fucking liar!" Craig yells.

"No, it's true!" Tweek says, flinching when Craig directs his heated glare his way.

Butters calmly approaches Craig. "You two go, I'll try to calm 'em down."

"As if I'll-"

"Don't you dare move."

Craig finches at the authoritative tone of the man's voice. This sense of fear feels...familiar.

"Don't be scared of some clone. You have to avenge your friend."

The annoying girl is right, he can't let the man with green eyes leave. "Fuck you..." Craig's body begins to shake in anger, the pale blue light of his aura starts intensifying, darkening even. He glares daggers at the green-eyed man. "The only place you'll be going to is hell!"

Kyle frowns at his advancement, but blinks in shock when Butters swiftly appears before him. He manages to quickly summon a water bubble from one hand to trap Craig in. "Go before he breaks free!" He tells the redhead behind him.

Kyle nods. "Good luck." He runs over to Tweek, grabs his hand, then they run down the hallway.

"You're going to regret letting him get away." Craig's dark red eyes burn with even more ire. He touches the big bubble, and the moment it freezes, he lunges at the light blue-eyed male.

Butters dodges him, causing him to fall to the floor. "What the hell's goin' on with you?! Snap out of it!"

"Fucking shut up already," Craig growls, getting back up on his feet.

Butters stares nervously at his enraged or rather deranged boyfriend, and that's when he realizes that a certain brunette isn't here. "Where's Clyde?"

Craig clenches his teeth, feeling his blood boiling. "I don't have time to waste on a stupid clone. I will avenge Clyde if it's the last thing I do!"

Butters can't believe what he just heard. "W-what?!"

*Elsewhere*

"Zhis place fucking stinks," Christophe grumbles, holding the collar of his shirt over his nose and mouth.

"Where are we anyway?" Damien asks glancing around their surroundings. "I don't see any trash so this isn't-wait..." Behind them he spots four rusty shackles connected to the wall, the floor below them stained in dried blood. "This is where the vampire hunter was being kept." What he doesn't understand is why the shackles still appear fastened.

"No fucking wonder," Christophe deadpans.

Sullivan approaches the closed door. "Fortunately, we're still wizhin zhe building. Now let's focus on getting out of here, zhis stench is more pungent zhan garlic."

Christophe and Damien join him by the door. "How're we gonna do that though?" Damien asks. "The door's got a barrier around it."

Sullivan turns to them with a cunning smirk. "Worry not, I have a solution." Facing the door again, he scoots his glasses up over the bridge of his nose with one finger. "Teleport." Just like in the auditorium, black smoke starts oozing from the very thin pages of his book, this time traveling to the floor and circling around the three men's feet. As Christophe and Damien look down, they soon look back up once the gas suddenly surrounds them in a big transparent sphere. The next moment they are gone from the small chamber room, and are now in the long corridor in front of the door. The dark misty barrier starts evaporating back into Sullivan's big book.

Damien blinks owlishly while Christophe lowers his shirt from half of his face, inhaling the air free of scorched flesh and rotten blood. "So, all this time we actually could've teleported out?" Damien asks.

Sullivan shakes his head, turning to look at the door. Christophe and Damien follow his gaze, instantly recognizing what's embedded in the center of the brownish-red wood. "Zhis cross was impeding our escape. It's meant for subduing vampires." The lens of Sullivan's glasses glint from a nearby light of a scone. "Not witches."

"I see, so zhat book contains witches spells," Christophe says, intrigued.

Sullivan nods his head. "Zhough zhey are weak compared to actual witches magic."

"I thought witches spells were complex to cast," Damien assumes.

"Zhey are, and are also quite lengthy to recite. However, I've learned to shorten both zhe casting time and incantations," Sullivan answers.

Damien whistles, impressed. "I'd figured you were a huge nerd, but I give ya props for attaining all that information in your brain." Sullivan chuckles at his praise. "So, what now? Do we help the Principal cuz he might need some assistance since Henrietta and Luther didn't show up for some reason."

Sullivan frowns at the reminder of their absence. "Yes, I do wonder where zhose two are amid zhis chaos. But I zhink it's best to let zhe Principal handle Mr. Valentine by himself. Zhe vampire hunter could be roaming around, and zhe last thing he'd want is for us to prioritize him over zhe students' lives. In fact, I'm going to pay one of zhem a visit right now." A thick black mist leaks out of the book once again, coiling eerily around his feet only. "Oh, I almost forgot, we are no longer able to teleport or use telepathy zhanks to zhat interference spell on zhe stage. I don't know how long it'll stay in effect for, but I believe it shouldn't last for too long." Once the dark vapor solidifies around him, he transports out of the hallway.

Damien raises an eyebrow. "How'd he know? Did he even try?" He attempts to teleport, but goes nowhere. He then attempts to use telepathy, but is startled when a deep hum reverberates inside his head. Blinking and placing a hand over his forehead, he shakes the feeling away. "Damn, he was right."

"Tch, guess we're running out of 'ere zhen."

"Can you carry me? My head feels funny," Damien whines.

His lover's shamrock green eyes stare into his pleading crimson ones. Heaving a sigh, Christophe seizes Damien's hand and pulls him into running, the noirette groaning as if he's in grave pain along the way.