Chapter 49: A Predictable Victory

An onslaught of blue and black fireballs fly through the air towards their target, however not a single one makes an impact. Neither male is injured, it's been an all-out projectile battle so far. Had someone been spectating this, they wouldn't know who would be the victor. That's how evenly matched they are. And because of this, this fight has gotten less engaging for Damien to endure. At this point, he wonders, "Is he holding back?" as he narrowly dodges his opponent's fireball. If this guy is seriously taking him lightly, then Damien is just going to have to end this. Every minute wasted fighting this man could've been spent with Christophe.

Now eager to reunite with his constantly crabby lover, Damien hurls two azure fireballs at his opponent simultaneously. One is aimed at Ingrum's hooded face while the other doesn't seem to be thrown at a specific area on his body.

Thinking he'd misthrew the second one, Ingrum holds out his palm encased an aura of a dark flame to absorb the blue ball of fire that's closing in on him, but it suddenly comes to a quick halt. The supposedly stray fireball brushes past him, also stopping just a short distance behind him. Confused, before Ingrum can think of retaliating, Damien snaps his fingers and the fireball behind him instantly lights up, expands, and then explodes, creating a big, thick cloud of smoke. Damien snaps his fingers once more to detonate his other fireball, making the smoke twice as dense.

He takes this opportunity to assess the destruction within this hallway, hoping it's not too severe despite the intense stench of smoke. Both sides of the walls are thoroughly scorched, the fireballs made over several holes in them and even cracked or shattered the nearby windows, letting in the moist draft. The floor is in similar condition, minus the crevices. Luckily, there are no rooms in this hallway, the ceiling is the only part spared since it's so high up. So in short, nearly the entire corridor looks like it had suffered the wrath of a dragon. Fortunately, they are merely mythological creatures that can only be brought into existence through witchcraft, which was one of the reasons witches were forced to be killed off.

"Yikes...Could've looked worse though, I guess," Damien thinks with an awkward smile, sweatdropping. Once he's finished here, he's going to have to find and assign some janitors to clean and restore the damages before either Henrietta or Michael sees this. A deep, amused-filled chuckle from behind forces him to turn around to look at the vampire, not at all surprised to discover him still in one piece as the grey fumes completely dissipate. His attire came out barely unscathed, Damien can just about almost see his face while he's dusting off his hoodie and pants. A bit of his hair is also visible, he can't discern its full length, but he presumes its color is white.

"Guess I wasn't the only one getting bored playing the zoning game," Ingrum says as he finishes dusting himself off, his black eyes glaring at Damien though not in anger. "Glad you took the initiative to switch things up."

"Too bad I was a second too late with the last bomb," Damien says nonchalantly.

"Yes, it is a pity," the sympathy in Ingrum's voice was monotone as he fixes his hood over his head. The tips of his hair seem to reach down to his shoulders. "Had you been a little quicker, I actually would've been in serious trouble. But now that you've spiced things up, aaand ruined my clothes..." He closes his eyes, opening them to reveal purple irises. "Allow me to return the favor." The flame-like aura surrounding his hand whisks away as if it was blown by the wind coming through the broken windows.

One corner of Damien's lips arches upwards into a smirk, liking the impious gleam in the man's eyes. His expression shifts into slight shock, however, once he catches something moving. The soot on one of the walls is moving, slithering off the cement bricks like a big snake sneaking up on its prey. Then in one swift motion, it darts at him. Startled, Damien dodges it, and keeps doing so as more black tentacles manifest from both walls, homing in on him one after the other. "Damn, these things are fast!" He winces when one manages to scratch his cheek, but the acute pain doesn't deter his momentum. Blood leaks out of the thin cut.

Chuckling darkly as he stuffs his hands into his hoodie pocket, Ingrum calmly saunters after him. "The aftermath of all those fireballs are working to my advantage right now. No matter how far you go, you can't escape my wrath."

Damien narrows his eyes as he cranes his neck to the side to evade a swift and pointy tip aimed at his forehead. "So, he planned this all along, huh?" Then he smirks. "Well, he's not the only one with tricks up his sleeve." He leaps further back from four octopus-like appendages that spring up from the floor trying to capture him, creating some much-needed distance. Unfazed by the gang of black tentacles immediately pursuing him, his deep red eyes begin to brighten as he utters a single word.

"Stop."

They come to an instant halt, just a foot or two away from seizing him where he stands. They are completely dormant that even their ashen particles aren't making any sound, just the rain.

"What?!" Pausing in his tracks, Ingrum's own highlighted eyes widen in pure astonishment. "How the hell did he immobilize my ability?!" His question gets answered when the tentacles start retracting from which they shot out from, as if they're moving in reverse. Ingrum's shock alters into apprehension. "By manipulating time..." He scowls into Damien's triumphant eyes. "Tch, since it's not a physical attack, I can't steal it. This bodes ill for me..."

"Looks like the tables have turned," Damien smirks, approaching Ingrum in the same fashion he did to him. "But to be honest, I didn't really wanna use any of my 'Time Manipulation' abilities. I'm sure you know why." The wicked limbs have all been reverted back into the walls, the luminescence in his eyes soften.

Ingrum becomes irate by his arrogance. "Oh, is that so? I'm also sure you know that toying with your enemy can lead to your undoing."

Damien stops, the gap between them lessened to a meter apart. "Hmm, that may be true, but weren't you like that towards Kyle and Tweek? If you wanted to, you could've easily killed them both."

Ingrum chuckles. "They're merely kids, they have a long way to go before I take any vampires their age seriously."

Damien frowns at his shamelessness. Even he knows not to underestimate any of the students here no matter their age, and irregardless if they're Pureblood or Mixed Blood. "Either way, I have to make you pay for what you did to Tweek as well as killing Kyle's twin brother, just not by using any underhanded methods."

"Are you sure you won't regret your decision?" Ingrum asks.

Damien cocks his head back slightly, smirking again. "What do you think?"

"Hmph, looks like we'll just have to see then."

Taking a hand out of his pocket, Ingrum opens his palm towards the floor. The residue from the flames travel up to his hand, gradually taking the shape of a katana. Caught a little bit off guard, Damien composes himself to disrupt its materialization by flinging a fireball at Ingrum. But the man jumps to the side, and soon his weapon takes full form. He grasps its hilt, the pointy tip of the stygian speckled blade is almost touching the burnt floor. He charges at Damien arching his arm back across his neck. As soon as he's close enough, he swings his blade to slice the noirette's head off.

Just barely avoiding the horizontal slash, Damien notices right away that compared to throwing fireballs, Ingrum is a lot more faster wielding a sword. If this keeps up, Damien will eventually become overwhelmed, and his life will be forfeit. So, to prevent that from happening, he needs to promptly gain the upper hand. While dodging the inhumanly fast slashes, Damien tries to think up a solid counterattack. An idea comes to surface the moment he glimpses at the singed wall.

"And what could you possibly be smirking about?" Ingrum questions, not relenting.

Damien broadens his lips, a sinister gleam appearing in his brightening eyes. "Oh, you'll know soon enough."

His eyes giving-away that he's plotting another magical attack, Ingrum is unable to pull back his arm, and for some reason, Damien stops moving. Hoping to behead him before it's too late, Ingrum follows through with his aggression. He swings his blade towards the side of Damien's neck once again.

"Restrain him."

His arm abruptly flinches in place, just an inch short from severing Damien's head from his body. Ingrum slants his purple eyes, trying to regain control of his limb, a black hand made of soot having a very secure grip on him.

"Now cut off his arm."

Without any form of a reply to the second curt order, a brisk white glint flashes in Ingrum's vision. He watches his forearm slowly fall off to the floor with a thud accompanied by a squelching sound, then a large amount of blood gushes out as an intense pain flares up throughout his entire body. "AUUGH, FUCK!" He bellows in agony, his legs weakening but a pair of hands on both of his shoulders hinders him from buckling. His katana begins to dissolve back into the floor from his detached limb.

Damien ambles a few steps closer to him, smiling as if he'd caught a rare animal. Ingrum's eyes fade into the darkness of his ripped and seared hood. Damien becomes curious, or rather his curiosity resurfaces. Ever since the moment he saw him, he wanted to know what this man looked like. Is he bald? (Well, that question got answered minutes ago so he knows that's not it) Is he ugly? Is he hiding some horrendous scars? All these questions double his eagerness to see his face. He looks at the two immoral humanoid figures behind Ingrum, in their heads are two vacant holes where their eyes are supposed to be. "One of you pull his hood back." Ingrum goes rigid. The creature made of ash on the right side does as commanded, though Damien could've done it himself.

Ingrum's hood is removed without any suspense, much to Damien's liking and what was kept hidden in the shadows is a face that leaves him in awe.

The first thing Damien notes is that this man is nowhere near ugly, he doesn't have any scars either. His pale skin would've been flawless had there not been any dark spots from the fireballs' explosions. The true color of his slick hair that reached down to his shoulders is as Damien suspected, it's a sheer white. The man's narrowed eyes are the deepest shade of green, and are identically shaped like Kurai's. Perhaps due to him being angry and in pain. Even with his face contorted in anguish, he still looks breathtakingly beautiful! Damien now sees why he keeps his face covered and hidden, he'd draw in too much attention to himself otherwise.

"You gonna keep starin' at me, or are you gonna kill me?" Hearing the man's deep voice only adds more volume to his attractiveness.

His cheeks turning a light shade of red, Damien clears his throat. "As much as I'd like to do the first one, I'm already in a relationship, and I'm also not gonna kill you. I'll leave that to Kyle." If anyone should avenge Luke, it should be his own flesh and blood. "Plus, I get the suspicion that your goal isn't the same as the vampire hunters, am I wrong?"

Despite the lingering discomfort and blood loss, Ingrum musters up a smirk. "What if it is?" He winces when heavy pressure is applied on his shoulders.

"Even though I'm not planning on killing you, I will torture you way worse than what you did to Tweek. But sadly, not right now." Damien crosses his arms, his expression relaxing and his blush gone. "So, seeing as how you didn't come here to kill us all, just admit defeat."

Now it's Ingrum's turn to be skeptical. "Do you think I'm naive? Admit defeat then what? You kill me after I degrade myself?"

"Well, what else can you do with one arm?" Damien points out. "At this point, you've already lost."

Ingrum frowns at the truth in his words, hurting him more than his bleeding arm. He already knew that he was outmatched the moment he discovered that this guy could manipulate time. In all the years he's been under Lord Vincent, he has never come across someone like this teacher before. This man is undeniably strong, and he finds no shame in surrendering to someone he stands no change against. "Fine, I concede."

Damien looks both pleased and teasing. "Hurts your pride, I know. Now, let's see if that interference spell has worn off yet." Ingrum glares at him again for his accurate comment, but Damien pays it no mind as he closes his eyes and starts up a telepathic conversation with his lover. "Chris?" He waits several seconds until he gets a reply.

"Where are you right now?"

"Somewhere on the second floor. I just got done dealing with an enemy that was terrorizing some students. Have you finished helping the Student Council Committee yet?"

"Yeah, zhey we're arguing wizh some fucking idiots zhat didn't want to go to zhe gym. I 'ad to make zhem all go zhere."

Damien laughs a little. "Okay, I'll be right over."

" 'urry up, I'm about to leave and look for zhe vampire 'unter."

Damien opens his eyes with a sigh, he should've known Christophe is still fixated on battling the vampire hunter. But since it's mostly going to be them fighting (when they find the man), Damien can relax whilst enjoying an entertaining fight. "Alright, let's get outta here." With his minions and Ingrum in tow, Damien teleports to the gymnasium.

Half of Ingrum's arm lays forgotten on the floor.

*Elsewhere*

"Finally fucking found you."

Kurai, who had been patiently waiting for the arrival of a certain vampire that holds a grudge against him outside on the rooftop thanks to a student's forewarning, turns to the vampire hunter with his katana held in one hand, and a smirk on his face. But he oddly doesn't appear the slightest bit wet despite being pelted by the raindrops. "And it's about time too..." He suddenly starts to fade away. "Is what I would say had you actually found me."

Momentarily left stunned at his disappearance, Chris grits his teeth, not in the mood to deal with this shit again. "You coward! Are you scared to face me now?! I'll kill this kid if you don't show yourself!" He feels the teen squirm uncomfortably as he strengthens his arm around his neck.

"Thought I was going to put you under an illusion?" Startled by the closeness of the Asian man's voice right near his ear, Chris moves away, turning to Kurai with an even deeper mien of annoyance. He still looks dry amid the downpour. "Who's scared to face who now?" Kurai taunts.

"Bastard," Chris growls.

Kurai then looks at the teen he captured, his expression turning cold. "I expected better from you, Aiden. How did you possibly end up in his clutches?"

Aiden winces under his impassive gaze, he has every right to be upset with him. He let his guard down after blocking a single attack from the vampire hunter. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Akuma. I-Ack!"

"The both of you shut it," Chris demands sharply, practically choking Aiden. "This ain't the time for chitchat."

Even though he didn't want to hear any excuses, Kurai directs his stern scarlet eyes towards the other noirette for his rude disruption. "You dare to call me a coward when you're holding one of my students hostage?"

Chris grins deviously. "Oh, so he's a student of yours, eh? Guess I'll kill him first then you."

Akumu's crimson blade begins to illuminate like a bright flame. Not bothered by the vampire hunter's threat, Kurai simply recites, "Kyōfu de kare o mahi sa seru, Jigoku no mōsō." (Paralyze him with fear, Hellish Delusion.)

Chris furrows his eyebrows in bewilderment. "What the hell did you just say?" All of a sudden, his vision pulsates upon a strong throb coursing throughout his whole body. "Ugh! W-what the hell did he do to me...?" He blinks his eyes rapidly, then shakes his muddled head. His eyes widen in disbelief at a head full of black hair. Who is this? This isn't the same kid he took captive. Suddenly, his arm loses its energy to keep the boy confined, his body throbbing all over again. In fact, he almost feels numb.

Coughing, Aiden stumbles away from the man, then sprints over to his teacher's side. Once he's beside him, he observes the vampire hunter, puzzled as to why he's just standing there with a developing scared-stiff expression on his face. But then he spots droplets of blood dripping down to the soaked ground behind him that's dissolving into a red mist thanks the expeditious rainfall. Shoving his confusion aside, Aiden faces his teacher with a bow. "I am very sorry! I know I am in the wrong for showcasing vulnerability against the enemy, but please forgive me just this once! It won't ever happen again."

"Hmph, very well," Kurai says, not looking away from said enemy. "As long as you're aware, and stay true to your word." The disappointment remained evident in his tone, making Aiden all the more anxious instead of relieved.

"I will, sir."

"What was it you were doing prior to being captured?"

Now able to relax since he wasn't scolded, Aiden straightens his posture. "Token had split us up. His group went to take everyone to a safe place while me, Remi, and Kou were assigned to look for Kyle so the four of us could backup the Principal."

Kurai disagrees with the idea by shaking his head although he is proud in the Student Council Committee for their ability to maintain a level-head during this dilemma. It's what he expected from them. "Principal Brimestone will be just fine so focus on finding Kyle. When you do find him, go join the rest of your members. I'm sure they've found a place for safety by now."

Aiden raises an eyebrow. Did he say that because he's looking out for them, and doesn't want them to get gravely hurt or does he have that much faith in the Principal? He knows Principal Brimestone is powerful enough to fight by himself although he's never shown his strength before, having no need to since nothing as serious as this transpired in the past. But since Mr. Akuma seems so sure that Principal Brimestone will need no assistance, Aiden will trust his intuition. "Yes, sir." He takes off into the building, asking Kou of his and Remi's whereabouts through telepathy before teleporting to them.

When the metal door closes, Chris jolts, snapping out of the daze he was in. His mind had went completely blank when the unknown noirette turned out to be his younger-self. Instead of looking at him in fear like earlier, this time he appeared perplexed. He wonders why...

"How pathetic."

The Asian man's voice resounding throughout the rooftop strikes up a sense of familiarity within Chris, especially since he's currently standing alone in the rain. He undergoes a brief flashback- the image of a barely lit room that has dried bloodstains plastered on both the wooden floor, and all over the corner of a wall helps him recall of this scenario. He tenses in anger. "You're the one who's pathetic with these illusions! Is that all you know how to do?!" He then wonders when the bastard got a hit on him. At first it was on his hands, and he still doesn't know how that happened. His body throbs once more, as if giving him a hint. He becomes conscious of the fact that the pain is originating from his back.

"I'm not going to waste my other skills on you," Kurai says scornfully. "Instead of doing this, I should kill you here and now. I regret not doing so while your guard was lowered, but I had another matter to take care of at the time."

"Well that's your loss. Come out and fight me like a man!"

"I may consider it depending on how well you do, meaning if you break free from my illusion. If you do poorly like last time, I'll merely put you out of your misery." Kurai is not actually going to kill the vampire hunter, his plans for experimenting on him will surely have the man begging for death.

As the sky produces a flicker of lightning, Chris gets an idea. It thunders a second later. "I bet you don't even have any other 'skills'. You're all talk." Perhaps riling the Japanese vampire up will get him to reveal himself. No matter how calm and composed someone may be, they'll eventually succumb to their anger with enough prodding. If this prick won't fight him head on, then he'll retaliate with words. When Kurai doesn't reply back, Chris continues to incite him into doing so. "Are you at least gonna make these illusions interesting? I bet you're thinking of having me go through my traumatic past again, which is most likely the only thing you can do since that's all the dirt you have on me." Disappointed, he shakes his head. "It's sad that you're so uncreative." He says nothing else, expecting a retort this time. While waiting, he glances around hoping to find his opponent lurking somewhere on the roof. But it's a wide open area, there's no place for him to hide. After waiting another few seconds, he still doesn't receive a response. "What? Got nothin' to say?" Stopping and facing the low metal fence, he spreads his arms out in a provoking manner. "If I've pissed you off, then come at me! Don't rely on your shitty illusions! Fight me yourself!"

The silence returns, and it stretches on for some moments. "Are you done?"

Not liking how bored the Asian teacher sounded just now, Chris lowers his arms. "What?"

"You're haughtiness knows no bounds. I hope you know that while you were goading, I could've ended you. But I found your childish rambling quite humorous."

Chris growls through his clenching teeth. "Just shut the fuck up and fight me already, Goddamn it!"

Kurai sighs. "At this point, it'd only waste even more of my time to let this drag on any longer." Detecting a sudden presence behind him, Chris spins around to see Kurai. He knows he's the real deal when the rain starts hammering down on him incessantly. "As much as I'd hate to comply to your whining, I'll face you as you so desperately wanted."

Chris charges at him with a fist raised. Kurai effortlessly blocks his punch with his blade, and proceeds to do so as Chris starts delivering a torrent of punches. After awhile, Kurai deflects his fist and attempts to stab him through the heart. Dodging to the side, Chris pushes his katana down and aims to strike his face. Kurai cranes his neck to the side to avoid it, quickly swinging his weapon at his midsection. Chris jumps back, but still ends up getting cut, though the action managed to lessen the severity. Unfazed by the minimal sting from the small wound on his stomach, he tries to kick the sword out of Kurai's hand. But before he can even lift his leg, Kurai advances with a flurry of slashes, making sure he leaves no openings for Chris to counter.

Their battle continues on for minutes. Unlike their last clash, Kurai is the only one to inflict some damage onto Chris.

After finally finding a gap in Kurai's nimble movements, Chris jabs him in the chest to create some distance. He had to resort to this because he's being effected by his wounds, they aren't healing, and he's steadily losing blood from the cuts he failed to avoid sustaining, making his aching body feel heavy and his head feel dizzy. He knows without a doubt that damned katana is the cause of his healing being nullified, not just that but his lack of consuming blood as well. He can't remember the last time he drunk any, but he knows it was days ago... "S-shit..." Panting, he drops down on his hands and knees, his shredded dress shirt that's drenched in both rainwater and blood barely clinging on to his well-built frame, fully exposing his injuries. Footsteps softly splashing in the clear liquid approach him.

"Is the blood loss getting to you so soon? How unfort-..."

His damp black bangs of hair hanging over his glaring eyes, Chris tightly clenches both his teeth and fists at Kurai's mocking tone, not caring that he didn't finish his remark. He can't die here, and he most definitely can't let Lord Vincent down a second time. He must calm down, and clear his mind so as to not enter bloodlust.

A hand roughly grabs his hair, pulling him up as he grunts and winces. Latching onto their wrist, he's held at eye level, heated red eyes boring into one of his teal ones.

"That tattoo on your back," Kurai hardens his glare. "What is it?" He wouldn't have asked had he been able to thoroughly examine its design himself, the slanted laceration as well as the nonstop flow of blood smearing down his back made it difficult for him to distinguish what it is. From the unobscured traces of a coiled-up body with golden scales that's presumably going further down Chris' back, he gets the deepest feeling that he knows its identity. But he wants Chris to confirm it for him first so he's not mistaking it for something else.

It takes a moment for Chris to comprehend what was just demanded of him. "W-why the hell do you wanna know?"

Of course, he wouldn't answer him outright. That's why Kurai thought ahead. "Because I just may spare your life."

Opening his other eye, Chris studies the man's stern countenance. He can't discern if he's telling the truth or not. "You'll spare me over some random tattoo? Yeah, right. I'm not tellin' you regardless."

"A random tattoo, is it?" Kurai tilts his head to the side slightly. "You're telling me you let someone doodle an abominable design on your back just for the hell of it? You enjoy wasting peoples' time, don't you?"

Chris acquires a dark look on his face, his hands squeezing Kurai's wrist even tighter. "You better watch your fucking mouth," he warns in a low, subdued voice.

Kurai grins, fearless of the possibility of his wrist breaking in half. "Why are you getting so defensive over a 'random' tattoo?"

Something within Chris snaps. He pries Kurai's hand out of his hair, and using one hand, he bends his wrist backwards.

His arm being released, Kurai stares at his disfigured wrist, then chuckles. That's his dominant katana wielding hand. Akumu turns a shade darker to indicate it's displeasure at such insolence. "You were definitely human, all right. Switching between emotions so fast that it's both baffling and irritating. Don't demean something you cherish first if you don't want others to do it."

"Tch, it was to lower your interest on it." Chris tears off his tattered shirt. "I'll never badmouth Lord Vincent's gift like you just did, and for that, I'll make sure your death is agonizingly slow and painful." He does feel bad for calling such beautiful art random, but like he said it was to decrease this bastard's curiosity.

Kurai blinks, shocked. "That tattoo was a gift from Mr. Valentine? Which means that design really is of that dragon like I'd thought, and of course he'd know about it since he seems enthralled in Asian culture. No human can replicate its intricate structure."

"Since you wanna know what the tattoo is so badly, why don't I show you?" Chris' eyes as well as his tattoo begin to glow.

"Christopher..."

Chris instantly goes rigid. "L-Lord Vincent?"

"There's no need for a pointless demonstration, I now know exactly what it is, and I'm going to stay true to my word. However..." Not questioning his motionless stance, Kurai takes this opportunity to blindside him, hitting the back of his neck with the hilt of his katana. Chris' body falls forwardri. Right before he loses consciousness, Lord Vincent and Kurai finish their statements in unison.

"Our fun has come to an end."

"You're coming with me."

Almost every inch of the patch of sandy soil was covered in a mixture of dry and fresh splatters of blood. Two figures moved around in a blur that not even the moon could keep up with them, their unnatural speed kicking up gusts of wind that disturbed the pink tree leaves resting on the grass. Soon, more blood painted the illusionary Sakura training field.

After deflecting Vincent's fist, Michael thrust his own fist at his slightly bruised face. But all of a sudden, his vision became unsteady. "Ngh." Seeing two Vincent's in front of him, he's powerless to stop himself from aiming for the one directly facing him. When he struck air, he knew he missed the real one completely. "Shit...I'm at my limit." Just how much time had passed? It's unknown since the sky hadn't changed.

"Such sloppiness brings back memories." Grinning, Vincent caught Michael's stumbling form by the wrist and yanked him back. He held his arm behind him as his back collided against his chest. "You've overexerted yourself." Gritting his teeth, Michael struggled to free himself. Chuckling at his feeble squirming, Vincent gripped his wrist tighter. "Now, now, you're only going to tire yourself out even more if you struggle." Once Michael ceased his fidgeting, he leaned towards his ear, opening his eyes to show a slimmer of his magenta irises. "So, wanna continue or give up?"

Michael pursed his lips. He overexerted himself? Did he really? He was doing so well from what felt like minutes ago, and was almost certain he would win. But somewhere amid their fight, Vincent gradually started to overpower him. He became stronger while Michael became weaker. This wasn't new to Michael though, something like this occurred occasionally in their past sparring sessions. He had his assumptions that Vincent was leeching off of his energy through physical contact, and wasted no time confronting him about it. But the sly vampire pushed the fault onto him saying that he always went all in. Naturally, he'd bought it, because Vincent wasn't wrong. But ever since then, Michael never felt overly exhausted again amid or after their training, even when he took it too seriously. Not until today, that is.

"As if I'll give in to a cheater."

Vincent's lips straightened into a line, his eyebrows furrowing. "Excuse me?"

Using his unrestrained arm, Michael elbowed Vincent in the stomach. Grunting, Vincent loosened his grip, and Michael distanced himself away from him. He faced Vincent with a glare so fierce that it was close to sending a chill down his spine. "Admit it, all this time you've been draining my energy."

Vincent regarded him in genuine confusion, his eyes still faintly open. "I've been draining your energy? How so?"

Rolling up his sleeve, Michael raised the wrist Vincent held. Right above his vein were two finger-sized punctures. "In nearly every one of our sparring matches, whenever I got close to beating you I'd suddenly feel more tired than necessary. This was why. You can't lie your way outta this, this time, I've caught you red-handed."

The tender breeze that'd been blowing the tree branches susurrated over the verbal silence. Creepily, a grin spread across Vincent's face. He lifted up a hand doing a backwards v-sign, on two of his fingertips were blood. "Were you always this perceptive? I was even being super discreet about it."

"I'm not dumb, Vincent," Michael said lowering his arm down. "So, those vampires that the vampire hunter killed and had their ashes supposedly hidden, that was your doing, wasn't it?"

Pressing his forefinger on his thumb, Vincent began to twiddle with the red fluid. "Hmm, it seems you've forgotten our deal. But I'll answer anyway. At first, it was Ingrum who'd been getting rid of the remains. I wasn't even aware of this until I started to notice their frequent outings during nightfall. That's when I thought of it being the perfect opportunity to thoroughly cultivate this ability of mine, that was my only purpose. I can now use it in more ways than one." He giggled, pleased at his accomplishment.

Michael looked repulsed by his response, feeling like he's staring into the eyes of a deranged stranger. "The three of you are sick."

Vincent went taut, his eyes narrowing into slits. "So, are you saying that it's wrong for us to go around killing our kind when the humans do it day and night?"

"No, that's not-"

"We simply did what most mortals do, kill for our own self-satisfaction. But we also did both species a favor by disposing the rotten apples that's been harming the humans in secret. However, some foolish vampires couldn't keep their thirst for blood in check, and as a result, our existence has been further exposed to the humans. It's one of the many reasons why Christopher took up being a vampire hunter, so something like that never happens again." Vincent blinked, then his expression became blank. "Are we still sick for doing the right thing?"

Michael was at a loss for words. Memories of the past came barreling through his mind. Half were good - making him wish he could go back and relive those moments again, and the other half were bad - ones he'd like to be erased from his brain forever. The jovial times they'd shared caused a strong pang in his chest. He frowned, feeling his eyes watering but he fought the tears down. He balled his hands into fists, his body shaking at the overflow of emotions. "Vincent, what the hell happened to you? You've...changed."

His eyes closing, Vincent smiled as he shook his head. It was a pained smile. "No, Michael, this is who I am. I've never changed, and I never will."

"Michael!"

After hearing the muffled call of his name from a familiar voice, Michael felt a rough poke at his side afterwards. Like someone had kicked him. Despite it being a mere tap, it greatly agitated a bruise on that spot. Groaning a swear word, Michael dropped to his knees with one hand supporting him, his other hand placed lightly over his hip that's continuously getting abused.

"Michael, wake the hell up already!"

"Henrietta, stop kicking him."

"...Oh, this guy definitely needs a good kicking."

As soon as Vincent received a harsh blow to his abdomen, the false appearance of their training ground began to vanish.
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Michael felt his consciousness steadily returning to him accompanied by a dull ache in his hip. He blinked his eyes open wearily. The second the rainfall entered his ears, their soothing, suppressed rhythm almost lulled him to sleep. A palm placed itself on the back of his shoulder, alerting him of their presence.

"Principal Brimestone?" They said, gently nudging him.

Michael also recognized this voice. "L-Luther?" He pushed himself up, his head feeling heavy from the movement. Seeing his arms trembling, Luther helped him up on his feet, keeping a hand on him so he didn't collapse. Squeezing his eyes shut while his befuddled head cleared on its own, Michael blinked his eyes open again, and looked around. Once he realized that they're still on the stage in the auditorium, he looked over at the dark-haired blonde next to him. "What're you-" He stopped his question short upon hearing someone grunt close by, him and Luther witnessing Vincent being stomped on by the short heel of Henrietta's boot, the woman grumbling something about a ruined plan under her breath. It looked...comical to say the least, like something you'd see in a cartoon.

Both men sweatdropped at the scene, Michael would've laughed had the situation been more lighthearted. "Even though he deserves it, I'd better stop her before she stomps him death," Luther said. "Won't be able to interrogate him otherwise."

As Luther rushed to Vincent's aid, Michael stood there in a daze. His still jumbled mind played back all that transpired between him and Vincent, and his eyes became somber. He...didn't know how or what to feel. Vincent teamed up with a vampire hunter, and some other guy he didn't even know just to follow through with his twisted scheme, to be villains of the very academy he created. He could've gone about preparing them for unexpected enemy encounters in an entirely different way. What even led him to think up such a crazy plan? His academy had been running just fine over six decades, and even if one day they were attacked out of the blue, the teachers, staff, and students would know how to plan and act accordingly. Vincent playing the bad guy was greatly unnecessary...

Suddenly, a pair of hurried footsteps approached Michael.

"You're an absolute dumbass!"

The next thing he knew, he felt a sharp sting erupting on his cheek. Everything fell silent, except for the rain and a clap of thunder. Stunned momentarily stiff, Michael raised a palm up to his red cheek while his neck slowly repositioned his head forward, his mint-green eyes gaping into the glaring ones of an infuriated vampiress.

"We told you. We fucking told you! Had you just listened-no, trusted us, none of this would've happened! I seriously can't believe you-"

For some reason, that slap...brought forth an emotion within Michael that overthrew his confusion. Hearing Henrietta scolding him about how he cherished his friendship over the safety of the academy made him feel extremely guilty.

"-so what do you have to say for yourself?" Henrietta asked afterwards.

Clenching the hand on his cheek into a fist, Michael broke eye contact with the woman. "I...I'm sorry. I'm so...so sorry..." His voice trembled, but he felt no tears surfacing in his eyes. Luther neared Henrietta's side, both frowning at him. "You're right, I am a dumbass. I put so many lives in jeopardy all because I...I refused to cooperate with you guys." He gathered up some courage to look at his assistants. "But believe me, I did trust the both of you. Even before Kurai had pointed it out, I knew Vincent was being a sneaky bastard. I just...didn't expect it to be something like this..." Deepening his frown, he removed his hand from his faintly red cheek. "Since he was my friend, I played oblivious to the fact that he was working with the vampire hunter, all so I could confront him by myself. It was stupid and selfish I know, I was honestly scared to face him alone. But I had to, it only felt right. Not solely because we were friends, but because I'm the Principal." His lips curled into a sad smile. "But after today, I think I no longer deserve this position. It would be best if I stepped down and had someone else, someone more sensible, take my spot."

"W-what?!" Henrietta shouted, feeling very conflicted. She didn't know whether to be mad at his confession or at the fact that he'd played dumb this whole time.

"You can't decide this on your own," Luther opposed.

"Why not? Only you two would disagree while the majority would be happy to have me replaced." Michael just now noticed this, but all of his injuries were gone, and his clothes only had bits of dust on them from laying on the floor. Even if they'd fought in a perfectly created illusion of their old training ground, it's very strange that the pain of each punch, kick, and throw were no more. They all felt so real.

"That's one of the reasons why I assigned you as the Principal, Michael." Henrietta and Luther turned around, Michael looking past them at Vincent, who was now standing. The scarce amount of bruises he once had were nonexistent as well. His long platinum hair was disheveled, and his once bright attire was dirty from both the dust and Henrietta's boot prints. "Your efforts and devotion to protect everyone here weren't in vain, so don't beat yourself up too hard over this."

Henrietta's body tensed with rage. "This is all your fault! What the hell possessed you to do this?!"

"Yeah, this went way too far," Luther chimed in, looking equally peeved. "Were you seriously thinking of killing everyone here?"

Vincent frowned, it's time to come clean. "Allow me to explain myself..." And so they let him, he told them the exact same thing he told Michael, that he merely did this as a precaution measure, omitting Rosa's involvement. He then disclosed the relationship he had with Ingrum and the vampire hunter, which angered Henrietta even more, but Michael and Luther held her back so Vincent could continue speaking. He also told them about Brendon, that the boy agreed to play along by prohibiting the use of all the vampires' basic abilities for a short period of time. And that was his only role. At the mention of the hybrid child, Michael searched for the pentagram, only to find it long gone. Vincent was going to clarify the teen's reason for assisting them, but changed his mind and stated that if they wanted to know, they should ask Brendon themselves. Something they would surely do, he's going to be punished either way regardless of his motive. Vincent concluded by telling them about the reasons of them killing vampires, that they didn't do it mindlessly.

Once Vincent was done talking, the auditorium became silent once again. Not even the rain could reduce the heavy tension surrounding them. "I don't expect to be forgiven. Even I know I don't deserve it."

"Good cuz I wasn't even considering forgiving you," Henrietta snapped. "You are the creator of this academy yet you do something as dangerous as this?! And you even had one of our students involved! Why didn't you consult with us about this or with Michael at least? You gave him the role of the Principal, but you didn't bother to discuss this with him."

"Because it was all fun an' games to him," Michael said in a surly tone of voice, although his face was expressionless. "He claims it was for our safety, but he actually did this as a way to kill time. He felt left out cuz his minions were having fun without him."

Vincent's lips curled into a hurtful half-smile. "Forgot how scary you can be when you're upset, Michael. Your words sting more than your fists, and Henrietta's boot."

"Wanna get stomped on some more?" The woman threatened.

"No, thank you," Vincent declined. "How about this then? We both resign from our positions."

"You can, but Michael-"

"Okay."

Henrietta and Luther gave Michael a look of disbelief. "No, you can't be serious."

"Does it look I'm joking, Henrietta? Neither of us are fit to hold the position of high authority over this academy anymore. We can discuss this further after we make sure everyone is alright, can you two do that for me?"

His assistants appeared hesitant, then Henrietta sighed. No matter what she said she couldn't dissuade Michael from anything he set his mind to, which she found tremendously annoying. "Fine. Let's go, Luther." The two teleported out of the auditorium together, leaving behind a haze of black smoke.

"...So, I guess our friendship is in pieces..." Vincent frowned remorsefully.

"And who knows when it'll be mended again or if it ever will." Michael began to walk off the stage. "Follow me to the conference room, we'll have your lackeys taken there as well. Once Henrietta and Luther finish, we'll figure out what to do with you four."

Straightening and dusting off his hair and attire, Vincent notifies each male individually of their defeat. "Ingrum, Christopher, Brendon...our fun has come to an end."

(A/n: The next and last chapter will be an epilogue)