It was a beautiful thing, to witness the birth of a god.

Semiramis hovered over a circle of incomprehensible proportions. No matter how many times Jimena tried to wrap her head around it, the scene before her always seemed to shimmer and fade, replaced by another ephemeral burst of radiance that should not have been here. It was as if dimensions and perspectives were an annoyance the spell struggled against. It pushed the boundaries one by one before retracting, gathering strength for another attempt. Aura so powerful it pushed against her, shook the weave and gave the air the subtle taste of ash. It did little to attenuate the breathtaking display.

Those were arcane diabluras she wanted nothing to do with. She was more than happy to leave those to her sister and keep to her blade, thank you very much. Her thoughts went to Aintza, outside and hopefully safe in the Red Cabal camp. She would have enjoyed the lights.

Her mind was wandering.

Semiramis had picked an isolated spot deep in the warrens of the world. She had sealed all access except for one, a cave in a lone mountain over the plains east of Warsaw, where the world was thin and fragile. She had woven her cocoon of wards and traps, then Ari had sent Jimena and a few others to act as a last line of defense. The defenses were specifically meant to evoke the sun and they were specifically aimed at a single person. That old monster now sat outside, far above and beyond. He was held off for now, but Jimena could still feel a distant gaze over her shoulder.

Cadiz had trained her and there was no one more guilty on this planet than Nirari, save perhaps his mother. Nevertheless, she kept her peace. One thing Cadiz had taught her was to avoid fights she could not hope to prevail if she could help it.

Footsteps echoed in the tunnel in front of her. There were no decorations in the empty cave. Not even lights. The magic was enough to let even a mole see.

For all the labyrinths the old witch had prepared, her defenses would not have been enough. The footsteps were deliberate too. He wanted them to know he was coming.

Jimena stepped in front of the tunnel entrance with her blade a comfortable weight in her hand. Diego took her left. He was a spear-wielding lord trained by Cadiz as well. John took her right in an armor so heavy every step shook the earth. They were some of the best defensive fighters of vampirekind.

Malakim stepped out of the shadows.

Despite the cruel man’s smirk, it was clear that the wards were weakening him, taking their toll with the pressure of the sun itself. Yellow light shone on his naked arms and Jimena could swear she could see the skin peel and turn to ash in some places. It would not be enough but it would be a start.

Behind her, the ritual gained in intensity. Semiramis was defenseless, her entire attention dedicated to the complex spell as it bloomed into being. Almost there. An hour at most. Malakim would not give them an hour.

“Well well well and here I thought this Hunt would end with a boring execution. It would have been rather anticlimactic. Instead, I get to bleed my sister’s sister. Do you have any gift or recognizable trinket I could give her to prove I painfully killed you?”

“Ariane warned me you loved the sound of your own voice. By the way, is it not a little hot in here? You seem uncomfortable.”

“I’ll peel your skin off and use it as an umbrella.”

“Ever in a rush to see your end. You should enjoy the heat, damned one. It will give you a taste of your afterlife.”

Malakim hissed. Jimena saw no hint of a doubt on the cursed Devourer’s face, not a shred of consideration for his opponent. He was absolutely certain of his victory.

Jimena would enjoy wiping that smirk off his face.

“I guess I will just have to sift through the ash to find a proof of death. It would not be the first time.”

Jimena scoffed. Malakim drew. Diego and John took her side.

Malakim rushed forward like a tornado. His powerful thrust whistled through the air on its way to her heart, Jimena grunted and struck up with all her might. The blow was barely deflected but it pinged against a timely raised shield. John was slow but he was quite strong and really good at following directions. Her counter was parried and she was forced to move back, just as practiced.

Diego’s spear appeared besides Malakim, blindsiding him yet he still managed to veer away. Another furious assault began. Jimena deflected some of the vicious strikes, attacking unexpectedly while leaving her heart open to Malakim’s obvious surprise but there was always a shield on the way. He aimed for her head but a spear tip grazed his face, almost taking the eye.

It was clear Malakim was unused to being contested, especially by people he believed to be his inferiors. A sideway sweep clanged against all three defenses and left him wide open.

None of the defenders took the bait.

Jimena saw a vicious eye glaring at her over the extended shoulder and knew it was a trap just as her window closed.

Malakim took a few steps back, still sneering.

“Not very adventurous, are we?”

“I was told by a little bird that you had quite the armor. I wouldn't want to waste any strength on that nice little shirt of yours.”

“My sister talks too much!”

Malakim resumed his reckless offensive, or so it seemed, but Jimena saw it for what it was. Malakim’s entire style revolved around his disregard for pain and the knowledge that the chestplate would protect him against any attack. What seemed like wide openings were all feints he wanted them to fall for. His ceaseless offense teased out the beast in her. Her dark aspect wanted to rise to the challenge, to punish him. The fencer in her ground her teeth at the flawed style. Malakim was a living invitation to make mistakes. Thankfully, she was prepared and so were the others.

Diego only aimed for the head. John only defended her, covering a side at all times. Malakim realized it and suddenly veered to her left to strike at the vulnerable Natalis master. At the same moment, the entire formation pivoted.

Jimena lunged and caught the Devourer in the arm while Diego managed to score a gash on his leg. Makalim’s blade still smashed against the shield, pushing John’s titanic form back. To his surprise, the shield held.

When he pulled back, there was not even a hint of damage on the monumental slab of enchanted metal. There was also not a hint of emotion in the twin brown eyes peering through the closed visor. Not even fear.

The three repositioned, not pressing the assault even though Malakim was wounded. They knew he would only use it to his advantage. Malakim was twisted and resourceful. He thrived off chaos. They would deny him that chaos.

“You are the best-looking cockroaches I have ever beheld.”

“We have time on our side. You? Not so much.”

“What sort of predators hide behind shields! You are worse than janissaries!”

“The patient kind,” Jimena replied with well-deserved smugness.

They exchanged another few blows. Her triad moved fluidly, just like in training.

“Why? HOW?” Malkim spat as his efforts failed once again.

Jimena weighed her options, then decided that making him angrier and prone to mistakes would serve them better.

“Ariane has fought you several times. She and Cadiz specifically trained us… against you.”

“She… knew?”

“Nirari cannot get in but she expected he might have the power to let people through. And you are his right hand man, the only tool he trusts.”

“He trusts no one.”

“He trusts his power over others. The end result is the same. We are ready for you, Malakim. You cannot defeat us… not that you can stop trying.”

Malakim screamed incoherently and the assault redoubled.

***

The first vampire did not move, which meant that there were more hurdles yet. I could feel the next one rushing in. Metis stopped, feeling his approach.

Octave walks in with grief plain on his handsome features. His knight armor is the most elaborate I have ever seen. He blocks my path.

In a way, I feel sorry for him. When I followed Jimena into reclaiming my freedom from an order that betrayed me, I was fully aware that I was dealing with the most corrupt elements within their ranks. Octave has always been a believer and his path has always been that of the blade. People like him, those who pursue a goal with singular focus, often fail at seeing the flaws and risks within those who help them along. I can lay the blame for his neglect at his own feet but I can never accuse him of dishonesty. I will also never forget the passion he displayed when training me to the best of his abilities before I turned the sword he helped me forge and metaphorically plunged it into his breast.

It would make a confrontation unpleasant if I ever intended to fight him.

“You broke us, you know?” he softly accuses.

Ah, he feels like monologuing. Well, time should be on my side, after all.

“After you left, our star dimmed. We could not retaliate against you while your lover escaped punishment by virtue of being a soul smith. It showed us as weak. At the same time, reports of your confrontation in Warsaw spread throughout the Old World thanks to the Dvor witnesses you failed to chase away. It showed us as corrupt and divided. I cannot tell which was worse. We lost our image as impartial arbiters that day. Now, they only call upon us for rogues and petty disputes.”

“It is as you say, Octave. The events showed you as weak, corrupt, divided. I merely revealed the rot that was already there when it almost caused my death, or have you forgotten that?”

“You could have come to me. You know I would have done right by you.”

“I know. I know you have integrity… just as I knew I could not trust those around you, and more importantly, neither could Jimena.”

“You two destroyed my life’s work. I… understand you. I just… cannot let it go. After almost a century, I still wake up every twilight bearing the loss of my dream.”

“I do not blame you either, Octave. You did your best.”

“Then you understand what I must do. You have acquired a lot of enemies, not just allies, in this short time you spent treading the world. I am merely the one who can stop you.”

“And as usual, you are forgetting that dreams are carried by people… and so are grudges. I am not the only one with unfinished business.”

More steps from the side. A large man in a flowing armor of wood and stone stops in front of me with pale hair freely falling down his back.

“Hello, my star. Hello, Octave. I believe we disengaged last time without a firm winner?”

“You are a fool, young smith. We are not on your land.”

“Oh, I know that,” Torran replied. “But just as your Magna Arqa gives you the raw power to match your opponent, it also means that it makes no difference when you are evenly matched. And there is a little something you have not accounted for.”

The armor flows, covering his face as if the wood is alive. Which it absolutely is.

“This is the fae armor my little star brought back for me to play with. I believe I have turned it into something quite impressive. Now shall we? Ariane. Give the word. Continue the ritual.”

“I am the Queen of Thorn and Hunger, but there are some who will follow Ariane, crown or not. Torran my love, please clear the path for me.”

“Let’s take this to the side,” Torran orders, and Octave feels compelled into accepting. It would not do for a vaunted duelist to refuse a duel.

They leave and I am once again on the move.

The last hurdle before me is paradoxically the weakest, the one I could probably clear simply by walking. Fortifications typical of this region of the world where danger could come from any corner hide very different groups. Nirari’s slave warriors occupy trenches in front of me, their inferior weapons brandished yet unused. They are perfectly silent and grouped in a way that hints at discipline if not at superior training. They number in the thousands, their lines disappearing behind a hill far to my left. Their flank is covered by an assembled mass of Germans harried by furious officers who needle them to bring the fight to another contingent of European soldiers, those ones directly to my right and wearing the colors of a British highland regiment. It is clear at first sight that the highlanders had to turn their entire formation very quickly to face the new threat, yet they still enjoy a massive superiority in the presence of Dvergur shock troops in elaborate steam armor. I recognize Loth’s own making its way towards me.

The earth soldiers on both sides take half-hearted potshots at the other, clearly not too happy about the situation. The expanse of grass between them remains empty, however. It is one thing to recognize an unmotivated foe and quite another to test them. I need to find a way to break the status quo.

Suddenly, the radios that had been silent until now blare a message in English of all things. I recognize Stiglitz’ voice. The British soldiers stop firing at the sky. At the same time, the same voice is transmitted to the German side. A pre-recorded message, perhaps.

“This is General Stiglitz addressing all the defenders of mankind. Listen well, men, because this is the most important order you will receive in your lives. Perhaps you have heard the rumor and I will confirm it. We have destroyed the Last City, razed it to the ground. We have broken the liches. Our purpose is achieved but we have not won, not yet. One last push of mercenaries and monsters aims to take control over us. They seek to exploit the chaos to fulfill their nefarious needs at the moment of our unity. The seeds of distrust were sowed and now they seek to harvest us. I say no. I say, we show them that no matter what face they wear, those who seek to break us shall fail. I say forget your flags and your uniforms until dawn shines upon us once more. Stand shoulder to shoulder against the darkness with warriors of every nation. Find the golden light and defend it, champions of humanity because the field must be ours no matter the cost. Stand up and FIGHT!”

One of the German officers rushes forward over the trenches, vociferating in vain. A gray-beared sergeant stands and punches him in the face. Like one man, the entire German line turns on their compromised officers. The punishment is swift.

Well, it seems my solution is all found then.

Nirari’s slave warriors barely have time to reform when the onslaught of steel takes them in the flank at point blank range. English soldiers rise from their trenches with fixed bayonets to join the fray across the devastated plain. Dvergur armor suits walk forward to support them.

The wave of soldiers overwhelms the first line of defenses in seconds but Nirari’s warriors are disciplined and they do not fear death. They regroup in order then the battle in the trenches grows fierce. Nevertheless, humans have swept away the last obstacle.

“Right. I’ll leave ye to it then. And keep those basterds off yer arse. Ariane?”

“Yes.”

“Give him hell.”

“You have my word.”

The king charges off then while I dismount from Metis to ascend the steps towards the throne. Each of my steps leaves behind ribbons of frost expanding like flakes. My sire watches me climb with a satisfied smile.

He stands just as I reach the pedestal.

We face off then. He, taller in his armor of obsidian, me in the Aurora shining with the colors of winter. He slowly reaches behind him to bring forth a black-plumed helmet which he slowly places over his head. A crown as dark as the void mirrors the cobalt dragon horns decorating the sides of my visor.

It is time.

I feel one last pang of regret for all those who brought me here without seeing it to the end. I will make them all proud. Their sacrifices will not be in vain.

“I, Ariane of the Nirari, Queen of Thorn and Hunger challenge you,” I start, “For dominion over our kind and this world.”

Nirari smiles and for once, it is not condescending.

“Yes, you finally claimed that crown. I had stopped hoping, yet here we are at the end of the world, Devourer to Devourer, competing for dominance, as is right. As I chose on that fateful night, an eternity ago.”

He sighs, eyes dreamy.

“Tonight would not have been proper without a last confrontation yet for the longest of times, I could not think of one person who could unite a powerful enough force and then stand more than a moment against me. I did not found the first house to create a lasting legacy like the others did as they clung to their humanity. I founded the first house to be the legacy. Who needs children when one can live forever? And yet, here you are. A proper heir. Very well, little princess. I, Nirari, the first of our kind, accept your challenge. I am Conquest incarnate. Stand against me, if you can.”

I somehow feel as if I were watching myself from afar as I call for Rose, mirroring Nirair who summons his glaive. We salute to a background of screams, gunshots, and explosions.

The Watcher opens his eye to reality. A great breath goes over the battlefield as even the mundane combatants feel the weight of its alien attention but the battle soon resumes. We are observed in this defining moment.

This is it.

The fight I have been dreading for over a century since I saw Nirari casually plunge his hand into a lord’s chest.

The time has come.

I have done everything I could to have a chance and now, I can seize it. I discard all my concerns and the lingering fear of his power. They will not help me here. The die is cast.

We charge each other.

For the first time since the dragon, I pour all my power and mobilize all my strength in this fight. I push myself to the limit. The world around me slows down until the humans are barely moving at all. Mortar explosions are but flowers of fire and steel blooming leisurely in the background. Spells dance across the air while other vampires are graceful dancers fleeting across the land. By the Watcher, I can see bullets. I could stop them.

I dive under a horizontal slash and lunge at the same time. Nirari turns on himself to let Rose’s tip glance off his armor. He finishes his rotation with another slash. Cannot dodge, but can block. I deflect. The two soul weapons rake against each other with a grinding sound. He pushes me back with the shaft. I let him and counter. Strong. Fast. There are symbols on the black plates of his own armor. Not used yet. I attack again.

Nirari uses his reach advantage to strike at me but Rose extending means that I can surprise him. A parry turns into an attack on his gauntlets, which he respects by twisting the ghastly glaive. Close in. Rose is now a sword and I have the advantage. A flurry of blows is hastily blocked then he moves away. He is the most physically powerful enemy I have crossed blades with yet I am faster. I am used to that. Cadiz taught me how to fight with speed. I follow him.

We weave across the battlefield in a flurry of quick exchanges. Earth shatters and lifts in great rocks across our path but we are gone before it can even reach human height. Soldiers die between us without ever realizing they were in danger. We dance across the cones of machine gun fires. We hop over exploding ordinance. We swat shrapnel aside mid explosion. It is a contest like no others. The king of all hunts. I have never felt so alive.

It is… fantastic.

A fast exchange and we end up splitting. I see an opening. I take it.

“Heartseeker.”

“Salvo.”

Our spells meet, strand for strand, and explode in a cataclysmic shock that sends dust sky high. I use flying debris as stepping stones. I am airborne, though not for long. A thrust. Nirari blocks but he is forced back by the power of the blow.

He does not quite fight like what Cadiz showed me. Too graceful and conservative. We fight at maximum range, whip against glaive. Each blow deflected carves through the land. We leave scars behind.

We reach a pack of vampires and move around them as they fight their own duels. I manage to redirect a soul spear to where Nirari will be, forcing him back once more. I close in and Nirari shoulder checks me. My intuition screams but it feels confused. Of course, it is confused. He probably ate quite a few seers. It matters not. I know I have to act so I roll with the blow and claw at his helmet. The talons rake the side, leaving gashes in the obsidian. The shriek is atrocious.

I bounce and strike at the same time, forcing him to pull back a punch. He is too physically imposing, have to be careful not to get grabbed too easily. He comes at me again.

I dodge behind a flying boulder then hit it. Heartseeker carves through it.

“Promethean.”

And right into a faceful of chains. They surround him on all sides. He drops his glaive.

What?

Nirari’s form shivers, then he appears a few feet away.

Oh, of course I knew he could do that. Still…

Troublesome.

My turn to be defensive. Nirari likes to alternate quick jabs followed by sweeping, powerful swings. He is so damn STRONG. I peel off. I have to use Rose as a sword because the whip gets slapped aside.

Nirari grabs an entire tank and slams it into my face. He dares? Using technology against me?

Grab the gun as it falls. Complete circle. Slam him back. Hear the pureed pilots. Groan of steel and parts screeching. Close in and stab him. STAB HIM. Faster now, as fast as we can. We know each other well. We have grown used to our styles. The space grows more narrow, the attacks more precise. He tries to smash me away..

Block with the grinding part of Rose and block the blade with my elbow.

Grab it.

I kick up and catch his fist as it descends on my face. An opening.

“Promethean.”

The chains touch him, latch on the armor. Red runes shine and disrupt the spells structure but those were designed by Constantine and they are sturdy. They pile on. I close in for the kill. Any time now. Any time.

He joins his hands and teleports away. I turn and draw the dragonslayer revolver as he reappears. The gun roars. The bullet crashes against the left side of his helmet. Obsidian explodes. The fragments destroy a machine gun nest. A ricochet obliterates a small hill on its way out.

Nirari stumbles. I see flesh. I charge.

“Charioteer,” Nirari bellows.

“Shred.”

He catches my spell on an armguard. I am sent flying by a wave of pure force. The earth is peeled around me, revealing sheer rock. Can’t see him but I still feel him. Need to hunt him. Cannot let the pressure go. His blade shears through soil to find the first mirage I have used in ages. His blade disappears into the illusion. I see his eyes widen. He is out of balance. He still leans against my blow. His chest armor shrieks under Rose’s ravenous edge. He uses the power of the blow to turn.

We both slice at the same time. I catch him in the jaw where the helmet has broken. He hits Aurora on the chest. Specks of eternal ice fly off.

We are pushed away from each other.

Now, we stand apart at the same distance we began. I move my shoulder as if stretching. I felt that blow to my bones but I appear to be intact. The gash in the Aurora’s flank is already closing with every pulse of the winter’s gem embedded on my chest.

Time takes its hold back on us. We appear in the midst of a particularly violent confrontation between Cadiz squads and crumbling Mask loyalists. The duels stop once we appear while the fighters step back at a respectful distance, eyes lowered despite their own powers. None try to take advantage of the situation.

Around us, hills fall apart, men are tossed like sticks of wood in a storm. Showers of gravel and minced flesh fall like rain to mark our passage. Screams of horror ring where we have carved rocks, weapons and people in our attempt to murder each other. For a moment, the battlefield holds its breath as every pair of eyes in range from the most humble private to the mightiest lord search to find exactly how close they are to the cataclysm that can devour them before they realize it. An expanding circle of emptiness spreads when they find exactly how close they are to us. Debris are still falling when my opponent finally moves.

Nirari slowly places his fingers against his wounded cheek, then watches the black liquid smudge with unbridled fascination. His face splits into the most beatific, the most unadulterated expression of felicity I never expected to see. I watch with shock as thick tears drip down his eyes. A deep, rumbling laugh shakes his massive frame. It rises to ecstatic, then almost hysterical intensity. The part of me that wants to attack while his guard is down remains powerless in front of the fascinated horror that fills me. What… is happening? Do my eyes deceive me? Have I gone mad, or as he? Nirari is capable of feeling happiness? Satisfaction? What strange sorcery is this?

“Finally! Finally…. hahahaha it has been TWO. THOUSAND. YEARS since some last made me bleed. Do you understand? Do you understand at all? Of course, you cannot. You cannot conceive the dull, lingering pain of a world without a challenge where the only person who opposes me does so by running and hiding. I have been waiting for so long… for so damn long… I had stopped hoping… and finally. Finally, I have it back. By my own blood, no less. After two thousand years… someone can stand up to me. Someone can cross blades and live for more than a moment. Someone is a danger. Someone makes me care. Thank you. Thank you so much, little princess. You gave me back my reason to live. And now.”

Power explodes from his frame. Even the grass at his step dries up, taking on a red tinge. The purple gaze of the Watcher now covers the cloud, the hills. We are at the center of its attention.

“Now DIE!”

Ah.

Yes.

Now that is what I expected.

Nirari bull rushes me. Now, his style is angry, overwhelming. Each swing or thrust is backed by his whole body. I am forced to block rather than deflect once and am sent crashing through several trees. Even the Aurora will not suffice. That is fine. That is completely fine. That is the style I trained to face. The one that closely resembles my own. I use entomb to disappear under a sweeping strike then stab up through the earth. Got him. Chipped the armor. He stomps and pushes me up in the air. I taste blood when he punches me in the chest, even through the armor. Would have caved my entire chest in. We are fighting again before the soil even completes its ascent. Quick strikes, fast strikes. I close in the distance just to break his rhythm. I allow glancing blows on my armor just so I can retaliate. Mirages confuse him a few more times though it is a close thing. Exhilarating. I cannot stop, cannot break away. I have to overwhelm him. Add more dents to his obsidian defenses because they will not regrow. The Aurora heals every attack. Time is on my side.

We dance faster and faster. I kneel and stop an overhead strike. He smirks and presses down but a mortar round lands at his feet. He loses his footing. We have moved before dust reaches our knees. We race around Dvor lords locked in fratricidal combat. He pushes me into Martha’s fire.

“Polar midnight.”

I swing with my feet firmly planted while he sprints on the tip of his toes, flinging him against Constantine’s hell of chains. He bounces and teleports again. Another predicted path. Another bullet of the dragonslayer, this one against his chest. He is pushed back, then surges back with a deafening roar. He is enjoying every moment of this. So am I. We lock blades. I am pushed down and away.

We cast shred at the same time.

The resulting explosion levels a hill. We are blasted away once again and find ourselves standing aside from each other. Nirari breathes, armor damaged. He is still smiling.

“Yes… Yes. This is perfect. I deserve it. I deserve it. I deserve to do it. Just once. It is only fair.”

His aura jumps and then explodes. I am forced to stay where I am or risk being undone. Crosses burn blue hundreds of yards from us, so intense the release is.

“I deserve to be free.”

Our eyes meet. His are purple and slitted.

“Magna Arqa.”