The sound of sweat hitting the floor reverberated beneath me as I gasped for ragged breath. A glint of bronze shined to my left and I just barely managed to notice it in time, haphazardly swinging my own blade towards it in an attempt to parry. However, my lacking technique resulted in the opposite as the blade coming forward swerved to the side of my own, using the momentum from my swing to drive it into the ground. Not a moment was I given to think before the blade ripped back up towards my shoulder.

Move dammit!

Forced to abandon my sword dug into the cold black stone I saw a moment of disappointment in my opponent’s eyes. The swing moved into a kick so strong it sent me tumbling against the ground, scraping my back across it as I arced towards the crystal pillar.

I didn’t need to raise my head to see a figure draped in blur speeding towards me, slowing for a minute fraction between the intervals of his steps. A bronze edge long enough to skewer me came down towards my neck, leaving barely a fraction of time for me to roll. I forced the Ichor into my arms and legs in a brute and imprecise fashion, gaining the quick boost I needed to just scrape by the blade and onto my feet, planting them deep into the stone to secure my lack of balance.

In mere moments the blade was thrusting towards me again, Vale relentless in his measure of evaluation. With my blade lost my mind raced through options as I staggered on my back foot and swivelled to get a better angle.

Claws.

Ah, right. Using half my focus to pull the Excess Ichor from my legs and rushed it towards my arm. His swipe came from my left so I used my right hand’s claws now infused with Ichor that I hoped would fortify them to a strength that could dull the blow. I cringed as pain crashed against my fingers, not used to the feeling of my nails being almost cut through. My teeth clenched together for a few moments of hesitation before I enact my ploy.

In one moment, my left claws retracted back to normal nails in a pulling back motion, causing the blade to sweep past me as I had moved into a side step that seemed to catch Vale off guard.

“Clever.” I heard him mumble under his breath.

But I wasn’t done, not yet. My sidestep had been a transition of inertia that allowed me to thrust forward my right hand, fresh with black obsidian claws that had doubled in length now I fully extended them. Vale should have had neither the time nor…

Oh.

As my claws, reinforced and sharpened by the Ichor, moved towards his neck, Vale's own hand splintered into the same five obsidian needles, aimed directly for my chest. That was right, Vale had claws of his own and of course, he knew how to use them.

What do I do… I… have to dodge right?

His arm was further away from the target than my own, but I’d still be taking claws to the chest If I kept with my course of action.

Dodge! I have to avoid it!

Quickly I tried to move out of the way in an attempt to escape the blow. Instead, my claws not only missed Vale’s neck but my arm caught on his, making it easy for the man to sweep my legs from under me. I hit the ground hard as my spine ground into the floor, air forcing itself off my lungs as another bout was lost.

“That’s enough for you. Zena, would you like to proceed?” He asked, throwing his question over to the equally exhausted Sanguine who had her icy blue eyes glued to our spar the entire time. her once flowing hair was tied back in and her face was red from the overexertion.

I might have enjoyed seeing the might fall, were I not in the same position

“No my Lord, it shames me to say it but my constitution fails me as of now even when I wish to continue.”

“A shame indeed,” Vale replied, sighing as if he hadn’t been beating us silly for the past hour.

From what I gathered this was a sort of gift that any of those who became Mage’s before the Blood Rite would be granted a special session of training that involved some guidance towards Ichor and was more personal. That said, not once had Vale mentioned a helpful tip on anything regarding Ichor’s use. It was more a watch and follow deal.

“Lord Vale, will you not at the very least point me in the right direction? Besides moving it, I have no clue how this translucent Ichor or whatever you call it works.”

“No, I won’t. If you desire to learn about the mystics, it is up to your clan or sire to teach you. I told you this is simply an extra, more hands-on version of your normal combat lessons. A few pointers before the Blood Rite is all I can offer.”

I forced my tattered body up and like the Sanguine, slumped against one of the crystal pillars unique to this training hall. My exposed skin felt a tingling warmth against it, the air lighter and cleaner with a more refreshing scent around them. Vale had started the lesson prompting us to fight him one at a time but to be honest I’d learned very little about Ichor control or use in battle from him.

No matter how much Vale restrained himself, there was an innate difference that made it nigh impossible for me to realise or replicate what he did. So I just sat there against the pillar same as Zena and watched as the Vale ripped my bronze sword from the ground and filled the room with a grating of metal against stone, before proceeding to put all three swords back on their respective racks.

“Right, before I let you go I promised to give you some advice didn’t I?”

He did?

Both me and Zena looked up with a mixture of confusion and intrigue at the idea of getting actual advice from Vale.

“Firstly, Zena. Your performance is as I would expect of the Zelkren clan. In terms of skill, you’re not only well trained but talented and your resonance with the blood show’s from the way your style has developed this past week or so.”

“Your words honour me, Lord Vale.”

“That said, your overall ability is still lacking a lot. For one, without prompt, your focus is split between being agile and being defensive, in other words, you tend to lean towards waiting for your opponent to make a mistake.”

I saw Zena grimace slightly at his observation, maybe expecting more praise and less cold hard analysis.

“But sir, I-”

“I understand why. The Zelkren clan are quite ritualistic and traditional, their military strength affords them the ability to have a more duel-like and scared approach to combat. That said, against multiple opponents, you would be quickly outmatched. War times would highlight even more the lack of flexibility you possess between offensive and defensive. After all, a siege wall won’t ever leave an opening and an army would quickly surround you should you wait so long.”

“Your temperament is good though, and you can incorporate magic or sorcery into your combat style to conduct yourself more offensive. I trust you’ll improve. You may leave now.”

Disgruntled and exhausted, Zena stormed off, behaving as if she’d never been treated with such disrespect in her life. Originally I had taken her for the always calm, apathetic type but I guess she valued her perceived ability enough to get upset over it, acting a bit childish if you ask me.

“Now on to you,” Vale said, turning his eyes to me with a slightly raised brow. “For someone who just became aware of their Ichor, you sure know what you’re doing. Figuring out how to increase your capacity that quickly is quite the feat.”

He can tell!? Shit, I hid Qixi’s book well enough I think.

I hadn’t realised immediately the exact weight of what Qixi had done by lending me his book, but seeing how stringent Vale was towards anything involving Ichor, it was plainly not normal for Qixi to have been so relaxed about it. Still, as of now, I had no easy way of hiding my progression through the use of Ichor, so I could only give a shy nod hoping Vale wouldn’t pry.

“Nevertheless, your way of combat is nearly as clumsy and poor as it was the first day you came in here. In all my days I must say I’ve never seen a Fangless be so completely out of tune with their blood.”

The blood was something constantly mentioned but that evaded my understanding even while I possessed it. Qixi had described it as a gift, Lady Cathre as a parasite and Emma reduced her understanding to an ally. Whatever the case, it was just a word to me. Unlike the other’s I lacked the ability to call upon it during combat and learn from those who had possessed it previous. If anything, all it did was remind and warn me during time’s of focus, something that had only really been helpful once and put a hole through my waist the second time.

“Your spatial awareness is superb as well as your ability to think on the spot and utilise things at your disposal. The claw trick was clever, not many Fangless think about how to utilise their claws much less retract or extend them.” Vale praised as I prepared myself for him to utterly chastise everything else about my ability.

“That said you fight like a coward and waste any meagre gift you might have because you’re afraid. What’s worse is the clear fact that you can tolerate the pain and maintain a sturdy concentration, meaning you only fear the pain itself. Your temper in combat is far too zeroed in on the first chance you get, making your gift for perception worthless. The technique is shoddy and your overall finesse is non-existent. Quite frankly there isn’t much to redeem your poor mess of abilities. You might have a trump card in those sleigh plays of yours but if you don’t trust yourself and hesitate between the risk and the safe options, your opponent will almost always take the advantage.”

“Is there anything else?” I asked, unsurprised by his summary. Nothing he said was exactly new to me.

“Your Ichor use is decent for a complete beginner, but for someone like you, it serves as a crutch that bridges a gap of inability and might further exacerbate bad habit. Bar that, I haven’t much else to add."

“Thanks, if that’s all I’ll be going.”

I stood from the pillar and made my way to the two giant doors, noticing that there was a look of hesitation on Vale’s face. Did he want to say something? In any other case, I probably would’ve offered him the courtesy of waiting but right now I didn’t have that luxury.

I was on borrowed time, and I needed to make the best use I could of it.

*******

When my last lesson on Vampire policies, I made my way through the hallways with Sven as my Savrin to guide me. He didn’t speak much which was unusual for him as we traversed through the mind-numbing black stone, the sound of footsteps echoing through the long passages. I could feel the unnatural level of tension even just in Sven’s stride but I tried not to let it bother me.

After all, I knew exactly why.

Instead, I kept my attention on the translucent energy streaming around me, letting it expand out from my body becoming far less compact but outstretching enough to catch onto the world around me, like a fishing net. Qixi’s notes dubbed this “Radiate” and detailed quite relentlessly that it was crucial in order to gain Arcane’s.

Arcane’s were personal, like an interpretation unique to you. Every time I performed Radiate and expressed my Ichor past its normal reach, it was like that very same translucent energy, empty by design, was filled with the essence of reality. Every movement, every person, everything that went on around me held an Arcane of some kind and those Arcanes began to express themselves in form through my Ichor as they were painted across it.

Both enthralling to watch and cathartic to experience.

The next step was taking that net of reality you’re expanded Ichor had caught “Integrating” it into yourself. The more compact your Ichor the thicker and more focused it became, allowing overtime Arcanes to fully form.

And once an Arcane forms on my Ichor, it’s ingrained in my memory. I already have the one’s correspondent to the six basic elements and some about movement. Some more are close to being fully completed but I can feel a lot of them have barely been fulfilled, it’s like I’ve barely touched the surface. If I can- Ow!

To focus on Radiating my Ichor I walked right into Sven who had stopped suddenly in the middle of the hallway. He stood like a column nailed into the ground facing forward and concealing his expression from me. With a heartbeat that was mellow, that would shake from time to time I found it hard to understand what Sven was doing.

“I’m sorry.”

The words were draped in sorrow yet they held a dry tone of both regret and also eventuality.