Grisile’s glaive slammed into the ground with enough force to make my ears ring. I took the chance, infusing my body with Ichor that I hoped was just good enough to give me the boost in speed and strength I needed to end him.

My short sword swung towards him in a crude fashion, powered by raw power rather than technique. The Sanguine didn’t even look up, leaning back just enough to avoid the predictable arc while kicking his foot hard enough into the spear's shaft to wrench it from the ground.

He’s focused on being evasive, I’m not gonna catch him off guard.

Another brunt slash was aimed my way and again I was forced to avoid, pushed back further to the arena’s edge. Unlike my expectations, Grisile had become far more aggressive after last round, forcing me to give up any offense. Closer and closer I fled back into the corner with no means to halt Grisile. I would’ve already been dead from the countless attacks he threw out if not for my odd increased dexterity. Movements to regain my balance and avoid attacks had quickly become more fluid, something I didn’t quite get.

It’s probably whatever this arena field does, it made Grisile more aggressive and me more slippery.

My bodies relatively small size made it even easier to adapt, but no easier to push forward. If the rules of this bout followed the same twisted logic all vampiric things did then getting pushed out of the arena would spell my death for sure. Something had to be done, I just didn’t know what. So instead of evading, I started putting my trust in my body's instinct and focused on Grisile himself.

Observing the raging opponent in front of me was harder said than done. Every movement, shock and sound broke my concentration somewhat, but slowly I started to pick things up. Like the anger in his black eyes, streaked with orange. Or the fact that his gaze would often drift towards my hands, outstretched with the still in hand short sword. He was wary of my claws and focused on making sure a jolt of speed and power wouldn’t take him by surprise.

My ichor scared him. The unknown factor of this battle he didn’t understand that could switch the tide of raw power in my favour. I could tell Grisile was set on never making this a contest between speed and strength, set on exploiting my lacking experience and technique.

So that's your pla-

Finally, my feet almost slipped off the edge of the ring, pushed as far back as I could go. Grisile eyes narrowed and he switched to a diagonal arc, making it that much harder to escape while he could see me. I was stuck.

Oh.

All that thinking and I’d failed to remember I didn’t have a solution, somehow I’d thought it would come to me by the time I was trapped. But my mind summoned nothing.

Belatedly I tried to use my short sword to block the blow but my hand was already numb and such actions only resulted in a painful shriek of metal against metal as my sword was ripped away by force, cracking a few fingers in its wake. The glaive itself drew a cut across my chest just shallow enough to miss my heart but not enough to miss everything else.

Cripping crunches reverberated from inside my chest as ribs were crushed and skin was sheared. I screamed in pain, unable to even retaliate as my vision muddled. My senses started to grow numb under the pain that overtook everything. Fresh warmish blood ran down the sides of my chest and stomach, staining my clothes and spawning a small pool beneath me. Nothing but agony came though, my death eluding me somehow. I knew I was barely lying within the arena, probably hanging over its edge.

Death would come to end the pain… yet it didn’t. Instead, I felt in my dreary state a hand grapple my land, dragging me across the ground further into the arena. Closed eyes opened to find the Sanguine with a still enraged expression bringing me to the arena centre. Trying to struggle my leg free only bent the face further towards slipping sanity, jutting my leg forward with so much strength I thought my foot might be dismembered from it.

He stopped steps away from the middle, mumbling to himself as he paced over to stare me dead in the eyes. I wasn’t sure what he saw… but I knew it made him even angrier. A sudden wailing sense of pain on the back of my head and the urge to vomit let me know he had slammed my head into the ground. I assumed I screamed but my ear canals had been too damaged to hear much besides Grisile rambling.

“Fucking Mutt!” he mouthed above me, lifting my head by his palm which locked around it only to smash it back into the ground. “You lay your fingers on me!”

He was so mad… hehe, take a chill pill man. The warm stone beneath me felt funny, like a molten heater for my cold skin, so I giggled into his palm.

“You’re… laughing?!”

Again my vision went from the stands to staring at the sky. The stars were pretty… I wondered if I reached my hands out could I touch them? Most definitely not.

“How dare you make me look stupid!”

Another slam.

“How dare you force me to falter in front of my lady!”

This time there was a crunch, like eating a raw potato.

“You are dirt, no, worse than dirt yet you persist to muddy my image even now.”

He stopped just shy of cracking my head open like an egg. So close to my face I still struggled to hear Grisile because of how far gone my ears were. My neck as well was partly caved in, making most of my body numb. The air around me had begun to sting and all my senses were slowly growing numb, even pain.

All I could feel was everything that made me who I was slowly slipping out of my fingers, like flowers being stolen away by a gusting wind. Hair covered my eyes, making it impossible to see anything, clumped with blood, gravel and sand. Was I going to end? Did the quickening flow that was getting ever louder in the background of my mindscape represent my time running out faster and faster.

I didn’t know, I couldn’t know.

“I’ll make a show of you, give you a death fitting of something that stains the very foundations of my heritage.” Was the last thing I heard Grisile mumble before I was swallowed by the final note of unconsciousness.

Supremely disgusted at how helpless I was, even after all that had transpired in the week prior. I could offer no one anything in this world other than heartbreak and woe. That was my fate. These bloodied hands couldn't do a damn thing.

Clearly, there was no scum lower than I.

**********

“That was disappointing.” Lady Zelkren huffed, staring at the two Fangless that had ceased their fighting.The Blood haze wouldn’t leave until only one remained but seeing Grisile going back to his spear after bludgeoning the Fangless, that was only a matter of time.

“But we’ve won my Lady, aren’t you proud of Grisile? Both Zena and he took their victories and gave our guests a good idea of our ability to raise Sanguine.” Neil, her grey strung servant commented, looking down on the Hexagon below.

The echoing calls for blood billowed around them so loudly that if not for the Patios unique sound-cancelling enchantments he wouldn’t have been able to even hear himself speak. Instead, all he heard was a gentle rumbling of sound. He was sure his lady would’ve been more than happy now she had won, even if her only intention was to help out Keldri Vannagrash. With her backing and show of approval he’d been able to fully fund transforming one of the Vanna crypts and only now was she reaping the charitable rewards of that investment.

“By your definition perhaps, but Sarah’s son certainly hasn’t won anything in my books. He just battered a scared and pitiful thing. Losing all his composure because he got caught off guard by Ichor and couldn’t calm his blood makes me wonder if he was worth raising under my roof.”

There was a cruel and impartial light of observation that emanated from her crimson eyes looking down on the scene below. She cared not for the stray’s plight, nor that the fight wasn’t fair to begin with, all were par the course. What bothered her was how the Sanguine reacted.

“Surely you are being a tad too selective my lady.”

“Not at all, I trust any of my peers would see it the same.”

“Well, I think he did a fine job,” Neil mumbled, finding it as hard as always to deal with his master's more abrasive side. She made it crystal clear what she liked and what she despised, blunt or bold as her opinion may have been.

Lady Zelkren didn’t reply back immediately, lying back in her chair to let the words settle in her headspace. The thick scent of iron wafted past her nose as she mulled over Neil’s words.

“Truthfully, I found the Stray more eye-catching.”

“Surely you jest my lady.”

“Unlike our dearest Grisile he was pliable and blessed with a reasonable temperament. With more experience, he could’ve been made into something useful. You should also never underestimate someone who can attune to their own Ichor in barely a week.”

“Didn’t Zena accomplish that very feat?”

“Exactly.” Lady Zelkren replied, her expression switching to one of pride.

“Should I inform Keldri that you’re pleased with how Zena turned out but maintain an on the fence opinion towards Grisile?” Niel queried, grimacing at the thought of having to travel all the way to the other patio through the facility. He’d grown so used to a communication earring that not wearing one felt unnatural. Sadly if it was the request of the hosting party, he had to comply.

“Leave him to his own devices. I want to see how he reacts to Grisile enacting the ninth law before I offer my insights.”

“He wouldn’t real-” Neil choked on his own words, seeing the Sanguine clear as day, dragging the stray to the centre of the arena with spear in hand. To any vampire present, Grisile intentions were completely transparent.

“Thinking about retracting your earlier statement now?” Lady Zelkren giggled, finding her attendants' incredulous expression humorous.

**********

“Shh, it’s alright, you’re fine Delph.” Kell, the ambered haired hot head said in his softest voice.

He sat in a lobby area reserved for those who had taken victory in their Blood Rite and earned the next stage of their lives. By blood, of course. It was no bigger than twenty square metres, housing only him, his sister and Ella. All the other victors had either left to go see their respective sires or been told to wait in their private rooms if those same sires were occupied with the festivities.

They all sat on velvet lounges with Kell holding his trembling sister while Ella checked her bruises and cuts over and over in abject paranoia. Out of any of them, it was clear to see under the azure light that Delphine was the most injured. She looked to have had many brushes with death, cuts littering her shoulders, forearms and neck along with multiple bruises. Yet that wasn’t why she shivered like the third ice age had come.

“I can still hear her begging… Why won’t the voice stop playing in my head? Kell, please tell me it will go silent.” She said in an almost imperceptible tone between hiccups and tears.

“Of course it will,” Kell replied, caressing her tears away while patting her on the back to hopefully mitigate the turmoil that sent his sister’s mind asunder. “You did what you had to Delphine. Blame me for it, I made you promise you’d live.”

“But, but-”

“Can you please stop acting like the world is ending!” Ella shouted, having been pushed past her level of tolerance much earlier than usual.

Kell didn’t stand up or say anything but if his stare could kill Kell would’ve broken the fifth law of Fall multiple times over. Ella didn't care, lying back on her lounge and snorting towards the polished white room above. The room smelled of such a clean and fresh aura that it stung her nose, causing the Fangless to scrunch her expression in further displeasure.

“You’ve killed people before anyway, take solace in the fact that you’re actually quite talented at something useful.”

“That was just feeding! This is completely different…”

“How exactly?” Ella questioned, her head wrenching to meet Delphine eye to eye. “You killed to live then, just like you did now. Stop wallowing in self-pity that you actually had to get your hands dirty.”

“Ella, that's enough,” Kell said, feeling Delphine delve deeper into his embrace now that Ella had brought up points she couldn’t exactly deny.