Hikma absorbed Rem’s telepathic briefing. Strangely, his back felt heavier. Hikma debated between the possibility of him getting hit with a stealth curse. Nah, unless you labeled the unforgiving weight of dread as a curse, Hikma doubted anyone short of S-ranker could hex him.

Hearing Rem’s theory getting confirmed was bad. Discovering the true depth of what ticked beneath his feet was horrifically worst. What was it with Supervillain’s obsession with creating army? The Amalgam Orwell Mehest unleashed already gave him headaches, and with his escaped, it guaranteed he must climb that hill to stop Orwell again. Hikma could feel a shadow of lower back pain he would likely develop in the future.

Now they got an army of bio drone in the drawing board. Wonderful. Why can’t the good guys get an army too? Hikma agreed with Melody’s minions proposal. The library won’t sort themselves.

A sudden movement alerted Hikma to a newer threat, or rather a recovering old one.

Edward Balorian was a mess. He was lucky enough to be far enough to witness Melody’s battle without getting mauled by the stray fires. But the vampire was now up and ready to rumble.

“That was a magnificent display of power,” Edward laughed madly. “That woman would make an unbelievable mare. Probably even better than that Neferia’s Holy-c--”

A wave of red metal speared the vampire at speed and ferocity to blow a hole in his stomach and impale him to the wall.

Everyone felt it. No one could breathe. It was a killing intent, so thick even Hikma’s throat parched. Magnolia fell on her behind. A pool of liquid leaked from Sorin Enma’s pant, while Artos’ eyes turned bloodshot from the overwhelming malicious Mana pressing down on them. The wolf hoard duo — Joshua and Yurica — gulped and stumbled out of range. Emily and Amitate trembled like a chick. However, the crowning sufferer was the Holy priestess. Arisa Holyworth’s eyes rolled over—her consciousness utterly keeled from the saturate will fueling the thick miasma of [Bloodmist].

Rage. Anger at a level impossible to replicate. Thick black grudge that couldn’t be erased. Stories often spoke of eating enemy flesh or dicing them to piece to satiate one vengefulness. But this was beyond that. The malice inside her Mana was scientifically impossible to gauge or satiate. Not even near-death experience could push this kind of power forward. No. Such magical force was stimulated by raw hatred surpassing animal instinct of survival. The desire for blood without caring of consequence or mutually assured destruction.

Those descriptions were necessary to grasp the sudden explosion inside Commander Serina of the Wolf Hoard. Her face was veiled but the crimson scars crisscrossing her face glow with excess Mana. The room quaked at the step she took. The crimson glowed from her irises dwarfed the darkness of her sclera.

“Repeat that again. And I promise your dynasty will disappear by next month.”

Despite her soft, calm voice, the unstoppable killing intent radiated from Serina like a microwave. Edward’s confidence faltered. Hikma won’t blame him. Even he didn’t want to duel this girl. Something told him she could one day become as strong as Luxinna and Melody, if not stronger.

In fact, her state of absolute focus as she drowned inside hatred reminded him of… Rem.

Beside him, Magnolia and Artos shared the feeling. Their assessment were even clearer because they felt a similar oppression of will once. The memory they tucked inside the deepest part of their mind peaked from its cupboard; a masked man sneering at the noblest race in Phantasia, cowering even Lucian Drakokia with the raw intensity of his ideal — his faith to a higher cause.

Magnolia’s body went stiffed. The light of faith and the darkness of rage — those were the most intense force she ever experienced.

Edward got up with an expression of fear. He summoned his sword and created a gigantic feather he launched at Serina.

In a move that surprise every eye presented, Serina vanished and reappeared in front of the giant feather. The vampire received the attack with her bare hands.

“Explode!” Edward yelled.

The crimson feather burst in pulses of light, engulfing Serina. But the young woman held her ground as the explosion twisted around her and bent away in a warped twist of air. The vented forces from Edward’s explosion dug a trench across the metal floor and blew apart a section of the ice wall created by Magnolia and Emily Aztellic.

Smoke floated from the ground as Serina stood, flexing her hand, bloodied from the explosion. Her clothing was torn and frayed from the force technique, but she remained unharmed.

“I see. So, Mana can be used like this.”

Hikma recognized that ability. [Aura]. Serina just used [Aura] to divert Edward Balorian’s attack. Sure, it was a shoddy attempted of a newbie, but the fact she deciphered the secret of [Aura] after watching Melody battling Luxinna was terrifying.

“What are you!?” Edward huffed, throwing both his arms out and blasting Serina with every ounce of [Bloodmist] he got. The column of red, corrosive malic plowed into Serina, ripping her sleeves to pieces and shredding her leather clothing, but the vampire gritted her teeth and took a step forward. The thought of dodging didn’t slip into her mind. It was then that Hikma realized what she tried to do.

Commander Serina of the Wolf Hoard was attempting to master [Aura] and Horizon Dawn's understanding of Mana by raw external pressure.

The torrent of [Bloodmist] tore into Serina’s flesh, ripping gash after gash throughout her forearm as she used them to shield her face against the destructive energy. It was only because of her regeneration that Serina wasn’t ground to the bone.

Maybe like a river or water channel, Serina though pushing her leg forward. She allowed those energies to flow outward while protecting her core with Mana, no, energy. Mana was just a channel to transport energy. I need to concentrate. Instead of consuming it, I must reach into my Mana and draw energy from it. I see. No wonder she is so powerful. She literally has limitless power to work with.

Each step for her felt like an eternity. Each parting from the ground was akin to crawling across a burning, shifting desert. But for each foot landed, her posture firmed. With every distant surmounted, her breathing steady. The watcher stared in awe as the young vampire dropped her battered forearm and parted the intense crimson tide with her determination, body and overwhelming bloodlust.

[Nimbus]

Finally, Serina reached for Edward, wrenching his hand to stop the torrent of [Bloodmist]. She drew her Mana and funnel it energy into a massive crimson light of destruction illuminating her hand.

She threw her hand forward at Edward’s panic face.

The wall gave way and crumbled from the explosion that shook the room. The massive blasted of crimson energy turned the steel beneath it to pieces.

Edward nervously eyed the portion of the destroyed wall. It was a fate nearly befallen him. Around the room, everybody guffawed at the display of precision, speed, and timing displayed before them. Serina glared at the cane that nudged her attack from its mark and traced her eyes at the helmeted knight who intervened with her execution.

The Commander wasted no time. She spun and throw a fist at Hikma, but the Chronicler simply leaned sideway allowing the punch to miss and the vampire to fell flat to his waiting arm. Serina shockingly registered the impossible. How? She shouldn’t get tripped so easily. What type of spell or hexes tangled her foot? Why were the ground and ceiling spinning?

“You burn-out,” Hikma lifted her back to her feet. “Our utilization of Mana allows nearly limitless power but there is a limit on how much you can conduct. Tanking brief attack is fine, but prolong bath in excess energy? I believe you can answer that question yourself. You should be careful at gauging how much you can loan out safely and maintain a healthy rest period to prevent yourself from shutting down in the middle of combat.”

“I appreciate your advice,” Serina gritted her teeth and glared at Hikma. “But why do you save him?”

Hikma sighed long and hard.

“Well, my reason is so old that it probably found a stone slab somewhere. As an archeologist, my duty is preserving and protecting that stone slab with a simple message: if you kill him, you will be just like him.”

Nobody believed what came out of Hikma’s mouth.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS!?” It was Joshua who released his pent-up outrage and disbelief. “Do you know what he is? How many he have killed?”

Emily went catatonic from raw shock, while Amitate blinked like he could believe what was happening. Magnolia’s head went into the orbit at the disobedience against commonsense. Meanwhile, Sun Senwei observed with grim confusion and curiosity.

“Kill him!” A person from the crowd yelled.

“Are you a fucking traitor? That thing don’t deserve to live.”

“Death to the abomination!”

“What the fuck are you low-life doing?” Sorin Enma screeched in anger. “Kill that monster, right now!”

Artos picked himself from the rubbles.

“If you have trouble with it, I can…”

But Hikma spoke in the voice worthy of the Dawn. It was a speech inspired by his best friend and comrade who prescribed the values they held.

“Demand the death of your enemy. Create endless cycles of vengeance, while piling bodies after bodies in a never-ending war for a stupid reason. Murdering the ‘monster’ without the benefit of evidence, trail and jury. Bask in the kangaroo execution with words like justice and duty to mask your own fear and hate. Hypocritally moan of loss but never see the loss from the other side. Knowing all those points, tell me what separates you from the ‘monster’.”

Hikma De Darwin’s words echoed around the room with the clarity of his Mana and [Tenshou]. At that moment, every soul was forced to listen to the query of Satholia’s knights. They registered the question and their mouth tried to answer the simple question. What separated them from the murderous bloodsucking vampire?

Artos attempted to answer, but Hikma cut his answer to piece before it emerged.

“If words you are using include noble, shelve it. The way you kill each other before coming here proved the only thing noble about you are empty titles. And yes, I heard about the rapist part. But you people also discriminate against, even steal from, the less fortunate and sometimes your own family.”

Magnolia felt that hit sharper than a sword to the heart.

“I know you would force yourself on the innocent if it elevates your family status or allows you to rule gods. After all, you all came here willing to take a life for your benefit, much less dignity.”

“But he is a vampire,” it was Serina, the vampire, who put the staunchest resistant. “They are all scum.”

“I don’t judge a person for circumstance of their birth,” Hikma’s word was short but struck a solid blow into Serina’s spirit.

However, the recipient of Hikma’s mercy, Edward Balorian, laughed maliciously. He picked himself from the floor and glared at the knight of benevolence with contempt. His [Bloodmist] swirled in anger and disgust.

“You are a fool! Giving me sympathy? Which fool teaches you such a stupidity! Mercy to other is cruelty to yourself! We are in the world of war! In the land of warriors, your word is an insult!”

Edward lunged with a sword coated in [Bloodmist], but Hikma intercepted the blow. The vampire faced the knight with a series of exchange. The Chronicler weaved between each collision of sword and cane, comfortably nestling into his defensive maneuver as Edward released a triad of provocation.

“Attack back you coward! A piece of shit like you with a tissue for brain weren’t even worthy enough to be a merchandise! We of the Balorian know no fear of death, nor loss. Even the gods will bow to us.”

Hikma locked blade and looked into Edward. Serina attempted to come and helped him, but Hikma waved her away as he disengaged the swordplay and easily blocked Edward’s swirling [Bloodmist].

“What with the pain in your voice?”

“Pain!? We vampire know no pain!”

“No,” Hikma looked at him in the eye. “You know the pain of loss, Edward. That swordplay of yours is the proof of effort you invested. An effort that sadly ended in unfortunate failure. Truth is, you want him to see it, but your father never comes back.”

Edward paused and lost it. He came for Hikma like a storm.

“My father! Why should I care about the life of a stallion? He is weak for getting execute by the inquisitor. He deserves what happens to him.”

Never losing his calm and footwork, Hikma effortlessly overcame the rage fueled barrages. The attack was strong, but the anger made Edward predictable. The crowd watched, fully expecting the classic case of the viper and the farmer.

“If you think he is weak, why are you still using the sword he gave you. Wind Owl was originally his and you still practice with it every single day.”

Edward stopped in his track from that undeniable fact in his hand.

“Truth is, you want to be loved,” Hikma poured the cold water of [Psychometry] on top of the vampire in denial. “But because of your circumstance, your father can’t fulfill that wish. Still, you tried. You thought that if you give it your all maybe things will change. And it was working. The fact he gave you his sword is the proof.”

“Shut up.”

“But you never get that resolution. The inquisitor destroyed it.”

Edward screamed in anguish.

“EXPLODE!”

The explosion marked by Edward’s [Bloodmist] detonated in a crimson burst, but Hikma’s [Aura] easily tanked the blast. It was transparent to everyone's eyes that the ‘monster’ was getting psychologically cornered. But Hikma wasn’t done ripping Edward’s humanity out for all to see.

“You never find comfort or kindness. Your mother never care your father got butchered by his former comrade. Your entire culture degrades the very concept of empathy. Why wouldn’t they? Why develop any tendency for kindness and bonds when an entire world is your enemy? Why care when it only brings you pain? So, you lied by yelling that you never have empathy to begin with, accepting yourself as a monster and because a monster never needs to feel sad for other ‘livestock’ or miss his late father. You follow your mother’s footstep and commit to your lies, hoping that it can miraculously substitute reality.”

Edward tried to deny those words by feebly firing and explosive feathers Hikma casually dissolved with [Entropy].

“Hatred and love cannot exist without another,” Hikma spoke. “The fact you responded to the provocation about your father or gunned especially hard at dragging the church to the mud is the proof of your inherent humanity.”

“Do you know how many of your kind I have killed!” Edward was desperate. Everyone could see it.

“I know you already lost count, but killing you won’t bring them back.”

Hikma’s voice was introspective. The crowd was watching in disbelief.

“I believe in redeeming people over ending them. The rest of the world might refuse to believe you can change, but I do. My order is found on hope, not hypocrisy. I will not indulge your self-loathing and call you an irredeemable monster, because I don’t believe you are one. If you want to talk, just know I will listen”

Edward attacked again, trying to muster any killing intent against the first man to show him kindness. But his heart was no longer in the fight. Hikma simply leaned to the side and let that clumsy lunge passed before dissolving a half-hearted exploding feather. Edward threw another wave of [Bloodmist] that got blocked.

“Explode.”

Nothing happened. Hikma already used [Entropy] dissolved all explosive markers Edward left behind.

With his denial ripped apart, and his strength failed. Edward waited for an attack. Anything that could give him an excuse to hate this ideal hero. The vampire received nothing, and finally, he got it.

Chronicler is so powerful Edward held no chance of victory. But that won’t bother him. Vampire as a race was the pariah of the gods and the entire world. Their kind would fight against the impossible enemy, struggling to the death with the desire to take out as many hated enemies as possible. Edward would fight on even if Zeus stood before him, knowing he wouldn’t win.

But for once in the history of Phantasia, an opponent arrived who held no hatred nor a willingness to kill. That cane never once swung to take a life. Hikma simply refused to give any outlet for Edward to direct his rage. The knight of Satholia stood as the shinning pinnacle of the vampire’s society Achilles heel. The hidden crack that would ultimately end the vampiric horror.

For the first time in history, a noble vampire spirit was broken. Edward Balorian simply fell to his knee too psychologically shambled to raise a resistance.

Sometimes hope was the most bitter attack.