Just as Conrad swung the back of his palm toward Elijah’s face, his speed eclipsed even the blitz that Elijah had used to close the distance. It was terrifying—so fast that even with my EchoFlux firing on all parameters, I doubted I could react in time. I could see it coming in slow motion, but that didn’t mean I could dodge. My only option, if I were in Elijah’s place, would be to use my Arkamon Flux Shield to absorb the blow.

  But Elijah wasn’t a Flux user. He was a vampire—a powerful one, but still an adversary facing something older, stronger, and honed by centuries of existence. Conrad was a PureBlood. There was no way Elijah could avoid the strike completely. At least, that’s what I thought.

  And yet, the moment I expected Elijah to be sent flying across the room, something entirely different happened.

  Elijah raised his own arm, meeting Conrad’s strike head-on. The collision sent out a shockwave that rippled through the air, rattling glass and causing a low-frequency hum that I felt in my bones before I heard it. Elijah absorbed the impact—actually absorbed it—his muscles coiling like tempered steel. Then, in the same breath, he retaliated.

  His palm shot forward, slamming into Conrad’s chest.

  A deafening crack split the air.

  Elijah’s blow connected with devastating force, sending Conrad hurtling backward. My EchoFlux flared, registering every microsecond of the impact. The air pressure shifted violently as Conrad’s body became a projectile, his form blurring as he rocketed across the lavish penthouse.

  Thirty feet. That was how far he traveled before his trajectory ended with violent finality.

  The luxurious leather sectional in his path was obliterated as his body crashed through it like it was made of paper. A priceless obsidian coffee table shattered into a storm of razor-sharp fragments, each one caught in the slow-motion clarity of my enhanced senses. But none of that stopped him.

  The wall did.

  Or, at least, it tried.

  The walnut-paneled structural wall buckled as he struck, the reinforced concrete beneath cratering inward. A thunderous explosion of splintered wood and fractured stone filled the room. The entire structure groaned under the force, sending spiderweb fractures crawling outward from the point of impact.

  I saw everything through my EchoFlux—every muscle torn, every bone breaking under the sheer force of Elijah’s strike. Conrad’s ribcage collapsed upon itself. His spine compressed, vertebrae snapping against one another like dominos. Blood vessels ruptured, sending streams of dark crimson spilling beneath him.

  If he had been human, he’d be dead a hundred times over.

  Hell, even I—someone who had barely survived Vincent’s assault—would have been down for days from a hit like that.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  My instincts screamed at me, my mind running through the possibilities. Elijah was strong—stronger than I had assumed—but this level of damage? I wasn’t convinced Conrad could recover from something like this so easily.

  And yet...

  A wrongness permeated the air, something off in the atmosphere.

  Despite the shattered remains of his body, despite the brutal injuries that should have incapacitated him, Conrad's aura had not wavered.

  That was the first sign that something was terribly wrong.

  I watched in stunned silence as he slumped against the wreckage, his body grotesquely contorted. His torso had partially caved inward, bones jutting out through the fabric of his suit at unnatural angles. His left arm was twisted so badly that the elbow faced the opposite direction, the limb completely useless. Blood pooled beneath him, soaking into the Brazilian hardwood floor.

  A normal vampire would be unconscious. Perhaps even dead.

  But Conrad was neither.

  Because I could still sense his presence, unwavering, unchanged.

  The room had gone silent, but my EchoFlux told me more than my eyes ever could. Conrad's life force hadn't flickered in the slightest. It was still there, just as menacing, just as suffocating.

  He was conscious.

  He was aware.

  And then I saw it.

  Though his face was partially obscured by the awkward angle of his collapsed body, the subtle shift of his muscles betrayed the truth.

  He was smiling.

  A cold chill crawled down my spine.

  This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t even something that could be explained through PureBlood resilience. The injuries Elijah had inflicted should have left him immobilized. They should have required weeks of healing.

  But Conrad was still fully aware—and he wasn’t even struggling.

  I forced myself to swallow, steadying my breath. My instincts screamed at me to stay on guard, that this fight wasn’t even close to being over. Beside me, I noticed Sia stiffen, her EchoFlux undoubtedly picking up on the same horrifying realization.

  The silence was finally broken.

  "What the hell just happened?" Sia asked, her voice sharp, disbelief laced in every word.

  I couldn’t blame her. I was just as shocked.

  We had underestimated Elijah. His power, his resilience—it was leagues beyond what I had anticipated. Days ago, Conrad had treated him like a mere nuisance, swatting him aside effortlessly. Yet now, Elijah had just landed a hit that should have incapacitated a PureBlood, if only temporarily.

  But what scared me the most?

  Conrad had underestimated him even more.

  I turned my attention back to Elijah, scanning him with my EchoFlux. He had taken damage, of course—his wrist was dislocated, the joint grotesquely misaligned. But as I watched, his body realigned itself, the bones snapping back into place with an audible crack. The injury was already healing.

  That was nothing to him.

  And yet, despite everything—despite the power he had just displayed—I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were still at a disadvantage.

  Then, breaking the eerie silence, a voice cut through the tension.

  A voice that sent a ripple of unease through me.

  "Not bad," Conrad murmured.

  "Not bad! It seems you have learned… or rather, you have concealed yourself well." A low chuckle escaped Conrad’s lips, undisturbed by the wreckage around him. "It seems I will have to evaluate you, young man."

  It didn’t make sense.

  Conrad was stronger. Older. His power was overwhelming, undeniable. So how had Elijah managed to do that?

  "How does the saying go? When you are strong, pretend to be weak… or is it when you are weak, pretend to be strong?"

  His voice was wrong.

  It wasn’t weak. It wasn’t pained.

  It was amused.

  As if this had all been a joke.

  A flicker of movement caught my eye.

  The jagged edges of Conrad’s broken form twitched.

  Then, impossibly, his contorted body began to shift.

  A shudder crawled down my spine as realization set in.

  We hadn’t beaten him.

  We had merely gotten his attention.