Kyon's First Person Point of View

  "It would appear that I need to put you in your place again, as you forget who your masters are," Conrad declares, his voice carrying the weight of centuries, steeped in an authority he believes to be absolute. His presence swells, pressing down on us like an iron vice, and despite the space between us, I feel the cold grip of his power curling at the edges of my mind.

  His expression twists into something even more sinister, his fangs barely peeking past his lips as he levels his gaze at Elijah. "Rest assured! For this insolence of even trying to betray a PureBlood, I will make you suffer before I kill you."

  The declaration is not a threat. It is a promise, uttered with the certainty of someone who has crushed rebellion time and time again.

  But it does nothing to shake Elijah. If anything, the corner of his mouth quirks up slightly, the icy mist escaping his lips swirling around him like a living thing. He does not move, nor does he need to. His presence alone is a direct rebuttal to Conrad’s arrogance, a silent challenge that screams louder than any words ever could.

  And then Conrad turns his gaze toward me.

  His red eyes are sharper than blades, the depth of his power pressing against me in an unseen force. The weight is almost unbearable, and yet I force myself to meet his gaze.

  "As for you, Daywalker," he says, his voice thick with disdain, "your stubborn resistance seemed amusing. Truly, I was hoping you would make a wise choice."

  I exhale slowly, steadying my breathing, letting my Arkamon Flux simmer just beneath my skin. My hands clench at my sides as I watch him, my mind racing. The air is thick with energy, charged like a brewing storm. I do not need to look around to know that my allies feel it too.

  And then I respond.

  "I did make a wise choice," I say, my voice unwavering. "And that is, you need to go. Far away from this plane of existence."

  The smirk on his lips deepens into something cruel. "What an amusing thought," he muses. "Do you think any of you can stand against the full power of a PureBlood? You have no idea of what I’m capable of."

  The temperature in the room drops.

  "It would have been so easy had you been submissive," he continues, his voice carrying an eerie calmness. "But I see now that only violence will bring you to heel. I promise that I will break you, boy, and by the time I am done… you won’t even remember defying me."

  I swallow hard.

  Faraday’s memories claw at the edges of my consciousness—visions of a nightmare that was never truly mine, yet feels as real as if I had lived it myself. The screams, the pain, the sheer impossibility of facing something as ancient and monstrous as Conrad.

  This is not just an enemy. This is a force of nature.

  And yet, I cannot afford hesitation.

  Conrad’s shadow stretches unnaturally across the floor, growing larger, darker, until it detaches from his feet entirely. It moves as if alive, writhing and twisting, shifting into grotesque, fluid shapes that do not obey the logic of the world.

  What kind of power is this?

  Elijah had warned me. The noble families of the Sanguin Antiquus wield abilities that most would consider unnatural. The older they are, the more deeply entwined their power is with the fabric of existence itself. And as ruling elites of vampire society, the PureBloods were born with every advantage imaginable.

  Who knows what power I have inside me?

  But that question does not matter now. What matters is that we act before Conrad does.

  Elijah’s strategy had been clear—maintain the element of surprise.

  It was our only chance.

  And judging by the gleam in Conrad’s eyes, his estimation of our group is clear.

  Elijah? Less of a threat than Kadir or myself.

  Lawrence and Harvey? He acknowledges their strength, but they are still mortal. Hunters, nothing more. A challenge, but one he believes he can overcome.

  Sia? Practically insignificant in his eyes.

  His arrogance might just be our advantage.

  I center myself, my EchoFlux screaming warnings of the battle about to unfold. I focus, drawing on my Arkamon Flux, letting it coil around my arms like living fire. The energy surges through me, coating my limbs with a faint reddish-yellow glow. The air vibrates with raw power.

  Across the room, I sense Harvey, Lawrence, and Sia doing the same. Their bodies hum with their own respective Fluxes, the sheer density of energy making the air thick with pressure.

  Except for Kadir.

  Kadir does not move.

  He simply watches, his dark eyes locked onto Conrad with the same intensity of a crocodile studying another predator. A being that knows it may not win the fight, but is too proud—too territorial—to back down.

  And yet, I feel it.

  The slow shift in his stance. The way his shoulders settle. The tightening of his jaw.

  Despite his silence, I have no doubt.

  He will lend his strength.

  The glow of our Flux illuminates the room, cutting through the oppressive darkness. The reddish-yellow energy casts a warm hue against the cold marble, the shadows flickering and stretching beneath its radiance. It feels like the first light of day slipping through the cracks of a shattered world—fleeting, but defiant.

  Conrad watches us with mild amusement.

  For a PureBlood, this must seem almost laughable.

  And yet, something in his eyes shifts ever so slightly.

  A calculation. A pause.

  He senses the change.

  The moment before impact.

  We are doing this.

  Then all of sudden, the oppressive chill in the air begins to fade—not all at once, but in slow, deliberate increments, like an unseen force steadily pushing back against the unnatural cold.

  It’s subtle at first.

  The frost that clung to the walls, the faint mist curling from Elijah’s breath—it all begins to ease. The weight pressing down on my lungs lightens just enough to take deeper breaths.

  At first, I assume Elijah himself is pulling back his power. But then—I feel it.

  It isn’t Elijah.

  This is something else.

  Something deliberate.

  With my EchoFlux, I can sense the presence of another force pressing against the cold—a silent battle unfolding in the air around us.

  I focus harder.

  Psycho Flux.

  And that means—Kadir.

  Even without looking at him, I can feel his presence shift. It’s faint, but undeniable. He hasn’t moved an inch, hasn’t changed his expression, yet the force radiating from him is unmistakable.

  The air hums with the weight of his will.

  Then I see it—Conrad’s shadow.

  Or more accurately, the unnatural stretch of darkness behind him. It had loomed, twisted and coiling in ways that defied logic. A silent monster lurking just beyond his figure. But now…

  It’s shrinking.

  Kadir is pushing back.

  A contest of will.

  I risk a glance at Conrad. Does he notice?

  It’s hard to tell. His expression remains unreadable, but there’s something in the set of his jaw, in the way his crimson eyes flicker toward Kadir for the briefest of moments.

  Conrad may not acknowledge the rest of us, may not even see us as worthy of his time, but Kadir?

  Kadir, he acknowledges.

  This realization settles heavily in my mind.

  Perhaps that’s the real reason for this elaborate display—the suffocating aura, the grand declaration of superiority. Was it all meant to make Kadir understand?

  To remind him that interfering in this fight would lead to disaster?

  Maybe.

  Or perhaps this is just who Conrad is.

  A predator that refuses to tolerate even the idea of competition.

  Whatever the case, the room is changing.

  The air grows lighter, the thick pressure in my chest finally easing enough to move freely.

  But no one relaxes.

  Not even slightly.

  Every muscle in my body remains tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap. My gaze never leaves Conrad.

  I know better.

  Even though the oppressive aura has faded, I can still feel it—lurking beneath the surface.

  He’s watching us. Measuring us. Calculating.

  This isn’t over.

  It hasn’t even begun.

  This is a mind game as much as it is a battle of power.

  Conrad’s intimidation tactics—his suffocating presence, his carefully chosen words, the sheer weight of his existence—might have worked on someone with a weaker will.

  Six months ago, I would have been terrified.

  Six months ago, I might have hesitated.

  But I’m not the same person anymore.

  Not after everything I’ve endured.

  Not after Vincent.

  Not after barely surviving two Elder Vampires.

  But against a PureBlood?

  I can’t be optimistic.

  Because the truth is, I’ve never seen one fight before.

  Not in person.

  But we have someone here who has.

  Kadir.

  I steal another glance at him. His expression is unreadable. His stance, unmoving.

  But I can sense it—his mind is already at work.

  He is studying Conrad.

  Assessing him.

  Waiting.

  There’s a reason Kadir hasn’t moved yet.

  He isn’t rushing in recklessly.

  He’s learning.

  He’s a Grandmaster of Flux. And that means, more than anyone here, he understands what we’re up against.

  The silence stretches.

  Tension coils in the air, thick and suffocating.

  The moment drags out longer than it should.

  It feels like a stand-off.

  Each of us measuring the other, waiting for someone to move first.

  If we wait too long, we’ll lose the only advantage we might have.

  We can’t afford that.

  Elijah and I already discussed this before.

  This battle has to be a battle of speed.

  We have to strike first.

  Conrad is older, stronger. If we give him the chance, he will seize control of the fight completely.

  We must take the initiative.

  And we don’t have time to waste.

  The night is long.

  Too long.

  Elijah moves.

  A blur. A blitz.

  He’s fast.

  Faster than even I expected.

  Faster than I can react.

  He’s already before Conrad before I can take my first step.

  And Conrad—

  Conrad looks both angry and amused at the same time.

  His lips curl upward. His eyes glint, not with shock, but with irritation.

  He raises his hand.

  The motion is casual—dismissive.

  Like swatting away a fly.

  The arrogance of a PureBlood.

  But…

  He has every right to be arrogant.

  Conrad outclasses Elijah.

  In strength. In power. In sheer experience.

  The advantage of age is absolute.

  Elijah cannot withstand a direct strike from him.

  We’ve seen this before.

  The first time they clashed, Conrad had overpowered Elijah instantly.

  Back then, there had been no contest.

  A difference in strength so overwhelming that there was no point in resisting.

  That’s why I expected it.

  I expected Elijah to be sent flying across the room.

  But it doesn’t happen.