“Aura of Vampire: Devil’s Physique deactivare,” said Denir with a calm voice.

  “Huh?” muttered Marshall, somewhat shocked.

  The spectators were also astonished. After all, the alters were on the brink of breaking. If they broke, Watson wouldn't be able to continue the fight. The Reindeer turned back into his human form and distanced himself from Moodeen. He sat down on the ground, trying to comprehend what had happened. The butcher stretched his muscles and cleaned his dagger of blood. He wiped off dust from his armour, glancing at the audience. Some were angry, others were still left in shock, and the minority was clapping.

  “Eh… What happened? You could have won. Why did you surrender?” the announcer whispered.

  “If I were to defeat him, he would have to recover for at least half a year. I wouldn’t be able to win over Marcus; he’s too strong for me. Moreover, I have to be well-rested. I’ve got a quite important job that needs to be done. The best option for me was to surrender. After all, I can watch the final battle,” he responded, covering his mouth.

  “I see… What do you want me to say?”

  “You’re the announcer, I’m better off going to the waiting room.”

  “The winner of the second fight between Denir ‘Vampire Butcher’ Moodeen and Marshall ‘the Reindeer’ Watson is The Reindeer, winning by his foe’s surrender!” the man stated, raising Watson’s hand.

  The winner was still pretty confused about his win. It was the first time that someone had surrendered. The spectators were questioning Denir's identity to his liking.

  “Was he really the Vampire Butcher?”

  “He couldn’t be, the real one wouldn’t surrender like a coward!”

  ‘At least, they don’t think of me as the real deal. That’s convenient. The mob thought it was an act of mercy or cowardice; the truth is pretty different. The most rational thing to do was to surrender. I could easily defeat or even kill him, but what would it give me? Nothing. I stand no chance against Tingel; he’s out of my league. His battle intelligence is beyond my expectations. I had to resort to using an aura. I wanted to see his full power. Honestly, he’s quite weak. I heard some whispers about his leader, the Wingless Hawk. I wonder how he got his nickname. Now, I’m forced to talk with the Rough Glass for a while. That doesn’t make me happy at all, but whatever,’ thought Denir, walking to the waiting room.

  The butcher opened the door, looking at the ceiling.

  “How did it go?” asked Marcus, glancing at him.

  “I’ve lost,” replied Moodeen, putting the borrowed armour in its original place.

  “Ouch… Was it that one-sided?”

  “Nah, I surrendered," the confectioner replied, sitting on a wooden chair.

  “Huh? Why did you do it?”

  “I could have won this fight, but I wouldn’t be able to win against you. You’re just too strong.”

  “Ha, ha. You make me fluster…”

  “Quick question. Have you been in the army or in a mercenary band?”

  “No. If you wonder how I’ve got such battle experience, it's rather complicated. You see, my father was a war fanatic. Since I can remember, he would tell me about his favourite battles and how he would play them better. I was a student at the Sientium School in Terminara. Therefore, I’m fond of such art. There is a mandatory military service, but since I had good grades, I was excluded from it. Shortly, it was a combination of my father’s fanaticism and studying at school.”

  “Oh, that’s interesting. Thanks.”

  “No problem. By the way, do you have any tips for my fight? I don’t want to know his techniques or anything like that. What I mean is, is there something I have to be concerned about?”

  “I’d give you one piece of advice. Be aware of black blades.”

  “I see…”

  “Are you ready?” the announcer asked, barging in.

  “I guess so.”

  “Come with me.”

  ‘Damn, were these torches so bright before? I guess I have to win this fight. Good grief,’ thought Marcus, entering the arena.

  A stench of alcohol, drugs, and smoked beef caught his attention. Even beneath his mask, the smell was noticeable. The champion had been awaiting him, still sitting in the same spot. The Reindeer had been thinking about the previous fight for the entirety of his break.

  “Please, stand up, Marshall,” the announcer whispered, giving him a hand.

  Watson accepted the gesture, yet he was still completely mesmerised. He stood up, looking at his foe. Tingel answered the glance with his own, filled with interest and curiosity. He also noticed a hooded Denir in the audience. The Rough Glass shook his hand.

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  “The final fight of our Bloody Night that will show us the new champion, or the defending title by the current one. Marcus ‘the Rough Glass’ Tingel against Marshall ‘the Reindeer’ Watson! Let the showdown begin!” the announcer cut the handshake in half, surprising both men. Nevertheless, they were ready.

  “Animal Technique No. 4: The Beastman!” shouted Marshall, distancing himself.

  Marcus, in shock, prepared himself for the upcoming strike. Unlike before, the transformation was quick, without any signs, smells, or smoke. The two axes bonded with his forearms, giving him an interesting look. His pupils enlarged. His fist turned black, reflecting the light from the torches. Tingel knew it; they were, in fact, the same as the animals’ ones. The spectators started cheering them up even louder. The Reindeer gave his opponent a menacing look and rushed into him.

  “G.W. invocare!”

  In the last second, the Rough Glass blocked the strike with the Glass Wall. The shards went everywhere, yet Watson did not care. A few cut his neck. But his attack didn’t stop. Thuck! A powerful punch pushed him two metres back. The pain was great, as if the real animal had struck him. The Reindeer wasn’t done; many strikes followed the first one. The metal had been clanking for at least five minutes. Tingel blocked them with walls, his forearms, or his back. He stood, sore and in pain, thinking about the right response.

  ‘He’s strong, I’d have never suspected that. That’s about time to show some of my power,’ the Rough Glass thought, searching for something in his armour.

  “Huh?!” he muttered, in complete disbelief and shock.

  ‘I packed the wrong one! Damn! I guess I’ve got no other choice, then…’

  Marcus took out a grey sack. Watson allowed his opponent to use it. In a normal fight, there wouldn’t be such privileges. Still, the Bloody Night fighters had one unspoken rule: if someone was transforming or using an aura, let them finish. Tingel put some white powder on his right hand, taking a deep breath.

  “Aura of Hermes activare,” the Glass sorcerer whispered so lightly that even people in the first rows couldn’t hear it.

  The powder vanished from everyone’s sight. The audience was left in fear. Strong, menacing mana emission started to leak out of his body. You could have counted on your fingers the people who didn’t get shivers. Even the Reindeer was left in shock. Moodeen, bumping into his neighbours, stood up rapidly, fascinated by the aura.

  “What have you done?” he wondered, looking at him.

  “I’ve upgraded a bit, don’t you see?” he replied, taking his mask off.

  The spectators followed Denir. They were trying to see his face. He had a sharp jawline, light brown, messy hair, and a scar under his left eye. A few women present were amazed by his looks.

  “The mask is an obstacle now. I have to breathe.”

  “Huh?”

  “You see, it had been blocking about half of the inhaled air. Now, you can see my real power. Or perhaps, you want to transform into your better form?” the Glass sorcerer replied with a smirk.

  “Animal Technique No. 5: The Black Reindeer,” the man muttered with a bit of a shaky voice.

  After a while, he was transformed, yet uncertain. Uncertain whether to fight him. He didn’t see a human in front of him, but a frightening creature. Marshall wasn’t scared of vampires or anything. Yet one, mere human, was enough to invoke the fright in his heart. Marcus started his offense. Shuu! He appeared behind his foe in an instant. A strong wind blew after him, dropping hats from the spectators. Denir opened his eyes even further, wanting to carve this image in his mind.

  “Glass Dagger invocare.”

  The Reindeer dodged the attack in the last second, yet he was still cut. Blood began dripping from his neck.

  ‘W—What?! How? My fur can block knives, but glass can cut through it?! No, it, it can’t be! Who the hell is he?!’ he thought in despair.

  Watson glanced back at the Rough Glass. He answered the look by throwing the dagger in his direction. Again, he was so close to dying.

  “Let me end this. I’m quite tired, after all,” stated Tingel, stretching his fingers.

  He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Then, opened them at one, incanting a powerful spell.

  “Glass Blizzard invocare!”

  At first, a few shards appeared, but with every second they seemed to double in quantity. They started flying in a circular motion near Marshall. He was too shocked to move. The small summonings were cutting through his thick fur. More and more blood dripped from his frozen body. The Rough Glass stopped the attack.

  “Are you done?” he asked his lifeless foe.

  “Yes, I’ve lost. I surrender.”

  The spectators burst out in excitement. The new champion obliterated the previous one. Denir couldn’t believe his own eyes.

  ‘Damn… He’s strong, too strong... How the hell did he appear in our shithole?! With my rough calculations, I can tell that he’s stronger than Sloth. Who the hell are you?!’ thought Moodeen, covering his face. He hid his face, overflowing with fear and excitement.

  Vampire Butcher stood up and joined the cheering.

  “Aura of Hermes deactivare,” whispered Marcus, putting on his mask.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new champion! Marcus ‘the Rough Glass’ Tingel became the champion of our annual, one hundred and fourth Bloody Night!” the announcer stated, raising the winner's hand.

  Even louder applause echoed throughout the arena. Tingel offered a handshake to his rival. Marshall, drowning in fear, couldn’t even stand up, yet he shook his hand. After a while, the Rough Glass withdrew his hand, realising Watson’s state. The Glass sorcerer bowed to the spectators and left the stage. The audience went to the building entrance, awaiting the victor. Even after twenty minutes, the man didn’t show up. Denir checked the waiting room, but there wasn’t any sign of him either. Marcus disappeared without a trace. The butcher returned to his home, working on his VNA. The Crusaders had been training for the remaining days. Those two days and three nights were filled with blood, sweat, and pain.

  The time had come; it was the eighth of July, around eleven p.m. Laudis and the rest put on their regular clothes. Denir looked at his finished project with pleasure. The confectioner was looking at it as if it were his son. The man slowly put on his deep grey armour, leather coat with fur, steel gauntlets, and black boots. Then, he took the two daggers, strapping them to the side. He went outside and sat down, supporting his body with his house. The sky was filled with many stars. The moon was shining at him, perhaps, giving him a tribute. A small smile drew on his tired face.

  ‘Tonight, everything will end for good. Man, it was so exhausting, yet worth it. I don’t know why, but the sky seems nicer than usual. I’m probably imagining as always. If only I were born normal. Then, I wouldn’t need to do such things. Guess I was destined to do them. Soon, the portals will open. Many vampires will try to conquer Zachira, but I won’t allow it. I’ll try to be useful in the only way I know how. I’ll murder every enemy of Carola, that’s the only thing I can do well,’ thought Denir, playing with his daggers.