"Are you going to let her talk to us like that?" Jean asked Elizabeth, choking on his own words just in time not to make things worse. Too bad.

  "I don't see why not," the girl replied without a second thought. "It's a duel, a competition. All sorts of things are said when you're high on adrenaline, aren't they? Or are there perhaps other reasons?"

  Wow, incredible subtlety.

  In any case, Jean had to shut his mouth. He assumed a combat stance, readied his spear again. Those remaining: Barry and Brian, were both knights, sword and shield, nothing more.

  "What's wrong, Jean?" Ayame said. "Are you afraid of me?"

  "If I were afraid of you, would I be here?" Jean replied.

  "I don't see any other reason for you to be."

  It was obvious Ayame had anticipated what he would say and had the response ready. Either that or her quick wit, ready in a tenth of a second, that was also possible. He wanted nothing to do with creatures like her, as if he truly believed the prejudice, despite everything, but at the same time, it was clear it was nothing more than an act. Any hint of confidence, merely feigned. It was pathetic. Vincent was ashamed of himself for having felt fear when those five cornered him. They were nothing but scum. More… Yes, more like animals than humans.

  "Enough!" Jean said, lunging forward with his spear.

  The spear tip didn't pierce its target but stuck into the ground between Ayame's legs. Or where they had been a moment ago, because Ayame read his movements flawlessly. She jumped, dodging the spear, and then landed a double kick right in his face, knocking him to the ground. The stupid son of a bitch went rolling. He didn't lose his weapon and recovered quickly, but he wasn't going to forget the taste of the vampire's boots for a long time, ha ha. The sound of laughter rising in the air as soon as he landed hard on the arena floor, that would surely be the worst part. The laughter. He had come here thinking he would teach a lesson to a monster and her pet, and instead, he had become the joke.

  "Fuck," Jean muttered, wiping his mouth with a hand.

  Meanwhile, Vincent clashed weapons with Barry and Brian simultaneously. First attacking with the sword, blocking with the shield, and then the reverse, keeping the rhythm, holding his own despite having two sons of bitches on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jean fix his gaze on Ayame, full of frustration and hatred, full of rage and hatred.

  "You're a slippery bitch," Jean growled. "This academy has prestige, being here means something, but you fight like a coward."

  "You have a rogue on your team," Ayame pointed out, again instantly. "You're in no position to throw stones." She dodged the spear at close range; it only cut a lock of her hair. Then she grabbed it with one hand. Jean tried to retrieve it but was unsuccessful. No matter how much he gritted his teeth, used all his strength to pull, it wasn't enough. The vampire was too strong for that. You could see the veins bulging in the guy's muscles, but Ayame wasn't sweating. "Fight without honor like a coward," the guy finished.

  "What a hypocritical asshole," Ayame retorted. "Besides, do you think you can tell me anything? Do you think you can teach me anything about honor and bravery? What's the matter? Were you being brave when you cornered my partner to beat him up, even though your problem is with me, on top of that?"

  "Shut up!" There was no answer, just that, an order barked through gritted teeth.

  Of course, he had no answer, because it was true, there wasn't one. You couldn't defend against the truth.

  The murmurs began. As always, gossip spread like wildfire. People were interested in what they could see and hear. Vincent kept attacking and defending relentlessly, of course, most of his concentration on that, but it was also enough to know that nobody seemed exactly surprised. But it couldn't be… after all, they were facing second-year students. People had had time to get to know them, unlike Paul. They weren't friends with Paul, but apparently, they had planned to retaliate for Vincent defeating Paul simply because they quickly identified Paul as one of their own. Anyway, scum always stuck with scum, but that wasn't the point. Of course, that wasn't the point.

  Vincent knocked the sword from Barry's hands, sending it flying upwards. While Barry tried to retrieve it, Vincent took the opportunity to smash his head with a shield bash. That blow disoriented him, affected his balance. Vincent grabbed him without wasting time, without hesitation, as Ayame would have done, and threw him against his companion. But he wasn't talking about Brian; he threw him against Jean, catching him completely by surprise, hitting him from behind.

  Ayame disarmed him easily, as follows: first, she cut the asshole on the back of one hand with suddenly long, black, sharp nails; then, somehow, using a skill Vincent didn't know, she manipulated the blood to tear the spear from his fingers. But she didn't stop there: she shattered the weapon, destroyed it before his eyes.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  How much had he paid for it? How much had he farmed, perhaps, and for how long?

  In any case, Jean reacted as if she had spat in his face. First just disbelief, as if wondering: Who would dare do that? And then rage, uncontrolled fury, as if she had killed his dog or something. Jean threw the dead weight off him and lunged at Ayame with bare hands. But of course, this did him no good. The vampire grabbed him by one arm, flipped him over her head, and with an open-handed strike, sent him flying about ten meters. The asshole ended up, armor and all, embedded in a wall. Not very deeply, but he was going to feel that pain tomorrow. Next week too, maybe the one after.

  "Jean is out!" the student council president announced.

  Anyone with eyes could see it, although Vincent supposed it was good to have clear confirmation. As for Vincent, well, he finished his own battle. Brian presented no challenge, barely resisted, seeing how his entire group had collapsed. But more importantly, Vincent was efficient and skilled with his slashes. As a blacksmith, he knew perfectly well where to strike to cause the maximum possible damage to armor. He had an instinctive understanding of that kind of thing: the metal's composition, the weak spots, where the blacksmith had messed up, used worse materials, or rushed the process for some reason or another (more often than not, unreasonable clients, of course).

  Of course, he had run away from home quite early, so he didn't have that much professional experience either, but that, apparently, didn't affect his effectiveness at all. He meticulously destroyed the armor and put an end to this game.

  "Brian is out! Ayame Yamaguchi and Vincent Parker win."

  Cheers, whistles, applause. Vincent threw his head back, smiling, soaking it all in, the atmosphere, like a fucking sponge. It hadn't been that big a deal, ultimately, but it was better than the dragon incident. Although he knew he wouldn't stop hearing about it, he didn't feel he had made a difference with the dragon, that he had been truly that important. The same applied here, basically. But now he was sure he deserved the credit. Whether Ayame could have done the same without him or not, the fact is, he had done it. He had proven to himself that he was capable. He had crushed them. He had dealt with most of them himself, alone, without help. Ayame had trusted him to handle it alone, and he had met her expectations. He couldn't be more euphoric. He supposed he understood the combat classes; if they felt even half as good as he did right now, then… he didn't even know how to say it, but wow, wow. He was on top of the fucking world, man.

  He looked around. He looked at the scattered, broken, defeated assholes, feeling prouder with each second, even enjoying the hateful glares. They wouldn't think him easy prey again. Now they would fear him, like Ayame. Seeing the shame on their faces, Vincent had to suppress the urge to laugh out loud. He simply smiled a simple smile, nothing more, but it said everything.

  ***

  Elizabeth insisted on speaking with them after the combat, so they… they retreated to the president's office. Quite an extravagant one, by the way. Vincent couldn't help but notice as he took a seat. If this was just the student council president's office, he'd like to know what the academy director's office looked like. Or well, maybe not, on second thought.

  "What did you want to talk about?" Ayame asked, sitting beside him, legs crossed.

  "Nothing special," Elizabeth replied. "I just want to know what that little show you put on earlier was about."

  Ayame arched an eyebrow.

  "Just that?"

  "Of course. What did you expect?"

  Ayame tilted her head, as if trying to study her better, as if seeing her for the first time, almost.

  "Okay," Ayame said. "I'll tell you. If you thought it was some master plan or something, I warn you, you're going to be disappointed. I did it because I wanted to. That's why."

  "You still haven't told me what exactly you wanted," Elizabeth insisted.

  Ayame thought about it, hands clasped under her chin, for a while. Long enough for him to think she would remain silent. When she broke the silence, Vincent almost jumped.

  "I suppose I wanted," Ayame began, "to show them what things would really be like if everything they believe about vampires were true."

  Elizabeth nodded.

  "I see. That's understandable."

  "Is that all you wanted to know? Really?"

  "Yes. I just told you."

  "Then, can we go?"

  Elizabeth crossed her legs, laced her fingers, and rested her hands on one knee.

  "Sure. Go ahead."

  ***

  The walk back to their room felt different. There were too many eyes on him, well, on them. But as for the pressure it caused, there wasn't much change. Apparently, rumors flew. Frankly, he had the feeling they were attracting more attention than when the director decided to put a target on their backs, dragging them into the auditorium to praise them in front of all the first-years, who probably just wanted to go to sleep and lick their wounds from the initiation test.

  By the way...

  It hadn't occurred to him to ask about it, he'd had many other things on his mind, but although many people had failed the test, no one had died, right?

  It would be horrible, because the director hadn't even mentioned it, as far as he knew. As if it didn't matter, or as if he had gotten used to fatalities, which was more or less the same thing.

  "Vincent... Thank you."

  "Why? You don't have to thank me for fighting by your side. That's what I'm supposed to do."

  "I didn't mean that. When you threw the other guy against the spear guy, you were doing it to hold me back, weren't you? So I wouldn't do anything I'd regret. It helped give me a moment to breathe and clear my head. Of course, I wouldn't have killed him, but if it weren't for you, I would have gone too far. Thank you."

  That wasn't my intention, Vincent thought. I just wanted to give you a hand in the fight. Vincent just did what had seemed best, but he wasn't sure if he should correct her. Not to shamelessly take the credit, but because he, at least, would feel very embarrassed if he had assumed something like that and were corrected dryly.

  Vincent simply nodded in the end. Besides, it was nice that someone thought so highly of him.

  "That's what partners are for, Ayame."