Luckily, they were a team. They were never alone.

  By the way, he referred to the monster as the giant all the time. And it was true. But to be more precise, it was almost five meters tall. Well, maybe a little more. He wasn't good at estimating height by eye either. In any case, it was a reasonable size. They were used to, so to speak, dealing with even bigger monsters. Less reason to be afraid of that thing, to doubt they could do it.

  Ayame jumped to tie a cable, pulling with it her blood-made swords and grabbing the flying sword with her bare hands right by the blade. It sank deep into her flesh. More blood immediately flowed. Ayame was gradually giving way, her resistance weakening. Even with the vampiress's extra help, the archer was unable to win the struggle.

  But this was a normal Quest. Just any enemy. They couldn’t fail now of all times.

  Vincent made a quick decision, heading for the other sword. He hoped that by drawing attention, they could throw the flying sword far away during the time it took for the monster to return. Assuming he would be able to bring it back. Then he hoped not, otherwise defeating it would be more complicated. Assuming he was right and it was about taking its swords, of course, because that wasn't clear either. Damn, too much assuming, he didn't like it one bit.

  “Watch out!” Ayame shouted.

  But Vincent had already seen the attack coming and dodged, but not by rolling, backward or to the side. He rolled forward fearlessly and didn’t pay for his recklessness. The blade whispered past his hair. If it cut anything, it was a lock of hair and he didn’t even notice.

  In any case, Vincent went for the sword in its right hand, forcing the monster to divide its attention. That was enough. Seconds later, he saw the flying sword fall to the ground. The arrow's hook, stuck in the blade, had been torn from the air and whatever force moved it. It was clear, because the light, the energy, went out.

  One down. Two still to go, because the first one, which he had snatched from its hands, it would have recovered without them putting up a fight. But well, the point was that this was working. The point was that they could do it.

  The giant ran for the fallen sword, so it couldn't just call it back. Sure, it made sense. The energy had disappeared and with it whatever connection there was between them. He supposed it had to re-establish it with physical contact. He supposed it couldn't be otherwise, because otherwise defeating it, taking all three swords at once, well, it would be possible but not very probable. It wouldn't be a quest first-year students could take, that's for sure, unless everyone at Runehaven faculty was a fucking lunatic. Which he wasn't ready to rule out yet. But at least in this, they hadn't screwed up royally, not like him, "dragon" in quotes. Not like with the dragon.

  Ayame reached the sword before the giant, wielding it. She had enough strength to brandish a sword that looked twice her size, naturally.

  Good, one less worry.

  Vincent leaped, landing on the blade of the right-hand sword. Using Hot Hands, he made the sword fall from its grasp again. As the giant thrashed about, howling in rage, Tara shot another rope arrow, hooking the remaining sword.

  They were so close his heart raced. Just a little more and they could go back to their sweet home, take a nice shower. Mitigate the pain of their wounds with hot water and spend the rest of the afternoon as they pleased. Come on, we can do it, we can.

  Vincent made a move to run for the remaining sword, but fortunately, he changed his mind quickly. Ayame had to keep the other sword out of the monster's reach as well, so he threw his shield onto his back and sheathed his sword. To grab the giant's sword with both hands; he was nowhere near as strong as Ayame. He couldn't lift it completely, brandish it, but he could a little, drag it away on the grass.

  And it turned out to be the right decision, because even with Ayame's help, the monster won the struggle, cut the arrow's rope, and kept possession of the last sword.

  Fuck! They were so close, just a little more and it would have been theirs, but at least they had made it take a step back. At least they still had it cornered.

  Ayame and Vincent lunged at the giant, while Tara also did her job, though shooting from an even more conservative distance. Everything was going well, he didn't have to worry as long as he kept it pressured, as long as it couldn't recover a single one of the swords. Then victory was only a matter of time, as long as things didn't go wrong. And everything had been going swimmingly, as if they had rehearsed it, as if they weren't in real danger.

  But then, then Ayame went flying. A great torrent of blood followed her.

  Vincent’s eyes widened, turning to follow the trajectory of her fall with his gaze. He saw her land on the grass. He saw the bloody mess of her chest, torn and shattered. A sword pierced her cleanly, but that didn’t mean the fight was over. It had thrown the last sword, but it hadn’t come undone. Maybe because it had grabbed another in time. Maybe. In any case, Ayame’s ribs were covered in blood, broken and splayed open like the petals of a flower. Blooming towards the sun.

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  He almost threw up. In fact, he wasn't sure he hadn't. How the hell! No, he hadn't. A wave of dizziness washed over him. He only managed to keep his balance by planting his sword in the ground, leaning on it with both hands.

  After pushing one of the swords aside, leaning on it with both hands, Ayame trembled from head to toe. She opened her mouth to say something, perhaps. But then she coughed violently. All she coughed up was blood. Even more blood, if that was possible. Of course it was possible. He was seeing it with his own eyes. What the fuck was he saying? Of course it was possible.

  Vincent turned his attention to the enemy. His expression became impassive. He didn't tremble, not even his teeth chattered. With a casual gesture, he tossed his shield aside. He wouldn't need it. He didn't need something absurd like defending himself. His entire being was focused on the absolute destruction of the enemy.

  As if sensing the dark murderous intent, the giant's eyes fixed on him. They were like black stars reflecting his own rage. Both broke into a run. They collided in the middle. But the struggle was an instant defeat. The giant's defeat, of course. He threw it to the ground. Climbed on top of it. He didn't let up, but struck the armor, quickly finding its weak points again and again. The armor filled with cracks. He deflected a blow and tore the sword from its hands, not really paying attention, even though it had been his goal from the beginning. As if nothing had happened. He slashed its chest, shattered its ribs and splayed them outward, like Ayame's ribs, amidst blood and other fluids. He could glimpse the monster's beating heart, which was like a specter tied to the swords, now broken. A false life, a monstrous creature that only deserved a slow and painful death. But it didn't matter, it also had a beating heart, at least for now.

  Impulsively, Vincent discarded the sword too. He no longer needed it. With the hole made, he plunged his hands up to his elbows into the creature's chest, through the ribs. He brushed its lungs with his fingertips, finally reaching its heart, but he couldn't squeeze, couldn't crush it with his own hands. Because the creature disappeared; it had lost all three swords, so that was it. It unraveled, starting from its feet, in the blink of an eye, denying him the satisfaction of tearing it to pieces.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he muttered, falling to his knees before Ayame’s body. No, not the body. That sounded horrible. She was alive, she was fighting.

  “Get up. We’re done here. We have to get back to the portal quickly, get medical attention. Come on, move. Pick up the damn swords. Pick up the swords.”

  Tara got up on shaky legs. She took a step forward, towards Ayame, because the first of the swords was right there, buried in her chest. Then she turned around, gasped, and covered her mouth with one hand. By some miracle, she didn't vomit.

  Vincent placed his hands on the sword's hilt. He looked Ayame in the eyes, hoping to see reassurance, hoping for an answer. She nodded, so he gritted his teeth and pulled out the sword. It became nothing more than a hilt before it hit the ground. But Vincent didn't really notice. He had other priorities. He helped her up and let her lean on him to walk, because it was clear she wouldn't be able to yet, not alone.

  “It’ll be okay,” Vincent murmured, his warm, ragged breath falling on the vampiress’s neck and ear. “It’ll be okay, we’ll get you to the academy right away, they’ll give you medical attention.”

  Ayame nodded again against his shoulder.

  Vincent nodded too. Great, great, vampires' regeneration was, well, inhuman. As ugly as the wound was, it wasn't a big deal deep down, not for one of her kind. It was good that she was different, because otherwise, he wouldn't have counted her, there wouldn't have been even the remotest possibility.

  They went as fast as humanly possible towards the portal.

  “You’ll be fine, I’m sure you will. You’re tough, you’re fantastic. I know you can… handle anything they throw at you and more. You’ll be fine, we’re going to be fine.”

  He was repeating himself, essentially, too much, and he didn't even know what he was saying. He was babbling, but he had hope. That was true, no one could take that away from him, despite the hole she had in her chest, despite the mess that had been made. She could walk, with help, but she could walk. That proved she was much tougher than an ordinary human being, proved she would live, that…

  There was the portal. Right there. Right, and soon the infirmary, the care of the best healers in the kingdom.

  Then, Ayame collapsed.

  “I’m fine! I’m fine!” Ayame said.

  But she couldn’t get up from the ground, not without help, and her voice was weak.

  Of course, it was no wonder. Of course, with the way her chest was mangled and she was surely missing a lung, it was surprising her voice sounded so strong.

  “You’re not fine!” Vincent swallowed, on the verge of tears. Suddenly he was saying the exact opposite of what he should say. Fuck! No, he wasn’t going to let her slip through his fingers.

  “Listen, it’s true that vampires regenerate by drinking blood, right?”

  Ayame nodded weakly. Vincent bent down enough and pushed the hair away from her neck with one hand.

  “Then drink, you drink.”

  His heart was beating too fast.

  If she drinks, what she’ll absorb won’t be the abilities of a knight, he thought. She’ll find me out.

  What a stupid thought! He wasn’t just going to let her die; even if it was just to stabilize her and give the healers time to do their work, he had to do this. The consequences didn’t matter, they couldn’t matter to him.

  “What are you waiting for? Drink.”

  Ayame lifted her head, looking him in the eyes. Those beautiful eyes were clouded. The light was fading in them, but she evidently retained enough spirit to be stubborn, because she shook her head. She shook her damn head.

  “What does that mean? It’s okay, do it.”

  But of course, something was wrong; for her, it was. She wished not to drink from him as much as he wished this wasn’t necessary.

  “Just take me to the infirmary.” She turned her head away, her hair falling to cover her eyes. “I… I don’t want to.”

  Vincent let out a hoarse growl, full of frustration. He decided he wouldn’t waste any more time.

  So he unsheathed his sword and cut his palm.

  “Wait, no, no, no, no!”

  But Ayame was too weak to resist. As the blood trickled down, Vincent put that hand to her mouth, pressing and ignoring her weak resistance.

  “Drink, drink.”