In the Name of Justice: Chapter XXVIII
Enjoy the chapter, kids. I should probably warn that there is a fair amount of maiming.
Chapter XXVIII
Betrayer
“Our third meeting,” said Gideon. “And here I was thinking that you were trying to avoid me.”
“You!” Justice’s voice was a snarl as it left his mouth. He leaped to his feet, ready to lunge, but stopped when he realised that his enemy was not alone: Gideon’s men had surrounded the group, forcing them inwards. Normally, this would have proved little obstacle, but there had to be at least forty of them, each brandishing some sort of sharpened weapon. One smirked as Rakina recoiled to his master’s side.
“And you must be Judas.” Rafaga took a step forward so that he was level with Justice. There was a certain lack to surprise to his tone. “I’ve been waiting to meet you for a while now.”
“I am Judas.”
The voice was enough to send shivers of hatred trickling down Justice’s spine, and he watched with wide eyes as a figure moved forth from the group. He stared at the black-haired man, his lips twisting into a wry smile. “So I see you did manage to raise an army of your own - you are a man of your word, my friend.”
Rafaga had to take a hold of Justice’s shoulders to prevent him from lunging forward.
“Why?” he spat at Gideon. “Why are you working for someone like him?”
Gideon raised an eyebrow. “Why, you ask? I prefer not to use the term ‘working for’ so much as ‘assisting’.” He glanced at the one by his side. “Judas’ parents worked as assassins under my hand - you could say our families were already acquainted with one another.”
Judas continued: “I found my father’s records and managed to trace them back to their employers at the time of death.” His eyes narrowed at Justice. “It seemed only natural that if I were to go up against a vampire, I would arm myself likewise. Even if that vampire happened to be someone like you.”
Again, Rafaga had to fight against the black-haired man to hold him back. As he looked from face to face, Justice couldn’t work out which he hated more; yet seeing Judas here seemed to dredge up a tide of bitter emotions he thought he had left behind. Perhaps it was because he had finally told someone else of his attachment to the man that he actually felt permitted to hate. In other words, there was no holding back this time.
The Guardians, it appeared, were less than impressed as well. Slowly, Kircheis stepped forward. “Assassins, you say?”
“Naturally, as the son of a king,” said Gideon.
There was a pause, but then the information seemed to register with the water vampire. “Monrey Lanzek.” The name was a whisper on his lips.
“Clever boy.” Gideon’s eyes flashed.
“Monrey Lanzek…” Justice recalled the wars that Rafaga had told him about several nights ago. “So it was your father who started all of this? The one who betrayed our country’s royal family?”
Some of the taunting edge fell from Gideon’s face. “My father? Let’s not forget that it was your bastard Schwarzschild who abandoned his people for his own likeness!”
All of a sudden, there was a great rush of force as a barrage of flames tore past Justice; the crowd parted like sheep to avoid the fire that rushed towards them, then faded out into the forest like a burning tidal wave.
Shocked, Justice turned around to see Carbuncle standing several paces back. The look on his face could have melted steel - a look that was directed straight at Gideon.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The scent of singed greenery hung in the air from where the flames had scorched them in their path. When Gideon straightened up again, his expression was subtly sinister. “Bring her,” he barked to one of his subordinates.
At that moment, the group began to move amongst themselves, and a figure was brought forward. Justice watched in horror as Blanche fell to the floor in front of him, to the sniggers of the ones around her. Why wasn’t she moving? The man only had to look to find out why: Blanche’s body was limp, her skin lacerated in several places. Her skin looked bruised, as if she had been beaten badly.
Gideon shot a look at the Guardians before reaching down, wrapping his fingers in the girl’s hair and lifting her upright. Judas handed him a dagger, which he held to her throat. For a second, her eyes connected with Justice’s, though the man was shocked to see that they were wild with terror - a plea for help in a face devoid of hope.
In one sharp movement, Gideon pulled her head back so that more of her throat was exposed to the knife. He nodded at the black-haired man. “And now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be having that sword.”
Justice’s hands tightened around the blade in his hands. He was in Gideon’s grip - there was no doubt about it. As he stared at Blanche, he couldn’t help but remember the time outside the inn, when he had held her as a threat against the humans, much in the same way Gideon was now. That time, he had set up the scene, but this… This was real; and he could hear her frantic breaths, feel each and every heartbeat as clearly as if it were his own. Yet it was a weak rhythm, like the wings of a dying bird.
No more. This was going to go on no more.
Justice took a slow step forward, but a sudden cry from behind interrupted him. He turned to see Carbuncle standing before him, his eyes on the sword.
“You can’t,” he pleaded. “You can’t lose that sword for a ser…” Yet it seemed that not even the fire vampire was able to finish his sentence under the circumstances.
For a moment, Justice caught his eyes, saw the pain that lingered deep within them, but then he looked away.
“I am the king’s son. What I do with my own possessions is my own decision.” The words fell like stones from Justice’s lips, though he was in no mindset to soften them. Trying as best as he could to avoid looking at Carbuncle, he turned to Gideon. “Why not pull it out yourself? You had the opportunity.”
However, it was Judas who answered: “Why, only one carrying the king’s blood can retrieve the sword.” His face darkened slightly. “Now hand it over.”
Justice paused, then raised the blade in his hands. His eyes fell to Blanche. Soon, it would be over. Everything he’d worked towards, everything he’d done… It seemed pointless when he considered that he was going to jeopardise it all. But no matter what, he was not going to stand and watch as the person closest to a friend he had had over the past few days was killed.
“Have it,” Justice muttered scornfully. He raised the sword in his hands before thrusting it down in the mud at the others’ feet. Judas picked it up. Slowly, lovingly, he ran his fingers along the hilt, touching each stone individually. It was almost hypnotic to watch him, stroking the blade as if it were something alive. Then, after about a minute, he appeared to tire of the sight, and handed it to one of the other vampires, where it disappeared from view.
A deep sadness filled Justice at the sight, but he managed to hold himself together as he turned his eyes to Gideon. “You have the sword,” he said. “Now let Blanche go.”
“Hmm, perhaps,” the vampire mused in response. “It just seems like such a waste…” He bowed his head forward to bury his nose in the girl’s hair.
It was then that something seemed to snap inside Blanche. At once, she kicked out at Gideon, slamming the back of her head into his chest so that he was forced to let go. Her hand flew up into the air, but Gideon was faster. His fingers caught hold of her wrist and twisted her around to face him.
A small whimper escaped her as the knife’s tip was replaced against her neck, this time at the nape. Slowly, she looked up at Gideon. The traces of a smirk still clung to his lips, yet there was something else as well this time, a crazed darkness lurking deep within his eyes. He paused for several seconds to stare down at the terrified girl before his eyes flicked to Justice and he lowered his lips to Blanche’s throat.
Justice was unable to move, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him - it was as if his whole body were being held by some unseen force. There was no struggle involved; evidently, Blanche had exerted the last of her energy in trying to break free earlier. One hand pulled at Gideon’s hair, only to fall helplessly to her side. Even Judas, it appeared, could not bring himself to watch, instead turning his head away to stare into the forest.
And then, the unthinkable happened.
The blade slid into Blanche’s neck as easily as if it were cutting through butter. Her whole body froze and a small whimper of a gasp escaped her lips, just as Gideon lifted his head and stared down at her. Blood glistened on his mouth like dark ink. Then, slowly, he placed his lips to hers in a suffocating embrace.
“You want Justice?” he whispered to her. “He’s all yours.”
The knife was wrenched from Blanche’s throat the moment she was thrust forward into the mud. At last, Justice was able to break from his trance and descended upon her, horrified. The smell of blood rose up from her body, as sickening as it was alluring, and her wide eyes reflected a glassy stillness that struck the most nauseating terror into the man’s heart.
There was no mistaking it - Blanche was dead.
Before he even had a chance to pull the hair from her eyes, a foot swung around and buried itself in Justice’s face, knocking him backwards. The force was enough to fracture his nose at least, but he drove through the pain and leaped to his feet. As grief turned to fury, he lunged towards the vampires in front of him, but they had already begun to fall apart, scattering into the trees like flies.
The Guardians were immediate: within seconds, there came a flash of light and heat from behind Justice, and a corresponding shriek - no doubt by Carbuncle’s hand. As for Justice, he stared down at Blanche’s form on the ground helplessly. He longed to reach down and try her pulse again, to tell himself that his earlier assumption had been wrong, yet there was no use in trying to blind himself with false hope. There was no sound from her, no movement - even the warmth was beginning to fade away. He had allowed this to happen. He had failed.
A sudden hand on his shoulder took his attention, and he turned to see Rafaga.
“Go!” urged the wind vampire. “I’ll stay with Blanche. Get the sword!”
Perhaps it was the sincerity of the look in his eyes that ultimately convinced him, but Justice knew Rafaga would remain true to his word. He nodded once, then straightened up and pushed off into the trees. His nose still ached slightly from where it had been kicked, though the pain was quickly fading as it healed.
His initial goal was to track down Gideon - or Judas, at least - but he was saving that for later. He’d seen the vampire holding the sword take a right turn into the trees as the group separated, and now, he had managed to pick up an unmistakeable scent that, if he moved fast enough, would lead him straight to it.
This was going to be a short battle.
He would make sure of it.
*
“You’re not really the most threatening person, are you?”
Kircheis glared at the one before him, narrowed eyes cutting a fine line through the air. He could tell the remark served to stimulate a reaction from him, yet he remained silent.
The man smirked as he leaned one arm against the tree. “What’s wrong? Scared?”
“You really should be more cautious with your words around a Guardian.” Kircheis was careful to keep his tone as controlled as possible. His eyes were darting everywhere, taking in every detail of the other’s stance, measuring each and every movement; because rogues like this, he knew, were the most dangerous creatures of all.
The man snorted in amusement before straightening up again and taking a step forward. The moment his foot hit the floor, however, he froze. His eyes fell to the ground. “W-what have you done?”
Kircheis watched as he dropped to his foot, fumbling with the laces of his boot in an attempt to pull it free from his foot; yet a few seconds later, he stopped, only to place a hand on his lower leg. “What-”
“One of the first steps in battle is to assess your opponent’s abilities,” said the water vampire coldly.
The man was panicking by now, his fingers clasping at his knee, then his thigh. It was as if something were creeping slowly up his flesh.
“That sensation you can feel right now is the freezing of your bodily fluids. Blood, sweat… Everything that you are will soon be ice by my hand.”
Indeed, it was true: the more the man struggled, the more he realised just how futile it was. The feeling had engulfed both legs by now and continued to creep up his torso, solidifying matter into a stone-like consistency as it went.
And now it was Kircheis’ turn to smile. Yet it was not a sadistic notion; rather, it was the smile of someone who has beaten a game, or triumphed over a chess board. Slowly, he stretched out his hand, where an object, long and thin, began to materialise between his fingers.
The man watched amid his desperate struggles. Like shards of glass, the pieces seemed to appear from the air itself, shining with an ethereal glow as they were drawn to the singular mass in the vampire’s hand. Then, once finished, the light faded, and he was finally able to see what had formed.
It was a spear, weighted at its base and as tall as its owner. At first glance, one might have thought it to be made of steel or some other sturdy metal, but it soon became obvious that its sculpted sides were constructed from ice, and because of this, the vampire was able to wield it as easily as if it were made from glass.
“My body was frozen for forty years,” Kircheis continued. “When I broke out, this spear was formed from the leftover shards of ice around me.”
He took a few seconds to regard the figure in front of him. The freezing had taken its full effect by now, leaving its victim motionless, like a statue between the trees. What a pity, Kircheis thought, to defile such a beautiful forest with something so unnatural… Yet what had to be done would stand.
Kircheis raised the spear in both hands and lunged towards the figure. The sharpened tip pierced the man’s ribcage. Then, in one fluid movement, he wrenched it upwards, shattering through flesh and bone as he did so; and the figure, like broken glass, began to collapse in on itself, until it fell, finally, to the ground in shards.
*
Justice cried out as he was knocked back, arms flailing until he hit the ground below. He barely had time to regain his balance before he was forced to roll to the side, just as the tip of a blade buried itself into the mud beside him.
He leaped to his feet and backed into the nearest tree trunk. His immediate opponent, a woman with wine-red hair, stood before him, clutching a knife in each hand. Somewhere behind, he knew, the one holding his sword was still recovering from his broken wrist, though it wouldn’t be long until he was able to move again. Justice had seconds to act.
The female pounced again. One blade slashed Justice’s side, but he was able to catch the other and tear it from her grip. The wound on his hand reopened and began to spout fresh blood, coating fingers that were already wet with mud. Still, he gritted his teeth and brought his knee up into the other’s stomach. A low hiss of a moan escaped her chest. Then, as quickly as he could, he swung his elbow around and drove it into the side of her head, knocking her to the ground, unconscious.
Justice was shocked at his own efforts. Rendering a vampire unconscious was no simple feat; but then again, he hadn’t been holding back any strength this time. He was just about to turn away, when all of a sudden, something slammed into his shoulder. Pain spread across his upper arm like fire, and it was only when he looked down that he realised he had been struck deeply by some kind of blade.
Behind him stood the vampire from earlier, and in his hands he clutched the Schwarzschild Sword. Justice was able to dodge just fast enough to avoid a second blow, though failed to notice the foot until it had hooked around his boot and dragged him to the ground. The figure descended upon him at once. Desperately, Justice tried to claw himself to his feet, but it was useless - the man’s knee was already against his chest, crushing him into the ground.
“I wonder,” snarled the vampire. “How would it feel if I were to gut you with your own sword?”
He raised the blade high, and Justice clenched his eyes shut. This was it… For several seconds, he remained rigid, yet nothing happened. Was the man deliberately holding back? He frowned, then slowly opened his eyes.
What he saw, however, was enough to make his stomach lurch.
The vampire was still on top of him, his head pulled cleanly from his shoulders. His body swayed for a few moments before falling forwards. Justice cried out - blood splashed onto his collar area like thick ink, staining clothes and skin alike. Panting, he managed to push it to the side, just as a shadow fell over his legs.
Justice’s eyes lifted to see a figure standing before him. The darkness and his own disorientation made it difficult to see properly, but gradually, he was able to pick out certain features - black clothes, black hair… And a face that seemed strangely familiar, despite the fact he was certain he had never seen it before. A hand extended before him - he took it gratefully.
Once on his feet again, Justice staggered to the nearest tree and dug his fingers into the bark for support. His shoulder burned from where it had been struck, but apart from that, the remainder of his discomfort was mental. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then turned, gradually, to the figure behind.
And froze.
“Who are you?” The words were little above a whisper on Justice’s lips. Because at last, he could see the man’s eyes.
They were red.
Slowly, the man took a step forward, but stopped when he saw the other flinch. He raised a pale hand, speaking for the first time in a low, controlled voice. “My name is Dreizehn Schwarzschild. I’m your father, Justice.”
Next Chapter →
Chapter XXVIII
Betrayer
“Our third meeting,” said Gideon. “And here I was thinking that you were trying to avoid me.”
“You!” Justice’s voice was a snarl as it left his mouth. He leaped to his feet, ready to lunge, but stopped when he realised that his enemy was not alone: Gideon’s men had surrounded the group, forcing them inwards. Normally, this would have proved little obstacle, but there had to be at least forty of them, each brandishing some sort of sharpened weapon. One smirked as Rakina recoiled to his master’s side.
“And you must be Judas.” Rafaga took a step forward so that he was level with Justice. There was a certain lack to surprise to his tone. “I’ve been waiting to meet you for a while now.”
“I am Judas.”
The voice was enough to send shivers of hatred trickling down Justice’s spine, and he watched with wide eyes as a figure moved forth from the group. He stared at the black-haired man, his lips twisting into a wry smile. “So I see you did manage to raise an army of your own - you are a man of your word, my friend.”
Rafaga had to take a hold of Justice’s shoulders to prevent him from lunging forward.
“Why?” he spat at Gideon. “Why are you working for someone like him?”
Gideon raised an eyebrow. “Why, you ask? I prefer not to use the term ‘working for’ so much as ‘assisting’.” He glanced at the one by his side. “Judas’ parents worked as assassins under my hand - you could say our families were already acquainted with one another.”
Judas continued: “I found my father’s records and managed to trace them back to their employers at the time of death.” His eyes narrowed at Justice. “It seemed only natural that if I were to go up against a vampire, I would arm myself likewise. Even if that vampire happened to be someone like you.”
Again, Rafaga had to fight against the black-haired man to hold him back. As he looked from face to face, Justice couldn’t work out which he hated more; yet seeing Judas here seemed to dredge up a tide of bitter emotions he thought he had left behind. Perhaps it was because he had finally told someone else of his attachment to the man that he actually felt permitted to hate. In other words, there was no holding back this time.
The Guardians, it appeared, were less than impressed as well. Slowly, Kircheis stepped forward. “Assassins, you say?”
“Naturally, as the son of a king,” said Gideon.
There was a pause, but then the information seemed to register with the water vampire. “Monrey Lanzek.” The name was a whisper on his lips.
“Clever boy.” Gideon’s eyes flashed.
“Monrey Lanzek…” Justice recalled the wars that Rafaga had told him about several nights ago. “So it was your father who started all of this? The one who betrayed our country’s royal family?”
Some of the taunting edge fell from Gideon’s face. “My father? Let’s not forget that it was your bastard Schwarzschild who abandoned his people for his own likeness!”
All of a sudden, there was a great rush of force as a barrage of flames tore past Justice; the crowd parted like sheep to avoid the fire that rushed towards them, then faded out into the forest like a burning tidal wave.
Shocked, Justice turned around to see Carbuncle standing several paces back. The look on his face could have melted steel - a look that was directed straight at Gideon.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The scent of singed greenery hung in the air from where the flames had scorched them in their path. When Gideon straightened up again, his expression was subtly sinister. “Bring her,” he barked to one of his subordinates.
At that moment, the group began to move amongst themselves, and a figure was brought forward. Justice watched in horror as Blanche fell to the floor in front of him, to the sniggers of the ones around her. Why wasn’t she moving? The man only had to look to find out why: Blanche’s body was limp, her skin lacerated in several places. Her skin looked bruised, as if she had been beaten badly.
Gideon shot a look at the Guardians before reaching down, wrapping his fingers in the girl’s hair and lifting her upright. Judas handed him a dagger, which he held to her throat. For a second, her eyes connected with Justice’s, though the man was shocked to see that they were wild with terror - a plea for help in a face devoid of hope.
In one sharp movement, Gideon pulled her head back so that more of her throat was exposed to the knife. He nodded at the black-haired man. “And now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be having that sword.”
Justice’s hands tightened around the blade in his hands. He was in Gideon’s grip - there was no doubt about it. As he stared at Blanche, he couldn’t help but remember the time outside the inn, when he had held her as a threat against the humans, much in the same way Gideon was now. That time, he had set up the scene, but this… This was real; and he could hear her frantic breaths, feel each and every heartbeat as clearly as if it were his own. Yet it was a weak rhythm, like the wings of a dying bird.
No more. This was going to go on no more.
Justice took a slow step forward, but a sudden cry from behind interrupted him. He turned to see Carbuncle standing before him, his eyes on the sword.
“You can’t,” he pleaded. “You can’t lose that sword for a ser…” Yet it seemed that not even the fire vampire was able to finish his sentence under the circumstances.
For a moment, Justice caught his eyes, saw the pain that lingered deep within them, but then he looked away.
“I am the king’s son. What I do with my own possessions is my own decision.” The words fell like stones from Justice’s lips, though he was in no mindset to soften them. Trying as best as he could to avoid looking at Carbuncle, he turned to Gideon. “Why not pull it out yourself? You had the opportunity.”
However, it was Judas who answered: “Why, only one carrying the king’s blood can retrieve the sword.” His face darkened slightly. “Now hand it over.”
Justice paused, then raised the blade in his hands. His eyes fell to Blanche. Soon, it would be over. Everything he’d worked towards, everything he’d done… It seemed pointless when he considered that he was going to jeopardise it all. But no matter what, he was not going to stand and watch as the person closest to a friend he had had over the past few days was killed.
“Have it,” Justice muttered scornfully. He raised the sword in his hands before thrusting it down in the mud at the others’ feet. Judas picked it up. Slowly, lovingly, he ran his fingers along the hilt, touching each stone individually. It was almost hypnotic to watch him, stroking the blade as if it were something alive. Then, after about a minute, he appeared to tire of the sight, and handed it to one of the other vampires, where it disappeared from view.
A deep sadness filled Justice at the sight, but he managed to hold himself together as he turned his eyes to Gideon. “You have the sword,” he said. “Now let Blanche go.”
“Hmm, perhaps,” the vampire mused in response. “It just seems like such a waste…” He bowed his head forward to bury his nose in the girl’s hair.
It was then that something seemed to snap inside Blanche. At once, she kicked out at Gideon, slamming the back of her head into his chest so that he was forced to let go. Her hand flew up into the air, but Gideon was faster. His fingers caught hold of her wrist and twisted her around to face him.
A small whimper escaped her as the knife’s tip was replaced against her neck, this time at the nape. Slowly, she looked up at Gideon. The traces of a smirk still clung to his lips, yet there was something else as well this time, a crazed darkness lurking deep within his eyes. He paused for several seconds to stare down at the terrified girl before his eyes flicked to Justice and he lowered his lips to Blanche’s throat.
Justice was unable to move, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him - it was as if his whole body were being held by some unseen force. There was no struggle involved; evidently, Blanche had exerted the last of her energy in trying to break free earlier. One hand pulled at Gideon’s hair, only to fall helplessly to her side. Even Judas, it appeared, could not bring himself to watch, instead turning his head away to stare into the forest.
And then, the unthinkable happened.
The blade slid into Blanche’s neck as easily as if it were cutting through butter. Her whole body froze and a small whimper of a gasp escaped her lips, just as Gideon lifted his head and stared down at her. Blood glistened on his mouth like dark ink. Then, slowly, he placed his lips to hers in a suffocating embrace.
“You want Justice?” he whispered to her. “He’s all yours.”
The knife was wrenched from Blanche’s throat the moment she was thrust forward into the mud. At last, Justice was able to break from his trance and descended upon her, horrified. The smell of blood rose up from her body, as sickening as it was alluring, and her wide eyes reflected a glassy stillness that struck the most nauseating terror into the man’s heart.
There was no mistaking it - Blanche was dead.
Before he even had a chance to pull the hair from her eyes, a foot swung around and buried itself in Justice’s face, knocking him backwards. The force was enough to fracture his nose at least, but he drove through the pain and leaped to his feet. As grief turned to fury, he lunged towards the vampires in front of him, but they had already begun to fall apart, scattering into the trees like flies.
The Guardians were immediate: within seconds, there came a flash of light and heat from behind Justice, and a corresponding shriek - no doubt by Carbuncle’s hand. As for Justice, he stared down at Blanche’s form on the ground helplessly. He longed to reach down and try her pulse again, to tell himself that his earlier assumption had been wrong, yet there was no use in trying to blind himself with false hope. There was no sound from her, no movement - even the warmth was beginning to fade away. He had allowed this to happen. He had failed.
A sudden hand on his shoulder took his attention, and he turned to see Rafaga.
“Go!” urged the wind vampire. “I’ll stay with Blanche. Get the sword!”
Perhaps it was the sincerity of the look in his eyes that ultimately convinced him, but Justice knew Rafaga would remain true to his word. He nodded once, then straightened up and pushed off into the trees. His nose still ached slightly from where it had been kicked, though the pain was quickly fading as it healed.
His initial goal was to track down Gideon - or Judas, at least - but he was saving that for later. He’d seen the vampire holding the sword take a right turn into the trees as the group separated, and now, he had managed to pick up an unmistakeable scent that, if he moved fast enough, would lead him straight to it.
This was going to be a short battle.
He would make sure of it.
*
“You’re not really the most threatening person, are you?”
Kircheis glared at the one before him, narrowed eyes cutting a fine line through the air. He could tell the remark served to stimulate a reaction from him, yet he remained silent.
The man smirked as he leaned one arm against the tree. “What’s wrong? Scared?”
“You really should be more cautious with your words around a Guardian.” Kircheis was careful to keep his tone as controlled as possible. His eyes were darting everywhere, taking in every detail of the other’s stance, measuring each and every movement; because rogues like this, he knew, were the most dangerous creatures of all.
The man snorted in amusement before straightening up again and taking a step forward. The moment his foot hit the floor, however, he froze. His eyes fell to the ground. “W-what have you done?”
Kircheis watched as he dropped to his foot, fumbling with the laces of his boot in an attempt to pull it free from his foot; yet a few seconds later, he stopped, only to place a hand on his lower leg. “What-”
“One of the first steps in battle is to assess your opponent’s abilities,” said the water vampire coldly.
The man was panicking by now, his fingers clasping at his knee, then his thigh. It was as if something were creeping slowly up his flesh.
“That sensation you can feel right now is the freezing of your bodily fluids. Blood, sweat… Everything that you are will soon be ice by my hand.”
Indeed, it was true: the more the man struggled, the more he realised just how futile it was. The feeling had engulfed both legs by now and continued to creep up his torso, solidifying matter into a stone-like consistency as it went.
And now it was Kircheis’ turn to smile. Yet it was not a sadistic notion; rather, it was the smile of someone who has beaten a game, or triumphed over a chess board. Slowly, he stretched out his hand, where an object, long and thin, began to materialise between his fingers.
The man watched amid his desperate struggles. Like shards of glass, the pieces seemed to appear from the air itself, shining with an ethereal glow as they were drawn to the singular mass in the vampire’s hand. Then, once finished, the light faded, and he was finally able to see what had formed.
It was a spear, weighted at its base and as tall as its owner. At first glance, one might have thought it to be made of steel or some other sturdy metal, but it soon became obvious that its sculpted sides were constructed from ice, and because of this, the vampire was able to wield it as easily as if it were made from glass.
“My body was frozen for forty years,” Kircheis continued. “When I broke out, this spear was formed from the leftover shards of ice around me.”
He took a few seconds to regard the figure in front of him. The freezing had taken its full effect by now, leaving its victim motionless, like a statue between the trees. What a pity, Kircheis thought, to defile such a beautiful forest with something so unnatural… Yet what had to be done would stand.
Kircheis raised the spear in both hands and lunged towards the figure. The sharpened tip pierced the man’s ribcage. Then, in one fluid movement, he wrenched it upwards, shattering through flesh and bone as he did so; and the figure, like broken glass, began to collapse in on itself, until it fell, finally, to the ground in shards.
*
Justice cried out as he was knocked back, arms flailing until he hit the ground below. He barely had time to regain his balance before he was forced to roll to the side, just as the tip of a blade buried itself into the mud beside him.
He leaped to his feet and backed into the nearest tree trunk. His immediate opponent, a woman with wine-red hair, stood before him, clutching a knife in each hand. Somewhere behind, he knew, the one holding his sword was still recovering from his broken wrist, though it wouldn’t be long until he was able to move again. Justice had seconds to act.
The female pounced again. One blade slashed Justice’s side, but he was able to catch the other and tear it from her grip. The wound on his hand reopened and began to spout fresh blood, coating fingers that were already wet with mud. Still, he gritted his teeth and brought his knee up into the other’s stomach. A low hiss of a moan escaped her chest. Then, as quickly as he could, he swung his elbow around and drove it into the side of her head, knocking her to the ground, unconscious.
Justice was shocked at his own efforts. Rendering a vampire unconscious was no simple feat; but then again, he hadn’t been holding back any strength this time. He was just about to turn away, when all of a sudden, something slammed into his shoulder. Pain spread across his upper arm like fire, and it was only when he looked down that he realised he had been struck deeply by some kind of blade.
Behind him stood the vampire from earlier, and in his hands he clutched the Schwarzschild Sword. Justice was able to dodge just fast enough to avoid a second blow, though failed to notice the foot until it had hooked around his boot and dragged him to the ground. The figure descended upon him at once. Desperately, Justice tried to claw himself to his feet, but it was useless - the man’s knee was already against his chest, crushing him into the ground.
“I wonder,” snarled the vampire. “How would it feel if I were to gut you with your own sword?”
He raised the blade high, and Justice clenched his eyes shut. This was it… For several seconds, he remained rigid, yet nothing happened. Was the man deliberately holding back? He frowned, then slowly opened his eyes.
What he saw, however, was enough to make his stomach lurch.
The vampire was still on top of him, his head pulled cleanly from his shoulders. His body swayed for a few moments before falling forwards. Justice cried out - blood splashed onto his collar area like thick ink, staining clothes and skin alike. Panting, he managed to push it to the side, just as a shadow fell over his legs.
Justice’s eyes lifted to see a figure standing before him. The darkness and his own disorientation made it difficult to see properly, but gradually, he was able to pick out certain features - black clothes, black hair… And a face that seemed strangely familiar, despite the fact he was certain he had never seen it before. A hand extended before him - he took it gratefully.
Once on his feet again, Justice staggered to the nearest tree and dug his fingers into the bark for support. His shoulder burned from where it had been struck, but apart from that, the remainder of his discomfort was mental. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then turned, gradually, to the figure behind.
And froze.
“Who are you?” The words were little above a whisper on Justice’s lips. Because at last, he could see the man’s eyes.
They were red.
Slowly, the man took a step forward, but stopped when he saw the other flinch. He raised a pale hand, speaking for the first time in a low, controlled voice. “My name is Dreizehn Schwarzschild. I’m your father, Justice.”
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