The air was heavy.
Not just from blood or tension—but from something wrong. The kind of stillness before a storm you couldn't see, only feel. We stood in formation, our team facing down the infamous Crimson Covenant.
"Domains," I said quietly.
Blue and white flared around us as essence burst into life—Zach's aura pulsing like a heartbeat, Nel's glowing with warmth and force, even Deya's sparked uncertainly. We weren't just lighting up the battlefield—we were declaring war.
The enemy didn't flinch.
Five of them. Dark armor, subtle movement, quiet confidence. Vlad stood at the center like a conductor, hands clasped behind his back. Silent. Still. Watching.
I stepped slightly forward, swords unsleeved but held low.
"Spread out. Zach, flank right with me. Nel, support where needed. Amir, rotate through your loadout until you find someone you can pin down. Ingrid, Kieran…"
"No need to tell us twice," Kieran said, eyes already locked on Vlad.
"Don't let them push us to the walls," I added. "If anyone sees an opening for escape, take it."
Vlad chuckled.
"Escape?" His voice echoed oddly, like it belonged somewhere older than this world. "You still think you're in control."
He didn't move. But Ingrid and Kieran did.
The obsidian pair blitzed forward in tandem—Ingrid already mid-air, fist arcing toward Vlad's jaw while Kieran swung Skofnung in a wide, reverse grip slash. The floor cracked beneath them from pure force.
Vlad tilted his head slightly—and blocked both.
Not with power, but positioning. Perfect timing, just enough pressure. Kieran's blade scraped metal. Ingrid's fist landed—but the impact barely moved him.
"You've gotten sharper, little Kiki," Vlad said. "But you're still playing checkers."
I didn't have time to watch. The rest of the Covenant surged forward.
A blur of motion, and the second-in-command—a tall, lean man with layered braids and silver tattoos running down his arms—landed in front of us. His domain flared black and purple, then locked onto us like a predator.
"I'll handle the rest," he said, cracking his neck. "Should be fun."
Zach struck first, essence bursting as he lunged in with a sweeping kick that hummed with power.
"Obvious," the enemy muttered, catching the leg and slamming Zach into the ground.
Me and Zach regrouped quickly, their chaos style activating on instinct. Zach surged in with heavy essence bursts while I rotated swords—one for pressure, one for feints, and one for counters. Our teamwork was fluid, unpredictable.
He still kept up.
"You rely on essence too much," he told Zach mid-fight. "Your clan prides itself on purity of flow, but you're not there yet. You're drowning in it."
A parry. A dodge. He spun to swat away one of my strikes.
"You, sword boy—jack of all trades. I see the training. I see the potential. But you haven't decided yet. You're stuck just being better than average."
I clenched my jaw. He was reading us like a damn book.
Deya joined the fray beside us—matched against a lithe fighter with two curved daggers. Their blades clashed fast and light, each cut narrowly dodged. It looked even—but it wasn't. The Covenant member was clearly newer. And still pressing her back.
"You're not bad," they said to Deya. "Just weak. Not worthy of your clan's name."
Across the battlefield, Nel flared her domain—radiating power so thick it nearly burned. Buffs wrapped around us instantly. Strength. Speed. Resistance. Her energy was immense… but there was hesitation.
"You're still afraid," the Covenant fighter called to her. "All that power and still holding back. Afraid of what happens if you become like them."
Amir danced through the chaos—scanning the battlefield, switching weapons fluidly. A glaive. A baton. A chain dagger. Everything used well. Nothing landing hard.
"You're tactical. Clean. But you don't have a heavy hitter in your kit. Nothing that can break someone like me."
He lunged at Amir. Dimitri body-checked him mid-leap, absorbing the blow.
The Covenant fighter staggered slightly.
"Tank boy. A bit outdated, but still effective."
Lena blinked into a blind spot—but the chaos was too thick. She clipped an ally's domain, stumbled, and was forced back.
And that's when it happened.
Vlad raised a hand—casual, like brushing away dust—and the world broke.
His domain unfolded like the cracking of glass across the sky.
"Blood Hunt."
Essence shattered. One moment we were fighting in sync, then—
Gone.
I couldn't feel Nel's buffs. Couldn't feel Zach's energy. Couldn't even sense my own domain. Like trying to breathe underwater.
Zach collapsed briefly. Deya staggered into the wall. Everyone—everyone—was affected.
Everyone but Vlad.
He was still calm. Still fighting both Ingrid and Kieran, who were now clearly struggling. Ingrid landed a clean hit, but Vlad barely flinched. Skofnung scraped his side—no wound.
"This domain," Kieran muttered, gritting his teeth, "he's not even trying to win—he's testing it."
And he was.
Every move calculated. Every clash a probe. Every dodge measured.
Then, movement near the exit.
Lena. She was trying to escape. Fast, low, clean.
But Vlad was faster.
He appeared behind her like a shadow.
"We can't have anyone ruining the fun."
One strike. Quiet. Brutal.
Lena crumpled, eyes wide in surprise. Gone before she hit the ground.
Silence fell.
No one moved. No one could.
This wasn't just a fight anymore. This was a slaughter in slow motion.
And we were still breathing only because Vlad let us.