A Monster

Zhelis's eyes narrowed as he circled Myhra, his wings unfurling in agitation. The subtle twitch of his muscles, the flicker of darkness beneath his skin—everything about him suggested a predator studying its prey. But Myhra stood firm, her blood sword pulsing with a steady, crimson light. She could sense his frustration mounting.

"You're young, but that mastery over blood magic..." Zhelis muttered, his voice low and calculating. "It's far more advanced than I expected. You've already tapped into the fourth order, haven't you?" His gaze sharpened. "Blood magic of your caliber throws everything off balance."

Myhra's smirk deepened, the flicker of amusement in her eyes never fading. "Did I wound your pride?" she teased, the taunt hanging in the air like a challenge.

Zhelis gave a low, humorless laugh. "No. I'm starting to enjoy this." He flexed his fingers, and dark tendrils of shadow curled from his hands, dancing in the air as though alive. "But don't mistake my amusement for leniency. I've dealt with blood magic wielders before. They all fall eventually."

Myhra shifted her stance, gripping her blood sword with both hands. The energy coursing through her veins was hot, almost searing, but she welcomed it. "I'm not like the others you've faced," she said, her voice steady. "I understand my power."

Zhelis's eyes darkened. "Do you really?" he asked, his tone mocking. "You wield a blood sword—an inborn power passed down through your lineage. But blood magic has its limits. It's only as strong as its wielder. And I've seen many like you fall short."

Myhra's grip tightened on her blade. "You underestimate what I'm capable of," she said. "And that's going to cost you."

Zhelis took a step forward, his wings flexing as if preparing for flight. The room seemed to darken, shadows stretching and twisting unnaturally as his power began to manifest. "Then let's see what you're truly made of," he hissed.

Both opponents stared at a moment, their gazes locked, reading the subtle cues of each other's magic.

Zhelis, a master of shadow zeal, drew his power from a realm beyond the material world, a dimension where light was devoured, and only darkness thrived. His shadow magic was fluid and intangible, seeping into every corner, every crevice, and flowing like liquid around him. It was an extension of himself, an amorphous force that could shift between offense and defense at will.

"My shadows are endless," Zhelis murmured, his voice a low rumble. "They bend, break, and consume all that stands in their way. Your blood sword might cut through flesh, but can it slice through darkness?"

Myhra studied him carefully, aware of his confidence but unimpressed. Blood magic come from soul-energy magic, one of the most mysterious and dangerous forms of power. Unlike the tangible forces of body-space magic or the illusions and mind-bending tricks of mind-time magic, blood magic tapped into the very essence of life itself. It was a force that transcended the physical and mental realms, making it both unpredictable and immensely powerful. Her sword wasn't just an extension of her will—it was a manifestation of her lineage, her soul, her raw essence forged into a blade.

"You talk too much," she replied, her voice steady. "Blood magic isn't just about cutting through flesh. It cuts deeper."

Zhelis's eyes flashed. "Then show me."

In an instant, Zhelis struck. His shadowy tendrils lashed out toward Myhra, their movement swift and serpentine, aiming to bind her limbs and pull her into the abyss. But Myhra reacted just as quickly. With a sharp flick of her wrist, her blood sword glowed brighter, its crimson light slicing through the air. The tendrils hissed as the blade severed them, dissolving into wisps of smoke.

Zhelis narrowed his eyes, but he wasn't deterred. He shifted his form, melding into the shadows completely, disappearing from sight. Myhra tensed, her senses on high alert, knowing full well that he hadn't retreated. The room around her seemed to pulse with dark energy, the air thick with his presence. 

From the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of movement—too late. Zhelis materialized behind her, his shadow blade forming in his hand as he slashed at her back. Myhra twisted just in time, her blood sword meeting his shadow blade with a resounding clash. Sparks of dark and crimson light illuminated the chamber as the two forces collided.

"You're fast," Zhelis acknowledged, his voice cool and composed. "But speed alone won't save you."

Myhra didn't respond. She pushed forward, her strikes swift and precise, forcing Zhelis to retreat. Each swing of her blood sword was fueled by the raw energy pulsing through her veins, the crimson glow intensifying with each movement. Zhelis parried her blows with his shadow blade, his movements fluid and graceful, but she could sense the strain building beneath his calm exterior.

Damn, how is she so strong? What is her bloodline? he wondered.

"You rely too much on tricks," Myhra said, her voice sharp as she pressed her attack. "Shadow magic, illusions, hiding in the darkness—it won't work against me."

Zhelis snarled, frustration flashing across his features. In a desperate move, he unleashed a surge of darkness, the room plunging into an oppressive gloom. Shadows twisted and writhed, filling every corner, obscuring Myhra's vision.

"My shadows are endless," Zhelis's disembodied, sinister voice echoed through the void. "Let's see you fight what you can't see."

The atmosphere thickened as darkness enveloped the world around Myhra, every trace of light swallowed by the abyss. She felt the weight of his words as the shadows pressed in, the environment warping as if being consumed by an insatiable void. Myhra understood that Zhelis was unleashing his innate shadow power—the most lethal weapon in his arsenal. Could she combat such overwhelming darkness? She hadn't yet tapped into her higher forms, bound as she was to the limitations of body and mind.

"Your shadows are endless?" she mused, a subtle smile curving her lips. "Then I'll blaze through them all."

For a moment, she stood still, her heartbeat steady despite the encroaching darkness threatening to suffocate her. Closing her eyes, she turned inward. The pulse of her blood magic surged to life—it wasn't about sight; blood magic transcended the physical realm.

She exhaled slowly, allowing the energy to build until a crimson aura radiated outward, flaring around her like a fiery halo. Channeling her defensive power, she enveloped her body in a protective sheath of blood magic. She might not be able to attack, but at least her mortal form would be shielded. Her blood magic wasn't just a weapon; it was her connection to the very essence of life—a force that included the shadows Zhelis wielded.

Her blood sword merged back into her body through her right arm, the source from which it always manifested. Floating just above the ground, she appeared serene, eyes closed, as crimson energy swirled around her. Zhelis watched her, a mix of frustration and fascination in his gaze.

He attacked, his shadowy sword slicing through the air with lethal precision. The blade met the crimson barrier surrounding her, sending ripples of energy through both their auras. He staggered back, a low growl escaping his lips.

"You're resilient," he sneered, regrouping for another assault.

Myhra remained silent, her focus unbroken. Her blood magic intensified, the crimson light pushing back the shadows inch by inch. Zhelis lunged again, his movements a blur as he aimed for a decisive strike. Each attempt was met with the unyielding force of her defense, the clash of energies illuminating the darkness around them.

"Curse your blood magic!" Zhelis spat, frustration seeping into his voice. "Few mortals dare to wield such power. It takes remarkable courage—or utter foolishness—to surrender to it."

He circled her, shadows swirling more aggressively, probing the depths of her now unconscious mind. There were four states of consciousness a wielder could tap into: conscious, subconscious, unconscious, and the highest—superconscious. Myhra had withdrawn into her unconscious state, lacking the innate power to combat his shadows directly. He realized that once she awakened from this state, her power might rival his own. He needed to destroy her before that happened.

Yet despite his efforts, what he found surprised him. Myhra's mind wasn't filled with nightmares and torment as he expected, but with emptiness—a serene void contrasting sharply with the chaos he wielded.

"This isn't right," Zhelis muttered, frustration knitting his brow. "Where are your fears? Your despair? How is it that your dreams resist me?"

He delved deeper, determined to find a crack in her defenses, but her mind pushed back, protected by an unseen force. His illusions, designed to twist her thoughts into nightmares, found no purchase in her tranquil inner world.

"Interesting," he murmured, a hint of admiration creeping into his tone. "You're not as vulnerable as you seem, Myhra. But don't think you've won. I'll break through eventually, and when I do, your mind will be mine."

As Zhelis pressed on, a haunting wail echoed through the abyss, chilling him to the core. Anticipation flickered in his eyes at the sound of anguish—a potent energy he sought to exploit.

"Is that you, crying for help?" he taunted with a cruel smile. "How sweet! The threshold to your nightmares is close. It's only a matter of time before I devour the darkness inside you."

But as the threshold of her subconscious widened, Myhra's expression remained serene. Suddenly, a faint smile touched her lips. Unease prickled at Zhelis's confidence. Despite the turmoil he sought to unleash, she did not fear him.

The vampire paused, his thoughts disrupted by the enigma before him. Why would someone smile in the face of such torment? What was she hiding? And why did her subconscious seem to thrive in the midst of her darkest memories?

As he watched her, a deep, primal fear began to stir within him. Could it be that Myhra wasn't just a victim of her own nightmares? Could she, in fact, be their master? Zhelis took a step back, his confidence faltering for the first time. A Monster! There was something about Myhra that unsettled him, something far more dangerous than he had anticipated. And as the echoes of despair and power surged through the chamber, he began to wonder if he had been lured into a trap far more perilous than any nightmare he could conjure.

The wail grew louder, more piercing, as the shadows twisted violently around them both. But he could not back out now. He want to own this ancient power. Zhelis let himself immersed into, following the path his innate shadow leading. After a struggle, he opened his eyes found himself somewhere else, physically both Myhra and Zhelis were present in the Red Stone Castle's chamber but astrally they were not there.