Two Vampires?

Arthur stood still, breathing heavily. His hands trembled from the exhaustion. Blood magic drained the body faster than most. It was strong, yes, but it pulled deeply from his life force. He had already used too much. The flames around the clearing danced like wild spirits. The air crackled with heat. It smelled of burning wood, scorched soil, and something else. A faint bitterness, like dried blood.

Eamon stood opposite him. He held his ground firmly. Sweat trickled down his neck. His shirt was torn. His boots were scorched. His eyes, however, showed no sign of giving up. His flames flickered around him like a loyal army. But his arms were getting heavier. His chest heaved with each breath.

Arthur's strength in weapon combat was not impressive. That much was clear. He could block, dodge, and counter a few moves, but he lacked the rhythm and instinct of a trained swordsman. Where he lacked in steel, though, he made up in magic. His blood spells were sharp, fast, and unpredictable.

Eamon realized that quickly. He had to change tactics.

Each of Eamon's sword swings was answered by Arthur's magic. Whenever he struck, Arthur would create a wall of blood or a spinning disc to deflect the blade. It was frustrating. Every advance was met with resistance.

Flames flickered through the trees. Some trunks burned. Branches had already fallen. A few trees cracked and split from the heat. The sky above them turned orange from the glow.

But Eamon stayed alert. He avoided the areas near Skarn. His friend lay still near a tree, hurt but alive. Eamon's eyes kept drifting toward him. He had to protect him. No matter what.

Eamon created flaming arrows and shot them towards Arthur. The fiery bolts hissed through the air. Arthur summoned his own blood arrows, sharp and fast, and they collided mid-air. Red against orange. Blood against fire. Sparks flew.

This dance continued for a while. Neither man was willing to stop. The ground was covered in scorched marks and splashes of blood. Their breathing got louder. Their steps grew slower. Their arms felt heavier.

Both had used too much energy. But they pushed on. They attacked. They defended. Over and over again.

Eamon raised both arms and summoned a new spell. From the fire on the ground, a beast rose. It looked like a lion made of flames. It roared and charged toward Arthur.

At the same time, Arthur raised both his palms and conjured a massive cannon made of hardened blood. It roared forward like a red meteor.

Both spells missed their targets.

Eamon jumped left. Arthur leapt to the side. Their spells passed them and exploded behind.

The flames burst like a volcano. The blood cannon exploded with a thick, wet splash. The blasts pushed both men forward.

The ground shook.

Suddenly, they were standing only a few feet apart.

They didn't speak. They didn't think. They jumped toward each other, fists raised. They both shouted in rage.

"How dare you kill the townspeople!"

Their fists stopped just inches from each other's faces.

Both stared. Blinking. Their expressions changed from fury to confusion.

Both said at the same time, "Huh? What?"

Their hands dropped slightly. They took a small step back.

Eamon spoke first. "You didn't kill those people?"

Arthur answered at the same time, "You didn't kill those people?"

There was a long silence. They stared at each other. The fire around them crackled quietly.

Eamon asked, "Aren't you the vampire?"

Arthur nodded. "I am a vampire, alright. But I'm not the vampire that killed those people."

Eamon narrowed his eyes. "What are you even saying?"

Arthur rubbed his temples. His voice was frustrated. "Arghh… There are two vampires. One is me. And the other one is the one who actually killed everyone."

Eamon's brows furrowed. "What?"

His voice dropped.

"I'm… completely lost now."

Arthur sighed. "And who even are you, huh?"

Eamon shook his head. "I was following the killer. I saw someone run out of town, and I chased him. I ran after him into the forest. But then I lost him. Then I saw someone else running again. I thought it was the same guy and ran behind him."

He pointed at Arthur. "Then you jumped on me."

Arthur looked down. "I ran from the village because everyone thought I murdered the doctor and the others. I didn't. I came into the forest hoping to catch the real killer. I saw someone running and thought it was him. Turned out it was you."

He looked up.

"And… sorry for jumping on you. And your pet."

Just then, the leaves near Skarn rustled.

Eamon's head snapped toward the sound.

He stepped back and raised a finger.

"Wait right here. I still don't trust you completely. Let me check on my bond first."

Arthur nodded and stayed in place.

Eamon ran to Skarn.

He knelt beside him.

"Hey, buddy. Are you okay?"

He gently placed his hand on Skarn's side. The fur was wet with blood. His breathing was shallow but still there.

Arthur slowly walked over.

"Move aside. Let me check on him."

Eamon turned sharply.

"You're the one who did this. He's hurt because of you."

Arthur kept his voice calm.

"I'm sorry. I've worked with the village doctor for years. Let me look at him. I might be able to stop the bleeding."

Eamon hesitated.

Arthur bent down and gently examined Skarn's wounds.

He looked at Eamon and gave a small nod.

"It's not deep. He'll live."

He tore a piece of cloth from his coat and pressed it on the wound to slow the bleeding.

Then he stood up and walked into the forest.

Eamon tensed, watching every step.

A minute later, Arthur returned with a bunch of herbs.

He crushed the leaves with a stone and gently placed them on Skarn's wound. The smell was bitter but fresh.

Then he wrapped the wound with the cloth and tied it tightly.

Skarn whimpered a little, but then slowly opened his eyes.

He blinked, looked around, and curled up in Eamon's lap.

Eamon stroked his fur.

"Hey buddy. You're okay now. Don't worry."

Skarn licked his hand and closed his eyes again.

Eamon looked at Arthur.

His tone was softer.

"Thank you. Maybe Helena was right about you. You're a good man."

Arthur didn't answer.

He stood up and turned around.

He began walking away into the forest.

Eamon stood up.

"Where are you going?"

Arthur didn't stop.

"I need to find the killer."

Eamon called out again.

"You think he's still in the forest?"

Arthur didn't turn.

"He might be gone. But I still have to try."

Eamon looked around.

The night had grown quiet. The pressure from before was gone. There was no trace of that sinister presence.

He spoke loudly.

"It's pointless. I don't sense that dark presence anymore."

Arthur froze.

Then slowly turned his head.

"You can sense that pressure too?"

Eamon nodded.

"Yeah. Everyone with mana can feel it, right?"

Arthur stepped closer.

"Yeah… but most mages would get scared. That pressure was too heavy."

He looked at Eamon closely.

"So I guess you're not exactly a normal mage."

Eamon smirked.

"You could say that."

He bent down, picked up Skarn gently in his arms, and stood up.

"I'll take him to my room. Let him rest. After that, you'll tell me your whole story."

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"And what makes you think I'll tell you anything?"

Eamon gave a half-smile.

"Because if you tell me, I'll help you find and defeat the real killer."

Arthur didn't say a word. Eamon turned and began walking away, holding Skarn close.

Arthur stood there, watching him go. His face showed no expression. But his eyes were puzzled.