Chapter 18: When Gods Collide

he summoned his God Sight. His vision shifted, scanning the depths of the man's essence. 

A Primordial Being. 

This words echoed in his mind, heavy as thunder. 

Now all the dust particles and shattered, jagged fragments of the ceiling had settled. The air, once thick with debris, was now clear, still vibrating faintly from the chaos just moments before. Visibility returned—and so did the tension. They could now see each other, eye to eye. The Vampire King stood at one end, a living tempest of fury and darkness. At the other, Principal Dormund, calm and immovable, like a mountain preparing to weather a storm. 

Dormund did not hesitate. His grip tightened around his staff, and in a fluid, practiced motion, he swung it through the air. A sharp crack echoed like a whip across stone—the Vampire King vanished, leaving only a tremor and a splintered fissure where his feet had stood. 

He reappeared instantly, a blur of red eyes and pale rage, surging at the principal with a clenched fist. But before he could make contact, he slammed into an invisible barrier that shimmered faintly like a sheet of glass under moonlight. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the room. A flash of white flared from Dormund's staff—and the Vampire King was hurled backward, crashing into the stone floor with a deep, bone-shaking thud. 

He rose again, nostrils flaring, chest heaving. A low growl escaped his lips. Then his skin began to glow—not with warmth, but with eerie, spectral light. Strange, twisting symbols crawled across his body like living tattoos, glowing with a cold, ancient fire. They pulsed as though reacting to something far older than any language Dan had ever seen. 

And then—he began to change. 

His form convulsed, bones creaking as though remolding themselves. His spine stretched, shoulders broadening. With a sound like tearing leather, enormous black wings erupted from his back, glossy and featherless, casting dark shadows over the ruined hall. Plates of armor coalesced over his torso—obsidian-black, edged with crimson veins that pulsed like a heartbeat. He grew—not grotesquely—but just enough to exude overwhelming dominance. His presence was heavier, darker, as if the air itself recoiled around him. 

The Vampire King roared, spreading his wings like a god of death, and shot upward into the air in a streak of black. His speed cracked the wind, trailing a gust of heat and dust. 

This time, Principal Dormund moved. 

He was gone in a blink—no warning, no sound. The two collided midair with such force the very sky above them seemed to ripple. Dan looked up, shielding his eyes. All he could see were blurred shapes—two shadows locked in an aerial battle, darting and weaving like dueling spirits. Bursts of raw energy exploded around them, lighting the sky with flashes of white and crimson, thunderclaps echoing from nowhere and everywhere. 

Dan could barely follow. But the memory of the Vampire King's transformation was seared into his mind like a brand. That form—it was no longer just a vampire. It was something else. Something far worse. 

Then, a sudden burst of pressure tore through the air. 

The black cloak around Principal Dormund unfurled, whipped violently by the wind, and flew free like a dark flag stripped from a defeated banner. 

And there he stood—revealed at last. 

Dormund wore a simple white robe, unstained and modest, almost sacred in its plainness. Yet his hands glimmered with power—each finger adorned with rings and lockets, etched with symbols too intricate for the eye to follow. They buzzed faintly with magic, like sleeping giants waiting to awaken. 

Dan stared as the principal briefly retreated. White energy rippled across his form, rising from his skin like steam, casting a holy glow that lit the floor beneath him. 

In an instant, the wooden staff in his hand changed. It elongated, twisted, reshaped. The bark-dark staff turned obsidian-black, polished and impossibly smooth. The dull orb once at its head had vanished. In its place was a gem—faceted, alien, pulsing with a mysterious inner light that flickered like a distant star seen through water. It hummed with incomprehensible power. 

Dan couldn't understand it. It was beyond him—beyond everything he thought was possible. 

Until today, he hadn't even known vampires were real. 

He had no idea what the King's Academy truly was. 

And now, here he stood—dust still in the air, heart still pounding—watching the principal of the King's Academy battle the Vampire King. 

Due to the battle between the two Primordial Beings, the world around them was collapsing into chaos. Huge slabs of stone and glowing embers rained from above, trailing dust like smoke from a dying fire. The earth trembled beneath Dan's feet. It wasn't just a fight—it was annihilation made manifest. 

Dan realized he needed to escape the massive crater he was trapped in. The hole was vast, as if a god had punched a fist through the world itself. 

Without wasting a second, he grabbed Nia and Zara—one in each arm—and activated Skydrift Mirage. Wind howled around him as he leapt, blasting upward with all the strength he could muster. He rocketed through the fractured opening above, air whipping against his face, the smell of scorched wood and stone thick in his lungs. 

It was a long ascent—too long—and his body strained to the brink. But somehow, he broke through the edge of the crater, landing hard just above ground. 

He almost collapsed then, muscles trembling. With the last of his strength, he laid the two girls down gently and fell beside them, gasping for breath. The ground beneath him felt warm, littered with ashes and the shattered remains of what had once been forest. He blinked against the bright sky overhead, still echoing with distant booms. 

Around him, everything was eerily still. 

The beasts had vanished. Their tracks led away in all directions—deep grooves gouged into the soil, as though they'd fled in blind panic. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath in the presence of the battle above. 

Beside him, Nia and Zara stirred. They were trying to heal, summoning what little energy remained. A soft golden light pulsed faintly from Zara's palms, but their faces were pale and drawn. They needed more time. 

Dan looked back toward the sky—and froze. 

Principal Dormund had changed. 

The air around him shimmered with raw energy, and his entire form had transformed. He was wrapped in armor the color of deep forest, its surface alive with woven roots and leaf-veined plates. Each movement made the foliage ripple, like wind through treetops. Even his presence felt different—calmer, older, heavier, as if the forest itself had taken form and stepped into battle. 

Atop his head sat a crown of interwoven roots, leaves still glistening with dew that never dried. It wasn't just armor—it was nature incarnate. 

Dan had questions—dozens of them—but none found voice. 

He could only watch. 

Even the principal's staff had changed. The smooth wood had twisted into something wilder—a staff grown, not carved, its shape lined with vines and curling bark, as though it had been pulled from the heart of an ancient tree. At its center pulsed a green luminescence, soft but deep, like the glow of life itself. 

The battle intensified. 

Explosions rang out overhead, cracking the sky like thunder. Blinding bursts of light tore through the clouds, and the shockwaves rippled through the air, rattling Dan's bones. Fires broke out across the forest below, spreading in twisting patterns of orange and black. Trees snapped like matchsticks. The scent of burning wood filled his nose. 

And yet, despite the devastation, Dormund fought with surgical precision. Every move, every blast, was aimed upward—away from the students. A careful, deliberate chaos. 

The fight raged on above. 

Dan noticed movement in the distance—faint silhouettes, hidden in the haze of smoke and debris. Spectators. Dozens of them. Maybe more. All keeping their distance. None dared approach as close as he had. Only he remained this near to the storm. 

Minutes passed. 

Then—something changed. 

The shadows in the sky were slower now. The blinding clashes had less fury behind them. Their attacks were still powerful, but… restrained. 

Dan narrowed his eyes. 

They were nearing their limits. 

And still, it felt wrong. As if both of them were holding back, unwilling to reveal the final depths of their strength. 

He could feel it—an intuition, quiet and sure. 

They were hiding something. A last move. A trump card tucked silently beneath their sleeves. 

Dan shot to his feet, breath sharp in his lungs, and without hesitation, surged toward the clash. Skydrift Mirage ignited beneath him—wind wrapped around his body like a living ribbon, pulling him forward in a blur of motion. He streaked through the chaos, a phantom on the battlefield, and in a single fluid movement, unleashed SealFlow Requiem upon the Vampire King. 

A pulse of shimmering light erupted, cutting through the air like a sacred blade. 

Principal Dormund sensed it instantly. The Vampire King's aura, once oppressive and colossal, had begun to fracture—its weight crumbling like a wall of glass under strain. The air around him lost its tension. The dark energy that clung to him thinned, and in that heartbeat of weakness, Dormund attacked. 

The Vampire King staggered. 

His form began to shudder violently, the very fabric of his being trembling as if he were being pulled apart by unseen forces. His outline flickered—smoke unraveling into the wind. It was as if reality itself had grown weary of holding him together. Then, with a sound like a falling star crashing through atmosphere, he dropped from the sky. 

His cloak flared wildly around him as he fell. 

But before he vanished, his eyes locked onto Dan—glowing red slits burning with more than hatred. It was a look etched with ancient fury and something deeper… a promise. 

"I will remember you, mysterious boy!" he roared, voice echoing like thunder across the clearing. 

Then a vortex, swirling with black and violet mist, ripped open below him—its spiral sucking in light, leaves, even fragments of ash from the scorched ground. The Vampire King plunged into it. With a final rush of air, the vortex sealed shut. 

Silence fell. 

And then, movement. 

Figures emerged from the shadows—dozens of them. Professors in ceremonial robes, students in torn uniforms, academy guards with weapons half-drawn. They poured into the clearing like a tide breaking free. During the fight, none had dared come close. They had only watched from the edges, awed and paralyzed. But now, the fear had lifted. The world had shifted. 

Dan remained where he was, closest to the center—closest to Principal Dormund. 

The principal turned to him. The smoke drifting off his armor curled in the sunlight like incense. His gaze, though tired, was sharp as a blade. When he spoke, his voice held the weight of someone who had seen the tides of eras pass. 

"What is your name, boy?" 

Dan, chest heaving, managed to reply, "I'm Dan." 

But the moment the words left his mouth, the edges of the world dimmed. The light blurred, and everything around him softened. His knees buckled beneath him as his consciousness faded—slipping away like water between cupped hands. 

He collapsed. 

But before his body hit the ground, Principal Dormund stepped forward and caught him. 

Dan had burned everything. 

SealFlow Requiem had hollowed him out. Skydrift Mirage had drained his final reserve. And beneath it all, his core had been relying on Hollow Vital—a reservoir not meant to be tapped for so long. His energy was gone. Every cell in his body had cried out—and finally, it had given in.