Reincarnated as the Vampire Princess' Familiar
Chapter 58 - 12 - A one-sided clash

Chapter 58: 12 - A one-sided clash

Welcomed by a deafening roar, Ayra and Amelia finally make their entrance from opposite ends of the boundless open-air arena — a place so vast it resembles a real battlefield, large enough for entire armies to clash within it.

Both are wearing a kind of golden metallic armor that covers them from head to toe, so light it almost looks like fabric — tight-fitting — along with boot-like shoes of the same color, though made of leather. According to what Daphne explained to me, these are the traditional garments of this event, used since the very first Judicium Sanguinis millennia ago.

Their gazes are serious, focused — almost worried. The odds are all in Ayra’s favor — just like the cheers from the endless audience, made up of tens of thousands of spectators, including members of other races who were purposely invited to witness the vampires’ display of power and further spread fear. But the tension caused by the sheer size of the crowd and the overwhelming expectations is undeniable, and keeping one’s nerves steady will matter just as much as raw strength.

Then, silence falls again. A silence that feels endless, finally broken by the voice of the commentator — who also struggles to contain his excitement.

«Let the Judicium Sanguinis begin!»

At that signal, both vampires — using Telum — summon their weapons. Ayra calls forth her usual sword, while in Amelia’s clenched fist appears a small, decidedly unimpressive dagger. A blood-colored storm bursts from their bodies — my mistress’s aura clearly more intense and impetuous — then they launch themselves at each other with astonishing speed and power.

What surprises me even more, though, is that I can actually see them! Sure, only briefly — like cats darting in every direction as they fight — but it doesn’t matter; being able, even if not clearly, to follow movements that just a month ago were practically invisible to my eyes is an achievement that excites me greatly — a clear sign that I’m finally beginning to gain solid control over Vis energy.

A rapid close-range exchange of blows follows — the clashing of their blades echoing throughout the vast arena.

At first, the duel seems balanced — at least on the surface — but moment by moment it shifts in favor of my mistress.

Taking advantage of a mistake in Amelia’s movements, Ayra lands a violent kick to her right side, launching her into the air with impressive force.

But Amelia doesn’t give up. «Blood Word: Interius!»

The countess casts the spell while still in midair, trying to catch her opponent off guard. A burst of energy explodes from Amelia’s palm — far more precise and compact than anything I can currently produce, though still nowhere near the level my mistress showed me during training on the rocky plain.

«Blood Word: Praeffusio!»

An instant before Amelia’s energy beam can reach its target, a perfect blood-colored sphere surrounds Ayra’s body, completely nullifying the attack — but without any explosion upon impact, as if Countess Dulcar’s magic had been absorbed by the barrier itself.

«Praeffusio? What kind of Blood Word is that...?» I ask in amazement — my eyes wide at how easily Ayra blocked such a powerful spell like Interius.

Sasha, with surprising promptness, answers even before Daphne.

«It’s a Level 4 Blood Word, capable not only of nullifying any lower-level magic attack but also of converting it into magical energy for the user. In other words, it’s a self-sustaining spell — it recharges the energy spent to cast it by absorbing that of the attack. I never imagined our little Ayra could use such a powerful Blood Word... I’m almost jealous,» explains Sasha, taking the opportunity to stretch her leg toward me again, forcing me — once more — to slide closer to Daphne, now so near that she has to slightly lift her right thigh and rest it over my left just to let me move.

Sasha responds to the gesture with a loud sigh, once again spouting her absurd insinuations about me liking men.

«Next time I challenge Kajetan, instead of forcing him to have sex with me, I’ll ask him to do it with Lyon. I’m sure they’d both enjoy it!» Sasha mutters again.

I pretend not to hear her; I definitely don’t intend to stoop to her level — in her twisted mind, not wanting to sleep with her automatically makes you gay. Let her think what she wants... maybe this time she’ll finally stop bothering me.

Anyway, it’s truly incredible that Ayra can use a Level 4 Blood Word so flawlessly — I’m only just beginning to master a Level 2 one, and it took me weeks of training to get there. It’s not just about training; she must have a real natural talent for this kind of thing — a talent Clotilde clearly recognized, which explains why she pushed so hard to have Ayra at her side in the Scarlet Army.

In the meantime, the duel unfolds just as everyone had predicted; Ayra’s strength is overwhelming, and with each passing moment, her superiority over Countess Amelia becomes more and more evident. My mistress’s speed, her physical power, the Blood Words she commands... Countess Dulcar doesn’t come close in any of these areas. The simple knowledge that Ayra can cast Praeffusio has completely discouraged her from using any more offensive magic, forcing her to return to close combat — with disastrous consequences.

For every blow Amelia manages to land, Ayra strikes her three times in return, moving with such agility that her sword seems to pierce the countess in two different places at once. And, unfortunately for Amelia, my mistress’s sword — just like mine — isn’t a normal weapon, but one designed to destroy the blood’s coagulation system and inflict wounds that never stop bleeding, further widening the already unbridgeable gap between them.

Amelia certainly couldn’t have imagined that Ayra’s strength had grown to this level; after all, just a few weeks ago, her power was nothing remarkable compared to the other vampires. Her progress has been so rapid, and in such a short time, that Countess Dulcar could never have anticipated such a gap in strength. Probably, before those weeks of training with Clotilde, their powers were evenly matched — but now...

«This is incredible! Ayra Valakys has brought her opponent to her knees in the blink of an eye! There were rumors about the princess being considered for command of the Scarlet Army, but it looks like they weren’t just rumors! Could it already be over for Countess Dulcar?»

Seeing Amelia reduced to a crawling worm, covered in blood and dirt, her body battered by countless slashes and puncture wounds, brings me a satisfaction I don’t think I’ve ever experienced — and Ginevra’s must be a hundred times greater than mine!

«W-When did you become so strong...?» Amelia murmurs, collapsed on the ground at Ayra’s feet — her voice choked by the blood gushing nonstop from her mouth like a crimson fountain.

But Ayra doesn’t answer. Her gaze — cold, yet filled with disgust — remains fixed on her agonizing victim, her blade raised high, ready to deliver the final blow and end what has been less a fair fight and more a one-sided massacre. Not even a scratch marks Ayra’s body — not a single trace of the battle can be seen on her.

«Ugh... It was even faster than I expected. How boring...» Sasha mutters, letting out a long, theatrical yawn and stretching her arms and legs as if she’d just woken up... though definitely stretching way too far!

That maniac never gives up?!

Fortunately, Daphne’s eyes are always vigilant; to help me escape Sasha’s harassment, she’s now forced to lift her entire pelvis, allowing me to slip away and move farther from that pervert — only to inevitably end up with her sitting right on top of me.

Today, Daphne is wearing a skirt that reaches down to her ankles, but it’s very — too — light. So light that it feels as if her buttocks are in direct contact with... exactly, that!

Poor Daphne... forced to go this far just to save me from Sasha’s claws — but above all... poor me!

Rule number one when trying to avoid inappropriate physiological reactions as a stunningly beautiful woman, nearly twenty years older than you, sits her round and perfect butt on your pubic bone: you can’t avoid them.

No matter how much I try to suppress certain instincts, there’s nothing I can do... my erection pushes like a bulldozer beneath the light velvet pants of my uniform, pressing directly against the space between Daphne’s buttocks — a pressure she most likely noticed, yet deliberately ignored with grace and maturity, fully aware that such an inevitable position would awaken perfectly normal urges in me, and carefully avoiding anything that might embarrass me.

Anyway...

«Why doesn’t Amelia surrender? The combat zone isn’t protected by that special barrier that prevents fatal wounds like in the matches between familiars... is pride really stopping her from admitting defeat?» I ask, unable to understand why the countess insists on continuing the fight.

«I fear pride has little to do with it in this situation...» Daphne murmurs, her voice laced with concern. «The fact that she hasn’t surrendered yet can mean only one thing.»

«Which is it?» I press her, unsettled by the unease in her tone.

Before Daphne even has time to answer my question — and just an instant before Ayra’s blade can fall upon her opponent — an intense dark red light erupts from Amelia’s arm, forcing Ayra to swiftly leap back.

Etched into the woman’s skin is a glowing filigree of strange symbols and interwoven geometric patterns, radiating the same burgundy energy as the light released...

from the Cursed Blood Word of Draven!

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