[Arena Protection: 6 hours, 32 minutes remaining]

  Brimma didn’t need the timer to remind her. She could feel it ticking in her bones. But that didn’t stop her from hurling another crackling bolt of green energy at the monster trying to turn her into mulch.

  The miniboss, a hulking simian creature covered in hardened bark and volcanic moss, roared as her spell cracked across its snout.

  [Rotcurse Hex – Applied]

  Target Healing Received: -10%

  Stamina Regen: -25%

  Melee attackers gain +5% Lifesteal

  Duration: 10 seconds

  “Rot and roll, you oversized compost heap!” Brimma cackled, staff blazing.

  Kael was already gone.

  One moment he was behind her, the next he was everywhere, sliding between shattered stones, leaping across broken terrain, ducking under the miniboss’s swings like a living shadow. With his new cloak rippling behind him, the one he’d taken from that Mothkin bastard days ago and his new abilities he was a ghost.

  “Kael, left flank!” Brimma called.

  “Already there,” came the reply from the right.

  Alistair sighed and slammed his shield into place, intercepting a wild tail swipe aimed directly at Brimma’s kidneys.

  [Arena Protection – Active: Alistair]

  Impact absorbed. No damage taken.

  “Some gratitude would be nice,” he muttered.

  “Congratulations,” Brimma growled. “You absorbed damage while being functionally immortal. Would you like a pat on the head?”

  Thess laughed, blocking a strike with her bark-covered forearms before pivoting around to absorb another one. “Hey, hey, I want a pat on the head too.”

  Kael’s voice cut in. “How about a root?”

  He drew an arrow, which pulsed green the moment it left the bowstring.

  [Tangle Shot – Activated]

  Arrow impact sprouted entangling roots.

  Target Movement Speed: -40%

  Duration Extended via Forest Rot: 6 seconds

  The arrow struck the miniboss square in the thigh.

  Roots exploded outward like vines on a vengeance arc, snaking up its legs and locking its stance. The creature roared and flailed, but its movements slowed, clunky and staggered.

  Kael landed on a fallen column and fired again.

  This time the arrow disappeared mid-air.

  [Ability: Unseen Arrow – Activated]

  Arrow turned invisible mid-flight.

  Ignores line-of-sight for 15 meters

  Cannot be parried or blocked

  Struck from behind → True Damage applied

  Alistair’s eyes narrowed as the arrow vanished mid-flight.

  Invisible.

  Unblockable.

  And it curved, bent behind the miniboss like a whispered betrayal before sinking deep into its exposed back.

  [Unseen Arrow].

  He hadn’t heard about that one.

  Not from Kael. Not from the system. Not even a smug little hint.

  His dear friend, his soulbound, stubborn, tight-lipped companion had failed to mention it.

  Alistair tilted his head slightly, something cold and curious curling behind his smile.

  That looked like something special.

  It looked like a high-level ability.

  Maybe it was part of his [Archery] skill, maybe something unlocked at a higher level. A natural progression. But... Such a powerful ability... It could also come from a blessing, a new trait or... something or someone else...

  And Kael hadn’t said a word.

  Alistair kept his expression flat, but inside, gears turned slowly. Clicking into place.

  Why hide it?

  They were bonded. Connected on a level most people would never experience. Their fates were twined like wire. And yet Kael had secrets.

  Still.

  Alistair’s grip on his blade tightened for half a second, then relaxed.

  “Noted,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

  Then smiled as if nothing had ever crossed his mind.

  The miniboss reeled, screeching as blood sprayed from its back.

  Kael laughed as he leapt down. “Anyone wanna see what a dragon taught me?”

  “No,” Brimma snapped immediately.

  “Yes!” Thess and Alistair shouted in unison.

  Kael grinned and drew one final arrow, sleek, obsidian-fletched, and humming with dangerous heat.

  The air warped around it as he pulled back the string.

  Even Buddy, lounging nearby, lifted his head in curiosity.

  [Final Ember Shot – Activated]

  Arrow infused with condensed draconic essence

  Ignores armor, shields, barriers, and defensive traits

  Guaranteed Critical – x4 base weapon damage

  If target below 50% HP → Instant death unless high Constitution save succeeds

  Cooldown: 12 hours

  Burning Soul (if survived): -10% HP/sec for 5 seconds, regen blocked

  The arrow burst from Kael’s bow like a small star.

  It didn’t fly. It tore. A flaming trail carved the air behind it as the miniboss locked eyes with its doom.

  It tried to move.

  It failed.

  The arrow struck center mass.

  For a second, nothing happened.

  Then the thing detonated, a shockwave of molten blood and scorched bark erupting outward.

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  Brimma threw up a hand to shield her face.

  Alistair whistled. “Well. That’s one way to overcompensate.”

  [Miniboss Defeated – Lavabark Grovekiller]

  1x Godkey Fragment

  41 Gold Coins

  Cindering Moss Sample (Rare Alchemy Material)

  Brimma slowly turned to Kael, her face blank, eyes twitching.

  “You could do that the whole time?” she snapped. “I spent mana! I summoned an Obelisk! I hexed that thing into the ground!”

  Kael shrugged, utterly unbothered. “You said we were a team.”

  She hurled a rock at his face. “You’re a cheating little show pony!”

  It bounced off Kael’s Arena Shield harmlessly.

  Alistair clapped once, dry and sarcastic. “Group morale: thriving.”

  Brimma stomped off toward the remains to claim her loot, muttering curses in three languages and one forgotten dialect of badger.

  Kael stood near the edge of the crater where the Lavabark Grovekiller had fallen, watching the heat simmer off molten bark.

  Then he froze.

  Mid-step.

  Mid-breath.

  Alistair’s eyes narrowed instantly. His first thought, reflexive, intrusive. Was it about me? Did he sense something through their bond?

  But Kael’s voice came low, sharp as broken ice.

  “Danger.”

  Ah. Right.

  The dragon.

  Kael’s recent bond had gifted him a number of subtle boosts, some loud and flashy, some insidious and quiet, like this one.

  The elf could now sense shifts in the air. Movement in stillness. Violence before it bloomed.

  Alistair’s body tensed as Kael slowly raised a hand, pointing toward a jagged treeline.

  “There.”

  Alistair didn’t question it. He turned with predatory grace, his boots grinding quietly against broken stone.

  And then he heard it.

  A hiss.

  Not a mortal sound, not an animal breath. Something deeper. Hungrier. A low rasp scraped out from the world’s edge, vibrating inside his skull.

  His body moved on instinct.

  Fangs dropped.

  Muscles tensed.

  Alistair hissed back, fangs gleaming in the low light.

  Beside him, Buddy growled low, spine rigid, flames flickering to life across his snout. One wrong move and the hellhound would pounce.

  And then like a curtain being drawn, he appeared.

  The air shimmered once, and a figure stepped through.

  A vampire.

  But not like Alistair.

  Where Alistair’s steps were poised, practiced, honed from years of royal etiquette and forced grace, this one loped forward like something recently risen from a battlefield ditch. He was bare-chested, covered in mismatched armor scraps. His eyes were wide and glassy. His lips were blackened, and his fangs too long, like they hadn’t retracted in days.

  Alistair got the system prompt a heartbeat later.

  [Champion Identified: Vardis, the Hollow-Bitten]

  Race: Turned Vampire

  Level: 29

  Class: Blood Revenant (Tier I)

  Status: Arena Protection – Active

  Turned.

  Of course.

  Not born. Not pure. Just some mortal with bad luck and a worse sire.

  Alistair stood straighter.

  His voice came out smooth, elegant and dripping with contempt. “You’re in the way.”

  The turned vampire tilted his head. Eyes locked on Alistair like a starving dog sizing up a meal.

  “No,” he said. “You are.”

  Kael shifted slightly, hand near his bow. “Attack?”

  Brimma, ever dry, said, “He’s protected by the Arena, genius. He can watch, but he can’t bite.”

  Alistair’s voice was cold. “He can also hear you.”

  The vampire grinned. “He can.”

  They stared at each other in stillness that felt brittle. Ready to snap.

  Then the vampire moved, slowly, confidently, circling just a few feet outside attack range.

  “Never thought I’d see one of your kind out here, Purebloods,” he said. “Thought you all lived in castles, drinking wine and pretending it was blood.”

  Alistair arched a brow. “And I thought Turned were supposed to be staked before they could speak.”

  The vampire chuckled, raspy and low. “You’ve got jokes.”

  “I have standards,” Alistair replied.

  “You brought mortals,” Vardis sneered, sweeping a hand toward Kael and Thess. “What are they, your pets? Walking blood banks? Or do you just like the taste of fear when it’s familiar?”

  Alistair’s lip curled. “They’re allies. Not that a mongrel like you would understand.”

  Kael remained silent, but his body shifted ever so slightly toward Alistair. Thess, for her part, folded her arms and looked bored, though her knuckles were white.

  “You know,” Vardis mused, eyes flicking over Thessaly, “I once tasted dryad blood. A bit woody. Bitter. But underneath? All that bark and strength? There’s honey, if you dig deep enough.”

  Thess stiffened.

  Alistair didn’t move, but his voice cut like a dagger.

  “Mention her again,” he said, “and I will find a way to kill you. Protection or no.”

  Vardis’s grin widened, revealing blood-stained teeth. “There it is. The blood pride.”

  Alistair stared him down.

  “You know the difference between us?” he asked, voice almost gentle.

  Vardis tilted his head.

  “I was born with it. The strength. The gifts. The lineage. It’s mine. You? You were given this life. Secondhand. An afterthought. A mistake.”

  Vardis’s grin wavered.

  “You wear the name ‘vampire’ like a stolen coat. Ill-fitting and unearned.”

  The wind picked up, scattering ash across the ruined battlefield.

  Neither moved.

  Kael’s voice came quiet again. “He’s leaving.”

  Sure enough, Vardis slowly stepped backward into the shadows. The smug grin returned, but now it carried the weight of something darker. “I’ll see you again, Soulbinder.”

  Alistair gave him a slow nod. “Please do.”

  The turned vampire vanished like a bad thought, the ripples of his presence slowly fading.

  Thess exhaled. “Well. He was charming.”

  Brimma spit on the ground. “That one reeks of desperation. Turned ones always do.”

  Alistair didn’t reply immediately.

  But inside?

  He was already planning how to kill him.

  And how to make sure the body never rose again.

  Alistair paced like a storm in a cage.

  Boots cracked stone and kicked ash as he stalked the perimeter of their makeshift camp, eyes locked on the fading ridge where the vampire had disappeared.

  “Eventually,” he said, voice low and trembling with heat, “we’re going to have to kill him.”

  Kael looked up from his crouch beside Buddy. “You think he’s that dangerous?”

  Alistair stopped. Turned.

  “That lowlife, gutter-born parasite,” he spat, “has set his sights on Thess. He wants to challenge me. Not in strength. Not in wit. In ownership.”

  Kael frowned.

  Brimma let out a heavy breath. “Calm yourself, boy.”

  Her voice was sharp, her eyes sharper.

  “You’re acting erratic again.”

  She didn’t say the word, but they all heard it.

  Bloodsong.

  The rising storm of instinct that Alistair barely kept leashed on a good day.

  He exhaled through his nose and dragged a hand through his hair. “Right. Right.”

  He flexed his hands once. Twice. The claws hadn’t come out. Yet.

  Thessaly spoke softly, her words hesitant. “You were kind of an asshole to him. I mean, more than usual.”

  Alistair’s head snapped toward her, incredulous. “You don’t know what those things are.”

  Thess’s brow furrowed, but she said nothing.

  Alistair stepped closer, voice rising, edged with something wild. “You don’t know what they’ve done. The Turned, they’re what people think all vampires are. Mindless predators. They feed and kill and feed again. They choose to be monsters. They’re incomplete. Errors in the bloodline.”

  Kael scoffed under his breath. “Kettle calling, what’s the phrase...”

  Alistair whirled on him. “I am nothing like him.”

  Kael didn’t move. Just met his gaze with steady, unimpressed calm.

  A heartbeat passed.

  Then Thessaly stepped forward. Her hand came up, tentative, and landed gently on Alistair’s shoulder.

  He froze.

  “You’re a little like him,” she said.

  Her voice wasn’t accusing. Just honest.

  “I mean… sometimes.”

  Her fingers squeezed his shoulder lightly.

  “And that’s okay.”

  Alistair’s breath hitched.

  His skin was too hot. The world too loud. His vision sharpened to impossible clarity, the flutter of Kael’s cloak, the shift of dust by Brimma’s staff, the slow pulse of Thess’s thumb against his shoulder.

  The Bloodsong howled beneath his ribs, desperate to unfurl, to lash out, to claim and bite and burn everything that felt like weakness.

  Then...

  “Leave him alone.”

  Brimma’s voice cracked through the moment like a whip.

  It was quiet, but it landed with the weight of a mountain.

  Kael lifted his hands. “Alright. Alright.”

  Thess gave Alistair one last squeeze, then let go.

  Alistair closed his eyes. Exhaled. The buzzing began to fade.

  Brimma turned away and adjusted the strap of her pack. “Come on,” she said.

  Her tone left no room for argument.

  “Let’s go find our next victim.”

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