Akira's eyes hardened. "Let's go."
Sigvard lowered into his stance and surged forward, clashing with Charles in a burst of speed.
"You think you can beat me just because my blood isn't stable?" Charles snarled, a manic grin twisting his face. Blood surged down his arms, hardening into jagged crimson blades. "That's the mentality of a fool!"
His blades came crashing down—only for Sigvard to vanish. The strike ripped open the earth in an eruption of dust.
"This is when the boy strikes," Charles thought, turning just as Akira burst through the haze, mana surging around his fists.
"You're not the problem," Charles sneered, his gaze locked on Sigvard. "It's him."
"Is that so? Let's test that," Akira shot back, cocking his fist.
But before his blow connected—
Everything went white.
"Huh?! Wasn't I about to—?" Akira's voice echoed across an endless white void. His footsteps carried him forward… until he froze. His breath faltered.
"What… what is this feeling?"
A crushing dread pinned him to the ground. Trembling, he raised his head—only to see a titanic sword wrapped in writhing darkness looming above. His instincts screamed to run, but instead, a strange urge burned within him.
"It's calling to me…"
His hand reached out—
And in an instant, he was back. His fist was already descending on Charles.
"Hhhrrrraahh!"
Crack!
The blow hammered into Charles's side. Blood erupted from his mouth as his eyes widened in shock.
"Impossible! His punches couldn't even scratch me before… Has he been holding back?!" Panic flashed across Charles's face as he seized Akira's arm. "Don't—fuck—with meee!"
Sigvard was already behind him. A single, silent swing—his blade slicing halfway into Charles's neck.
"Shit!" Charles hissed, wrenching free. His wound sealed almost instantly, but his breathing was ragged now.
"FUCKERS!" he roared. Blood tendrils erupted from his back, lashing out like whips. Sigvard deflected with clean, precise arcs of his blade, while Akira shadow-stepped through the strikes, rushing in again.
"Sigvard!" Akira shouted.
"Ready."
Akira leapt—Sigvard caught his leg, catapulting him forward with a sonic boom.
"What do you think you're doing?!" Charles snarled, cocooning himself in a storm of blood tendrils.
Akira smirked. Mid-flight and slipped through his legs, shadows coiled around his body. He flickered—vanishing. In his place, Sigvard appeared, blade already driving toward Charles's exposed back.
"Got you."
Charles hissed, spawning more tendrils, but Sigvard caught them with one hand and drove his sword home.
"You like that?" Sigvard growled.
Charles bit his lip until blood streamed down his chin. "I'll make you beg for death."
The battlefield shook. Their blades blurred, clashing faster than the eye could follow, each strike cracking the ground beneath them.
Akira shadow-stepped behind Charles, following with a brutal kick to the gut. Blood sprayed from Charles's mouth.
"That must hurt," Sigvard said coldly, seizing Charles by the jaw and smashing him into the dirt. He dragged him across the battlefield, stone and rubble shredding beneath the vampire's body, before hurling him skyward.
Akira's shadows surged, forming chains. Sigvard caught them mid-air, yanking Charles down with bone-shattering force.
Charles slammed into the earth. Dust rose. Sigvard strode forward, blade poised over his chest.
"Good riddance."
The steel sank down—
—and Charles smiled.
"Sigvard!!" Akira's voice cracked through the haze.
Charles's smirk split into hysterical laughter. Blood tendrils erupted in all directions, piercing straight through Sigvard's chest.
The blade slipped from his hands. His form trembled, then began to fade.
"I see… I was tricked," Sigvard muttered weakly. His eyes turned toward Akira, resolute even in defeat. "…I'm sorry, my liege. I failed you."
And then—he was gone.
Charles chuckled darkly, each step deliberate as he tore the blade from his chest. His grin widened, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.
"I'm quite lucky. A second later, and that knight would've pierced my heart," he said, flicking the bloodied weapon aside—it landed at Akira's feet with a dull clang.
Akira's teeth gnashed, fists clenching tight, hatred blazing in his eyes.
"What's with that look?" Charles mocked with a smile. "Don't worry—you'll be joining him soon."
Back at the ruins of the museum, Lyon stirred, groaning as consciousness returned. Burn marks seared his skin, and his vision blurred against a searing light.
"Are you okay?" a voice called from within the glow.
Lyon shielded his eyes. "Wait… Mikage? Is that you?"
As the brightness cleared, Mikage stepped forward, extending his hand.
"Yeah. How are you holding up?"
"Barely fine…" Lyon muttered, reaching up. "Next time, give me a heads-up before you go all out."
But the moment their hands touched, Lyon hissed in pain, withdrawing quickly. His skin sizzled.
Mikage's eyes widened. "I—I didn't activate it!"
"So it's passive, huh?" Lyon replied, wincing but smirking through the pain. "At least it saved you. And from what I see, this form boosts your latent firepower."
"Yeah, but… I can't maintain it for long," Mikage admitted.
Before Lyon could respond, a voice echoed from within the flames.
"Oh, so you're a Magata. I was wondering where I'd seen that transformation before. Then it hit me—I sent one of your kind to the grave. Looks like I'll be sending his companion to join him soon."
Dracula emerged from the fire, skin scorched but already knitting back together.
"Damn it… even that wasn't enough?" Mikage thought grimly.
"Hey—how long can you keep this form?" Lyon asked quickly.
"Twenty minutes. What's the plan?"
"Plan? We survive. When the Phantom World collapses, we dip."
A small grin tugged at Mikage's lips. "Now that's a plan I can get behind."
He raised his hand. "Shakunetsu no Kureimoa!" Flames condensed, shaping into a blazing greatsword.
Beside him, Lyon's body crackled, lightning coiling around him. "Tch. If only my other hand wasn't busted," he muttered.
In response, Dracula's blood surged, twisting into the form of two giant serpents. They struck with bone-crushing force, but the spot where the sorcerers stood was already empty.
Dracula's eyes darted left, right, up—his instincts sharp. With a gesture, a sword of hardened blood appeared in his hand.
Clang!
Steel and fire collided as Mikage and Dracula's blades clashed, their faces inches apart. Dracula's expression was cold, unreadable.
The blood serpents erupted again, but Lyon intercepted, his electrified fists colliding with them, sparks raining across the battlefield.
"He reacted to both of us… instantly?" Lyon thought in disbelief.
Dracula's gaze flicked to him, and in that split-second, spikes jutted from the serpent, grazing Lyon's knuckles.
"Atsui Tenohira!" Mikage roared, heat surging from his palm.
Dracula shifted smoothly, kicking Mikage's leg out from under him. The sorcerer buckled to one knee, and in one swift motion, Dracula yanked him forward, thrusting his other palm toward Lyon.
A torrent of flame exploded outward.
Lyon rolled aside just in time, the searing blaze scorching past. Dracula hurled Mikage's body at him, but the fire sorcerer twisted mid-air, regaining balance.
"Mshale wa Radi!" Lyon cried, one of his rods sparking with concentrated lightning as he hurled it with precision.
But Dracula sidestepped effortlessly, eyes never leaving theirs, his face still void of emotion. Two fresh blood serpents burst from the ground, lashing toward the pair with killing intent.