Anastasia had a smile that screamed confidence and hope. For the first time since the beginning of the fight, she truly believed she could come out as the winner.
Before throwing herself into this dance of fate, she glanced at the rest of the room.
There were a crowd of nobles and servants.
There were the white tables fallen to the ground.
And there were 3 corpses in total.
The male servant, with his throat severed, where blood had poured out and pooled to his shoes.
The female servant, whose head got bashed into the white wall, leaving nothing but blood and organs behind her.
And there was a third corpse she hadn't noticed.
"Raviel..."
The corpse of Count Raviel Dumas lay calmly on the ground, a single dagger was deep in his chest, directly to his heart.
Blood had pooled beneath him; it seemed like most of the people there hadn't even noticed due to the flow of the battle.
"How unfortunate, I would gladly pray for you, but it doesn't seem like a place such as Heaven exists in this world."
Her soul felt the same pain as usual when sensing danger, making her turn towards the planning opponent.
Her hand went for a table, grabbing everything she could, along with the tablecloth, which she threw towards Raviel, covering his body from the view of others.
She proceeded to turn around and sprint towards the vampire.
Her steps were nimble and precise, as fast as a beast.
She carefully stepped on the broken and fallen tables, jumping from one to another continuously.
She could not be careless about it; the opponent could slow his perception of time, unlike her, who could only blindly trust her instincts in this fight.
She jumped relentlessly, making circles around the vampire in the middle, until her soul told her something only she could understand.
With a final touch of her finger on the reversed table, she jumped backwards, her body flipping in mid-air.
Her body contorted itself to allow Anastasia to see the target beneath her.
She now understood the reason for her sudden instinct.
It wasn't by a lot, but she noticed the vampire's eyes were trailing just slightly behind her for an unknown reason.
Seeing the opportunity, she seized it and threw 5 knives she managed to collect from one of the tables.
The knives flew beautifully in unison at the man, making a perfect line of silverware.
The vampire noticed the knives at the last second and quickly chanted something out loud, making the knives slow down to only a portion of their original speed, leaving him enough time to escape the projectiles.
The vampire dodged rapidly to the left in the face of danger.
Suddenly, the man sensed something touching his left cheek.
"Wha—"
The man was now able to observe the wooden floor from a better angle, his body now flying in the air at rapid speed.
His mind didn't have enough time to comprehend the turn of events.
Before he even knew it, his body had landed on the nearby wall, cutting all his thoughts and making him gasp for air with despair.
The airless gasps of the vampire were painful to the ear; they may have been vile creatures, but they sure did sound very human.
Not that it mattered to Anastasia at this point.
"How the tables have turned."
Anastasia stood in front of the vampire, still on the ground, gasping.
"Hurry up, bloodsucker. I don't have all day."
Anastasia taunted the man on the ground with passion. The tables had truly made a complete turn.
The man stopped gasping as much and put his hand on the ground, and pushed himself up, lifting his head to get a glimpse at the woman standing before him.
The sight was truly terrifying.
A woman, taller than most humans he had encountered in his years of life, unscarred from the battle, stood in front of him, on the ground, still trying to recover from the blow.
He had punched her, kicked her, thrown her, slashed her and stabbed her, but none of it even left a speck of dust on her skin.
They said that vampires had regeneration powers beyond those of any human, but this human had regeneration powers beyond those of any vampire.
It was absolutely ridiculous.
An outright comedy.
He could not help but chuckle.
"From now on..."
She blinked for less than a second, and the man had already disappeared.
The pain and her soul surged once again as she unconsciously turned around towards the source of said danger.
"It's pride and nothing else!" The man screamed behind her with all his strength.
She grinned widely. "Hasn't been any other way!" Both of them pulled out a blade, a knife and a dagger, and clashed against one another.
Repeatedly, their weapons hit one another, each time going from attack to defence and going for counter-attacks.
Their minds were completely empty as they clashed mindlessly without rest.
The only thing going through her mind was the pain her soul sent her, again and again, every time a blow would be thrown, she would know it before he even telegraphed his movement.
They didn't have anything left for them to protect.
Anastasia had long understood she did not need to care for her body, letting countless blows hit her without any attempts to deflect the dagger.
While the vampire had also long understood he stood no chance against this demon under human disguise.
"You're a monster, you know that, right?" He grinned like a fool while clashing blows.
Anastasia looked at him seriously while running away and towards him.
"Maybe I am, perhaps I am not."
She thought about it for a bit.
"At the end of the day, it doesn't really matter."
Her knife entered the thigh of the man, causing him great pain, though he did not show it explicitly.
"Whatever I do, I'll be something other than who I am."
She punched his face as hard as she could, swinging her fist into his nose as blood splattered onto her dress.
"I can't imagine myself as something other than myself."
The vampire fell dramatically to the ground, his body lying on the hardwood floor.
"Give me any title you may wish."
She rammed her fist, again and again, on his face, turning his ghostly white skin into the colour of his blood.
"Noble, daughter, wife."
She held up his cloak, dragging him towards her face.
"Prophet or demon."
She stood up, bringing him to the same height as her.
"Mad or composed."
She rammed her knee straight to his guts.
"In the end,"
Blood splattered everywhere from his mouth to the floor.
"The only thing that will be left on my epitaph,"
Anastasia dropped him to the ground, picked up the last of her knives, approached his body on the floor and took the blade close to his throat.
Slash!
"Is Anastasia Fomenko."