Selis immediately knew what he was—a general. Possibly the general and one of Salister's generals. The one leading this vampire horde.

The one who had coordinated the last five waves of attacks like they were ballroom dances.

The reason why the third layer of the wall had fallen in record time.

The mastermind behind the capital's darkest week.

And Lucian?

Lucian didn't need introductions. He simply narrowed his eyes and stepped forward, sword humming with lethal promise.

He knew exactly who this enemy was.

"Count Varien," Lucian said, voice low, like thunder just before the downpour. "I should've known you were behind this circus."

The vampire smirked, fangs gleaming like polished daggers. "Lucian. Still wearing the same coat? Tsk. I was hoping fashion had evolved with your arrogance."

Selis, watching from behind the barricade, blinked. "Wait, they know each other?"

Well, of course they knew each other—high-ranking vampire hunters and vampire generals didn't just exist in the same war; they studied each other like rivals in a deadly chess game.

It was only natural that someone like Lucian would recognize one of the key players behind the enemy lines.

Lucian didn't reply. He simply stepped forward, boots crunching over broken tile and bone. The tension was so thick, even the smoke dared not move.

"I would say it's good to see you again," Varien continued smoothly, "but honestly, I was enjoying myself. This city screams beautifully when it burns."

Lucian tilted his head. "Still monologuing, I see. Thought you would've dropped that bad habit after I caved in your fortress last time."

"Oh, Lucian," Varien said with a sigh, placing a hand dramatically on his chest. "You wound me."

"I'm not here to talk."

Selis ducked just as Lucian lunged, the force of his attack splitting the air in two.

And just like that, the two titans collided.

The battlefield turned into a dance floor of death. Steel clashed with claw. Wind pressure cracked walls. Soldiers on both sides were forced to retreat just to avoid being collateral damage.

Selis peeked through her fingers from behind a sandbag.

"Okay. Yep. This is definitely some kind of enemies-to-something situation. The tension is weirdly intense. Are we sure they didn't date in a past life?"

A vampire hunter beside her grunted. "We're literally dying and that's your takeaway?"

But Selis couldn't look away.

Every time Lucian struck, Varien dodged with a flick of his wrist and a smug smile. Every time Varien countered, Lucian blocked with pure grit and disgust.

"Just admit it," Varien said mid-duel, ducking a slash. "You missed me."

Lucian responded by kicking him through a tree.

It was the most beautiful thing Selis had ever seen.

The battle raged on, and the tide of the war now hung on this one duel—Lucian, the hope of humanity, versus Varien, the high general of the vampire court and probable winner of Undead Magazine's "Most Dramatic Cape Toss" award.

And as they fought, the soldiers of the capital finally began to believe that they just might survive this war.

Selis, still covered in soot and wondering if she should pick her sword back up, just muttered under her breath, "If Lucian wins this, I'm baking him a thank-you cake. Or at least buying him a clean coat."

And in the distance, someone yelled, "WHO TOOK MY TAMBORINE?!"

War was hell.

But finally, the humans had a fighting chance.

The clash between Lucian and Varien wasn't just a battle—it was an event that seemed to warp the air around it.

Everyone on the battlefield stopped, drawn to the spectacle like moths to a flame. Even the lesser vampires paused their slaughter to watch. Something about seeing two apex predators face off silenced both armies.

Varien stood tall, a vision of undead nobility. His black cape fluttered behind him like smoke, and his crimson eyes glittered with smugness.

"It's great that you finally graces us with your presence," he said smoothly, voice like poisoned silk. "I was getting bored with this weak humans."

Lucian didn't respond. He just cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, as if he was warming up for a jog instead of a duel to the death. Then, in the next breath—they moved.

The sound of steel meeting claw rang out like thunder.

Selis barely tracked the first few strikes—blades flashing, Varien teleporting in and out of the shadows, and Lucian parrying as though he had eyes on the back of his head.

It was like watching a dance choreographed by Death himself.

One moment, Varien was a blur, his claws slashing through a stone pillar behind Lucian like butter. The next, Lucian's blade was embedded in the vampire's ribs—but not deep enough.

Varien sneered, backhanded him into a wall, and the debris flew like shrapnel. Lucian stood a second later, wiping blood from his lip, expression unreadable.

Selis crouched behind a toppled barricade, heart pounding. "Okay, okay, maybe we're not all doomed," she muttered, half in awe, half terrified. "Or maybe we're just doomed less quickly."

The duel went on for minutes that felt like hours. Lucian took hits—he wasn't untouchable, despite what the rumors said. Gashes opened on his arms, and one brutal strike to his side made him grunt and stagger. But every time Varien smiled, Lucian hit back twice as hard.

Then came the moment Selis would never forget.

Varien launched at Lucian with a feral snarl, claws extended. Lucian caught the vampire's wrist mid-air, twisted it—snap—and then, in one impossibly clean motion, drove his sword upward in a deadly arc.

Slice.

Varien froze. His head was still on for half a second. Then, it wasn't.

The body collapsed backward. The head rolled once—crimson eyes wide, lips forming a final sentence.

"You're not human . . . are you? Because no human has that kind of strength . . . or ability."

Then, he crumbled into ash.

Silence.

Then the humans roared. A victorious cry so loud and guttural that the heavens might've mistaken it for thunder.

But Selis didn't join in.

She was staring at Lucian.

He stood in the middle of the battlefield, surrounded by ashes, blood streaking down one side of his face. His sword still gleamed, dripping with the last of Varien's ichor.

And his amber eyes glowed faintly—not with triumph, not with joy, but something else entirely.

No smile. No words.

Just a cold, quiet stillness.

And for the first time, Selis felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the wind.

He didn't look like a hero.

He looked just like the vampires.