Tyvan methodically arranged his and Shay’s belongings by the wall. Alexei’s things he kept separate-- approximately three feet away.

  The two combatants had a proper face-off at the centre of the tatami flooring. Shay’s martial stance was a fair approximation of her grandfather’s-- naturally. Alexei adopted a low, wide stance, reminiscent of an orthodox grappler.

  Did that fellow know how to fight? Tyvan wanted to assume he did, considering his age. But... assuming well of that person was consistently unreliable.

  Shay took a sudden step back, standing up straight. She casually untied her hair ribbons, then re-styled her hair in a quick, but neat, single bunch. The other ribbon... she wrapped her around her fist.

  “Tyvan, this is a weapon, right? They look like they’re made from the same thing your gloves are.”

  “That’s correct,” Tyvan said, nodding thoughtfully. He’d meant to inform her of the fact, but she’d realised it on her own. Most impressive.

  “Is it gonna be okay to hit him?” Shay asked. “He’s not gonna... die, right?”

  “Lady ShaYy~” Alexei moaned, deep and melodramatic. “Of that, I sincerely doubt you need to worry.”

  “If you force him to yield,” Tyvan said, “I’ll grant you anything you wish.”

  “You mean it?!” Shay replied, her eyes uncomfortably bright.

  “...Yes. Refrain from questioning my sincerity in the future.”

  Shay returned her focus to her opponent, her determination clear.

  Alexei shot a suspicious look back toward him. Why, Tyvan had no idea.

  Alexei then broke his posture-- the cad. He stood tall, knees conspicuously locked, his forward arm outstretched... and his eyes took on a visible red glow.

  “Come now, Lady Shay,” he said, mana infused into his voice. “You don’t really want to attack me, do you? Perhaps an evening spent together, you and I... just the two of ussss-- wouldn’t that be more to your liking?”

  “Alexei,” Tyvan said sharply. “What. do you. think. you are doing?”

  “I am acting as would a proper child of night,” he sang mockingly. “Was this not what you requested, Lord Protector? If Miss Shay is to do battle with my flesh and blood, this much should be expected, no?”

  Tyvan let out a gruff sigh. That much was correct.

  “Awww. What’s wrong, Valorum?” Alexei grinned. “Are you afraid to lose her?”

  Hm. Was he? Perhaps. But he was confident in murdering that dullard before--

  Oh.

  Shay’s right hand shot upward, the ribbon tied to her right fist swirling around her arm.

  A bright light shone outwardly-- gold at the first flash... then fading to a dim white.

  And she wrapped her fingers around... the hilt... of a sword.

  A conjured mana-weapon.

  Since when could she do that?

  “R-royal?”

  Alexei blurted out something absurd just before taking a full strike to the stomach.

  And... Shay did not allow him to recover.

  She rained sword-strikes upon him without mercy. He tried to close the distance, but instead of respite, he found a cutting elbow to his temple. He was then caught painfully unaware by an agile kick to his face.

  --”Wait! I wasn’t ready!”

  The beating continued.

  --”Let me regain my bearing!”

  --”No, not the hair!!”

  --“By dose! Biss Yan! Bercy! Blease!!”

  As Shay continued to sate her thirst for physical violence, she began to make demands of her own.

  “Don’t flirt with high school girls at your age!!”

  --”It’s a popular trope in modern media!”

  “When we first met, you were so freakin’ CREEPY!!”

  --”I apologize! It was not my intention!!”

  “I! Already! Have! Someone I LIKE!!!!”

  As the content of their conversation was unimportant, Tyvan was able to focus on Shay’s mysterious weapon.

  That light-sword of hers... its cutting ability was abysmal. Considering Alexei’s borrowed clothes remained intact, its edge was nonexistent.

  When it struck Alexei’s unarmored body, it rendered a paradoxical noise. It rang. Similar to... a gong? And it was loud.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Tyvan set to making calculations in his mind, devising a spell to protect Shay’s hearing. But as he was adjusting its parameters, he noticed something similar already in effect.

  More impressive, still...

  Genius conjurers generally learned self-enchantment before entering formal training. Such talents intrinsically empowered their personal defenses commensurate to their evocative output.

  All practitioners had to learn spontaneous casting of protections, reinforcement, adaptations, (or similar,) in order to survive higher-level invocations. Most had to endlessly suffer drills for weeks and months, with separate practice for unique spells-- even those within the same school.

  That begged the question: who taught her such things?

  It was a fascinating train of thought.

  However, watching Alexei beaten one-sidedly for nearly a full minute was a far more satisfying use of his attention.

  Alexei rolled back, tumbling on the mat after a third successful kick to the face.

  That length was probably as far as his confidence had taken him.

  From the prone, he performed an acrobatic flip, returning to his feet.

  Then... he reached his arm forward.

  The result of that... err.

  Though overall unintentional, Tyvan found himself standing in front of Alexei, firmly gripping his wrist.

  “lorD proteCtor~” Alexei mewled.

  “Ah. I... hm.”

  Tyvan released him, stepping aside.

  Alexei immediately took another kick. Judging by its initial trajectory, it should have struck him in the abdomen. But Shay’s fatigue (or... the will of the fates) determined the point of impact was to be his crotch.

  The blonde, broken man crumpled to the mat, clutching the affected area. “Valorum... why?”

  “...My apologies,” Tyvan whispered-- not loud enough to be heard.

  “Alexei!” Shay cried, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to--”

  “Worry not. He’ll live,” Tyvan assured her. “So? How was it?”

  Shay steadied herself, wiping her brow with her sleeve. She took a few deep breaths and lifted up her weapon. “Is this... magic?”

  Tyvan inspected the dim-light sword. It was a proper mana-weapon, a conjuration given physical form.

  He tried to take it from her, but it dissipated as soon as it left her hand. That confirmed that the weapon was hers and hers alone-- it was not granted to her by an outside power. Further, the weapon’s unorthodox qualities were not ironic considering its wielder.

  However... Shay, with her meagre amount of natural mana, should have struggled to light a candle. Yet she somehow conjured a mana-weapon with both a recognisable shape and a physical form.

  Tyvan took her wrist, extending his senses. Something was different about her. Her mana capacity remained unchanged. But... her mana circuits. They had widened.

  The constriction or otherwise deterioration of a practitioner’s mana-circuits was somewhat common. The reverse was... not unheard of-- the circumstances usually relating to fortune or fate. The current-him was unable to replicate the process with any degree of reliability.

  Then, in addition to that, the quality of Shay's mana was abnormally pure.

  That fact was astronomically more difficult to explain.

  The only rationalisation he had... was that, perhaps, his memory was at fault.

  --which was, of course, preposterous.

  “So... I get to choose a prize, right?”

  Shay was beside him, peering up with great interest. Shaken from his thoughts, Tyvan’s gaze drifted down... and he was greeted by the most magnificent smile he’d ever seen.

  Hm. It wasn’t the first time she’d surprised him.

  He wasn’t wrong. Shay simply had a tendency to exceed his expectations.

  “We’ll discuss that at a later date. Get some rest, for now-- and I’ll see you for the briefing, tomorrow morning.”

  “Ugh... these fuckers.”

  Nuri tossed and turned on her messy bed, eventually grabbing a pillow to shield her face.

  “--trying to fucking kill me...”

  The drapes had been drawn open-- the morning sun shining bright and burning. Maybe in a few more years, the sun would make her skin go up in flames like a paper doll. But at her current age, it only made her want to gouge her eyes out.

  Dalgyal must not have been back yet. He’d have never let that happen-- or if he did, he’d kick the shit out of whoever was responsible.

  Dalgyal was cool as fuck.

  Nuri hadn’t slept well. Her thoughts were heavy. She... might have had a nightmare? Her. A fucking nightmare. Shit going wrong. Shit... not going right. Fragments and sequences and scenes that didn’t make sense but still gave her a fucked up sense of dread.

  ‘Keep it together, Nuri. This is the cost of picking a fight with a mythical entity.’

  She groaned as she sat up, rubbing at her eyes. She dealt with mythical entities on a weekly basis.

  Everything was done ‘by the book’-- a process she loathed, but couldn’t be helped, considering the stakes. Chinese vampires had trespassed on ?Eminence? territory. ?The Kingdom? was holding hands with the Chinese. That meant her Red Sun Coterie had the right to teach them a lesson.

  So, after the real estate fuckery she started with and... probably after the stuff the Marquess promised, the enemy would make a move.

  The real ‘fight’ would begin once they sent a rep to negotiate. If ?The Kingdom?’s backer was human, the best they could do was beg for mercy. If they were a furry or an old wizard, that would be more complicated-- but she could still deal.

  (Why the hell were her guards so loud? If she wasn’t already awake, she’d be pissed as hell.)

  If ?The Kingdom? was backed by a Vampire Noble, though... one on the same level as The Marquess, that could be a problem.

  They’d send a strongly worded letter. They’d make an apology without it actually being an apology. Then, they’d obviously demand that their holdings be returned.

  (More yelling... Uggghh. Probably Delilah fighting with her cuck boyfriend again.)

  Nuri groaned again. It was going to feel real shitty giving up what she stole. It took a lot of not-so-legal favors and a fuckton of money to do what she did. But if the Marquess couldn’t guarantee her safety, it couldn’t be helped.

  A bloodless battle was totally worth the bullshittery of dealing with politics. And if she could achieve a victory without risking herself or her people...

  “But really-- why is it so fucking noisy, today?”

  Something exploded-- pieces of wood splintering.

  --the fuck?

  FuuuUCK.

  The direction it came from? The distinct loudness of the thing being broken...

  --was that her front fucking door?