The scent of incense and dried herbs lingered in the healing barracks, a quiet hum of magic filling the air. Pale moonlight streamed through the tall, arched windows, casting soft beams across the beds lined in perfect rows. Most were empty, save for two.
Joshua groaned as his eyes fluttered open. For a moment, everything was a blur, the pain, the chaos, the fight.
Then it all came rushing back.
Grace's death.
Raphael's fury.
Rowdy, fighting beside him.
He sat up sharply, clutching his side instinctively… but there was no pain.
The witches had done their work. His wounds were nearly gone, pink marks. He looked down at his hand, steady. No tremble. No weakness.
He turned and saw Rowdy lying on the next bed over.
The vampire was breathing, but barely. Bandages wrapped his chest, arms, and even part of his neck. His hair was matted with blood, and a slight shiver ran through his battered form.
Joshua's expression hardened.
Quietly, he swung his legs off the bed, stood, and walked to Rowdy's side.
Rowdy's eyes cracked open as he sensed movement.
"...You're awake," he rasped.
Joshua didn't speak.
Instead, he raised his wrist and shoved it in front of Rowdy's face.
Rowdy blinked, confused.
"...What are you doing?"
Joshua's face was firm, eyes steady.
"Drink."
Rowdy furrowed his brow. "You just got healed. Are you even sure you can handle this?"
"I'm fine now," Joshua said. "You're the one who looks like roadkill. Drink."
Rowdy hesitated.
But then the scent of blood hit him.
His eyes flashed crimson.
"...If you pass out, I'm not dealing with Merlin's rage," he muttered.
Then he bit.
SHUNK!
His fangs sank deep into Joshua's wrist. Joshua clenched his jaw, muscles locking as pain spiked through his entire body. The sensation was searing, like hot coals running through his veins.
Rowdy drank.
A moment passed.
Then another.
Then, steam began to rise from Rowdy's body.
His muscles tensed.
Wounds hissed, bandages burned away, and torn flesh began to stitch itself back together. Bones popped. Skin mended. Hair returned to its sheen.
But where the wounds had been, deep, gnarled scars remained, etched into his skin like tribal markings.
Rowdy released the wrist, panting, blood dripping from his lips.
Joshua staggered slightly, cradling his wrist as the punctures bleed.
Rowdy looked down at his body.
Then smirked. "Damn. You're better than medicine."
Joshua sank back onto his bed, breathing heavily. "Yeah… I know."
Outside, in the Kaizer estate's the training grounds.
The night was quiet.
Except for the furious clang of steel.
CLANG!
Raphael's claymore slammed against a steel dummy, shattering its upper body into chunks. He was shirtless, his body wrapped in bandages. Sweat poured down his face, jaw clenched with barely contained rage.
"Damn it…" he growled, swinging again.
WHAM!!
Another dummy exploded.
He raised the claymore for a third strike but a sudden flash of steel came flying at his neck.
CLAAANG!
Raphael barely managed to raise his blade in time, blocking the vicious slash. The impact sent him skidding backwards across the cobblestones, boots scraping sparks.
He looked up and froze.
Lancelot stood before him, dressed in his silver battle armour, gold trim glowing under the moonlight. His blade gleamed with righteous fury, and his eyes were blazing gold.
His jaw was tight.
His fists trembled.
"You tried to kill Joshua," Lancelot spat, stepping forward.
"How dare you."
Raphael's own eyes began to glow again, the holy light returning to his body.
"He massacred twenty holy knights," Raphael snarled. "Holy knights. One of them was a witch. And one was my friend, Joan. He butchered them."
Lancelot's grip on his sword tightened.
"I heard they ambushed him," he snapped. "That they tried to execute him like a dog in an alley. If they died… they deserved it."
Raphael's aura flared like a sunburst.
"Watch your mouth."
WHOOSH!!
Lancelot charged forward, his blade a silver streak.
CLASH!!
The swords collided in a burst of light and sound. Sparks flew. The force of their strikes cracked the ground beneath them.
Raphael swung wide, a heavy arc meant to cleave through Lancelot's defense but Lancelot ducked, rolled, and came up with an upward slash that scraped Raphael's side.
Raphael twisted with a growl and kicked, landing a solid blow to Lancelot's stomach.
Lancelot slid back, grunting, but held his ground.
Then...
Both launched forward.
CLANG! SLASH! SPIN!
Their swords moved like extensions of their souls, divine light clashing with disciplined rage.
Raphael went high, feinted, and brought the claymore down like a hammer.
Lancelot side-stepped at the last second and cut low, slicing into Raphael's leg.
But Raphael didn't flinch.
He headbutted Lancelot, then elbowed him across the jaw, staggering him.
Lancelot reeled but retaliated instantly with a spinning sweep of his blade that nearly took Raphael's arm off.
BOOM!!
The courtyard floor cracked beneath them as they clashed again and again. Every strike felt like thunder. Every block sent shockwaves through their bodies.
They were evenly matched.
Holy Noble knight versus Noble knight.
Raphael panted, teeth bared. "You'd betray your family for him?"
Lancelot's eyes narrowed. "I'd betray anyone for him."
CRASH!!
Their blades locked one final time, sparks cascading between them.
The light of their swords reflected in each other's furious eyes.
Neither willing to break.
Neither willing to yield.
But then...
THOOM!!
A pair of fists smashed into their sides with the force of a battering ram.
BOOM!
Raphael and Lancelot were both sent flying across the courtyard, tumbling and skidding across the cracked stone floor until they rolled into the sandy area.
Silence.
A massive figure walked between them, arms crossed, face carved from stone.
Captain Percival.
His imposing frame stood like a wall of authority, his gold armor dented from years of war but still gleaming with command.
"I've had enough of this idiotic dick-measuring contest," he barked. "Both of you, on your feet."
Raphael groaned and got up, rubbing his ribs, golden glow fading from his eyes.
Lancelot rose too, his silver blade lowering, fury still boiling just beneath the surface but his eyes dimmed back to steel-blue.
They didn't speak.
But they sheathed their swords.
"I should have you both locked in cells for this," Percival snapped. "We're at war with the werewolves, not each other."
Raphael spat to the side, wiping blood from his chin.
" Exactly, that is why Joshua should be dead."
Lancelot remained silent, jaw tight, fists still clenched.
Percival eyed them both before letting out a long, frustrated sigh.
"Tomorrow," he said, "Joshua and Rowdy are to appear before the Council Court."
Both knights stiffened.
"This can't be swept under the rug," Percival continued. "Twenty holy knights are dead. Grace is dead. Joan is dead. A Noble Witch is dead. And too many people saw what happened. Heard the screaming. Watched the bodies fall. This is political now. The nobles want answers. The witch elders want answers."
He looked from Lancelot to Raphael.
"And the court will decide what happens next."
A slow, bitter grin crept across Raphael's face.
"Perfect," he muttered. "The beast finally gets what he deserves."
CLINK!
Lancelot's hand flew to his sword, his rage reigniting instantly.
But Percival moved faster.
CLANG!!
His armored forearm blocked the hilt as Lancelot tried to draw it.
"Try it," Percival growled low. "See what happens."
Lancelot trembled, breathing heavily.
Then backed down.
"…He didn't deserve any of this," he muttered.
Raphael gave a short, humorless laugh. "Neither did Joan."
Without another word, he turned and walked toward the noble house, steps echoing against the stone.
Captain Percival turned to Lancelot, his gaze slightly softer now. "Go cool off. This isn't helping anyone."
Lancelot gave a slight nod.
Together, Father and son followed after Raphael, entering the estate under the weight of night.
Later that night.
Lancelot reached the second floor of the Kaizer estate, his armor dulled with dust and scuff marks, his hair messy from the scuffle.
He stopped before a wooden door with a small rune carved into it, Merlin's handiwork.
He sighed… then pushed it open.
The scent of lilac and old spellbooks greeted him. Inside, candles flickered softly, casting warm shadows on the walls. Merlin sat on their shared bed, hair tied up messily, a book resting in her lap.
She looked up the moment he entered, eyes bright with excitement.
"There you are!" she said with a soft laugh. "I've been waiting forever. Guess what? I got really good ne..."
But she stopped.
Her smile faded the instant she saw his face.
Something was wrong.
Lancelot closed the door behind him, leaning back against it for a moment before meeting her eyes.
"Joshua… he's going to court tomorrow."
Merlin's breath caught. Her book slipped from her lap.
"What?"
"They're putting him in front of the Council Court. Him and Rowdy."
She stood slowly, voice suddenly shaking. "But, why? He almost died! He didn't start this, Lancelot. They attacked him. I thought the nobles..."
"The nobles don't care who started it," Lancelot said bitterly. "They care about what it looked like. About who died."
Merlin paced, her arms wrapping around herself.
Lancelot crossed the room and took her hands gently.
"He's strong. He's not the boy you found in the slums anymore."
Merlin blinked back tears. "He's still my brother."
"I know."
"I feel so helpless."
Lancelot squeezed her hands. "Don't maybe tomorrow we can help him."
Merlin looked up at him, her eyes filled with determination now.
"Then I'll be ready when they put him on that stand," she said. "They think they're judging a monster."
She stepped back, her voice rising.
"Let's show them who he really is."