The night cracked open.
Selene's body trembled where she stood, veins glowing crimson beneath her deathly pale skin, claws like obsidian daggers glinting in the faint light of the burning village. Her chest heaved with every ragged breath. Her eyes—wide, maddened—stared at Azrael, but they did not see him.
They saw... a young man dressed with peasant clothes.
It was probably an image of what Maria's mind thought about Azrael.
The Queen of all vampires kept talking to Selene, sounding like a demon attached to her soul.
Her voice still poisoned Selene's mind, a melody of chains tightening around her soul.
"Fight him, my sweet princess… Fight him and make me proud… Don't disappoint me… You know how strong and obedient you are.."
Selene's lips quivered.
"I—I don't want this," she whispered, her voice cracking beneath the weight of power she had never asked for. "Please… Mother, please… He is gonna kill me... I can feel it..."
A single tear welled in her eye.
It fell.
Red.
Laced with blood.
Then another. And another.
Soon she was weeping, scarlet tears tracing down her face like veins carved outside her skin.
"Don't be foolish, my princess. Don't disobey me. DO IT." Maria repeated to Selene.
Then, a red lightning bolt from above struck her.
But it wasn't thunder.
It was simply a warning.
"AAAAAAAHHHN GRRRRH-" Selene screamed in pain.
She then also started breathing heavily as she looked down on the ground.
She had no choice.
Die by the hunter or die consumed by her mother Maria.
Azrael watched.
Silent.
Still.
He perfectly knew that he couldn't do anything.
It would've been risky.
In that moment, he was fighting against a ghost of Maria and he also perfectly knew how strong she was.
Mentally and physically.
But his eyes also saw something else in that moment.
He saw beyond the monster.
Beyond the claws.
Beyond the trembling rage forced upon her.
What he saw was another victim.
Not of humanity.
Not of him.
But of Maria — the spider at the heart of this night's web, pulling strings even her own children could not cut.
A flicker of something like pity touched his eyes.
Not for Selene.
For the cruelty that forged her cage.
Someone like Maria, her "mother", showed no mercy—not even toward her own children.
Selene was a tool.
Everyone was, with a single difference with the humans.
They had no free will.
But there was no time for sympathy.
Selene's body lurched forward.
Her will shattered beneath Maria's command.
A scream burst from her throat — raw, desperate, furious.
The air itself shuddered as she launched at Azrael, claws outstretched, black magic crackling from her fingertips.
Azrael moved at the last instant.
His greatsword came down in a single, perfect arc, intercepting Selene's claws.
Steel and shadow collided.
The force of the clash rippled outward, flattening grass, rattling broken walls, making the flames themselves bow from the shockwave.
Sparks flew as the obsidian claws scraped along the blade's edge.
Selene's strength was monstrous — driven not by hatred, but by fear, by desperation, by the unnatural hunger Maria's gift had kindled inside her.
She had an unreadable expression on her face.
Azrael couldn't tell if she was angry, excited or sad.
The only thung he noticed was her immense strenght.
After the hit, Azrael stood his ground.
Boots rooted like ancient trees.
Arms steady, with his greatsword standing as wall of iron between himself and death.
Their eyes locked.
Selene's wide with grief and fury, red tears still spilling.
Azrael's calm. Focused. Searching.
Every muscle of Selene's body strained against him.
Her claws pressed down harder, sending showers of sparks flying into the night as the steel of his blade met the strength of her abyssal gift.
Selene's eyes were locked into Azrael's.
She looked at him with hate, "love" and fear.
Her mouth was wide open, showing her big and monstrous vampire fangs, with saliva drooling from her tongue.
But Azrael's gaze wasn't anymore on her face.
It wasn't on her claws.
It was on her form.
He read her the way a master reads a battlefield.
The tension of her stance.
The slight tremor in her left leg — a weakness in balance, forced by the unnatural surge of power.
The way her right arm overextended just slightly in her frenzy — a point where her guard would open with the next strike.
He saw everything.
Every flaw.
Every path to victory.
And yet... he did not strike.
Not yet.
Because this fight, he knew, wasn't just against Selene.
It was against the will that bound her.
A guttural cry erupted from Selene's throat as she pushed harder, forcing Azrael back a step.
Steel screeched.
But still, Azrael did not break.
The greatsword held, unmoving but for the sparks that leapt from the clash.
Then, in a breath's span, Azrael shifted.
His foot slid back, grounding him deeper.
His blade angled just enough to deflect the pressure sideways.
Selene's force overbalanced her, the momentum carrying her past him.
And like a shadow, Azrael moved.
A pivot.
A step.
A strike—not to kill, but to disable, to weaken.
The flat of his blade crashed against the side of Selene's ribs, sending her sprawling through the air and into the earth with a thunderous impact.
Dust rose.
The ground cracked beneath the force of her fall.
Selene gasped, pain finally catching up to her.
But the power inside her refused to let her yield.
She clawed at the dirt, pulled herself upright, her body trembling with exhaustion and unspent rage.
Azrael faced her, silent as a tomb.
The blade in his hands gleamed in the flickering firelight, untouched by fear or hesitation.
Selene's breath came in ragged gulps. Her nails dug furrows into the ground as she tried to steady herself.
"I don't want this…" she sobbed, shaking her head. "Make it stop… please…"
Maria's voice echoed again, sweet as poisoned honey.
"Enough of this weakness. Kill him. KILL HIM!"
The Queen ordered.
Selene couldn't refuse.
The only thing she felt was an immense pain spreading trough all of her veins.
"If you don't want to suffer... MOVE!" Another order.
Selene's scream split the night, half in fury, half in anguish.
She charged.
Azrael met her with the precision of death.
Their blades and claws collided again, a storm of light and dark.
Then, a big exchange of hits between them was happening.
Every blow Selene threw was wild, powerful, born of madness and command.
Every counter Azrael delivered was calculated, controlled — seeking not to destroy, but to end this with as little suffering as the night would allow.
He was waiting for the perfect chance to aim for her weak spot: Her heart.
He saw a glowing light in the middle of her chest, signaling that she was not protecting that place very well.
Sparks rained like shooting stars as they clashed.
Their shadows danced in the firelight, locked in a duel that was as much tragedy as it was war.
And as they fought, Azrael's mind remained clear, his purpose unshaken.
He would end this.
For everyone's sake.
And so the clash continued — steel against claw, predator against predator, until fate chose the moment when one would fall.