The Broken Vampire System

3

~Laurent

My cheek hit the dirt with a wet smack, and before I could even groan, a boot dug into my ribs and rolled me over like I was a sack of potatoes. Laughter crackled above me, sharp and mocking.

“Pathetic.”

Another blow landed, this time to my shoulder. My arm went numb. I tried to push myself up, but a fist came down and flattened me back to the ground.

I swung anyway—clumsy, desperate, stupid. My knuckles smacked against someone’s arm, and all I got for my bravery was a bark of laughter.

“Is that your best? My grandmother hits harder than that!”

Their shadows circled me like wolves, feet darting in and out. Every time I tried to crawl out of their orbit, another kick would shove me back in. My lip was split, my vision blurred.

I managed to get onto my hands and knees, crawling, each inch forward feeling like a mile. Dirt stuck to my face, to the blood trickling from my nose.

Then the laughter shifted. Uneasy. Confused.

I blinked and turned my head. One of them—tall, broad, smug—wasn’t standing anymore. He was floating.

“Wha—?!” His voice cracked. His feet kicked wildly, arms flailing like a child who suddenly realized swimming lessons were a scam. “Put me down! Put me down right now!”

“I’m not doing anything.” I protested.

The others stumbled back, wide-eyed.

I followed their gaze.

She stepped into view like she owned the place. Bright yellow hair spilling over her shoulders, warm brown eyes sharp with focus, slender frame wrapped in the Academy’s robes. Her hands were raised slightly, fingers curled like she was holding invisible strings.

The guy dangling in mid-air screamed again. “I—I hate heights!”

She tilted her head, unimpressed, then lowered her hands. He crashed into the ground with a heavy thud. Groaning, he scrambled up, but by then she was already at my side.

“Can you stand?” she asked, offering me her hand.

For a second, I just stared. My pride wanted to spit out some line like, I’ve got this, don’t worry about me. My bruised ribs disagreed violently. I took her hand.

She pulled me up with surprising strength. My legs wobbled, pain ringing in every bone.

One of the boys sneered. “Stay out of this. It’s between us and the freak.”

The girl turned slowly, eyes narrowing. “I know all your names. Bullying is a crime punishable by suspension in this school. If you don’t walk away right now, I’ll report you. My father is part of the administrative staff. He will make sure you regret it.”

That hit them harder than any spell could. They froze, exchanged glances, then stepped back. A growl here, a muttered curse there, but they retreated.

I exhaled, every breath a stabbing reminder of how fragile I was.

“Thank you,” I muttered, voice ragged.

She gave me a small smile. “Don’t mention it.”

I didn’t plan on mentioning it. Ever. The sooner I got away from her—and from the pity in her eyes—the better. I turned, limping, blood dripping down my chin. My notebook slipped from my bag without me noticing.

“Wait!” she called.

I froze as she jogged after me, notebook in hand. “You left this.”

I took it quickly. “Thank you again.” Then I quickened my pace, desperate to put space between us.

“Do they always do this to you?” she pressed, hurrying to keep up.

“No. They just started today,” I said, avoiding her eyes.

“You have to do something about it. They’ll keep coming if you don’t.”

I gave a bitter laugh that hurt my ribs. “Listen, I’m just an E-rank. There’s nothing I can do. Even if I report them, they’ll come back worse. It’s better I just avoid them.”

Her frown deepened, but I didn’t let her reply. I jogged off, as fast as my swollen legs would let me, and didn’t stop until I slammed my dorm door shut.

That night, I patched myself up with cold water and scraps of cloth.

The next day, I ate alone in the cafeteria. My tray rattled with bread, soup, and shame. I chewed quietly, ignoring the laughter from tables packed with friends.

I saw a figure walking towards me in the distance. I looked up and saw her–the girl from yesterday. She sat down across from me like she belonged there.

“How’s your face?”

I nearly choked on my soup. “Getting better,” I said quickly, keeping my eyes down.

She slid a flyer across the table. “There’s a sparring contest after school today. Come along, I believe you’d learn a thing or two watching people spar. Maybe even learn enough to be able to defend yourself from bullies long enough to run away.”

I frowned. “No thanks. The last thing I want is to watch people get punched. I get enough firsthand experience.”

She smirked and left the flyer anyway. “Think about it. I’m sure you won’t regret coming.” Then she walked off, just like that.

I stared at the paper. My gut said no. My curiosity whispered maybe. After fifteen minutes of silent war with myself, I sighed and decided to go. Maybe watching people spar would give me a glimpse of how best to dodge punches.

The place that was picked as the contest ground was hidden in one of the older training halls—stone cracked, torches flickering, air buzzing with anticipation. Students crowded the edges, chanting, betting, roaring with excitement. Teachers were no longer around so we had the whole school to ourselves.

“There you are.” She appeared through the throng, grinning like she’d won a bet. “I knew you’d come.”

I mumbled something unintelligible.

The first fight began.

A necromancer summoned shadows that twisted into a ghastly figure—its hands clawing, its voice whispering in tones that raised goosebumps. His opponent, a Titan, charged with earth-shaking force. Fists like boulders swung, cracking stone, but after minutes of fury, the Titan collapsed from exhaustion. Shadows swallowed him whole. The necromancer was declared the winner.

The crowd went wild.

Next, a Celestial fire mage hurled blazing torrents across the arena. His opponent, an Arcanist, dodged frantically,muttering incantations. Fire licked his robes, singed his hair. Then, at the perfect moment, he shouted a final word, freezing the Celestial in place with an immobilizing spell. One hit. Victory. The crowd cheered and clapped.

I scribbled in my notebook, fascinated despite myself. Spells need time. Titans burn out fast. Note: never fight shadows.

The third battle drew gasps: a Psychokinetic versus a Vampire. The air filled with flying debris—rocks, benches, even shards of glass—but the Vampire blurred through it all, her speed inhuman, her movements graceful. She reached the Psychokinetic, wrestled him down, and ended it with a single brutal strike. Psychokinetic were formidable from range but if you got close enough to them, you might just have an edge. That was the trick the vampire used.

My jaw nearly hit the floor as I looked at her flexing her muscles, relishing her victory. I wished I could move like that—quick, untouchable, powerful. Instead, I sat bleeding ink into a notebook, barely able to limp.

Before the next fight could start, a sharp voice cut through the chaos.

“What is going on here?”

We turned, no one speaking. A teacher stormed into the arena, robes billowing, face like thunder. Students scattered instantly, panic replacing excitement.

“Run!” someone shouted.

Ciela grabbed my hand without asking and bolted.

My body screamed in protest, but her grip was firm. She dragged me through the stampede, her hair flashing like gold in the torchlight.