It was like being charged by a bull, and Sunday quickly lost any desire to stand his ground. The hound ignored the furniture in its path, pushing or breaking everything apart as if it were a tank. Wisps of darkness trailed after it and Sunday knew they were like an additional layer of armor, protecting the beast. The moths wouldn’t serve well here. They had barely done anything against the second hound, and this one was supposedly stronger.

He was ready for it, holding his new spear with both hands. This was going to be a proper fight. The tool spell almost vibrated in his grip as if it was excited… or perhaps afraid. A silly thought if he had ever had one. Then again, the strange name had gotten under his skin…

The hound disappeared into a burst of dark smoke mid-charge, but it was almost as if he could sense it. The red world shifted and flowed giving him clues, making the fire inside burn even stronger. Dark energy moving somewhere between the worlds, ready to lunge at him.

He was ready. The berserk essence, as he had decided to call it, was fueling his body, making him stronger than ever. He threw himself to the side and spun, narrowly dodging the beast that materialized on top of him. Its claws tore at the wood flooring and broke apart the shelving on the walls, sending fragments of statues everywhere. Its massive body was leaving nothing unbroken in its wake.

The spear moved in an ark, like a sword. The dark smoke bleeding from the beast’s fur intercepted the attack but gave way quickly. Sunday grinned as the hound's protections seemed to melt away in front of the spear’s tip. That was unexpected, but welcome.

The hound moved at the last moment, putting its armored torso in the way of the attack. Sunday gripped the spear harder as the impact shook him. The spear scraped against the metal and he threw himself backward and into the table to dodge another swipe from the beast.

It was then that a spike of darkness shot at him. It had materialized a bit above the beast, out of nowhere. Sunday didn’t have time to think as it reached his chest and tore into it, sending him rolling over the table and backward. All that was left was a smoldering hole that seemed slow to heal, despite the immediate reaction of the berserk essence.

So that’s how we’re going to play, eh?

One of the moths circling above rushed down and melted into Sunday, replenishing the strength he had lost and aiding the healing. The berserk essence grew stronger and impatient, and once again the red world called for him. It was not enough for Sunday to lose control though. Not yet.

He was stronger than this. Better.

With a yell, he threw himself forward just as the hound did the same, and pointed the spear in front of him. The beast hesitated. It was a split second, but it was enough for the tip to find an unprotected shoulder. It rotated its body in an attempt to dodge, but the spear left a bloody wound in its wake.

Smoke instantly enveloped the hound’s wound, and healed it. Just like Sunday had done.

“So we’re evenly matched, huh? Call it a draw?” Sunday suggested.

All he got in return was another dark spike that aimed for his head. He was ready this time though. An Essence Ward formed before him, like dark gray mists trapped in a misshaped sheet of glass. The spike shattered against it and Sunday felt the impact in his mind. The Ward held true, even if it weakened.

Good spells. Great spells.

It was exhilarating. The newfound power. All the magic. He loved it, and for a moment the thought he was fighting for his life was nothing but a fly in the valleys of his mind. Insignificant.

He needed this. His strength against a beast that seemed to have walked out of a nightmare. It gave him confidence that didn’t step from who he had been before, but from who he was becoming now. A mage. A slayer of Gods.

The hound disappeared once again and Sunday immediately bolted for a nearby door. He saw the red tinting of the world shift as if something was swimming through it and for the first time in the fight reached for Phantasmal Fall. His charge immediately ceased as he was thrown backward. The hound broke through the wall to intercept his path at the same time but didn’t find him.

Sunday tried to prepare for a good landing, but he hit a few obstacles on the way, making him lose the little balance he had managed to find, and crashed into the wall cracking the wood. Using Phantasmal Fall was apparently easier when he was not conscious. His eyes widened as the hound barreled toward him.

The spear went up just in time and an Essence Ward covered his torso.

The hound didn’t hesitate, deciding to take a chance. Its armor-clad chest met the spear with a clang and its claws tore at the Ward. The shield held for one attack, then shattered at the second.

The monster’s body rammed into Sunday and the wall behind gave under the weight and the force. In those moments when the massive body of the nightmarish beast was above him, Sunday wondered why the walls in the vampire manor were so easy to break. Perhaps they were just regular walls, and it was him and the monster that were abnormal.

A strange thought.

Sunday’s spear clattered on the floor as his grip slackened due to the force of impact. His back hit the wood amid a shower of splinters. The hound stood above him, its body halfway through the wall. The sight of its maw made his soul shudder. That was the true danger. Its bite would shatter his soul space and weaken his ability to use spells. The maw opened and Sunday swung.

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He couldn’t put much weight into the strike, but he didn’t need to.

It was then that the world stilled.

A chuckle resounded throughout the room. Or perhaps it was all in Sunday’s head.

His fist loosened mid-swing and the slap found the side of the hound’s maw. It landed softly, without doing any damage. However, the beast froze. It was like a cloud of dust shaped like a hound's head left it as the slap landed – like he had slapped the darkness out of it. All of it flowed back in the next second, but it gave Sunday a few precious moments during which he made full use of his enhanced strength and threw the hound to the side.

The beast reacted almost immediately, but he was ready and fell toward the ceiling. He spun and landed feet first. The spear was gone from where he had dropped it and Sunday felt it back in his soul-space. Had it fled the fight once it was no longer in his hand? How strange.

Sunday tried to summon it again but the hound didn’t give him time. It seemed even more enraged and leaped up, its maw trying to take a bite out of his head. The darkness was bleeding behind it, forming more mouths – just like the ones that had torn apart the vampires. To him, it looked like the hound was falling toward him and the inevitability of the collision made his stomach sink, but a crouch was enough to dodge the beast’s attacks. An essence ward deflected the strange heads made of dark smoke, shuddering under the attack.

Another spike of darkness shot at him next, but it was easily stopped by an essence ward. Without relying too much on the moths, which Sunday had decided weren’t the best solution against his enemy, his essence reserves were doing quite well.

He changed his own gravity again, falling toward the side and then back to the floor. The hound didn’t care about the distance as it once again rushed toward him. The spear finally responded to Sunday’s call, appearing in his hand. He ducked a furious swipe and stabbed at the first sign of naked fur he saw.

Again, the wound healed a second later. Can you do this longer than me? Let’s see!

Sunday stood his ground. His movements became an erratic mess as he jumped, rolled, and dodged the jaws of the hound. A few times its clawed limbs came close to him, but not enough to endanger him.

Just as he dodged again, Sunday decided to do something risky. He leveled the spear toward the hound and fell. The world shifted and he was moving straight toward the beast’s teeth, spear held in front of him. The hound couldn’t react in time, but it still managed to counterattack. The spear found flesh and easily penetrated. It sank into the mouth of the creature and exit the side of the neck. Teeth clanked as they closed on the spear, but the hound made no sound despite the grave wound.

Its front limb struck Sunday and sent him flying toward the front of the manor. The claws tore his clothes and flesh and scraped on bone. His mind shook from the sting of the attack. His body didn’t hurt too bad, but something was off. The berserk essence inside of him rushed to heal the damage he had suffered, and the popping of bones and growth of flesh reached his ears as if from far away.

He stood up with a groan. Once again, he felt the spear back in his soul space. It was a waste of essence to constantly summon the weapon. Frustrating. It was a strong weapon and did its job well, but its disappearances, while making sure he wouldn’t lose it, made it impossible to do what he wanted. The hound came at him again, no trace of the damage it had suffered remaining. It was untiring.

The last moth, which had somewhat struggled to follow Sunday through it all, flowed into him and energized him yet again.

The effect seemed more muted this time, which was worrying. If the buff had a limit, or if his body had a limit, then he was reaching it faster than the hound. He had yet to do any significant damage to it.

With gritted teeth, Sunday welcomed its charge once again. The hound crashed into two Essence Wards that shattered like glass, but not before slowing it down significantly. Sunday was ready, his sword gripped in his hand. It felt better than the spear. Familiar. Almost intimate.

He swung in a beautiful short arc that found the beast’s eye and cut through, making it growl in pain. Once again it pushed forward and counter-attacked, rather than fleeing. Another essence ward stopped a swipe, and a second materialized before the heads made of dark smoke. And after all, shields were broken and he had managed another strike, Sunday fell backward and away from the soul-crushing jaws.

A spike of darkness had pierced his thigh at some point, but he ignored it. He hadn’t felt when it had come. Pain was nothing, and the damage was too insignificant to affect his movements. Before the hound could charge again, Sunday turned the direction of his fall, turning the retreat into an attack, and held his sword with both hands.

The blade found both flesh and iron as Sunday flew past the monster and crashed into a staircase. The sword remained lodged behind the shoulder and between the hound's body and armor. It tried to reach it with its teeth but failed to do so. Dark smoke billowed from the wound. It was trying to heal, but the sword prevented it.

Sunday grinned.

He pulled out the sword he had taken from Versum and carried on the other side of his belt. He had planned to give it to Vyn but hadn’t wanted to do so in front of all the vampires. He was glad he hadn’t. No one had commented on it, so he considered it spoils of victory.

In a similar movement, he once again toward and past the hound. Versum’s sword was thinner but longer than the one from Jishu. Both weapons had managed to easily cut through the darkness coming off of its fur. It left a bloody mark from its ear to the armor covering its torso, and the jaws clinked near Sunday in futility. The strategy was giving fruit. The hound snarled at him but failed to catch him as he constantly shifted his direction and attacked from weird angles.

The hound was healing it all, including the missing eye, but it was covered in blood. He didn’t know if that mattered at all. The only place that didn’t heal was where Jishu’s former sword pierced its body. Sunday had noted that it had lost its ability to disappear into a cloud of smoke since he had inflicted the wound.

Or perhaps it was baiting him.

He walked up to it, slowly this time, and the beast leveled its gaze. It was silent and waiting. It didn’t hurry to attack him anymore. Four of the dark spikes had pierced Sunday’s body during his attacks, but the berserk essence had already taken care of that. His strength was less and the red tint was almost fully gone from the world. His essence reserves were getting lower from the overuse of Phantasmal Fall and he felt a wave of fatigue constantly wash over him again and again. It was not a constant feeling, but rather a pulse.

Using some spells had a price different than the essence he paid. He still knew too little of them.

“We should end this soon, don’t you think?

The hound snarled in response. They were in the wide entry hall and Sunday could see the gathering of vampires through the open double doors of the estate. Everyone was looking. Some at him, most at a large dark red slab of metal, courtesy of Mera. He had asked her if she could do something like this.

The vampires needed a reminder of what he was capable of if he wanted them to serve his underused talent. Who knew, perhaps his exploits could become a vampire bedtime story in time?