The boiler room was a furnace of chaos, the heat pressing against my skin like a living thing, suffocating and relentless. Steam hissed and roared, metal groaned under strain, and the dim lighting flickered erratically, casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance to the rhythm of the conflict. Amidst it all, Harvey Ross stood, his stance a study in controlled power, facing the ancient vampire—a predator who exuded raw, oppressive malice.

I crouched behind a broken piece of machinery, my heart pounding so loudly it felt like it would betray my presence. My eyes locked onto Harvey, and I tried to absorb everything Sia had told me about fighting, about the mechanics of survival in a world that demanded more than raw strength.

The ancient vampire moved first, a blur of speed and menace, closing the gap between them in an instant. His strikes were monstrous, each one carrying the weight of centuries of predatory instinct. His fists crashed into the space where Harvey had been a moment before, the impact rippling through the pipes and shaking the floor beneath me.

But Harvey wasn’t there.

With a precision that defied belief, Harvey sidestepped the blows, his movements economical, almost serene, despite the heat and the danger. His Arkamon Flux flared—a coppery light that coated his arms and fists, crackling with energy that burned like a living flame. The reddish-brown hue of his Flux was almost hypnotic, flickering like embers caught in a gale.

The vampire snarled, his claws swiping through the air, but Harvey was already circling, staying on the move, his footwork impossibly refined. He reminded me of Sia’s descriptions of an out-boxer, a fighter who never stayed in one place long enough to be pinned down. Harvey danced along the edges of his opponent’s reach, jabbing with bursts of Flux-infused strikes that forced the vampire to retreat, if only by inches.

“Look at how he moves,” Sia’s voice echoed in my mind, her lessons now vivid memories. “Fighting isn’t just about strength or speed. It’s about rhythm, about imposing your game plan on the enemy. Watch his feet, Kyon. That’s where the fight begins.”

I watched, mesmerized, as Harvey’s feet seemed to glide across the unstable floor, every step calculated, every pivot designed to create openings. The vampire lunged, his strength a palpable force that bent the room to his will. But Harvey ducked under the strike, his copper-coated fist snapping upward in a vicious counter that landed flush against Faraday’s jaw. The impact sent a spray of black ichor into the air, sizzling as it hit the scalding metal pipes.

The vampire roared in pain, his aura of bloodlust thickening like a suffocating fog. My chest tightened as the oppressive energy rolled over me, freezing me in place. My mind screamed at me to run, to do anything but sit there like a cornered animal.

And then Harvey’s Flux surged.

The reddish light expanded around him, forming a shimmering barrier that pushed back against the vampire’s aura. For a moment, I could breathe again. His bloodlust faltered, his sneer turning into a snarl of frustration. Harvey took the opportunity to press his advantage, shifting his stance and unleashing a barrage of mid-range kicks and punches. Each strike carried the searing heat of his Flux, burning Faraday’s flesh with every connection. Harvey’s movements, the sheer audacity of his skill, and the blazing defiance of his Flux had left an indelible impression on me.

But there were questions I couldn’t shake. Questions that had been gnawing at me since Sia first explained the unnatural strength and speed of vampires. It didn’t make sense—how a human, even one as powerful as Harvey, could match a creature like Faraday in raw combat.

I thought back to one of our late-night conversations, the ones where Sia would talk endlessly about her research, her fascination with vampires, and the truths she had uncovered.

“Vampires don’t walk in the sun,” Sia had said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Do you know why?”

I shook my head, waiting for her to explain.

“It’s not just the UV radiation, though that’s part of it. Their bodies can’t sustain hemoglobin. It’s why they rely so heavily on blood; they can’t produce or maintain the proteins that transform light energy into chemical energy. Their biology is fundamentally flawed.”

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I frowned. “So what happens to them in the sun?”

“It’s a cascade effect,” she continued, her voice tinged with fascination. “Sunlight contains ultraviolet radiation, which penetrates the skin and interacts with proteins, DNA, and RNA. In humans, this process helps produce vitamin D, regulates our circadian rhythms, and keeps our biological clock in check. But vampires? Their bodies can’t handle the energy transfer. It’s why they burn. Their regenerative abilities can’t keep up with the damage.”

She paused, her gaze distant. “That’s why they’re vulnerable to Flux. It’s not just about the heat or the energy. It disrupts them on a fundamental level, breaking down their aura and their ability to recover. The older they are, the worse it gets.”

Her words echoed in my mind as I stared at the bloodsucker's crumpled form, steam rising from his scorched flesh. His movements grew more erratic, his frustration mounting as Harvey continued to outmaneuver him. But he wasn’t finished.

The vampire adapted, using his superior strength to disrupt Harvey’s rhythm. He ripped a pipe from the wall, swinging it with terrifying speed and force. The improvised weapon clanged against the floor, sending sparks flying as Harvey barely managed to dodge.

The air filled with the acrid stench of burning metal and ozone, the coppery glow of Harvey’s Flux illuminating the room as he adjusted again. He was always adjusting, always analyzing. The bloodsucker charged, his swings wild but devastating, forcing Harvey to retreat further into the maze of machinery.

I felt my chest tighten as Harvey’s back hit a boiler. For a moment, it seemed like he had nowhere to go. His opponent grinned, sensing victory, and raised the pipe for a finishing blow.

But Harvey wasn’t trapped.

In a blur of motion, he ducked under the swing, his Flux-coated fist driving into Faraday’s side with a sound like a thunderclap. The vampire howled as his body arched in pain, black ichor pouring from the wound. Steam hissed as it met the burning copper energy of Harvey’s Flux.

“He’s dictating the fight,” Sia’s voice echoed in my mind. “It’s not about brute force. Harvey’s making Faraday play his game, forcing him into exchanges where he can exploit his weaknesses.”

“How does Harvey keep up?” I asked her, frustrated by the gap between my abilities and his after all, I almost died when facing Mika and this ancient vampire looks far stronger than she was. “Vampires are faster, stronger. They don’t get tired.”

She smiled knowingly. “You’re right—they don’t. But Flux isn’t about matching their speed or strength. It’s about timing. A high-level Flux user doesn’t need to see their opponent to react. They sense the threat itself.”

I see. Echo Flux. It’s why Harvey can react so quickly. He’s not relying on his eyes or his ears. He’s reading the fight calmly on a deeper level unlike what I did back when I fought Mika.

I watched Harvey now, his chest rising and falling as he steadied his breath. The coppery glow of his Arkamon Flux had dimmed, but it still lingered around him like an afterimage, a testament to his willpower. He hadn’t just matched his foe in speed; he had anticipated him, countered him, and burned through the vampire’s seemingly endless stamina.

I thought back to my training with Lawrence, the brutal sessions where he had drilled the fundamentals of combat into me with an almost sadistic intensity.

“Stop relying on your eyes,” Lawrence had barked, his voice cutting through the oppressive heat of the foundry. “And stop listening for what you expect to hear. The world is louder than your thoughts. You need to sense the threat itself.”

I had struggled to grasp what he meant, frustrated by my inability to react in time. Every feint, every strike, seemed to catch me off guard.

“It’s not about speed,” he had said, his tone softening. “It’s about timing. Flux isn’t just a weapon—it’s an extension of you. It amplifies what’s already there. But if your mind isn’t ready, it won’t matter how much energy you pour into it. You’ll always be a step behind.”

Harvey had taken that lesson to heart in ways I could barely comprehend. Watching him fight was like watching a force of nature—unpredictable, devastating, and relentless. But there was a precision to his chaos, a control that came from years of honing his instincts.

His foe stumbled, but his resilience was terrifying. Even as his flesh burned and his regeneration faltered, he pressed on, his strikes growing more desperate. Harvey responded with an elegance that seemed almost cruel, exploiting every overextension, every moment of hesitation.

And then the environment turned against them both.

A pipe burst nearby, releasing a torrent of scalding steam that filled the air with a deafening hiss. Both fighters were forced to move, their silhouettes flickering in the fog of heat and light. I could barely see them now, but I could hear the sounds of their battle—blows landing with bone-crunching force, the crackle of Flux, the roar of a vampire pushed to his limits.

“How do you do it?” I asked then. “How do you keep up with them?”

“You don’t fight their fight,” he said simply. “You make them fight yours. No matter how fast they are,” Lawrence’s voice echoed in my memory, “they can’t outrun their mistakes. And you, Kyon, need to be the kind of fighter who capitalizes on every single one.”