Sebastian studied the scar, recognition dawning in his eyes. The precision of it, the calculated angle, this was no randombattle wound. This was art of the most horrific kind, and he knew the artist intimately.
"That's one of Zarek's signature cuts. He targets the heart but deliberately angles the blade to maximize blood loss without immediate death." His voice grew quiet as unwanted memories surfaced. Hours spent in the training chambers, watching Zarek perfect his technique on prisoners who had been deemed expendable. "He likes to watch his opponents realize they're dying."
"And our warriors need to understand that reality." Boarstaff turned toward the training ring, raising his voice to carry across the clearing. "Warriors of the Heart Tree! Return to the ring. There is more to witness."
Sebastian grabbed Boarstaff's arm, his grip firm though not painful. "I won't do this. I won't attack you like that."
"You must," Boarstaff insisted, his voice dropping again. "They need to understand the difference between facing you and facing your brother. Between what you choose and what awaits them at our borders."
Sebastian's jaw tightened, tension visible across his body. The thought of performing those movements again, of accessing the muscle memory his father had spent decades perfecting, made him physically ill. Each technique represented hours of practice on terrified victims, repeated until the movements became as natural as breathing. Would revisiting those patterns reawaken what he'd been struggling to leave behind?
"And if I lose control? If the instincts they've been warning about finally prove them right?"
"You won't," Boarstaff said with simple certainty that caught Sebastian off-guard. "I've watched your transformation closely enough to believe that."
The warriors had begun to return, confusion evident in their expressions as they formed a loose circle around the trainingring once more. Thornmaker approached first, suspicion replacing his earlier thoughtfulness.
"What game is this now, Warchief?" he demanded, clutching the broken pieces of his ceremonial spear.
"A demonstration," Boarstaff replied, moving to the ring's center. He removed his leather vest, baring his scarred chest to the morning light. "Sebastian will now show you what we truly face at our borders. What his brothers do without the restraint he has shown."
Whispers spread through the gathering crowd. Warriors exchanged uncertain glances, hands tightening on weapons despite the peaceful conclusion to the earlier challenge.
"I won't do this," Sebastian said again, though his resolve had visibly weakened as he watched Boarstaff prepare.
"You will," Boarstaff stated firmly. "Because our people's lives depend on understanding. Because ignorance of the enemy kills more warriors than any blade." His gaze met Sebastian's across the ring. "Because I'm asking you to trust me as I've trusted you."
That last point struck deepest. Sebastian's expression shifted, noble composure giving way to genuine conflict. He remained at the ring's edge, every line of his body communicating reluctance.
"This is madness." Thornmaker stomped forward. "Whatever game you played with me, vampire, the warchief is not your plaything."
"It's not a game," Sebastian replied quietly. "That's precisely the problem." His gaze never left Boarstaff's face. "He wants me to show you what my brother would do. What I was trained to do before... before everything changed."
Understanding dawned in Thornmaker's expression. "You want him to attack you. To demonstrate vampire noble combat techniques?"
"Without actually harming me," Boarstaff confirmed. "But showing exactly where and how he could. What Zarek or his father would do without hesitation."
The gathered warriors fell silent, the implications settling heavily across the clearing. What they had witnessed in the challenge with Thornmaker had been deliberately limited. It had been a game played by vampire rules rather than true combat.
"Last chance to reconsider," Sebastian forced himself into the ring. "Once I begin, it might be difficult to stop completely."
"I understand the risk," Boarstaff replied, settling into a defensive stance. "Show them, Sebastian. Show them what awaits at our borders if your father decides to move against us."
For a moment, Sebastian remained perfectly still, internal conflict tearing at him. To demonstrate the techniques was to reconnect with everything he had been trying to leave behind; the precision-engineered predator his father had created. He could feel the old patterns waiting just beneath the surface of his consciousness, eager to be released. Not just movements, but a mindset… the cold calculation that viewed living beings merely as resources to be consumed.
Deep inside him, something changed in an instant. His stance shifted by reflexes horned over time. The casual grace of his earlier performance was replaced by predatory focus that made the watching warriors tense instinctively. He surrendered to the training, letting it flow through him like a remembered language.
"As you wish," he said, his voice dropping to a register none of them had heard before. "But remember, you asked for this."
He moved with sudden, terrifying speed, crossing the distance between them before most watchers could register the motion. Where his earlier movements had been fluid and almost dance-like, everything became pure predatory efficiency—direct, brutal, allowing no possibility of evasion.
Sebastian's hand struck precisely at Boarstaff's throat, stopping a hair's breadth from contact. His fingers extended just enough to show where they would have torn through vital arteries.
"Zarek's first strike," Sebastian stated clinically. "Arterial spray patterns designed to disorient opponents through blood loss and scent."
Gasps rippled through the watching crowd. Even Thornmaker took a half-step forward before forcing himself to remain in place. The speed and precision of the attack had been utterly unlike Sebastian's earlier performance. This held nothing performative or playful. Just calculated deadliness.
Before anyone could fully process what they'd seen, Sebastian shifted position again, moving behind Boarstaff with supernatural speed. His hand positioned itself at the base of the warchief's spine with lethal precision.
