Wrong Judgement

Staring at the delicate, pale hand extended before her, Selina fell silent.

After a long pause, she looked up, her gaze sharp. “So, what’s the real reason?”

“Didn’t I already say?” Avia replied, her posture elegant, her voice measured.

“As the second-ranked freshman, you have immense potential and talent. Plus, you made a great first impression. That’s reason enough.”

Selina’s tone turned icy, cutting through the pretense.

“Senior, let’s not play dumb. Those surface excuses are for outsiders, not this private talk.”

Avia’s eyes gleamed, her smile deepening with intrigue.

“Fair enough. Things should be clear between us.” She snapped her fingers, the crisp sound prompting Helos to bow and exit the room.

“Selina, please.”

Selina sighed, glancing at Ceris, who nodded.

As Ceris left, Avia tapped the table, a ripple of magic forming a small, sealed barrier around the room.

“Now we can talk about what really matters,” Avia said, her crimson eyes brimming with confidence, her hands propping her chin.

“So, Senior, why have you had your subordinate tail me from Kendall Town to the academy?” Selina asked, her voice steady. Avia’s gaze burned with an intensifying desire and possessiveness.

“Before I answer, won’t you try the feast?” Avia gestured to the array of dishes. “Is nothing to your taste, or is the atmosphere off?” As she spoke, a chilling breeze swept through, extinguishing the magical lights.

Darkness enveloped the room, broken only by another snap of Avia’s fingers, igniting the dozens of candles on the table.

Their flickering flames wove an eerie ambiance, the two girls’ eyes locked in a silent duel.

Avia raised her left hand, a goblet of crimson liquid materializing in her palm, its contents shimmering unnaturally.

Selina’s nose twitched, recognizing the scent, her brow furrowing. “Senior Avia, what’s with the cup of blood?”

In the dim candlelight, Avia’s expression grew restless, her eyes glinting ominously.

She pushed the goblet toward Selina. “If the food doesn’t suit you, try this true delicacy. Isn’t this what you truly crave?” Her stare bore into Selina, as if trying to unearth a primal instinct, to tear away her human facade.

Come on, take the blood! Let your eyes turn crimson and drink it greedily! Avia thought.

Only then will your true self emerge, revealing what you desire. A vampire with the Founder’s blood can’t resist royal blood—it’s the ultimate prize.

Her plan hinged on exposing Selina’s supposed vampiric nature, giving her countless ways to control her.

“Don’t blame me, Selina,” Avia murmured. “Blame yourself for carrying what you shouldn’t. I won’t take your life—I’ll keep you alive, but you’ll lose your freedom.” As Selina slowly lifted the goblet, Avia’s breath quickened, her blood surging with anticipation.

It’s happening. My lifelong wish is—

Crack!

The goblet shattered as Selina smashed it to the floor.

Glass shards scattered, crimson blood pooling under the candlelight, absurdly stark against the white tablecloth.

Avia stared, dumbfounded, her crimson eyes wide with disbelief. “What are you doing?”

“That’s my question, Senior,” Selina said coldly. “You know humans don’t drink blood. Why offer me yours?”

Avia’s carefully constructed logic unraveled.

Impossible. How could someone with the Founder’s blood resist mine? She’d studied ancient texts, consulted a diviner bound by divine oath—Selina had to carry the Founder’s blood.

Yet, she stood unmoved. Did the diviner deceive me? Or are the library’s records false? To ensure success, Avia had even laced the blood with an enhancer. No high-tier vampire could resist royal blood—unless…

“Why aren’t you a vampire?” Avia’s voice trembled, her crimson eyes balancing cold clarity and manic desperation.

“Why should I be?” Selina tilted her head, feigning confusion. “Is that a joke, Senior? Do you think everyone dreams of being a vampire?” She sensed Avia’s obsession with something she believed Selina possessed—a trait tied to vampirism, yet Selina was no vampire. The contradiction baffled Avia, clouding her judgment.

Selina’s quick analysis led to one question: What could only a vampire possess? “Of course, I know,” Avia muttered, head bowed.

“Vampires aren’t noble. They’re vile, greedy, cruel—a race steeped in sin. They revel in turning others into their kind.” Her voice darkened.

“That’s why their cursed nature traps them in those vices. They can’t resist blood, like addicts craving alchemical drugs—an primal urge etched in their bones. I need your blood to know what you are.”

Without warning, Avia slashed her palm with a prepared dagger.

Blood flowed, not dripping but coalescing into a sinister blood scythe.

Her eyes burned with obsession. When plans failed, force remained.

She couldn’t wait for another chance at the Founder’s blood—the torment of her bloodline’s resonance was driving her mad.

As the scythe swung, Selina sighed. “I knew dealing with vampires was trouble. Are any of you sharp-fanged lunatics sane?” Drawing her twin silver daggers, she parried the scythe with one while the other darted toward Avia’s neck.

[Wind Spirit Moon Shadow: Triple Slash]

Her speed doubled, the blade a blur.

Avia’s scythe dissolved into blood crystals, extending to block Selina’s strike just before it pierced her throat.

The crystals halted Selina’s blade, then morphed, spiking toward her forehead.

Years of combat honed Selina’s reflexes—she arched backward, dodging the thrust, and yanked her blade free.

In seconds, the ornate candlelit dinner turned chaotic.

Dishes and candles toppled, food and porcelain shards littering the floor.

Selina stood on the few clean patches, examining a crystal fragment. “Blood crystal, high purity… as expected from royal vampire blood,” she noted.

Vampires could manipulate their blood into forms like these crystals, their strength tied to blood purity.

Avia’s were exceptionally hard, with strong magical resistance.

A barrage of sharp crystal shards shot toward Selina like a storm of blades.

[Blade Art: Thousand Leaf Spiral]

Her daggers spun like fan blades, deflecting the onslaught.

A denser blood-crystal arrow followed, aimed at her forehead.

[Blade Art: Flowing Blade Like Fire]

Her dagger met it with precision, its searing edge melting the arrow into liquid blood.

Selina flicked the blood from her blade, expression calm. “Stop, Avia. I don’t know what you want or why you think I’m a vampire, but your combat skills are too green compared to mine.”

Vampires’ bloodline gifts were formidable, but true strength required more.

Selina’s past life, marred by physical and bloodline flaws, had capped her potential. Now, with those flaws corrected, decades of fighting death itself made her blades unmatched.