"It's been a while since I've seen you pull that thing out," Vincent said, nodding toward the sword sheathed at Sister An's side. "You're like a ninja or something."
Sister An smiled faintly. She'd already cast a concealment charm to keep them from being seen, and now, without a word, she unsheathed the blade.
It was a plain katana, no bigger than Vincent's arm. No engravings. No shine. Just steel and silence.
It's just like Hagrid's umbrella, Vincent thought, remembering how Harry once explained that Hagrid's wand had been broken and supposedly reforged into that odd pink contraption. But Sister An... she still has her wand.
What's embedded in that sword—is her brother's.
He remembered her explanation from long ago, the first time he'd ever seen the blade:
"My brother's broken wand is embedded in this blade. He died trying to stop a killer... someone who used to be his best friend. Or so I'm told. I asked a wandmaker to forge the remains into the blade—since I studied swordplay for a time."
Vincent had never asked about it again. He could tell from her voice then—it wasn't a subject meant to be reopened.
"Dumbledore's told me a lot about you, you know?" Sister An said suddenly, cutting into his thoughts. Her gaze narrowed.
Vincent flinched. "Um... Sister, those were all accidents."
"It doesn't change the fact that you created chaos the moment you stepped into the castle!" Sister An stopped talking, letting the silence drag on as well as Vincent's nerves. When what seemed like eternity of silence passed, Sister An continued talking, "It's Christmas you know."
"Don't worry," Vincent said, "I'll be there at the Orphanage tomorrow."
Sister An smiled as she knocked his head gently, Vincent smiled before frowning, " Has anyone been adopted yet?"
"John and Josh Are gone," Sister An said starting to frown, "Both were adopted last month."
Vincent bit his lip, thinking of the small, black-haired girl. Nim was now the oldest in the orphanage, the last of her age group still there. Over the past four or five years, no one had adopted her. Vincent had always found it odd, but he never questioned it too deeply. He just knew that if she ever left, he would miss her.
"We're back," Sister An said staring at the orphanage, "you should stay the night, Vince."
"Sure," Vincent said nodding.
"Oh, how could I forget," she turned to Vincent, "where is that pixie I heard so much about?"
"She's back at Hogwarts," Vincent said setting his things down, "I wanted to prepare Nyx's living conditions while I'm here so she can come and go without being seen by muggles."
"Hm, good thinking," Sister An said throwing Vincent some blankets, "you know where the lounge is, I'm heading off to bed."
"Night Sister An," Vince said earning a wave in reply.
...
"Brother Vince!" Vincent woke up with as soon as something heavy landed on his stomach.
He gasped in pain before seeing Nim standing to the side looking down at him with a cheeky smile.
"That hurt Nim," Vincent groaned as he sat up, "you're not as small now."
"Heh, heh," Nim smiled as she gave him a hug, "Merry Christmas!"
Vincent couldn't help but smile and hugged back, "Merry Christmas Nim."
"So how was school?" Nim asked as she sat beside him, "Sister An told me you started going to school, that's why you were away."
"It's extremely fun," Vincent said smiling, "I've learnt all sorts of things and made new friends."
"That's good to know," Nim looked a little sad before smiling again, "Hey, are you going to be here for dinner?"
"Yeah, I'll stay," Vincent said ruffling Nim's head before heading to the kitchen, "I'll make something for breakfast as well, want to help?"
Nim's eyes lightened up as she followed Vincent into the kitchen.
"Hey, it's big bro Vince!"
Children came scrambling into the dining room just as Vincent was setting up the table. He smiled but couldn't help but be slightly sad seeing that the number of children had decreased since the start of the year.
"Seeing children leave never gets easier, does it?" Vincent heard Sister An come in through the door, "Morning children, Vincent. Merry Christmas."
"Morning Sister An," all the children called out while Vincent gave a nod "Merry Christmas!"
"Guess what, they didn't burn the bacon this time," Vincent said earning a kick in the shin by Nim.
"Sister An, Vincent's bullying me," Nim looked at Sister An who glared at Vincent.
"Vincent," Sister An said threateningly making Vincent cower slightly.
Everyone at the table laughed before they started digging in the food.
"So, what was school like?"
"Have you made any friends?"
"Do you have a crush?"
After breakfast, Vincent was bombarded with questions by the children. He looked towards Nim and Sister An to help him, but they turned a blind eye, Nim even stuck out her tongue before helping Sister An clean the table.
The rest of the day, Vincent spent time with the Sister An, Nim and the children. He participated in a one vs all snowball fight with the children to which the loser has to shovel snow out of the pathway for the next three days. To Vincent's horror, Sister An joined in halfway through the game. With their combined forces, Vincent was utterly defeated.
"Yay, we beat Brother Vince!" they all cheered.
"Cheater's, your all cheaters!" Vincent felt like crying out, but seeing the children so happy, even he couldn't help but smile.
They finished the day by making snowmen in the courtyard. Both Vincent and Nim stood side by side as they admired their work.
"Mine's better," they both said at the same time.
"Hey, unlike yours mine has arms!" Vincent said to which Nim glared at him.
"Well, unlike yours mine has a nose!" Nim said pointing to the carrot on the snowman's face.
Every year when orphans were adopted, Nim would always be left alone with all her friends gone. However, due to this and Vincent being the one that saved her, they both developed a sort of brother-sister relationship throughout the years which soon spread to the other orphans. Sister An watched it all with a complicated expression.
"But there will be a time when Nim will have to go," she thought sadly, "are you ready for that Vincent?"
"Brother Vince, I want to show you something."
Nim dragged him to the shed, rummaged around, and emerged with a small package. "Here!"
Vincent unwrapped it carefully, eyes widening. Two wooden rods—well-crafted, smooth, and balanced. He turned them over to see an engraving:
To my Big Brother, from Nim
"You made these?"
"Sister An helped a bit, but I carved them," Nim said proudly.
"They're perfect. Thank you, Nim."
She beamed.
Vincent then pulled out a small gift. "Your turn."
She opened it slowly. An emerald green hair clip gleamed in her hand.
"I didn't know what you'd like," Vincent said, rubbing the back of his neck. "So I just… picked something I thought might suit you. If you don't—"
But Nim hugged him tightly, crying.
"Thank you!"
Vincent held her gently. "I'm your big brother. How could I ever forget my little sis?"
...
All the children had gone to bed after dinner. The orphanage had fallen into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft crackle of the fireplace and the quiet murmur of conversation between Vincent and Sister An. They sat side by side in the dining hall, wrapped in the warm glow of firelight while darkness pressed against the windows.
"There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about," Sister An said at last, her tone low and serious. "There've been vampire sightings around London. Recently."
Vincent looked up, his brows knitting. "Vampires... again?"
"The Ministry isn't getting involved, at least, not yet. Not without them causing some kind of trouble first. From what I hear though, they've been searching for someone or something. Probably another stray."
London wasn't unfamiliar with strange things stalking its streets after sundown. Creatures slipped through cracks in the veil all the time. Usually, Sister An would handle them before Vincent even knew they were there, if there were dangerous anyway.
But vampires... vampires were a different story.
Vincent ran a hand through his hair, the beginnings of a headache forming. "Hopefully I don't run into him again."
Sister An gave him a look. "Which is why I'm warning you now—take a break from your nightly patrols. Just for a little while."
She paused, then sighed. "Though I doubt you'll actually listen."
Vincent smiled sheepishly. "You know me best."
Outside, the sky had gone completely black, the stars swallowed behind thick clouds. The air beyond the glass felt heavy—dense with a kind of silence that didn't sit quite right.
"I'll be accompanying you for the next two weeks," Sister An added, standing as she reached into the pouch at her side. She drew her katana in one hand, her wand in the other.
"Now," she said, backing off with a glint in her eye, "let's see if you've managed to stay in shape."
…
"Tonight's uneventful," Vincent muttered as he sprinted across a rooftop, breath rising in puffs of white. "Glad you're here, Sister An. You're like a portable heater."
The warmth around him vanished in an instant, replaced by a sharp gust of wind. He shivered and looked back to see Sister An smirking.
"Oh, come on—it's freezing out here!" he groaned.
But then he stopped. "Wait... did you hear that?"
Both of them froze. A scream cut through the night, followed by a guttural snarl.
Without a word, they bolted toward the sound, landing in a narrow alley. A woman was backed into a corner, trembling, as a pale, sharp-toothed man crept toward her with unnatural hunger in his eyes.
The vampire recoiled with a hiss as a jet of flame streaked past him, scorching the wall.
"A stray vampire?" Sister An muttered, eyes narrowing. "No matter. Watch closely, Vincent—I'll show you how to deal with one properly."
The vampire lunged—only to slam into a translucent shield that shimmered into place from Sister An's wand. She held it in a relaxed backhand grip, angling the wand like a buckler. Her stance was calm. Controlled.
"One," she said, sidestepping the creature, "never let it bite you."
With a sharp pivot, she drove her heel into the vampire's chest, sending it stumbling backward.
"Two—their claws are sharp."
As if on cue, the vampire snarled and lunged again, swinging wide with both arms. Its nails had grown longer—unnaturally so—curving like talons, black and glinting with a metallic sheen.
It slashed the stone wall beside her, and the brick split with a screech, deep gouges cut straight through the mortar like paper. Shards of rock scattered into the alley.
"They can carve through bone like wet wood," Sister An added coldly.
Before the creature could land a second blow, her sword flashed in a clean arc—both its hands hit the ground with a wet thud.
The woman nearby screamed.
"And three," Sister An went on, unfazed, as the vampire's severed hands began to regenerate—flesh knitting back together like melting wax, "vampires are semi-immortal. You kill them with a blow to the head—or the heart."
The vampire roared and launched forward with terrifying speed.
Sister An didn't blink.
Her shield snapped into place, catching the strike. In the same motion, she drove the hilt of her sword into the side of the vampire's head—a crackle of magic sparking on contact.
The creature collapsed instantly, unconscious.
"They can be knocked out—just like anyone else," she said, casually sheathing both wand and sword. "Though it takes a fair bit of force if you're doing it physically."
Vincent stood in awe. He had seen her fight before, but it still amazed him each time.
"Obliviate," Sister An whispered, flicking her wand toward the terrified woman. Her eyes glazed over. Without a word, she turned and wandered away from the alley.
"Also," Sister An added, glancing down at the unconscious vampire, "there are different classes of them. The stronger ones—the ones with blood manipulation and enhanced magic—we call Nobles."
"Petrificus Totalus," she muttered, freezing the vampire in place like a statue. "This one... not a Noble. No blood magic, no sign of Dracula's mark. Just an ordinary turned stray."
"Does it really make that much of a difference?" Vincent asked. "Whether they're turned by Dracula directly or not?"
"Absolutely. A vampire blessed directly by Dracula gains power far beyond the average. Greater strength, faster regeneration, even spellcasting. Many Nobles form weapons from their own blood—living extensions of themselves."
Vincent frowned. "And the catch?"
Sister An's expression darkened slightly.
"Anyone blessed by Dracula—or born from one who was—is bound to him. His will becomes their command. Forever."
Vincent glanced at the vampire again, unease stirring in his gut. "Sounds like a raw deal."
She tapped the wall with her wand. The surface peeled away like paper, turning stark white as words appeared across it—faint at first, then sharp and inked. A moment later, the sheet folded in on itself, reshaping into a delicate butterfly that fluttered into the air and vanished.
"I've just sent for someone to pick him up, all we need to do is…" Sister An trailed off with a frown. "Someone just tripped one of my wards."
"At the orphanage?" Vincent asked, his voice tight with concern.
Sister An nodded. "Go. I'll keep watch here until someone retrieves him."
She hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave, but after a moment, gave a short nod—trusting him. "I'll be back soon."
With a sharp crack, she vanished into the night.
"Apparition," Vincent thought. That was what it was called, if he remembered correctly. A handy skill—one more reminder of how absurdly convenient magic could be.
"That worked out well," came a voice behind him.
Vincent turned—and found himself face to face with a young man, pale-skinned and red-eyed, casually resting an absurdly long crimson spear over his shoulder. The weapon shimmered faintly in the moonlight, as if alive.
"Scared the hell out of me, seeing Hell's Hunter here," the vampire said, grinning. "But I'm even more surprised to see you again, Vince."
"...Axel." Vincent's expression soured at his presence. It didn't go unnoticed.
"It's been a while, hasn't it? What—two years?" Axel chuckled as he strolled forward, unbothered. "Man, you humans grow up fast. You'll probably be my height the next time I drop by."
Their first meeting had been during one of Vincent's early patrols—unremarkable, really. He'd just finished dealing with some petty threat when Axel appeared out of nowhere.
"They call you the Trespasser, huh? You're not the first kid I've seen punch above their weight class, but still—impressive. I'll be keeping an eye on you."
Since then, Axel had shown up occasionally—maybe once a year, sometimes less. He never stayed long. A few cryptic words, a smirk, and then he'd vanish again before Vincent could get a read on him.
Vincent had told Sister An about the encounters. She didn't like it—he remembered the way her expression tightened—but she'd said it wasn't necessarily a threat, as long as Axel didn't make a move against him.
That didn't exactly comfort Vincent.
There was something about Axel that got under his skin. It wasn't anything specific—no overt malice, no rudeness. In fact, Axel seemed like the kind of person who got along with just about everyone.
And maybe that was the problem.
Vincent didn't even feel this level of irritation toward the people he fought. But Axel—there was something behind the smile, behind the casual words and charming tone—that Vincent couldn't shake.
"...Sister An just received an alarm at the orphanage only for you to pop up right after," Vincent glared at Axel. "Tell me this is a coincidence."
"Just had to get her out of the way so I could do my job in peace," Axel said with a shrug, casually walking past Vincent. He stopped beside the unconscious stray vampire, glancing down with mild disinterest. "I've been tasked with hunting down a few who've gotten too comfortable feeding on regular humans."
He glanced sideways at Vincent, clearly having picked up on the unspoken questions behind his silence.
"Did you know the current Dracula is only a little over a thousand years old?" Axel said, as if continuing a conversation that had already started. "Anyone he's personally blessed or turned bends to his will, no exceptions."
He tapped the spear against the ground.
"But that doesn't include vampires who existed before his rise to power. They weren't bound to him. So naturally, a few... stray batches have slipped through the cracks. Vampires outside his control."
Vincent narrowed his eyes slightly.
Axel continued, unfazed. "He's fine with that—so long as they don't cause problems. But when they step out of line?" He gestured lazily to the unconscious vampire at his feet. "Sometimes you have to remind them who's in charge. One heavy hand is all it takes to send a message."
"Shall I demonstrate?"
Axel lifted his spear slightly before stabbing downwards, the red tip aiming to embed itself in the unconscious vampire's throat.
CLANG!
Axel raised a brow, clearly amused, as Vincent knocked his spear aside with his rods. The tip missed the unconscious vampire by inches.
"...Kill him somewhere else," Vincent muttered, his voice low, eyes shadowed.
Axel chuckled as he stepped back, withdrawing the spear.
"Kill him somewhere else? Really? You sure you don't mean spare him or something?"
Vincent didn't respond. His gaze stayed locked on the vampire, unreadable.
Axel sighed, casually resting the spear against his shoulder.
"Still the same, huh? You don't actually care if he lives. You just don't want to watch him die."
He leaned in slightly, voice quiet but cutting.
"You know how messed up that is?"
Vincent bit his lip but said nothing, offering no rebuttal. Axel let out a quiet sigh of frustration.
He'd thought the boy might've changed—grown into something more, something sharper to match his outward maturity. But no. He was still the same self-aware fool Axel had first encountered all those years ago.
"Tell you what," Axel said, stepping away from the body. "Since you clearly aren't backing down—and I'm not in the mood to drag this guy around just to finish the job—we'll settle this with three strikes."
Vincent followed, eyes narrowing.
"If you can block or dodge all three," Axel continued, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, "you win. The stray goes to the Ministry. If not..."
He cast a glance over his shoulder, eyes gleaming.
"Well, let's just say you'll be needing a bit of patching up. Oh, and I'll finish the job and be on my way."
"...Sure."
They stopped.
Vincent stood just within range of Axel's spear.
Axel twirled the weapon once, the motion fluid, almost lazy—then dropped into a low stance, his spear angled and ready to strike.
Vincent mirrored the motion, raising his rods. His golden eyes sharpened, locking onto Axel's every movement. He knew better than to blink.
Silence.
The moonlight spilled cold and silver across the snow, glinting off metal and ice. A wind swept through the alley, stirring flakes into a slow, swirling dance between them.
Then—stillness.
Axel moved first. In a blink, he lunged—not with the point of his spear, but the blunt end, swinging upward in a deceptive arc.
Vincent moved on instinct, twisting to the side as he brought one rod up just in time, catching the blow. The impact crashed down through the block, jarring his arm and slamming into his shoulder like a hammer.
The clash of iron against iron rang out—sharp, thunderous—echoing down the narrow alley.
He skidded back a step, boots digging into the snow.
"Not bad," Axel said, spinning the spear around with a flourish. "Didn't fall for the bait."
Vincent didn't answer. He adjusted his stance, jaw clenched.
The second strike came faster—no warning, no wasted motion.
Axel dashed forward, spear tip gleaming, and thrust low, aiming for Vincent's leg to destabilize him.
Vincent leapt back—but Axel anticipated it. With a fluid pivot, the vampire whipped the spear around in a wide horizontal arc.
Vincent ducked just in time, snow exploding around him as the spear sliced the air overhead.
He rolled to the side and came up in a crouch, panting. One rod had slipped from his hand, but he was still on his feet.
Axel raised an eyebrow. "Not bad. You've definitely gotten faster."
The alley narrowed around them, boxed in by brick and shadow.
Then Axel moved.
Not fast—instant. One moment he stood across from Vincent, and the next he was already closing the distance, spear thrusting forward like a fired bullet.
Vincent barely saw it. He only felt the danger.
He snapped his arms up, rods crossed in front of his chest.
Impact.
The spear slammed into his guard with bone-shaking force, and for a split second, the entire alley seemed to crack with the sound. Snow exploded upward, a nearby crate splintered from the shockwave, and Vincent was blasted off his feet.
He crashed hard into the alley wall; the wind torn from his lungs. His back scraped rough brick, boots dragging through slush before he crumpled to a knee, one rod still braced against the ground to hold himself up.
His arms screamed. His ribs ached. But the rods—still intact—trembled faintly in his hands.
Axel stood exactly where he'd struck, spear now resting idly over his shoulder.
"That one should've folded you," he said, eyebrow raised.
Vincent looked up, his breath ragged, blood on his lip.
"But it didn't," he muttered.
Axel chuckled. "No. I guess it didn't."
He nodded toward the unconscious vampire lying in the snow nearby. "Ministry can handle him."
And with that, he turned to leave, boots crunching softly over the scattered slush and snow, only to tense a moment later as he brought his spear up to defend against a steel blade, engulfed in red hot flames.
"You—what did you do?"
Sister An's voice cut through the alley like a blade, her eyes burning with fury. The heat radiating from her was so intense it made the air shimmer. Even the bravest of men might've flinched.
Axel didn't.
Though sweat trickled down his face and blisters formed on his fingers, he let out a low, breathless laugh.
"Relax," he said, nodding toward Vincent, who was on the ground coughing up blood. "I'm done for the night. You might want to grab a nurse. Kid looks about spent."
Sister An slowly raised her sword. The flames curling around it hissed and faded, vanishing into the cold night. She stared at Axel one last time—sharp, silent—before turning her back to kneel beside Vincent.
Axel watched her.
His grip tightened slightly on his spear.
He could strike now. Catch her off guard. Bury his weapon deep within her spine.
But he didn't.
He knew better.
She wasn't careless. She was daring him—inviting him to try.
And if he did?
He might not live long enough to regret it.
"Hell's Hunter An…" Axel muttered as he walked into the night, the glow of firelight fading behind him. "What a terrifying woman."
His thoughts drifted back to the boy—bloodied, battered… but still standing.
"What is he? Twelve? Eleven?" Axel frowned, eyes narrowed. "That strength… it's not natural. Not for someone his age. Not for a human."
He couldn't help but feel intrigued. The boy had always been above average, sure—but this? This was something else entirely.
"It's too much of a leap since we last crossed paths," Axel thought. "He's been up to something, but what?"
A slow smile tugged at his lips.
"Looks like I'll have to do some digging."
He disappeared into the darkness; voice low as he muttered to himself—
"He might be a worthy candidate after all."
And then, quieter still, as the wind swallowed his words:
"It seems a king's candidate has finally begun to shine."