"Your proposal… I will think about it."
A long silence. Okuto's eyes held a flicker of desperate hope.
"Maybe in another life."
The blade began its descent.
Tsukune did not swing wildly. He drove All‑Black forward with surgical precision, plunging the Necrosword deep into Okuto's core, the place where the Kraken's heart and life force resided. The blade sank into the rubbery flesh as if it were water, and Okuto's body convulsed, his remaining tentacles twitching spasmodically.
"You… you will not… get away with this…" Okuto's voice was a gurgling whisper, black blood bubbling from his mouth. "The Student Council… will hunt you… They will tear you apart… We will meet in Hell, bloodsucker…"
Tsukune's expression did not change. His crimson eyes, glowing beneath the Dragon Helm, held no anger, no triumph, no regret. Only this chilling, quiet finality that was reserved to a monster slaying in an RPG.
"If Hell in the true sense exists, I promise you, I will send the Student Council there to keep you company."
He twisted the blade.
All‑Black pulsed, its Devourer ability activating. The Necrosword drank deeply from the Kraken's essence, consuming his Yoki, his life force, his very soul.
But Tsukune was not done. He raised his free hand, and a stream of black blood rose from Okuto's wounds, curving through the air toward his palm. Hemomancy. The Kraken's blood was rich, thick, and still warm.
He gathered it into a swirling orb, pulsating with dark energy, and brought it to his lips.
The taste was vile, salty with lots of iron and also something rotten like a fish sauce. But his vampire instincts screamed for sustenance. His transformation was reaching its final stage, and he needed fuel. So, it became mandatory that he drank blood.
Okuto's body convulsed as his blood, his essence, everything that made him a living being was stripped away. His flesh shriveled, his remaining tentacles withered, and his eyes, once filled with predatory confidence, went wide with terror.
"Curse you!" Okuto howled, his voice a fading echo. "Curse you, Aono Tsukune!"
He shriveled, and then dissolved into ash, scattering on the wind like dark snow.
Tsukune consumed a large amount of blood. The orb vanished into his mouth, and he felt the power surge through him, hot and unfamiliar. His veins pulsed, his muscles tightened, and for a moment, he thought he might lose control. But he held on, forcing the energy to settle, to integrate.
All‑Black also had a decent meal. The blade hummed with satisfaction, its dark runes glowing briefly before fading.
[You have slain Okuto Kotsubo (A‑tier Kraken), gaining a portion of his essence.]
[All‑Black has consumed the remaining essence. Essence Storage: (3/3) – Full.]
[Bloodline Purity has increased. Current: 66.21%]
[Bloodline Control has increased. Current: B (68/100)]
Tsukune dismissed the notifications with a blink. He did not have time to savor the victory.
The crimson barrier collapsed, the dome dissolving into motes of light that drifted upward like fireflies. The Vampire Sorcerers, who had maintained the spell for the entire battle, staggered. Most of them caught themselves, their staffs planted firmly in the blood‑soaked earth. But a few of the younger ones, the twins among them, dropped to one knee, their chests heaving.
The lead Sorcerer, a gaunt man with a long grey beard and eyes that glowed like embers, straightened his robes and walked toward Tsukune. His name was Aldric, the first Vampire Sorcerer Tsukune had ever summoned, and he had served the Blood King since the earliest days of the Sacred Gear's awakening.
"Blood King," Aldric said, bowing his head. His voice was deep, resonant, like the tolling of a funeral bell. "The Kraken has been vanquished. Your strategy was sound, and your execution flawless. The way you baited him into wasting his regeneration, the precise severing of his tentacles, the use of the reflection ability… it was truly a delightful display of power."
Tsukune inclined his head. "You with your Sorcerers had held the barrier. Without you, he would have escaped. Doubtful, since I wouldn't be letting him off, but if he escaped into the Ocean, that would have been troublesome."
Aldric's lips curved into a thin smile. "It is our purpose to serve, Majesty. But I must speak plainly."
"Go ahead." Tsukune's tone was flat, but his eyes showed interest. This servant of his rarely spoke out of turn.
Aldric stepped closer, his voice dropping. "You should not soil your hands with such filth. The Vampire Kingdom is ready to usher in the return of its King. Allow us to deal with your enemies. That is what we are for."
The Vampire Ghosts, who had lined the edges of the clearing, began to fade. They bowed one last time, their hollow voices rising in a final chorus.
"Blood King… Blood King… Blood King…"
Then they were gone, melting back into the shadows from whence they came.
Tsukune turned to Aldric. "I appreciate the sentiment. But some enemies require a personal touch. And this one…" He looked at the ash scattered on the ground. "…this one threatened someone under my protection. That is not something I delegate."
He paused, then added, "However, in the future, as my power grows stronger and my standing in this world changes, you, my proud and noble Vampires, will serve me well."
Aldric bowed deeper, but there was a clear sign of anticipation for the future. Even the other Vampire wizards had a crimson gleam in their eyes as they imagined proving themselves to their Monarch.
"As you command, Majesty. We will always be ready."
"And we will bring the Vampire Kingdom, your Realm, into this World," Aldric added, his voice resonating with conviction.
He raised his staff, and the remaining Sorcerers gathered around him. With a whispered incantation, they dissolved into shadow, returning to the depths of Tsukune's Sacred Gear.
The Vampire Retainers who had survived the clash with the Kraken padded toward Tsukune. There were three of them, their silver‑and‑black fur matted with black blood, their crimson eyes gleaming with loyalty. They circled him, sniffing at his boots, then sat at his feet, looking up with something that resembled adoration.
One of them, a large beast with a scar across its muzzle, nudged Tsukune's hand with its nose. It let out a soft, rumbling whine.
Tsukune deactivated his combat form. The Dragon Helm dissolved into shadow, revealing his silver hair and calm crimson eyes. The Alucard Mail sank into his chest, replaced by his standard Academy uniform, which was miraculously still intact. All‑Black, satisfied with the meal, pulsed once and then melted into his shadow, returning to the Abyss.
He reverted to his human appearance. His hair darkened from silver to black, his eyes faded from crimson to brown, and his fangs retracted. He looked, for a moment, like the unassuming first‑year human teen who had stumbled into the Academy months ago. But the quiet confidence in his posture, the steadiness in his gaze, told a different story.
He crouched down and scratched the scarred Retainer behind its ears. The wolf leaned into his touch, its tail wagging slowly. The other two pressed closer, vying for attention, and Tsukune laughed softly.
"Good job, all of you. You bought me the time I needed." He scratched another under the chin. "Go rest now. I will call you when I need you."
The Retainers whined, reluctant to leave, but they obeyed. One by one, they dissolved into shadow, their forms fading into the darkness at Tsukune's feet.
Mizore had been watching from behind the line where the ghosts had stood. Her body was still trembling, the frost around her feet slowly retreating. She had seen Tsukune in his armored form, had felt the oppressive weight of his S‑tier Yoki, had watched him cut down a Kraken without mercy.
It should have terrified her. It did terrify her. But it also filled her with something else, something she could not name.
He was not the gentle boy from the library. He was not the warm presence who had welcomed her to the Newspaper Club. He was a predator, a hunter, a king of shadows and blood. And yet, he had come for her.
She pushed herself to her feet, her legs unsteady. The frost crunched beneath her shoes, and the sound seemed unnaturally loud in the sudden silence. She took a step toward him, then another. Her heart was pounding, her throat tight.
She stopped a few feet away, uncertain. Her hands reached out, then hesitated, hovering in the air between them. She could see the exhaustion in his face, the dark circles under his eyes, the slight tremor in his fingers. He had pushed himself to his limit, and he had done it for her.
"Are you… are you hurt?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Tsukune turned to look at her. His brown eyes were soft, the coldness gone. "I am fine. A little tired, but fine."
"You killed him."
"I did."
"For me."
He stepped closer, closing the distance between them. "For you. And for everyone else he would have hurt if I had let him live in the future."
Mizore's lower lip trembled. The tears she had been holding back finally spilled over, tracing warm paths down her cold cheeks.
She had spent so long alone, so long believing that no one would ever care, that no one would ever come. And yet, here he was, standing in front of her, his presence a shield against the darkness.
"I thought… I thought I would be alone forever," she said, her voice cracking. "I thought no one would ever… that I did not deserve…"
She could not finish the sentence. The words dissolved into sobs, vulnerable and ugly, and she covered her face with her hands.
Tsukune did not hesitate. He reached out and pulled her into his arms, holding her gently, his hand cradling the back of her head. She was cold, colder than anyone he had ever held, but he did not flinch. He just held her, letting her cry, letting the years of isolation and fear pour out of her.
"You are not alone," he said quietly. "You have never been alone. You just had not found us yet."
She clung to him, her fingers digging into the fabric of his uniform. She cried until her throat was dry, until her tears were spent, until her body sagged against his in exhaustion. And through it all, he held her, steady and patient, a rock in the storm.
When her sobs finally subsided, she pulled back just enough to look at him. Her eyes were red, her cheeks blotchy, but she was smiling. A small, fragile smile, but real.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For coming. For saving me. For… for being you."
He smiled back, gently wiping away some of her tears. "You do not have to thank me. That is what friends do."
She wanted to say more, to tell him how she felt, to put words to the warmth spreading through her chest. But the exhaustion was too great, and her eyelids were growing heavy. She swayed, and he caught her, lowering her gently to the ground.
"Rest now," he said. "I will be here when you wake up."
She wanted to argue, to say that she was fine, that she did not need to sleep. But her body betrayed her, and Hypnos claimed her.
---
Mizore woke to the smell of antiseptic and the soft hum of fluorescent lights.
The infirmary ceiling was white, pristine, and utterly unfamiliar. She blinked, trying to remember where she was, what had happened. The memories came back in fragments: the forest, the Kraken, the armored figure, the crimson-black blade. And Tsukune. Always Tsukune.
She quickly turned her head.
He was sitting in a chair beside her bed, his arms still holding her, as if she didn't want to let go of him, and there was a gentle look on his face as he watched her sleep.
Chisato Hasegawa was checking a monitor near the foot of the bed, her green eyes soft. She wore her white lab coat over a green knitted turtleneck, and her red round glasses caught the light.
"You are awake," Chisato said, her voice gentle. "How do you feel?"
Mizore swallowed. Her throat was dry, her body aching. "Tired. Sore. But… I think I feel better."
Chisato smiled. "That is the important part. You have a few bruised ribs and some minor lacerations, but nothing that will not heal with rest. You were very lucky."
Mizore looked down at their hands. His fingers were still wrapped around hers, warm and steady. "You stayed for me."
"Of course I stayed." He squeezed her hand gently. "I said I would be here when you woke up. I am someone who keeps his promises."
"He's so dutiful. He even refused to leave your side," Chisato said, her voice gentle. "I offered him a bed, but he said he would wait until you woke up. Would not let anyone else touch you, either. Carried you here himself."
Mizore's eyes stung. She blinked rapidly, refusing to cry again. She had done enough crying for one night.
"Thank you, Tsukune‑kun," she whispered.
He smiled, a tired but genuine expression. "Rest. You need plenty of it."
The door to the infirmary opened, and Kurumu burst in, followed by Inner Moka and Yukari. Kurumu was carrying a blanket, a pillow, and a thermos that smelled faintly of hot chocolate. Inner had a stack of magazines. Yukari was holding a small potted plant, a cheerful yellow flower that seemed out of place in the sterile room.
"You are awake!" Kurumu exclaimed, her voice loud in the quiet space. She stopped beside the bed, looking down at Mizore with an expression that was caught somewhere between relief and awkwardness. "I brought you a blanket. Do not read into it. I just thought you might be cold. Because of the ice thing. Not because I care or anything."
Inner sighed. "Kurumu, you are doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Being obviously annoying."
Yukari giggled. She set the potted plant on the nightstand and beamed at Mizore. "I brought you a flower! It is a marigold. They symbolize warmth and creativity. I thought you might like it."
Mizore stared at the three of them, at the blanket, the magazines, the flower, the hot chocolate. They had come. They had brought her things. They cared.
She had never had friends before. Not real ones. Not ones who visited her in the infirmary and brought her gifts and argued about who was being too obvious.
The tears came again, unbidden, streaming down her cheeks. But this time, they were not tears of fear or pain. They were tears of relief.
Kurumu's eyes widened. "Oh no. What did I say? I am sorry. I did not mean to make you cry. I will shut up now."
Inner, who had been standing quietly by the window, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable, finally spoke. Her voice was flat, but there was a softness beneath it. "Let her cry. They are not sad tears, but of someone who finally got rid of a weight from their heart."
Mizore nodded, unable to speak. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, sniffled, and managed a watery smile.
"Thank you," she said. "All of you. For coming. For… for being here with me."
Yukari bounced on her heels. "Of course we came! You are part of the Newspaper Club now. That means you are family. And family takes care of each other."
Kurumu snorted. "Who made you the spokesperson?"
"I volunteered."
"You cannot volunteer yourself for spokesperson."
"I just did."
Inner sighed again, and she felt like she was taking care of a bunch of kids. In a way, she got nostalgic about her younger sister, Kokoa.
The door opened once more, and Shizuka Nekonome stepped inside.
Her cat ears were flat against her head, her tail still, her golden eyes blazing with an intensity that made the air in the room grow heavy.
Tsukune turned to look at the newcomer, and instantly the System reacted.
[Warning: Hostile intent detected from Shizuka Nekonome.]
[Threat Level: S+ (Nekomata)]
[Status: Enraged / Protective – High hostility toward Okuto Kotsubo (deceased). No hostility directed at the user.]
Tsukune stirred at the notification, his eyes turned crimson as he looked at Shizuka, then at the system window, then back at Shizuka. His expression did not change, but his heart rate spiked.
'How could that be? Initially she was rated at A-tier first.'
'Could it be that the System can also be fooled if a person is hiding their true powers?'
'It might as well be that since even now it can't identify Chisato's Threat Level.'
Usually with this cat-lady, he had never seen her angry. He had never felt her Yoki flare like this, a pressure that made the walls seem to bend inward.
It was the presence of a mother cat who had just discovered that someone had tried to hurt her kittens.
"Shirayuki‑san," Shizuka said, her voice tight. "Are you alright?"
Mizore nodded. "I am fine, Sensei. Thanks to Tsukune‑kun."
Shizuka's gaze shifted to Tsukune. The fury in her eyes softened, replaced by something that looked like gratitude. "You saved her."
"As usual, Sensei, I did what needed to be done," Tsukune replied, his voice calm.
Shizuka turned to Chisato. "I received your message. Is she stable?"
Chisato nodded. "She will make a full recovery. The wounds were superficial, and she is young. Her regeneration is already working, so she will be back on her feet in no time."
Shizuka's jaw tightened. Her tail, usually so expressive, was rigid. "And the one who did this?"
"Sensei," he said, standing. "For now, I can only tell you that it was Okuto Kotsubo, the PE teacher who wanted to get his hands on Mizore."
Shizuka was silent for a long moment. Her golden eyes blazed, and the pressure in the room intensified. Tsukune felt the weight of her Yoki, a crushing force that made the air thick and heavy. But it was not directed at him. It was directed at the memory of a man who was already ash.
"I will have a word with the Headmaster," Shizuka said, her voice cold. "About the hiring practices of this Academy and how incompetent he is at the vetting process. We have recently had so many incidents of bullying, even killing amongst students but nothing ever happens even after I complain so many times."
It felt like she had transformed into a momma cat, ready to face the world for her litter of babies. It took great effort for Tsukune to contain his shock, but since taking his first step in the Supernatural World, keeping a poker face has become a life‑saving skill.
"Thank you, Aono‑kun," Shizuka said, her voice softening. She stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You saved one of my students. I will not forget that."
She turned back to Mizore, her expression gentle. "You should rest. Chisato‑sensei will take good care of you."
"I know," Mizore said. She looked down at her hands, then back up at Shizuka. "Sensei… can I stay here tonight? In the infirmary, I mean. I do not want to be alone in my room."
Shizuka's expression softened further. "Of course. I will make sure the dormitory is informed."
Tsukune squeezed Mizore's hand. "I will leave some of my summons to keep watch. Ikelos can watch over your dreams, and Kuriboh will keep you company. One of my Vampire Familiars will be nearby in case anything happens."
He reached into his shadow and pulled out Ikelos, the Dream Mirror Sprite. She materialized in a swirl of dark and light, her gothic Lolita dress settling around her like spilled ink. Her eyes, which usually held the cold depth of the Dream World, were warm with understanding, as if it was reminiscent of her light counterpart.
"I will guard her dreams, my Lord," Ikelos said, bowing. "No nightmare shall touch her."
Next came a Kuriboh, the fluffy winged creature that had become Tsukune's most loyal companion. It chirped and landed on the pillow beside Mizore's head, nuzzling her cheek.
"Kuri."
Finally, a Vampire Familiar emerged from the shadow, a small bat with crimson eyes. It perched on the windowsill, its wings folded, its gaze fixed on the door.
Mizore looked at the three creatures, then at Tsukune. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down at her hands.
"Actually…" She hesitated, her voice barely a whisper. "I would rather… I mean, if it is not too much trouble… I would like you to stay. With me. Just for a little while."
Kurumu's head snapped toward her. "What did you just say?"
Mizore's blush deepened. "Nothing! Never mind. Forget I said anything."
Kurumu's eyes narrowed, but Inner placed a hand on her arm. "Leave her alone. She has been through a lot."
Kurumu huffed but did not argue.
Tsukune smiled and sat back in his chair. "I will stay. At least until you fall asleep."
Mizore looked up at him, her winter‑sky eyes bright. "Promise?"
"Promise."
She lay back against the pillow, her hand still in his. The Kuriboh curled up on her chest, its tiny body rising and falling with each breath. Ikelos sat at the foot of the bed, her dark wings folded, her eyes half‑closed. The Vampire Familiar remained on the windowsill, a silent sentinel.
The room grew quiet. The others drifted out one by one: Shizuka first, then Chisato, then Kurumu, Inner, and Yukari. They promised to return in the morning.
Mizore stared at the ceiling, her thoughts swirling. The snowflake on the windowsill, the one Tsukune had kept, glittered in the moonlight. It had not melted. It was still there, a reminder that not all cold things were meant to be alone.
Maybe spring is coming, she thought. Maybe I am not as frozen as I believed.
She looked at Tsukune, who had leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed. He was not truly asleep, but he was resting. His hand was still in hers, warm and solid.
Ikelos tilted her head, studying Mizore's expression. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper.
"You are in love with Lord Aono, are you not?"
Mizore's face went crimson. She opened her mouth to deny it, to deflect, to hide behind a wall of frost. But the words would not come. Instead, she looked at Tsukune's calm face, at the gentle curve of his lips, at the way his dark hair fell across his forehead.
"He is everything I ever wanted," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "Handsome, attentive, calm. He does not flinch from my cold. He does not treat me like a monster. He came for me when no one else would." She swallowed. "What is there not to like?"
"Kuri," the Kuriboh chirped, nodding its tiny head in agreement.
Ikelos smiled. It was a small, knowing smile, warm in a way that seemed out of place on her shadowed features. "Then perhaps you should tell him. When you are ready."
Mizore looked at Tsukune again. "I can't do this... Well... Maybe when I get closer to him, I will."
She closed her eyes, and for the first time in years, she slept without nightmares. The frost on the windowsill retreated, just a little, and the snowflake caught the moonlight, glittering like a promise.
Outside the window, the world was dark and cold. But inside the infirmary, wrapped in blankets and surrounded by friends, Mizore Shirayuki felt something she had not felt in a very long time.
The warmth of having finally someone to rely on.