Solis was relaxed— way too relaxed for what was shaping up to be a fight that should've sent even the most hardened warriors scrambling for backup. It was the kind of calm that made you think he either had an unbeatable plan or had given up completely and was waiting for the end.
As the night rolled in, a giant dome that looked like a massive hat that lost its colors stretched long across the battlefield, and the nocturnal creatures— vampires and their ilk— began to perk up like it was their time to shine. Why? Because it literally was.
"Alright, lads," Solis muttered under his breath, spinning his spear lazily. "You've had your fun. Now it's my turn."
The problem? He was lying. It wasn't his turn. The sun was sinking, taking with it his powers, leaving him with about as much energy as a wind-up toy that's seen better days. The vampires knew it too. Their smug grins gleamed in the darkness like cheap jewelry at a market stall.
One of the captains lunged, his scythe slicing through the air with the precision of someone who practiced in front of a mirror. Solis parried with an exaggerated grunt, letting the recoil push him back a step. It was all for show, of course. The spear's butt connected with the back of the captain's head in a satisfying thud.
"Whoops! Butterfingers," Solis quipped, twirling his weapon. The captain crumpled to the ground, and Solis turned his attention to the next.
But even as he fought, his thoughts strayed. Something was off. He couldn't feel his daughter anymore. And by "feel," he didn't mean some sentimental parental connection. It was more literal than that. Celeste, his eldest, was in the dome with him, theoretically safe. Theoretically because, well, it was in the darkness against the vampires.
The Avians weren't making things any easier. Their flight skills were unmatched, their movements more slippery than soap in a bathhouse. Every attack thrown their way missed, as if they'd taken a masterclass in "How to Annoy Ground-bound Opponents."
And then there was Flora Venthart. His youngest. Her presence hadn't just faded— it vanished. Completely. Not dead— thankfully, her essence would've ebbed away like a smudged ink blot if that were the case. No, this was sudden, deliberate. Kidnapping seemed likely.
Solis sighed. "Of course it's Flora. It's always Flora."
He wasn't going to stick around to see what these vampires wanted. He'd played along long enough. If he played longer, he could get some answers, but the situation requires sacrifices.
The white catalyst embedded in the middle of his spear began to glow. The air around him shifted, shimmering like heatwaves on a summer road. His bronze eyes burned gold, and light seeped from them as though the sun itself was waking up.
The captains paused. One of them, the third captain with a normal name that he forgot, muttered something about not signing up for this level of trouble before promptly disappearing into the shadows.
Solis smirked. "Smart move."
The remaining captains weren't so lucky. They charged him, weapons drawn, their movements frantic but coordinated. Solis dodged easily, their blades cutting through empty air.
"You call that teamwork?" he mocked. "My kids argue over pie slices better than this."
He raised his spear, and the golden hum in the air grew louder. Then he did something unexpected— he began to chant. Most experienced warriors didn't need to; their minds were strong enough to handle ethercraft without the aid. But this principle was so complex that it required even the experienced regent to chant.
"The light that opens the clouds,
From the heavens endowed…"
A captain snarled and lunged, aiming for Solis's ribs. Solis sidestepped, letting the vampire stumble past. "You're really committed to this whole dying thing, huh?" he said, smacking the vampire's backside with the flat of his spear. "Respect."
Let the sun rule the sky…"
The captains' faces turned grim, their earlier confidence evaporating like morning dew. One of them actually tripped over his own feet in his haste to retreat. But Solis could tell one thing, they were acting, but they were not good enough to be picked up by any theaters.
Solis thrust his spear upward, golden ether exploding from its blade in a radiant arc.
"Sunrise!" he bellowed, the word echoing across the battlefield like the punchline to a very expensive joke. This made the captains let all their acting loose and grin like a madman... or madwoman.
And… nothing happened. The golden light fizzled out with an anticlimactic puff. The captains stared at him, expressions ranging from confusion to poorly concealed confusion.
Solis lowered his spear, tilting his head like a teacher waiting for a wrong answer to sink in. "Oh, you thought that was it? No, no. That was just the prelude. The overture. The... warm-up act."
The captains didn't look convinced, but they also didn't move. Solis raised a hand, signaling for a dramatic pause.
"Ahem," he cleared his throat. "Where was I?"
Just as the vampires began to realize he might've been bluffing, Solis reached into his coat and pulled out a small artifact— a smooth, obsidian orb etched with intricate patterns. The captains' eyes widened in recognition.
"Wait," one of them shouted. "That… that was stolen!"
"Was it?" Solis asked innocently, rolling the orb in his palm. "Funny thing about artifacts. They always find their way back to their rightful owner."
With a flick of his wrist, he released the orb into the air. It floated upwards, emitting a low, resonant hum. And the sky outside the dome started to turn bright as a new sun emerged.
"There we go," Solis said, nodding approvingly. "Takes a second to warm up, you know? Like a really old oven."
The vampires looked at the dome's walls in horror as it started to slowly fade and evaporate. The dome's purpose was to absorb any light and keep the darkness, but it was not strong enough to take on the artifact's light.
That was also why they were smiling when Solis started to cast his principle to bring a fake sun, along with their efforts to steal the artifact of light. They wanted to see despair in the regent's eyes before they killed him.
"Good effort for the plan," Solis said, standing over a vampire he knocked down. "D minus for execution, though."