Chapter 162: You can keep it.
Here is the continuation with the fraudulent announcement, Victor dropping the prize, and leaving everyone in silence.
The Judge’s voice echoed through Central Headquarters, trying to recover the solemnity that the abrupt end of the Ritual had torn from his hands.
"Due to the extreme conditions inside the dimension of the Ascension Ritual, all other participants formalized immediate withdrawal after the last recorded event."
Victor stood at the center of the ritual platform, his clothes destroyed, dried blood on his face, and an expression that clearly said he had no patience for speeches. Grace stood beside him, as still as an ice statue, but her eyes narrowed slightly when she heard the word "withdrawal."
The Judge continued, raising his voice to reach the stands and upper chambers where the nobles watched.
"After an attack of anomalous proportions cut through an extensive area of the Ascension Ritual’s dimension, compromising nearly half of the field’s spatial stability, the remaining participants activated their withdrawal seals in sequence. For safety reasons, the Ritual was ended before the scheduled limit."
A murmur crossed the hall.
Half the dimension.
Those words carried weight.
It was not merely an exaggeration from frightened spectators. Central was officially acknowledging that Victor’s strike had damaged the structure of the Ritual enough to force a mass evacuation. Some nobles in the stands looked at him as if they were seeing a monster freshly stepped out of a legend. Others whispered among themselves, trying to pretend they were not terrified.
Grace slowly turned her face toward Victor.
Her gaze said everything.
Victor noticed.
He shrugged.
"I did not force anyone to withdraw."
Grace stared at him for a few seconds.
"You cut half the dimension."
"They chose to take it personally."
"Victor."
"What? I aimed at Jake."
"And hit the horizon."
"Details."
Grace massaged the bridge of her nose, something that, from her, seemed almost like an emotional collapse.
The Judge cleared his throat, trying to ignore the dialogue at the center of the platform.
"After the final count, considering confirmed eliminations, combat records, withdrawals, and survival until the closing, the results have been established."
Victor lifted his head slightly.
Grace also paid attention.
The score mattered less to Victor than it did to Grace, but there was still something strange in that atmosphere. The Judge was speaking too slowly. Too carefully. Like someone reading a text he already knew would cause problems.
"Victor Valentine and Grace Valentine ended the Ritual with equivalent scores."
The hall grew tense.
The Judge breathed before concluding.
"Both finished with exactly two thousand six hundred points."
Victor turned his face toward Grace.
Grace turned toward Victor.
They spoke at the same time:
"Impossible."
The word echoed louder than it should have.
Grace did not usually show surprise easily, but this time even she failed to keep her expression completely neutral. Victor, on the other hand, began to smile. Not an amused smile. The smile of someone who had just found an insult so blatant it almost deserved admiration for its shamelessness.
Two thousand six hundred points.
It was ridiculous.
Not merely low.
Insulting.
Grace had eliminated participants throughout almost the entire Ritual. She had hunted, ambushed, and executed with enough cold precision to be in first place even before the final confrontation. Victor had massacred entire groups, eliminated infiltrated assassins, exterminated the formation connected to Jake, and then killed Jake himself, one of the most valuable participants of that edition. The group around the black box and the final confrontation alone should have yielded an absurd amount of points.
Both of them should have been above five thousand.
Perhaps far above.
Especially considering Jake.
Victor looked at the Judge.
"Two thousand six hundred?"
The Judge maintained his formal posture, but the discomfort on his face became more obvious.
"That is the final score validated by Central."
Grace narrowed her eyes.
"Validated by whom?"
The silence grew heavy for half a second.
The Judge did not answer directly.
That was answer enough.
Victor let out a short laugh.
"Ah."
The stands became even quieter.
That "ah" was not simple understanding.
It was contempt.
The Judge hurried on, probably to prevent any more direct public questioning.
"As both participants ended tied, and considering that there is only one drop of primordial blood available for the award in this cycle, the decision regarding distribution will be conducted according to Central’s tiebreaker rules, taking into account lineage, recorded merit, and evaluation of the—"
"I don’t give a damn," Victor said.
The sentence cut through the announcement like a crooked blade.
The Judge stopped.
Grace looked at him too.
Victor put his hands into the pockets of his torn pants, or tried to, because one pocket was partially destroyed. Even so, he made the gesture with enough naturalness to look as if he were not covered in blood and standing before the entire vampiric elite.
"Give it to the girl."
The silence that fell afterward was absolute.
Not an ordinary silence.
An offensive silence.
The judges stopped breathing for an instant. Nobles in the stands froze with expressions between shock, disbelief, and horror. Some young vampires in the recovery areas looked at Victor as if he had just spat on a sacred relic. Even Grace remained still for too long.
Victor simply turned around.
"I don’t care."
And began to leave.
The Judge finally reacted.
"Victor Valentine."
Victor kept walking.
"Victor Valentine, return to the platform. The award ceremony has not yet been concluded."
Victor stopped.
Slowly, he turned his face over his shoulder.
There was a smile on his mouth.
"And what, do I look like an idiot who would accept something fraudulent like this?"
The entire hall froze.
Some nobles widened their eyes.
Others went pale.
The Judge completely lost his solemn expression.
"Careful with your words."
Victor laughed.
"Go fuck yourself, man."
Before anyone could react, he disappeared.
It was not ritual teleportation.
It was movement.
Mist Steps mixed with Black Lightning, so fast and smooth that most only saw a dark shadow leaving the platform. In the next instant, Victor appeared in the stands, climbing into the reserved area with the naturalness of someone merely returning home after an inconvenient walk.
He sat beside Chysis and Serafall.
As if nothing had happened.
As if he had not just publicly humiliated a Judge of Central.
As if he had not refused a drop of primordial blood before every vampiric family present.
Serafall looked at him for a few seconds.
Then smiled.
There was no surprise on her face.
Only calm, sweet, and dangerous pride.
"Good work, dear," she said.
Then she leaned in and kissed his cheek.
Victor closed his eyes for an instant, accepting the gesture with an exhaustion that finally seemed human.
"Thank you, Mom."
Chysis, seated on the other side, observed Victor in silence.
She said nothing.
She did not need to.
The small smile that appeared on her lips was enough. It was rare, discreet, and almost cruel, but it was there. Pure satisfaction. Not only because of the power he had demonstrated, but because of the choice he had just made. Refusing a fraudulent prize in public was stupid from several angles. Dangerous too. But it was the kind of stupidity that made enemies uncomfortable, allies attentive, and old conspirators forced to recalculate everything.
Victor leaned back in his seat, sighing.
"What a long day."
Chysis finally spoke, without looking directly at him.
"You cut a ritual dimension, killed Jake Valentine, exposed fraud in the point count, and refused primordial blood in front of the entire aristocracy."
Victor opened one eye.
"You say that as if I planned it."
"That makes it worse."
Serafall laughed softly.
On the central platform, Grace was still standing, looking in his direction.
The Judge seemed to be trying to regain control of the ceremony, but his authority had cracked the moment Victor abandoned the center of the arena. The nobles were no longer looking only at Grace, nor at the drop of primordial blood that would be granted. They were looking at Victor.
At the young man who did not care.
At the heir who called the result fraudulent.
At the monster who sat beside his mother as if he had merely finished a household chore.
Grace lowered her eyes for an instant.
Then looked at the Judge.
"I accept the drop."
Her voice was cold.
Controlled.
But there was something different there.
Not gratitude.
Not triumph.
Perhaps irritation.
Perhaps respect.
Perhaps the realization that Victor had just transformed a fraudulent award into a public accusation without needing to present a single piece of evidence. By handing the drop to her and withdrawing, he had refused the entire game. He did not argue the rule. He did not request a recount. He did not beg for merit.
He simply dropped the prize as if it were contaminated trash.
And that, for Central, was much worse.
The Judge took one second longer than he should have to answer.
"Then... as declared, Grace Valentine will receive the drop of primordial blood as the recognized winner of the Ascension Ritual."
The applause came late.
Weak at first.
Then spreading.
No one seemed to know exactly how to react.
Grace remained still at the center of the platform while the ritual circles began to light up for the delivery of the drop. But her eyes returned one last time to Victor.
He was seated, covered in blood, receiving a handkerchief from Serafall as if he were a dirty child after playing in the mud.
Chysis was smiling beside him.
Victor noticed Grace’s gaze and raised one hand in a lazy wave.
Grace stared at him for one more instant.
Then released an almost imperceptible sigh.
"Idiot."
Victor did not hear.
Or pretended he did not.
But his smile indicated otherwise.
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