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My breaths came in short, sharp bursts, and my muscles quaked with each inhalation.

"Ugh, damn," I winced, following a ragged sigh; the simple act of breathing sent ripples of searing agony throughout my body.

Meanwhile, Vincent stood before me, his gaze unflinching and unwavering. Only when he sighed and shook his head did his expressive grin falter.  "I apologize; typically, I prefer a more efficient method of dispatching a foe - a slice to the neck or stab to the heart," his words carried a tinge of genuine remorse.

"I don't relish the thought of causing you pain, but I'd rather not ruin my suit with your entrails. Unfortunately, that means I'll have to destroy your organs with blunt trauma," his eyes sank in pity as if staring at a wounded puppy.

"It'll be painful," he continued, adjusting his black gloves, "but it's unavoidable. I hope you'll forgive me."

In a convoluted way, this man just asserted he'd kill me. However, what stuck out to me was his reasoning. 'My well-being is worth less than a suit? Maybe humans and fullkin aren't so different, after all.' I chuckled at the realization, knowing there were plenty in my previous world who'd agree with his sentiment.

"Oh, sure, don't worry about it," I replied with a sarcastic grin. "I'm sure good suits are hard to come by!"

His lips curved as they formed a relieved smile. "Splendid! I appreciate your understanding, Sir?.." he stopped, seemingly awaiting a specific response.

Preferring to assess the damage to my body while keeping up a casual facade, I obliged him. I also avoided the soldier's introduction, against my instincts. I felt I had no need for it anymore. "Sato," I said. "My name's Sato."

"Hmmm... Sato..." Vincent brought his hands to his pursed lips in curiosity. "I must admit I find the name to be quite intriguing! You heroes from this side of the world have the most unique identifiers!"

"Is that so?" I feigned a cheery chuckle but soon ceased due to the physical suffering chest movements caused me.

Surprisingly, the pain, though still crippling from my broken ribs, was gradually diminishing. The sharpness would intensify with each passing second, echoing throbs throughout my gut and chest before vanishing entirely.

I reached out to touch the spot where Vincent struck.

My callused, scarred skin was now a grotesque shade of purple, and the mere presence of my fingertips sent shivers down my spine. Despite the discomfort, I pressed inward, feeling something almost otherworldly.

Beneath my palm, the shattered bones were mending themselves, snapping and shifting back into place.

There was only one explanation for this miraculous phenomenon.

'The potion must have a lingering effect,' I made a mental note of the information and withdrew my hand. Then, while cautiously eyeing Vincent, I crouched down and reached for the sword I had dropped.

The blade grated against the planked floor as I retrieved it. Though the sword belonged to a leader, it lacked any semblance of detail or care, and every bit of it reeked of the phrase "mass-produced."

Upon wrapping my fingers around the hilt, Vincent looked at me with honest shock. "You'd prefer to fight? You know I could make your death quicker if you'd allow me."

It was a foolish question to me. "That's a great offer, but I'll decline," I replied with a smirk as the last dregs of injury left my flesh. "Even if it's futile, even if it costs me my pride, my limbs, or my life, I'll fight to the very end. A little pain won't change that." I finished with a mock swipe of the sword, my attempt at getting used to its weight.

Vincent sighed and shook his head. "A noble gesture, but you realize you're only delaying the inevitable, correct? You're going to die either way."

I chuckled at his reasoning. "Buddy, I was delaying the inevitable from the moment I was born. We all die sometime. Now," I gritted my teeth and angled the sword for a thrusting rush, "quit the chatter. Let's get to the fighting already."

"As you wish," Vincent grinned, "I promise I'll try to make your end as swift as possible." He assumed a noble's combat stance.

Little did Vincent know, those words were my advantage. 'Brain, neck, heart, and lungs. Those are the places he'll target.'

Of course, there was the distinct possibility I was wrong, so this was a gambit, and the stakes were my life. Still, it was all I could do in the face of an adversary capable of impossible speeds and hulking strength.

I shifted my position to cover each of those vital areas while forsaking the others. I ducked low, allowing a fast response if he aimed for my skull while hiding my neck away to make it a smaller target.

Then, I focused my guard around my chest, denying any attack on either my lungs or heart. Finally, I placed my back to the cell, limiting his potential approach to my field of view.

I inhaled deeply, feeling the air forcefully pushing through my gullet as I awaited Vincent's attack with bated breath. I exhaled, and Vincent dashed at me, but unlike before, I was ready. This time, I expected him.

When in range and assuming a lowered stance, he aimed for one of my vitals, my heart, with a closed fist.

'Thought so,' I smirked with the satisfaction of predicting his move. Thanks to my readiness, I managed to react in time.

With a quick reorientation of my blade, I managed to block his strike with my sword. However, the power behind his punch still struck like a freight train.

Vincent's fist pushed my blade backward, and the top of my chest bone crunched under the impact.

Jabs, throbs, and aches shot up across my body, but I gritted my teeth and growled, 'It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt.' I couldn't afford to let my opponent see my vulnerability.

Thankfully, the effects of the red potion were still active, and my bones were mending themselves as soon as they broke. However, the healing was noticeably slower than before. 'It's running out,' I sighed, then steeled my resolve. 'I have to make the most of this.'

Knowing that further damage to my flesh was inevitable, I made a reckless decision to take advantage of the remaining strength the red potion had given me.

With a battle cry, I launched myself forward, relentlessly assaulting Vincent. Yet, throughout our exchange, he laughed with a taunting calm elegance.

My sword pulled backward at my side, and the tip angled towards Vincent's neck; I thrust forward with all my might. But he, the wily adversary that he was, nonchalantly tilted his head to avoid my blade.

Vincent spoke, his voice dripping with amusement. "Sir Sato..."

Undeterred, I quickly swiped the blade horizontally, attempting to lacerate his neck in two. But once again, he buckled his knees, dodging my strike with ease.

"...I can slightly..."

I pulled back my sword and threw a sudden melee with my free hand, aiming for the tip of his nose. However, he intercepted my strike, effortlessly holding my fist in the palm of his hand and dispersing all of my momentum.

With a tight grip, Vincent squeezed my hand, his black leather gloves creaking as they created five fingerprint-sized bruise marks on my skin.

Vincent leaned in, a grin spreading across his face. "...see why she chose you as harbinger for her plans. You've quite the fighting spirit!"

"Plans?" I questioned but avoided losing focus on the task at hand. He limited his response to a silent smile.

'Screw it,' I grumbled to myself, abandoning the hope of learning more about Vincent's statement. Knowing it was useless to me, I released the sword to gravity and opted for a hand-to-hand melee.

With Vincent's grip firmly in place, my first objective was to break free.

Using my body as leverage, I stepped forward, twisting my hand in an attempt to loosen his hold. Then, with precise timing and skillful execution, I launched my other arm's elbow into the top of his wrist, shattering his bones and freeing myself from his grasp.

His wrist echoed a grotesque crack as it bent backward at an angle that shouldn't be possible. Even I winced when I saw the mangled position his hand assumed. What's odd was, Vincent was primarily reactionless, instead looking at his injury with quizzical curiosity.

Now free, I dashed toward Joseph.

"Oh my, I must admit, that was a splendid strike!" Vincent asserted cheerily while I ran. "Color me impressed, Sir Sato!"

I ignored Vincent's remark. Instead, when I reached Joseph, I performed two tasks simultaneously.

One hand reached down to retrieve the captain's knife. 'Now, if I could just get the other one,' I sighed with frustration, staring at the other still burrowed in a pillar.

The other was outstretched to check Joseph's body for a pulse; his skin was sickly with pallor and marred by a line of fang marks burrowed deep into his skin.

I pressed the tip of my hand's index and middle finger deep into his neck, just below his jaw. His elastic flesh gave way to the pressure as I desperately searched for the beat of life within his body.

However, the rhythmic thrumming I should've felt wasn't there, only stillness. My skin lost its color, and my expression widened to reveal every bit of angst within.

The realization sank my heart into a bottomless swamp, the murky depths created by a mixture of panic, dread, anger, and desperation.

'A pulse... I can't find one?!'