As the minutes dragged on, the crowd began to notice something was off. Tony Stark just circled high overhead, a red and gold speck against the lightening sky. His repulsors were idle, a distant, high-pitched whine. He made no move to attack. He was clearly waiting for something.
Selene's response was even more brazen. She had started by watching him, neck craned skyward. Now, she sprawled flat on her back in the dead center of the ring, arms crossed behind her head, looking for all the world like she was sunbathing at the beach.
The restless quiet was broken by a shout from the Golden Dagger's section. Sean's voice cut through the murmuring crowd.
"This is bullshit! He's cheating!"
"What kind of fight is this? He's just bullying everyone who can't fly!"
In the spectator area, Pepper leaned toward Happy, her brow furrowed with concern. "What do you think Tony's doing?"
Happy scratched his jaw, thinking. Then his eyes widened slightly as the pieces clicked. "I think... I think he's waiting for sunrise. Earlier, I saw the boss asking one of the staff about that big tarpaulin they set up over the vampire section."
Pepper's lips pressed into a thin line. Using the sun to beat a vampire. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't a fair fight, but if it meant Tony won and came home safe, she could live with it.
"As long as he wins," she murmured, her voice low.
That realization rippled through the rest of the crowd like a cold wave. Whispers turned to knowing nods. Some spectators frowned, their expressions disapproving of the tactic, but no one shouted about rule violations. Technically, there was nothing in the tournament regulations that prohibited stalling.
Under the covered vampire section, the tension thickened the air. Soren shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze flicking between the monitor and his elder. "Marcus," he whispered, "this puts us at a severe disadvantage. Dawn is almost here."
Marcus's ancient, paper-dry features tightened, the faintest crease appearing between his brows. He hadn't known Selene had overcome their kind's greatest, most absolute weakness. "We wait," he said quietly, his voice a dry rustle. "If she cannot prevail, then perhaps we were never meant to transcend this curse."
On the arena floor, Selene had already pieced together Tony's strategy. Her lips curved into a small, private smile. Let him wait. Let him hover up there, burning through his suit's precious power reserves while she rested, perfectly motionless, consuming nothing.
She'd shed the sun's curse long ago. She was no longer just a creature of night. She walked in daylight now, free.
And if Stark wanted to play the waiting game, she'd win it. His armor ran on energy, power that had been draining since the moment he suited up, since the preliminary rounds. Every second he stayed airborne, just hovering, cost him. If she could outlast his reserves, strip away that technological shell, he'd be nothing but soft flesh and fragile bone. An ordinary human. Easy prey.
So the two finalists settled into their strange, silent standoff, each convinced they held the winning hand.
The crowd's initial excitement dulled to a restless, shuffling boredom, but there was nothing to do but watch and wait.
The sky slowly bled from inky black to deep blue, then to a pale, cold gray. Dawn was coming.
Staff members moved silently through the vampire section, unfurling heavy black tarpaulins. They secured the covers, plunging the undead spectators into protective darkness. Inside the new enclosure, video screens flickered to life so they could continue watching the match.
The sight of the tarpaulins confirmed what everyone had suspected. Vampires and sunlight definitely didn't mix.
But it also sparked new questions that buzzed through the crowd in hushed tones. Did crosses really work? What about holy water? And if vampires were real, where were the werewolves?
No one realized that several of the staff members weaving through the crowd were, in fact, werewolves. Newly recruited members of the Fraternity, they remained in their human forms, indistinguishable from the other technicians. Without scouters to read their power levels, no one detected anything unusual about them.
The vampires caught their scent, of course. That distinct, wild musk was unmistakable to their kind. But Elder Selene had already informed them of the Fraternity's new werewolf recruits, so they kept silent, their expressions unreadable in the dim light of their monitors.
Above the ring, Tony watched the horizon lighten. A thin line of gold appeared where the dark sea met the graying sky. He raised his voice, projecting it down to the motionless figure of Selene. "The sun's about to show. You should forfeit now."
"That catsuit covers most of you, but your head, hands, and feet are exposed."
"I don't want to watch a beautiful vampire lady turn to ash," he called down, his tone conversational. "That'd be a real waste."
He half-meant it. Watching her burn would leave a sour taste in his mouth. But Selene didn't respond to his warning. Instead, she rose to her feet in one smooth, fluid motion, settling into a ready stance. Let him see. Let them all see what she'd become.
The crowd held its collective breath as the sun finally crested the horizon, spilling brilliant, golden light across the island and the arena.
Everyone braced for the scream, for the sight of smoke and flame.
Nothing happened.
Selene stood perfectly still as the morning sunlight washed over her pale, exposed skin. She even tilted her face upward, closing her eyes for a moment, as if she were savoring the warmth.
A confused murmur swept through the spectators. They felt cheated, tricked. Heads turned toward the black tarpaulin covering the vampire section, questions forming on their lips.
Inside the covered area, chaos erupted. Soren's voice cracked with utter shock. "Elder! Elder Selene, she's not burning! The sun... the sun isn't affecting her at all!"
Marcus leaned forward, his ancient eyes locked on the screen showing Selene bathed in morning light. His rigid posture changed, and a look of profound wonder replaced his concern. "I can see that."
"She's found a way," he breathed, his voice dropping to barely a whisper. "She has overcome our curse. I wonder... what method did she use?"
High above, Tony's voice exploded through his suit's external speakers. "What the hell? She's fine?"
"How is she not a pile of ash right now?"
JARVIS's calm, synthesized voice filtered through his helmet. "Sir, according to various film and literary sources, vampires can be classified into two primary categories: nightwalkers and daywalkers. Daywalkers possess a rare immunity to sunlight."
"Perhaps Lady Selene is one of these daywalkers."
Tony stared down at Selene, his mind racing to catch up. He called down to her, "I've got to admit, I'm impressed. You're not afraid of the sun."
"And you actually played along with my stalling. That's dedication."
Selene's small smile widened, becoming predatory and genuinely pleased. "I didn't mind at all. In fact, the longer you stay up there, the better."
"Keep flying," she called up to him, her voice clear in the morning air. "Keep flying until your energy runs as dry as your ammunition did."
The words hit Tony like a punch to the gut. She hadn't been tricked. She'd been playing him the whole time.
"JARVIS, energy status?" he snapped.
"You currently have 65% power remaining, sir."
Tony blinked inside his helmet. "Why is it that low already?"
"The unibeam chest attack during the preliminary round consumed 10% of your total reserves, sir."
A bitter taste filled Tony's mouth. This was what it felt like to outsmart yourself. Still, 65% was plenty to finish this fight. It had to be.
"Alright," he announced, "if sunlight's off the table, let's do this the old fashioned way."
He angled his repulsors downward and dove.
Selene watched him descend, her smile never faltering. Her right hand moved to the sword at her hip, drawing the elegant blade in one smooth, silent motion. It had been Victor's weapon once, passed to Soren as a reward. She'd borrowed it just before the tournament.
Her other hand slipped behind her back. Her palm began to vibrate, faster and faster, the movement building to an impossible, localized blur. The speed was incredible, her hand moving so rapidly it left only afterimages, the motion impossible to track clearly.
Tony Stark plummeted toward her, repulsors screaming, and Selene's smile sharpened into something truly hungry.