The reference was to wraith-form. Raphael nodded at Miguel without comment, his own plans already taking shape. His arcane reserves had taken a beating, though, and the next fight would be serious. He needed to address the deficit first.

"While I recover a little, do you have any potions? Blue Blood, or anything else that restores arcane reserves. Owl’s eye is useful too. Recovery potions I have."

Lv2 arcane reserves had always been a limiting factor, and the recent days of continuous activity had kept the moonlight energy particularly dry.

Miguel raised an eyebrow and opened the gilded wooden case, producing several test-tube-sized vials.

"I have some. I didn’t bring much for this operation, I can spare part of what I have."

He set them on the table.

"Levitation potion. Lets you float briefly, fifteen seconds at most before it ends. Not much, but highly useful against a pureblood vampire. They can fly."

He moved to the next.

"Night vision, improved over the standard owl’s eye formula. Doesn’t distort color perception. The drawback is that after it wears off you’ll be severely myopic for a period, it takes time to normalize."

He reached into a coat pocket on the other side, and Raphael felt a passing moment of wry recognition watching him dig through the layers.

In three months, with Shadow Merchant, he’d never need a coat with multiple internal compartments again. Those coats were heavy as armor.

"I don’t have Blue Blood potion. But I have something else." Miguel withdrew a small, unusual bottle, half-transparent capsules inside, six or seven of them.

"Two bottles, I’ll give you one. These are rapid-release arcane capsules. Take one and the compressed arcane energy inside converts into your body’s native reserves within seconds. The conversion speed is the problem, the shock to the system is significant."

He kept his voice level:

"Setting aside the hours of side effects afterward, the initial hit alone is enough to cause blackouts in transcendents with insufficient mental resilience. Use them carefully. Wait until reserves are almost depleted before taking one. If you supplement when you still have significant reserves, the arcane channels will rupture from the overflow."

He tossed the bottle. Raphael caught it, opened it. Five capsules.

Miguel added one more observation, looking at Death Crow across Raphael’s back.

"A melee weapon. You had it hidden under the coat earlier? The Church doesn’t favor blade oils, we prefer ritual magic for secondary enchantments. But if you have Dragon Whisker Mushroom or Dragon Blood Herb, I can make you a dragon blood blade oil.

Dragon blood is highly exclusive, any material made with it is effective against every race except dragons. It causes burning and blood combustion. Against vampires specifically, whose entire system depends on blood, it has additional effects."

Dragon Whisker Mushroom.

Raphael’s eyes moved.

He had that. From the half-moon count’s bedroom, the second chest. He’d left most of it at Elena’s, but he’d taken the habit of carrying one stalk on him, with a vague intention to ask someone about it eventually.

"Actually, I have some."

He produced the thread-thin fungal stalk. Miguel looked at it and registered genuine surprise.

"I only mentioned it offhand. You actually have one." He examined it. "All right, we still have time. Give me half an hour. One stalk..." He turned it in his hands. "The quality is high, but the volume is small. The oil I can make from this will be effective, but you’ll only get a few strikes out of it before it’s gone. Use it selectively."

Raphael nodded.

"Thank you. These potions are worth something significant, put it on a debt. Next time I see you, if there’s anything in my wallet, you’ll get it back."

Miguel shook his head. His golden eyes, the same color as his hair, reflected Raphael back at him.

"No. If anything, I should be thanking you." He paused, choosing words. "Going against a Lv5, possibly Lv6 by the time you arrive, you and I both understand what that means. The probability that you come back from this is below thirty percent. And you’re going anyway."

He moved, restless, and looked at Raphael in the way a person does when they can’t quite categorize what they’re seeing.

"I go because the Church taught me that ability carries obligation. Because I’m a servant of the Gods, and there are things that must be done for virtue and justice, and the faithful must be protected. I have a framework that holds me in place when the situation is hard."

He stopped.

"I don’t see that framework in you. No institutional obligation, no faith, nothing a title like IFSA could explain. You’re just, a lone wolf, going because you want to go. And I can’t even work out what you want from it. You won’t be paid for this. The city will hunt you more aggressively because of what happens tonight. No one will thank you. The outcome for you is objectively worse than doing nothing."

He exhaled slowly.

"I don’t know why you came. So these potions, take them as my personal payment to you. Or a gesture of thanks. For the courage. Or—" He seemed to search for the right word. "The stubbornness."

Raphael was quiet for a moment. Then he shrugged, with a calm that was entirely genuine, and gave the answer that would have sounded absurd to anyone who didn’t already understand it, but that was the only true one:

"Does it need a reason?"

The room settled into a strange quiet.

Raphael’s expression hadn’t changed. He delivered the absurd answer with the same composure he’d have used for a tactical briefing.

"Because I want to. Because I dislike this particular vampire. It isn’t a noble reason or a kind one. Think of me as a thug who decided to do something about another thug. Nothing more complicated than that. I don’t enjoy performing righteousness, packaging myself in correct values and proper morality, restricting myself to fit the image other people want to see. I refuse to care more about what I look like from the outside than what I actually am."