Chapter 71
Chapter 71
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 71
Chapter Title: Blood Hook (3)
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Ophelia placed her hand on Ronan's cheek. Mana soon gathered in her palm, emitting a cool light.
"Pia...?!"
Sita's eyes went wide. Ophelia pulled her hand away. Ronan touched his own face and frowned. The contours felt different from usual.
"Damn, it still feels weird. You sure it worked right?"
"Yeah... It's perfect. I even used a catalyst in the spell. I'll recast it once we're out of the ward."
"Pweeeng..."
Sita looked utterly horrified, which suggested it had worked properly. Ronan and Sita left Phileon at the crack of dawn. They had to move fast to arrive on time.
It was a night when the crescent moon seemed to smile.
Mist rose over the swamp blanketed in fallen leaves. The pale, withered trees gestured under the moonlight.
About thirty percent of the swamp consisted of walkable land covered in short, dark green grass. The meeting spot for trading the pure blood essence was a mound bulging in the center.
It was an ancient barrow, long forgotten in people's memories. Two burly men stood guarding the stone door that served as the entrance.
The mustached man scratched his head vigorously.
"Who was supposed to show up tonight? They're really late."
"Idiot, you forgot already? It's Jarodin Stonesong."
"Oh, right. The mage, yeah?"
"Not just any mage. A big shot who once crossed blades with the former Sword Saint."
The curly-haired man sighed. It was embarrassing to work with such a slob.
Why did the masters grant this riffraff the honor of becoming their familiar? He kept his eyes fixed ahead and spoke.
"The masters are expecting this deal, so stay sharp. You got the scroll, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, how many times you gonna ask? Don't worry. Even if he's some hotshot mage, he's still just human..."
"Shh! Here he comes."
The curly-haired man pointed ahead. In the distance, a single light flickered as it approached.
Soon, a man holding a torch emerged from the darkness. His face was hidden by a long robe that covered him from head to toe. The guards drew their swords and approached.
"Jarodin Stonesong... is that you?"
"Yes."
The mustached man grimaced. The voice was horrific, like a crow being strangled. The curly-haired one pulled out a portrait and said sternly.
"We need to verify your identity. Please remove your hood."
"Very well."
The mysterious man compliantly flipped back his hood. A gaunt, unremarkable face appeared.
Deep-set blue eyes, thick, vivid eyebrows that retained a hint of past beauty. The curly-haired man compared it to the portrait and sheathed his sword.
"Identity confirmed. Tower Mage Jarodin Stonesong."
"Good. Thanks."
"Please enter. The esteemed ones await."
The curly-haired man led him to the barrow. The mustached one smirked at his attire.
"You're skin and bones. Thought you were a monster for a sec."
"Shut it. Don't be rude to our guest."
"Doesn't matter. Open the door."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
The guards opened the stone door. A chill wind rushed from the revealed passage, carrying the sting of blood. Jarodin's brow furrowed. The curly-haired man pointed inside.
"Follow the main path. The interior is complex, so be careful."
"Bigger than I thought... My night vision isn't great. Mind guiding me?"
"We... have our own duties. Sorry."
The curly-haired man bowed politely. They must have other tasks besides guarding the entrance. Jarodin stroked his chin.
"Fair enough. No one else guarding outside, then?"
"Pardon? Uh... yes."
"Perfect. I've got a gift for you."
Rummaging in his pouch, Jarodin pulled out a tiny scroll, no bigger than a finger.
Before the guards could question it, he activated it. Whoosh! A translucent cube enveloped the three men. External sounds vanished instantly.
"This is... Silent..."
The curly-haired man started to speak. Something glinted from within Jarodin's robe.
A sensation like wind scraping his throat, and his world tilted. Thud. The curly-haired guard's head hit the ground. The mustached one's eyes bulged as he yawned mid-motion.
"Gah! W-What the...!"
"Dies quick. Human after all?"
Thought he was a lesser vampire, but just a familiar. Jarodin lunged forward and swung his arm. Slash. A black blade traced an arc, drawing a red line across the mustached man's throat.
"Gurk...!"
"You've drunk a bit more blood, huh."
He instinctively knew his head was severed. The regenerative power from selling his soul to vampires delayed instant death. Clutching his crown with his right hand, he fumbled a scroll from his pouch with his left.
"Raaagh!"
"Shit, startled me."
The mustached man roared, trying to unseal the scroll. Jarodin calmly slashed. Slash! Both arms flew into the air alongside the earlier head. Seeing the body collapse, Jarodin sighed in relief.
Good call on the silence spell.
Almost botched it from the start. It was the mini silent scroll he'd gotten from Schlieffen.
Then he spotted a scroll rolling in the blood pool—the one the mustached man had desperately tried to open. Jarodin—no, Ronan polymorphed as Jarodin—tilted his head.
What's this?
Couldn't guess its purpose. As Ronan picked it up, the frayed tie snapped, activating the inscribed magic. Shooo! A sudden mana barrier blocked the stone door. Ronan chuckled dryly.
"...Saves me the trouble."
They'd planned to seal the entrance to trap Jarodin. Prepared for a mage like him, it looked sturdy—too sturdy even for them to break.
Just in case, Ronan checked the curly-haired guard's sleeve. Sure enough, another identical scroll. Pocketing it, he lifted his robe.
"Sita. Clean up."
"Pia."
Sita peeked out from inside the robe. That was one reason he'd worn the oversized robe.
Confirming the blood splatters, Sita spread her wings. Every drop—from the blood left in the corpses to sand-grain-sized spots on the robe—floated up as beads and absorbed into her body.
In seconds, the scene was spotless. Ronan grinned at the mummy-like corpses.
"Good job. No one'll notice now."
A precaution to avoid vampire attention. Blood already reeked from deeper inside, so probably safe, but better cautious. Job done, Sita hid back in the robe. Ronan proceeded down the passage.
Impressive condition.
The passage led underground. Fine stonework caught his eye. Despite the swamp, no leaks or mud. Suddenly, Ronan noticed the tomb's architecture resembled Saranthe's temple.
No way... Coincidence.
The interior was labyrinthine, like a building buried intact.
He stuck to the main path as the curly-haired guard had said. The blood scent thickened. Soon, the view opened to a hall like a banquet room.
"He's here. The real Jarodin Stonesong."
"It's been ages since we dealt with a human."
"He's so scrawny. Wouldn't even fill three glasses."
A long stone table, at least ten meters, dominated the center. Twenty young men and women sat around it, all strikingly beautiful.
Quite the crowd.
Spotting they were all vampires wasn't hard. Forty red glowing eyes fixed on Ronan. He narrowed his eyes at the sticky, licking gazes.
"Ugh... ugh..."
"Quiet. We have a guest."
Three captives lay bound on the table—a woman, another woman, and a man—all bleeding profusely from their napes and wrists.
Ronan was glad their heads were bagged. Seeing pleading faces might've tested his resolve. Then, the front-seated vampire rose.
"An honor to meet you, Jarodin Stonesong. I am Zwei von Arnstafel, captain of the Blood Hooks."
Zwei was a blond pretty boy. Fittingly flashy name for a mosquito club leader. He gestured to the table.
"You took longer than expected, so we started without you. Care to join now?"
His voice was smooth as buttered bread. Ronan didn't reply. Scanning the vampires, he clicked his tongue in disgust.
"Overkill for a simple trade."
"Forgive us. Many wished to meet you."
"Everyone's here, then?"
"Yes. All present."
"The pure blood essence?"
"Of course we have it. We'll extract and process it right after the deal."
"Fine. What do you want?"
"Become our familiar."
Silence fell. Just as Ophelia predicted. Ronan replied flatly.
"...Ridiculous."
"Not immediately. We'll give you ten years' grace. Sign the blood pact now, and come to us when time's up."
"You want me to become your vampire slave."
"We know desperation brought you here. Mortals seek pure blood essence... nine out of ten to save someone dear, right?"
Ronan's face stiffened briefly. Zwei caught it and smirked smugly.
"Haha, hit the mark."
"Shut up."
"If this deal falls through, good luck finding it elsewhere. Took us forever to procure."
Zwei replied politely. From his talk with Ophelia, it rang true. Ronan twisted his lips.
"And if I refuse?"
"Regrettable. You won't leave unharmed."
"What?"
Snap! Zwei flicked his fingers. The twenty vampires rose in unison, silently encircling Ronan.
"What's this?"
"No tricks. Feel the mana disruption? Treasures placed everywhere—even you can't ignore them."
He hadn't noticed at all. Now he sensed suspicious auras from the hall's corners. Zwei bared fangs in a grin.
"Escape with magic, and you'll suffer irreparable damage. Your circles might collapse, leaving you magicless."
"Had this planned."
"Desperation blinded you. As a fellow mage, Jarodin Stonesong, accept while I respect you."
Killing intent swirled. Vampires poised to pounce, eyes flashing. He'd expected foul play, but not this thorough. Ronan groaned and bowed his head.
"...I'll accept."
"Wise choice. Let's proceed with the blood pact."
Zwei drew a red sheet from his pocket—parchment from mountain goat hide, used in most magical pacts. As Ronan sighed and pricked his pinky—
"Wait... First, show me the essence. Who's the vessel?"
"You'd learn after the pact anyway."
"Vampire. Remember I'm compromising too."
Ronan glared silently. The young Blood Hook captain knew it was no bluff. Zwei sighed faintly and touched his chest.
"Very well... I'll show you."
He raised his palm. A crimson mana clump dangled precariously. Matched Ophelia's description. Ronan nodded.
"You're the vessel. Setting an example as leader?"
"Yes."
"Good. Took long enough."
"Pardon?"
Ronan lifted his robe and gripped his sword hilt. An imperceptible slash arced over Zwei's limbs. Slash! Four appendages detached almost simultaneously.
"Wha...?"
"Real Jarodin might've fallen for it."
Zwei's eyes bulged. Nearby vampires started shouting—Ronan spun wide, swinging. Splash! Five heads soared airborne.
"Gaaaah!"
"Z-Zwei!"
Belated screams erupted with blood fountains. Ronan trampled headless bodies and leaped. Vampires whirled, slashing with claws and blades, but he'd already broken the encirclement. Sighing at the headless bodies still moving—
"Fucking mosquitoes..."
Ronan's movements weren't a mage's. He wielded a black, translucent blade. Vampires recoiled in shock at the sudden carnage.
"S-Sword...?!"
"Damn it, he's a mage! What the hell?!"
"Captain! Snap out of it!"
"Idiots. Preconceptions cause these mishaps."
Ronan, blocking the hall entrance, shed his robe. Sita, strapped to his back, spread wings and flew up.
"Piaaak!"
"Never thought Jarodin might swing a sword too?"
"T-That's...!"
Vampires paled at his waist. Dozens of silver stakes dangled from his belt. Tearing open the guard's scroll, Ronan spoke.
"Nobody's leaving alive."
The scroll unfurled. A mana barrier rose, sealing the entrance. Ronan charged the vampires, hilt clenched.