Chapter 72
Chapter 72
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: Blood Hook (4)
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"What... Don't any of you think about escaping alive."
A scroll unfurled. A thick mana barrier rose up, sealing off the banquet hall's entrance. Ronan gripped his sword hilt and charged toward the vampires.
The distance closed in an instant. The vampire acting as vice-captain shouted in a voice laced with panic.
"Damn it, kill him!"
Regaining their senses, several vampires raised their arms toward Ronan. They intended to check him with magic. At that moment, a vampire in the midst of chanting spat blood and collapsed.
"Blood Arrow... Ack!"
One after another, the other vampires failed their casts and convulsed. The vice-captain shook the shoulder of the fallen vampire and demanded,
"What's going on? Why are you all...?!"
"M-Mana won't gather...!"
The vice-captain's eyes widened. Indeed, the mana in the banquet hall was scattering or backflowing before it could even solidify into spells. Only then did he realize the presence of the mana-disrupting artifacts they had prepared to counter Zarodin. Grinding his teeth, the vice-captain bellowed,
"Damn it all, someone go get rid of those blasted things!"
They had fallen right into their own trap. A few vampires from the rear dashed deeper into the banquet hall. The moment he turned his head back—
Puk!
Ronan, who had already sliced through two more, thrust Ramancha straight into the vice-captain's maw.
"Graaaah!"
The vice-captain screamed. But far from retreating, he chomped down on the blade as if swallowing the sword itself and lunged at Ronan. The tip protruding from the back of his skull was caked in blood and brains. Ronan grimaced.
"You fight like absolute shit."
"Human!!"
The vice-captain vampire swung his arm. His talons, sharp as spears, were weapons in their own right. Ronan ducked his head to evade, then slashed upward in a diagonal arc. Ramancha smoothly cleaved through jawbone, brain, and cranium before emerging from the head. The vice-captain let out a guttural roar.
"A wound like this won't kill me!"
"Yeah?"
Ronan spun Ramancha once and regripped it. He plunged fifteen slashes into the vice-captain's face from different angles. The mangled visage was covered in red lines. Thud! As Ronan kicked his chest, the head—now in dozens of pieces—exploded like a flowerpot.
"Guek...!"
The writhing body went limp. Crunch! Ronan ground an unidentified bone fragment under his heel and said,
"Looks dead to me."
The chunks that had made up the head merely twitched, failing to regenerate. It was one of the tricks Ronan had learned in his previous life. If regeneration was a pain, just chop them up until they couldn't.
"V-Vice-captain!"
First the captain, now the vice-captain. The eyes of the surrounding vampires bulged. Ronan immediately lunged at a nearby female vampire. He had to thin their numbers as much as possible while chaos and fear reigned. Slash. Her arms shot into the air from Ronan's swift strike.
"Kyaaaah!"
Blood sprayed. Her beautiful face twisted into a demon's grimace. Turning her into paste like the vice-captain wouldn't have been bad, but unfortunately, that was too much hassle.
Ronan drew a stake from his belt. Just as he moved to drive it into her chest, two handsome vampires blocked his path.
"Ambushing a lady? Don't you know chivalry?"
"Then you die."
Ronan twisted his body. He jammed the short stake in his left hand straight into the vampire's chest. Puk! The moment it pierced the heart, the vampire's whites turned pitch black.
"Huerk...!"
"Filthy monster talking about chivalry..."
The staked vampire toppled over. Instant death, no need to look further. Suddenly, a chilling wind whistled in his ear. Ronan jerked his head. Whoosh! A brutal slash grazed his cheek.
"You dodged that?"
Disbelief crossed the other vampire's face. In his hand was a sharp saber—gaudy with needless ornamentation, but a fine blade nonetheless.
Come to think of it, what swordsmanship did mosquitoes use? Curiosity piqued, Ronan unleashed the first form of Imperial swordsmanship. Clang! The vertical slash collided with the saber.
"Kugh!"
The vampire's stance crumbled instantly. His physical prowess was impressive, but it was clear he'd never swung a sword in practice. Slash! Clicking his tongue in pity, Ronan decapitated him in one stroke. He followed up by staking the collapsing body.
"Eh, what a waste of a good sword."
"W-What the hell are you...?"
The female vampire muttered in a terror-stricken voice. She was still regenerating below her elbows. Instead of answering, Ronan swung his arm. Thunk! The silver streak pierced her heart. The charging vampires froze in place.
"Drina!"
"T-That's not a mage's movement...!"
"Damn it, we can't win up close. Is it still too far?"
In less than five minutes, nearly half were combat-ineffective. A first since the Blood Hook's founding. Ronan straightened his posture and pointed his blade at them.
"I told you not to think about going back alive, right?"
Ronan was about to charge again when a joyful shout came from the rear.
"Got it! It's dispelled!"
"Damn, finally!"
The vampires' faces lit up. Ronan raised an eyebrow.
'Dispelled? What did they dispel?'
"Kuhahaha! You're done for now!"
A scarred vampire bellowed. Ronan suddenly noticed the previously chaotic mana flowing normally again. Seeing mana gather in their hands, he twisted his lips.
"Aha."
Ronan rolled aside to dodge. Before he could stand, a blood arrow grazed his shoulder.
"Ngh...!"
It seemed they had dealt with the mana disruptors. The momentum had shifted. The vampires wielded, hurled, and detonated blood weapons, pressing Ronan relentlessly.
The terror of blood magic lay in how attacks could chain from any bloodied spot. In a way, it resembled Schlieffen's stormblade.
Missed blood pooled on the floor, only to sprout thorns or arrows anew, perpetuating the assault. Ecstatic, the vampires cackled.
"Ahaha! You scurry like a rat!"
"You think you've won?"
But regaining magic wasn't all upside. Ronan smirked. A vampire firing blood arrows frowned.
"What?"
"We've got a magic user too."
That was when it happened. Every blood magic projectile flying at Ronan halted midair. As if time had frozen. The vampires' faces hardened.
"W-What's this?"
"Why's it doing that?"
Shwooo! Suddenly, the projectiles crumpled into droplets. They began sucking toward one corner of the banquet hall.
The vampires whipped their heads around. An unfamiliar creature hung from a torch bracket, wings tucked—a grotesque lifeform flapping four wings.
"Pweh."
All the blood was being absorbed into Sita's body. As they opened their mouths to shout—
Tat-tat-tang! Sita's wings unfurled, launching hundreds of blood spheres at the vampires.
"Paying its keep."
"Pip!"
Ophelia had trained it well. Grinning, Ronan surged toward the vampires again. He knew Sita's bullets were precisely targeting them.
-Puk!
"Eek!"
-Puk!
"Kyaak!"
Ronan darted through the hall, staking the chests of vampires turning into hives. Occasionally, overly rowdy ones got diced into cubes with Ramancha at its extreme edge. Sensing total defeat, the vampires turned to flee.
"R-Run!"
"The entrance is blocked!"
The barrier at the entrance held firm. Blood magic or bites left no mark. It was only natural—high-grade magic prepared to bind Zarodin.
Thud! Then, silver stakes from behind pierced their backs. Those with hearts transfixed died without even a final scream.
"...About done."
Ronan stretched. No more moving vampires in sight. The last two had just dropped.
"This bastard's still out cold."
Tzubai lay unconscious, limbs severed. The torch-cauterized stumps slowed regeneration. Thud! Ronan booted his gut. Tzubai flew into the wall, then lifted his head.
"Guh, guhek...! H-How did this...?"
"Feeling better?"
Ronan grinned. Surveying the carnage, Tzubai paled. Silver stakes were buried deep in the corpses scattered everywhere. Coming to his senses, he screamed.
"A... Aaaah...!"
No survivors but him. Squatting, Ronan aimed a silver stake at Tzubai's throat and said,
"Hand over the Primordial Blood Essence."
His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. Tzubai spat in Ronan's face and spat curses.
"You damned cur! I'll tear you apart for sure! The deepest pits of hell...!"
Ronan wiped the spit from his face. Silently, he drove the stake into Tzubai's thigh. Puk. A bone-chilling scream echoed through the hall.
"Kyahaaak!"
"Hand over the Primordial Blood Essence."
The wound blackened and sizzled. Tzubai didn't answer. Ronan sighed and stabbed the stake into his left eye. The limbless torso flopped like a fish.
"Kyahaak! Graaak!"
"Primordial Blood Essence. Hand it over."
"Even in this state... What the hell did you do?!"
"Huh?"
"Damn it, you said you'd help us capture Zarodin Stone Song! So why, why...!"
Tzubai suddenly rambled nonsense. Ronan tilted his head. Had the stake nicked the brain? As he yanked it from the eye—
"...Shit."
An overwhelming killing intent—far beyond anything before—engulfed Ronan. He noticed Tzubai's gaze wasn't on him, but behind.
Ronan slowly turned. Amid pools of blood, guts, and vampire corpses, nothing else stood out. Only the three meant as dinner groaned on the table. Suddenly, Sita's feathers bristled all over.
"Pweaaak...!"
The blood strewn across the hall absorbed into Sita. Its four wings vibrated rapidly, as if preparing something. Ronan's eyes widened.
"Sita?"
"Hyaaaak!"
A magic circle formed before Sita. Before Ronan could speak, it fired a sphere at the stone table. Boom! The compressed blood erupted in a red cloud.
"Hey, what the hell are you—"
As Ronan tried to continue, the blood cloud parted, revealing a human silhouette. A man with a sack over his head sat on the table. An eerie voice filled the hall.
"Disappointing."
Ronan instinctively gripped his stake. He instantly knew this was the source of the killing intent. Composing himself, he demanded,
"...Who the hell are you?"
Clearly one of the captives meant as food. The man slowly turned toward Ronan. Red eyes gleamed through the thin sack. The voice resounded again.
"That's what I want to ask. Fake. Where's Zarodin?"
Ronan stayed silent. The man rose. The ropes binding his limbs were already undone. Tzubai stammered in confusion.
"F-Fake? Him?"
"Pathetic that I expected anything. I followed out of curiosity when the whelps said they'd turn Zarodin into kin..."
"Damn it, answer! That monster's a fake?!"
Ignoring Tzubai, the man stepped forward. Ronan gripped his sword hilt. An oppressive pressure, like facing a natural disaster rather than a living being, crushed him.
'Just my luck...'
Ronan gritted his teeth. It felt almost like facing Brigia. Then, a familiar voice whispered in his ear.
"Back off. We can't handle him."
"What?"
Shwaaak! In that instant, a pitch-black hemisphere engulfed the approaching man. Blood and shadows from all directions turned to blades, slamming into it. Finally, a massive shadowy maw swallowed the dome whole.
"...Ophelia?"
The entire sequence took less than two seconds. Ronan turned. Ophelia—who had said she couldn't come—stood beside him. Her eyes blazed at the man's former spot.
"Yeah."
"Why are you here? Since when?"
"Got worried, followed from the start. Grab the Primordial Blood Essence and run, quick."
Her tone was utterly unlike her usual self. No softness remained in Ophelia's face, crimson eyes flashing. Biting her lip, she muttered,
"Why is that man here of all places..."
"Who is he?"
"Balzac von Warsaw. The Shadow Archduke's brother."
"Shadow Archduke?"
He recalled the name from when she taught Sita. Ophelia had compared Sita's talent to the Shadow Archduke's youth.
"Yeah. Ruler of the night world..."
As Ophelia tried to continue—
Boom! The floor exploded, a black shadow rocketing upward. No time to intercept. The sacked man landed before them.