The Blue Moon Paradise
“Greetings, Saint. I am Count Malbrick.”
I ignored Count Malbrick’s greeting entirely, fixing Count Ktolari with a displeased glare instead. I already knew exactly what kind of man this Count Malbrick was.
Perhaps stung by my sharp gaze, Count Ktolari let out a hollow laugh and pretended not to notice.
“He insisted on meeting you just once, drawn by your renowned fame, so I brought him here despite the impropriety.”
“I see. May Juno’s blessing be with you, Count Malbrick.”
It was my way of saying, good luck, you’re on your own.
I hadn’t specifically tasked a clone with surveilling Count Ktolari, but anyone seeking me out at this juncture was obvious enough. He had to be one of the factions vying for the next throne. Of course, I had zero interest in meddling in royal successions—especially not in another country’s.
“Thank you. Receiving your blessing makes me feel like everything will go smoothly.”
“So, what’s this really about?”
I had no patience for dragging out pointless chit-chat.
“Ahem, well...”
Count Malbrick cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly unprepared for my directness.
“Let me say this upfront: I am an imperial noble before I am a saint. I have no intention of involving myself in another nation’s royal dispute. And from a saint’s perspective, I shouldn’t either.”
“A misunderstanding, truly. That’s not it at all.”
Count Malbrick waved his hands in denial.
“Count Malbrick is one of the few true loyalists in the Kingdom of Neos. Had he intended to use you in the succession struggle, I wouldn’t have brought him here.”
Count Ktolari chimed in from the side. A loyalist coming to me at this timing? What could he possibly want?
“It’s rather embarrassing to admit, but the king’s would-be assassins go unpunished while the succession hopefuls chase their ambitions. If you could just step in a little to catch the culprit, it would be a tremendous help.”
Commendable intent, but the wrong approach. This wasn’t something to lean on a saint—or a foreign noble—for. Even if I caught the killer, I’d get no thanks; fail, and I’d take all the blame. My clones were already investigating the incident in the capital, but that was separate.
“That doesn’t seem like a wise course for me either.”
Wrong was wrong. Refusing outright was for his own good.
“As expected, it wasn’t a matter to burden you with, Saint.”
Count Malbrick looked visibly disappointed but backed off gracefully. Just testing the waters, then—if it works, great; if not, no harm. Blame Count Ktolari for dragging him here in the first place. With his experience, he must have foreseen this outcome.
As the departing Count Malbrick passed, Count Ktolari bowed to me in farewell. He had his reasons, no doubt. I had a rough idea of how things would play out anyway. The king’s assassins wouldn’t be pursued because, whoever the culprit, it’d be the losing side in the succession war who’d ordered it. History unfolded that way.
The royals hadn’t entirely neglected the investigation, yet they’d found not a single lead. The Kingdom of Neos wasn’t some backwater; it held real power in the southern West Continent. Royal security was top-tier. Infiltrating such a place to assassinate the king and vanish without a trace demanded extraordinary skill. No assassination group on the East or West Continents could claim that prowess—not even in rumors.
I’d scoured the assassination site and surroundings myself for days and found nothing. The lack of traces made me suspect it wasn’t even human work.
The king’s murder remained unsolved, with my clones diligently hunting the perpetrator while I pondered the deer incident’s implications. I’d lost my memory. The gap wasn’t critical, but what if it had been? Or if that light had lingered longer? I’d dodged major harm this time, but no guarantee against similar powers in the future.
So, I decided to keep records. The volume would be immense. Even assuming a lifespan like Ether’s, I couldn’t record half of Drakan’s life in a lifetime. Just half of what I knew now would be an unparalleled human treasure. A reckless endeavor, yet I felt compelled.
Worst case, if I don’t finish in this life, I’ll do it as a soul next.
I had someone procure vast quantities of paper and ink, then holed up in the annex, starting with memories from age ten as the viscount’s bastard son onward. Meaningless to others, perhaps, but vital to me.
Days in, a major issue arose: the human body was inconvenient. Writing all day in one position—save for meals—was grueling labor. At first, I alternated with Clone One nearby. It worked initially, but he couldn’t sustain it long.
Next, I pulled out Drakan’s relic: an artifact he’d made for his own writing. Drakan left extensive records, including artifact manuals. But how did a massive dragon wield a pen for tiny script? This solved it.
Downside: it looked ridiculous. Tailored for Drakan, it was a ring for him but a massive metal belt for me.
Yet once equipped, it was perfect—effortless. Minor mana draw, but negligible. I resolved to study and adapt it for humans.
Seeing the metal belt around my waist with Drakan’s ring-linked magic pen floating and writing autonomously, even Jayke shook his head in disbelief. Joseph said nothing, but his eyes screamed madman.
Whatever. If it suited me, that was enough.
My records progressed smoothly until my capital-probing clones finally uncovered a slim lead on the king’s assassin—not a trace, long abandoned, but the why. I’d combed Neos royal archives from antiquity and struck gold.
The Neos royals descended from famed beast hunters, specializing in the strongest, most perilous kinds. Their crowning feat: exterminating a vampire lord and their kin.
Vampires were now dismissed as extinct beasts, but ancient texts treated them as a distinct race, like elves or dwarves.
My theory: what if they hadn’t gone extinct? Timing was off, but they had the skill and motive for this hit. Just a hypothesis for now.
I expanded the search beyond the capital, hunting vampires. No find? Fine. A discovery? Jackpot.
Amid this frenzy, to onlookers I was a shut-in freak in a bizarre metal ring, scribbling unknown script from my room. Jayke suggested resuming sword training, but my current load—clones, parallel magic research—made it impossible.
Months passed with surprising peace; Neos settled its throne sans major civil war. The crown prince ascended, granting choice territories to his challenging brothers. Short-term win, long-term poison for the royals.
The assassins? Framed as maids and guards, quietly executed. Case closed—or so it seemed.
Then the crown prince was assassinated. The capital erupted in civil war. The second and third princes spilled blood for the crown this time.
Count Ktolari’s lands stayed neutral and peaceful. As the princes clashed nearby, I investigated the prince’s murder site. Still no physical evidence—flawless kill. A plain dagger in the heart, just like the king’s, stabbed in sleep.
His empty chamber shared the bed, yet no one noticed till morning. Beyond human capability—unless divinely touched.
A month later, the brief, bloody war ended. The third prince triumphed; the second fell in battle. He paraded into the capital and crowned himself.
My clones watched the new king closely this time. As predicted, the killer struck again. Despite ten-plus knights and mages guarding his sleep, it slipped in stealthily yet boldly, piercing his heart and vanishing—like mocking the guards.
It was mist. Unusually thick around the palace, it seeped through windows into the bedchamber. A tendril’s tip birthed the dagger that felled the king.
Guards stared wide-eyed, helpless. How do you track mist? Not quite all missed it—I followed.
Mist to bat, soaring skyward; bat to black dog, racing groundward. Far from the capital, near a village, it became human.
“Found you.”
From afar in Count Ktolari’s annex, I smiled quietly. Time for a personal meeting.
Immensely powerful. A head-on fight? I’d lose. But escape? Guaranteed. Worth the risk.
The vampire, astonishingly, ran a tavern: “Blue Moon Paradise.” Reeking of vampires, yet who’d link a thousand-year-extinct race to a village pub?
Clones had swept the area multiple times, bypassing it unsuspected. A village girl ran days; vampire nights. Odd for an owner to work nocturnal shifts, but not unheard of.
For travel, I laid souls like stepping stones. A solo trip, undetected.
Preparations done, I left a note in the office and, timing for the vampire’s shift start, teleported in via spatial jumps.
“Welcome, Saint.”
The vampire greeted me as if he’d been waiting.