Chapter 531: Bloody Requiem (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 531: Bloody Requiem (6)
Returning to the underground prison, I dumped the equipment in front of my comrades, who were diligently playing their roles as captives with their hands hidden behind their backs.
Clatter!
The gear spilled out, just as it had been meticulously organized by a vampire who seemed to have a touch of mysophobia.
“Everyone, find your gear.”
One by one, those closest to the pile found their equipment and stepped back to put it on.
Just then, someone asked.
“Did you get any information on the Volunteer Group?”
“Yes, I did. That’s part of the reason I hurried back.”
Hearing this, the expressions of the others hardened.
“Is something wrong…?”
“It’s not exactly good news, but rest assured, nothing has happened to them just yet.”
Once they were all equipped and gathered around, I explained the whole story.
How I had snuck up to the second floor to retrieve our gear.
The information I’d gotten about the Holy Blood from a vampire I captured in the process.
And finally, the fact that they had led the Volunteer Group deep into the castle.
“That’s all the information I have. Now, I want to ask all of you something.”
I had been thinking about it on my way back down.
With the Volunteer Group taken into the Holy Bloods’ territory, what was our most appropriate course of action?
First, infiltration was impossible.
A stealth mission with over twenty people? Not just one or two?
It might be feasible underground, but above ground, we’d be discovered in no time.
So, what other options were there?
What was the best method for a group this size?
After some thought, two similar yet entirely different methods came to mind.
“Setting aside the finer details, I believe we have two options right now.”
“What are they?”
“The first is to strike first and advance while their guard is down.”
The first option was a surprise attack, which was essentially a frontal assault.
The enemy had no idea.
They didn't know we had broken free of our cuffs and even retrieved our equipment.
I had also placed an illusion over the storage container, which should buy us some time unless someone touched it or got very close.
We could use this opening to quickly push through the undefended castle.
But this plan had one crucial condition.
“However, if we make a loud push, the Volunteer Group will have to respond at the right moment.”
Exactly. The Volunteer Group would have to join the fight as if they had been waiting for our surprise attack.
“With Francis there, a coordinated response shouldn't be difficult. But…”
“It would be a problem if they’re in a situation where they can’t respond at all.”
“Precisely.”
Yes.
That was the problem.
To be exact, the problem was that we didn’t know the Volunteer Group’s current situation.
What if they were in a position where they couldn’t respond, even if they wanted to?
That would put us in a very tight spot.
In fact, it would be a crisis so great that “tight spot” wouldn’t even begin to cover it.
“What’s the second option?”
The second option followed the first.
It was still a surprise attack.
But one thing was different.
“We flip the plan on its head.”
“On its head…?”
“The Volunteer Group launches the surprise attack, and we respond to them.”
That would eliminate the first plan’s drawback—our lack of knowledge about the Volunteer Group’s situation.
However, this wasn’t a perfect plan either.
“The downside to the second option is that nothing happens unless the Volunteer Group makes the first move. And… the fact that they don’t know our situation would also be a problem.”
In the end, each method had its own pros and cons.
But where in the world does a perfect plan exist?
We had to make a choice.
“We need to decide which advantages to take and which disadvantages to bear… I need your input.”
“Hmm… neither is an easy choice.”
“But we’re short on time, so we have to decide quickly, one way or another.”
“I wonder which one has a higher chance of success…”
We were in the middle of a lively discussion, trying to make a swift decision in a complex situation.
KABOOOM—!
R-rumble…!
A massive roar erupted from above.
The remnants of an immense amount of mana followed close behind, shaking our bodies to the core before vanishing.
Everyone’s face stiffened.
“What was that? A huge impact just passed through…”
Above us.
A powerful shockwave of mana had spread from a massive collision quite a distance away.
There was only one person capable of unleashing such a tremendous clash.
“…It seems Francis is fighting something.”
As they say, it takes two hands to clap.
For a shockwave this massive to occur, Francis’s opponent had to be an expert of comparable skill.
“Let’s go up. Now.”
With our ranks quickly formed, we began our advance from the underground to the surface.
* * *
Tens of thousands, no, perhaps hundreds of thousands, millions.
In his life as a Hunter, he had faced an uncountable number of monsters and seized victory.
Every victory was thrilling, but even for him, it was impossible.
It was impossible to remember every enemy that had become a sacrifice for his growth.
In his nearly thirty years as a Hunter, the number of foes who remained etched in his mind could be counted on one hand.
And among them, two stood out as the most exceptional.
One was the Black Dragon.
The other was the king of vampires, the True Ancestor.
‘There’s no mistake.’
A deep, resonant voice that seemed to pierce the darkness and a pair of crimson eyes.
With just those two things, he was certain.
The one sitting on the throne beyond the dark space, glaring this way, was undoubtedly him.
‘The True Ancestor…!’
For a brief moment, confusion clouded his mind.
‘What happened? Wasn’t he supposed to be asleep?’
He searched his memory of ten years ago.
The moment his final strike, secured at the cost of countless sacrifices, sliced a long gash across the True Ancestor’s chest and vanished.
The man had spewed a tremendous amount of blood and had clearly exhausted most of his power.
To escape death, he had squeezed out his last bit of strength to push them back with a red barrier.
And just before leaving for the castle, as Francis was being helplessly pushed away, the True Ancestor had stared right at him and made a promise.
—“Just you wait. I will kill you with my own two hands…!”
He had also clearly heard the exchange between the surviving vampires and the True Ancestor.
—“My king, we must go! If you do not enter slumber at once, your life will be in danger…!”
—“Silence. I will walk my own path.”
A slumber undertaken in a situation so dire that his very life was at stake.
But Francis had not let his guard down.
He didn’t know when the man would awaken and they would once again run rampant.
Afterward, he continued his research with his team.
And after investigating several documents and inscribed stone tablets brought from beyond the rift, he learned something.
For long-lived species like dragons and vampires, their slumber was so long it couldn’t be measured by human standards of time.
According to the translated texts, that time was a minimum of one hundred years.
But even that was just the minimum; it could be much longer depending on the circumstances.
Reading that, he had felt a momentary sense of relief.
He had thought that would be enough time to prepare and then finish off the bastard in his sleep.
He hadn’t even planned to drag it out.
He intended to end the man as soon as he found a way to disable the barrier through continuous research.
That was why he was so confused.
How could he have woken up in less than ten years?
But his confusion quickly subsided.
He remembered what he had to do now.
‘Nothing has changed.’
Awake or not.
His mission was clear.
‘Today is the day I kill him.’
The True Ancestor.
To cleanly erase the demon gnawing away at Romania from the world.
He drew the sword hidden within his robes.
And he thought.
He thought about why the one called the Duke had brought them before the True Ancestor.
‘He hasn’t fully recovered yet.’
A means for the True Ancestor, who had woken prematurely, to recover.
The priests of the Volunteer Group were surely meant for that purpose.
Which meant this unexpected chaos and crisis was, for him, a golden opportunity.
“Hup!”
He let out a short breath and swung his sword.
A perfect strike, forged in a mere instant of preparation.
A massive golden aura extended from the blade, cutting across the dark space and illuminating it brightly.
The light revealed it.
The True Ancestor’s face, unchanged from ten years ago.
“This is…?”
His first expression was one of surprise.
That emotion soon turned to elation.
Because the True Ancestor felt the same.
He had never once forgotten.
The golden Sword Ki that had nearly split his torso in two.
And the name of the opponent who had sent it flying at him!
“Francis Meyer… so it’s you!”
Kuhahahaha!
A mad laugh echoed through the hall.
Simultaneously, the golden aura that had reached the True Ancestor’s domain was blocked by a suddenly erected red barrier.
KABOOOM—!
The massive shockwave born from the impact shook the entire castle.
“Tch, a failure.”
Francis clicked his tongue in disappointment and threw off the pure white robe he was wearing.
As if in response, the True Ancestor rose from his throne.
A deep smile formed on his lips as he spoke.
“Our meeting was inevitable. For I have desperately wished for it.”
However.
“I never dreamed it would come to pass so soon.”
A tingling sensation spread throughout his entire body.
As if responding to it, the immense blood energy dormant within his flesh slowly began to stir.
Sensing this, a look of dismay crossed Francis’s face.
‘This much power…!’
His prediction was correct.
The man had not yet fully recovered his strength.
But one thing was wrong.
His thought that this crisis might be an opportunity for him.
“You’ve gotten quite old. And stronger.”
Seeing the man who had spent the last ten years honing his skills with grim determination, the True Ancestor’s smile grew wider.
“I have been regretting it all this time.”
He had regretted it throughout his slumber.
That he had been defeated by an enemy and forced into a shameful retreat?
No.
Then what did he regret?
“That I failed to tell you my name.”
A name can evoke many things.
A past lover might bring a sense of wistful longing, a sworn enemy would evoke rage, and a person one couldn’t be bothered with would bring irritation.
So, what did he wish to be remembered as?
The answer was already decided.
“Jasper Vladimir.”
Fear.
“Die with that name seared into your memory.”
A single drop of crimson blood fell from his fingertip, dyeing the world red.