Chapter 533: Bloody Requiem (8)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 533: Bloody Requiem (8)
Leaving the sounds of a fierce clash behind me, I pressed forward with heavy steps.
At last, we reached the 14th floor.
The marquis on the 13th floor had been the ninth, so the tenth Holy Blood—a vampire I presumed to be a duke—should have been waiting for us here.
"What the...? There's no one here."
"It's completely empty."
There was no presence to be felt on the 14th floor.
But this place was overflowing with a tension thicker than any we had passed through so far.
However, the source of this tension wasn't the 14th floor, but the one above us.
"...The 15th floor."
The aura leaking from the castle's final floor was the cause.
One of them was obvious without me even having to say it.
Francis Meyer.
Then who was his opponent?
"......"
I'd found it strange ever since we got information from that low-ranking vampire.
There were ten Holy Bloods in total, those who carried the undiluted blood of the True Ancestor.
And they were said to occupy the castle from the 5th to the 15th floor.
Isn't that strange?
Counting from the 5th to the 15th floor, that's eleven floors.
If each of the ten Holy Bloods claimed a floor for themselves, one would be left over.
So, who was that last floor for?
The answer wasn't hard to figure out.
It was the worst-case scenario, one I hadn't wanted to acknowledge, but now I had no choice.
"...The True Ancestor."
The parent and king of all vampires.
The True Ancestor had awakened.
The monster Francis Meyer was fighting had to be him.
"Goddammit."
All sorts of questions flooded my mind.
When?
How?
I didn't know.
And that's what made it so damn frustrating.
But one thing was certain.
Kugugugung!
Kgeugeuk...!
Kaang!
The awakened True Ancestor's power was in no way inferior to Francis Meyer's.
Kuuung!
No... perhaps it was even greater.
I grew anxious.
Judging by their auras alone, it seemed like a stalemate, but the situation couldn't be good for Francis.
After all, he had the Volunteer Group with him.
Their divine power was a great asset, but their very presence was a set of shackles.
Like mages, priests invested all their stats into divine power, meaning their physical abilities were far inferior to those of other Hunters.
If he were the type to let them die, it might be a different story, but... well.
"No way."
The Francis Meyer I knew wasn't that kind of person.
I urged my companions, who were catching their breath, to move.
"Let's hurry up. It looks like Francis is going to need our help."
At that, they smiled.
"Heh... This is like a dream."
"That monster of a man needs our help, huh?"
"This is our only chance to repay our debt to him...!"
They got to their feet, grinning.
As expected of veterans, I thought.
Saying Francis needed help meant they were facing an incredibly powerful enemy.
Yet even in such a grim situation, they suppressed their unease with a relaxed attitude.
"Alright, let's move—!"
Just as I was about to join in and shout with them...
"There is no need for you to come up."
A cool, low voice drifted down from the stairs above.
Click, clack.
The sound of dress shoes followed.
A man appeared, his steps carrying a leisurely rhythm that was strangely unnerving.
His eyes were a swirl of black and red. He had a sharp nose and a stylish mustache. He was a middle-aged man who carried himself with such dignity and grace that he could have been a medieval nobleman.
He descended, his long cape swirling, and declared, "For this place shall be your tomb."
The corners of his mouth curled upward.
Kugugugu...!
At the same time, an intense aura erupted from him.
"Ugh...!"
"Wh-what is this insane aura?"
"Where did this monster come from?!"
My stomach churned.
I forced my sluggish mind, weighed down by his aura, to work, trying to figure out who he was.
The clash from the floor above was still raging. That meant Francis and the True Ancestor were still up there.
Then who was this monster?
Only one person came to mind.
The one who should have greeted us on the 14th floor.
"...The duke?"
The duke.
He nodded.
"Correct."
He offered an elegant bow and continued his introduction.
"Vlad Tepes."
The moment I heard the name, a historical figure known for both his fame and infamy came to mind.
The war hero who fought against the Ottoman Empire.
The duke of the Principality of Wallachia, who ruled through terror with the heinous punishment of impalement.
Vlad III.
Tepes was his moniker.
It meant 'The Impaler.'
"......!"
The moment I realized this, the acrid smell of blood rose from the floor, assaulting my nostrils.
It was an omen.
I screamed in a desperate voice, "Everyone, watch your feet!"
Before the words even left my mouth, red spikes shot up from the ground.
Shushushuk-!
They were large enough to run a person through and hoist them into the air.
My companions reacted to the timely warning.
"Uheok!"
Some dodged in terror.
"Th-this... Kraaaak!"
Puuk-!
Others failed to dodge in time and were pierced from below, straight through to their chests, dying instantly.
In the chaos that erupted in an instant, my eyes darted around, searching.
Seo-yeon?
Yu-jeong?
Elena?
Ju-yeon... and Si-hoo, Ha-rin?
"Ugh...!"
"Dammit!"
"Hyaaat—!"
"Holy Shield!"
"Si-hoo, this way!"
"O-okay...!"
Thankfully, they were all okay.
Seo-yeon sliced through a spike with her sword, while Yu-jeong and Elena smashed them down with their shields.
Ju-yeon cast a wide protective barrier with her divine power, shielding Si-hoo and Ha-rin, who had been in danger.
"Phew..."
I let out a sigh of relief.
"Hoh, you blocked that quite well. However..."
But the crisis wasn't over.
"It is not over yet."
The spikes shot up again.
As if the first wave had been just a taste, longer, thicker spikes erupted at a much faster speed.
Shushushushuk!
Pushut!
"Kkeuaaak!"
Puhak!
"Gah..."
Pukakak...!
They stood constantly at the crossroads of life and death.
Those who dodged or blocked survived; those who couldn't, died.
And what of those who survived the first volley but were pierced in an arm or a leg?
Pushushut!
"Gurgle..."
"Cough!"
They couldn't avoid the second and third waves of spikes and lost their lives.
The sight was gruesome.
The corpses, impaled on long spikes and hanging in the air, all had their eyes wide open.
Fear and pain were etched into their gazes, like a stain that could never be washed away.
"Hahahaha... Such beautiful expressions. Don't you agree?"
"......"
The ground became soaked with the blood flowing from their bodies.
And from those pools of blood, new spikes shot up, aiming for the companions who had barely survived.
It was a technique perfectly optimized for slaughter.
I lifted one foot and stomped.
Kuuuung...!
The mana concentrated in my foot spread through the ground and reached the pools of blood.
Fwoosh!
Flames erupted, burning the blood away. The rising spikes halted their advance and finally disappeared.
"Hoh... To think you'd burn the blood with flames. A clever response."
...Clever response, my ass.
More than seven people were already dead, and three more were barely clinging to life.
Could you really call this a clever response?
"Fuck."
A bitter taste filled my mouth.
From the regret of not being able to save them all.
And from the part of me that was relieved my own companions had survived.
A laugh escaped me.
"Heh heh."
See, I really am a fake.
A fake who's different from the real thing in every way.
A genuine hero like Francis would have at least shed a tear inwardly at this gruesome sight.
But me? I was laughing.
The duke looked at me, puzzled.
"Hm? Laughing in a situation like this... Has the shock driven you mad?"
I answered.
"Of course not."
I've been through far too much to go mad over something like this.
I've just come to my senses a little, that's all.
Being with Francis, I was under a delusion for a while.
Being around these people, so full of righteous spirit, I started acting like I was a hero, too.
Even though I had no reason to.
Right.
Strictly speaking, the people who just died weren't my companions.
They were just potential threats.
So it's okay for me to be glad.
I just used someone else's hands to eliminate enemies I might have had to kill myself one day, right?
If anything, I should be grateful to him.
Thanks, Vlad Tepes!
For killing my future enemies for me.
So.
"You can die now."
A hunting dog is no longer needed once the hunt is over.
I closed the distance, pushing off the ground with just the tips of my toes to keep him from reading my movements.
My body glided forward.
Once in range, I swung my sword.
From my planted foot to my knee, waist, side, shoulder, and arm—it was a single strike that minimized any tells.
Kaang!
But it was blocked by his casually extended wrist.
To be precise, by a red barrier surrounding his wrist.
"Impressive movements. I almost lost my head there."
I sneered at his admiring tone.
"Cut the crap."
He hadn't blocked it because he'd read my move.
It was a pure difference in skill.
A gap large enough that he could leisurely watch my sword's path until the very last second before raising his arm.
I asked the man, who was putting on a relaxed air with a smug smile, "So that's your real face."
"......?"
He shot me a puzzled look, as if asking what I meant.
My stomach had been churning ever since I first met him.
Was it because my body was tense from his overwhelming aura?
No.
This trembling wasn't mine.
The trembling was the pulsation of Gluttony, coiled inside my stomach.
And I had felt this exact pulsation once before.
"I knew you were faking being a good person, but I never imagined your very race was a lie."
"......"
His face hardened as he slowly began to catch on.
In contrast, I grinned, spitting out my final words as if to provoke him.
"Your little game of playing the martyr for your dying fatherland ends here."
I revealed Vlad Tepes's true identity.
"Viktor Vadim."