Chapter 71
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 71
They were in an empty clearing some distance from the city. Dry grass grew sparsely across the area, and the chirping of crickets filled the air. The moon hung in the night sky, looking down silently upon Rickert and his companions as if it were their sole witness.
Beside a blazing campfire, a man bound hand and foot was weeping and sniveling, begging for his life.
"I—I have a family. They were taken hostage. I had no choice, I swear! Please…"
The pleading man was none other than the one who had betrayed Rekerd. He had acted as a double agent, tipping off the vampires about Rekerd’s movements.
It was a pitiful story, but Rekerd didn't bother to reply. He simply continued heating a silver dagger in the fire.
Neither Rickert nor Ice showed any interest in the man's desperate pleas, their expressions utterly indifferent. None of the three were soft-hearted men easily swayed by emotion.
Besides, he was lying. He had no family. It didn't take any special ability or interrogation to figure that out; it was painfully obvious. The only genuine thing about him was his terror. That, and nothing more.
And that was enough.
"You have two choices, Marley," Rekerd said, his voice low. "A painful death or a quick one. Spill everything you know. The other vampires' hideouts, whether there are any other traitors—all of it."
The flames danced in Rekerd’s intelligent eyes, but the resolve behind them was as hard as stone.
The traitor, Marley, darted his trembling gaze between the red-hot dagger and Rekerd’s face. Then, he suddenly began to snicker. When pushed to the brink of terror, human emotions became entirely unpredictable. It was hard to tell if he had given up on living or simply accepted his impending death.
They say you can’t measure the depths of a human heart, but terror had a way of bringing everything to the surface.
"Hehehe… ehehehehe… hic… hic…"
Rickert, Ice, and Rekerd merely watched him laugh like a madman, their faces devoid of emotion.
"Rekerd, Rekerd, my friend. What do you get out of this? You kill vampires, and you kill more of them. Whether you kill a hundred or a thousand, who's going to care? Do you think vampires will ever disappear from this world? In the end, it's all utterly meaningless, Rekerd."
"Why do you think so?" Rickert asked, breaking his indifferent silence.
A smirk played on Marley’s lips. "Because life is too painful. If vampires disappear, does heaven suddenly arrive? Do you think there's salvation? Hell no. The ones who torment humans in the most demonic ways aren't vampires, but other humans. Even if someone like me works for the vampires, it's not like the world gets any worse. What's wrong with making a little coin along the way? That's all it is. Fuck. Fuuuuck! That's all it is! Why is everyone so serious?! A traitor to humanity?! Fuck that! Fuck!"
Perhaps overcome by his surging emotions, Marley's jaw trembled violently. Yet, none of the three men agreed with him or denied his words. If anything, their silence made them seem even more terrifying.
"You know nothing, Marley," Rekerd said calmly.
He stood up, holding the glowing red dagger, and approached. At the sight, Marley began to tremble with fear all over again.
"H-hey, wait a minute. Money, I'll give you money. I've saved up a bit. Rekerd, my friend, listen to me."
Bound hand and foot, Marley squirmed like a worm, trying to drag himself away along the ground. But escaping Rekerd's slow, deliberate steps was impossible.
Rekerd pinned Marley's head down with his knee and sawed the red-hot dagger across his neck. The searing blade hissed as it made contact, then quickly cooled in flesh and blood.
"Cough! Ack! Cough! Gurgle…"
Marley convulsed for a moment before going limp. Rekerd kicked the corpse aside, rolling it over. A long trail of blood pooled on the ground. After unceremoniously shoving the body into the bushes, he returned to the campfire.
The quiet night, the chirping of crickets, the crackling fire, the moon and stars, and the smell of blood. That was all that remained.
"To fall from grace for money. Ridiculous," Rekerd spoke bitterly as he wiped his dagger. "Most become slaves to vampires in the hopes of eternal life."
With the traitor dealt with, it was time for Rekerd to explain the matter of the High Vampires. Rickert and Ice remained silent, not rushing him.
Rekerd stared into the campfire for a long moment, lost in thought, before finally speaking.
"As you saw today, common vampires usually live alone. That's because creating another vampire diminishes their own strength. They are extremely cautious when making 'offspring.' Recklessly multiplying is considered a crime among their kind. The punishment is to be nailed inside a coffin and buried deep underground. They can't die, so they spend eternity there, starving."
"So even those monsters have rules?" Ice asked.
"They have rules, but they are fundamentally indifferent to one another, so don't expect any proper discipline. At any rate, vampires grow weaker with each passing generation. Their lifespan is only slightly longer than a human's—roughly eighty to a hundred years."
"They have a lifespan? I thought they were immortal," Rickert said.
Rekerd tapped his temple with his index finger. "That is roughly how long their minds can endure. Their bodies are immortal, but their minds break down. Eventually, they turn into nothing more than mindless beasts. Those are called ghouls. Have you heard of them?"
"Only by name. Monsters that feed on humans."
"They are ferocious and wild, but they lack intelligence, so hunting them isn't much of a problem. They wander the forests and are often killed by wild beasts, werewolves, or sometimes even a mob of peasants with farming tools."
It seemed their weaknesses were as clear as their strengths. If they didn't have them, they wouldn't need to live in hiding. In rural villages, so-called witch hunts occasionally took place, and vampires sometimes got swept up and killed. Furthermore, because everyone in a village knew their neighbors, any gloomy outsider like a vampire would be noticed instantly. That was why vampires mostly lived in large cities—places like the slums, where no one cared if someone went missing or died.
"But there are always exceptions," Rekerd continued. "Vampires close to the True Ancestors live well over a century, and the power of their bloodline is incredibly potent. They form highly insular families. These are known as vampire houses, and they are commonly referred to as 'High Vampires.' They are of an entirely different caliber than common vampires. Famous houses include Draken, Pasania, and Bahnstein."
Bahnstein was the house of the vampire who was both the client and the target of this Special-Grade Request.
"I understand Bahnstein is a count's family," Rickert said. "Did a vampire become a noble?"
"I don't know the answer to that. Whether one of their ancestors was a human who became a vampire, or if a vampire family was granted a title… there's no way to tell. But no one dares to touch a house of that stature. Not the Emperor, not the Pope. They simply leave them be, treating them as if they don't exist."
"How can that be? I don't understand."
"They seem to conduct investigations every now and then, but I've heard they never find any evidence. So they just leave the houses to their useless frontiers and forget about them. Even people like me don't go out of our way to provoke them."
The Emperor and the Pope had far more pressing threats to worry about than mere vampires—namely, rebellious nobles, scheming cardinals, and powerful secular houses. One wrong move could cost them their power or lead to their dethronement, so they saw no need to waste resources on such matters.
Still, Rickert found it hard to understand. Yet, in a way, it also made perfect sense. It was just… unsettling. It felt as though he had learned a secret of the world he was better off not knowing.
"The most important thing to remember when facing a vampire is to keep your heart steady," Rekerd concluded. "What makes those abominations truly terrifying is how they worm their way into the voids of your mind and corrupt you. Keep that in mind."
With that, Rekerd stood up, ready to leave.
"To be honest, I don't know much about High Vampires either. But then, I suppose I didn't know much about you two, either. I don't know why you're trying to kill a High Vampire, but I wish you luck."
And then, he simply departed. The sound of his steady footsteps gradually faded, swallowed by the darkness of the night.
"That wasn't as useful as I'd hoped," Rickert said, looking at Ice.
Ice pondered for a moment before speaking. "What do you want to do? Go back and report our progress to Volka? Or…"
"Go straight to meet the client?"
"Yeah."
"Hmm. Should we send a letter instead?"
"Let's do that."
They had originally agreed to return to Volka to discuss their next move, but there was nothing stopping them from going straight to the client now. It might seem a bit reckless, but that was just how adventurers were. It was the kind of free-spirited behavior that gave clan masters headaches the world over, and Rickert and Ice were no exception. Still, it was better than causing real trouble. The line between adventurer and criminal was often paper-thin.
Rickert stomped out the campfire and left the clearing. The only thing remaining was the corpse in the nearby bushes.
But had Marley really been corrupted by a vampire? Rickert wondered. Greed for money was something anyone could harbor.
*
In the city of Gates, Rickert sent a letter to Volka. He wrote that they had easily dispatched one vampire and that, after speaking with Rekerd, there didn't seem to be much to worry about. He added that he and Ice were setting off for a place called Bahnstein and that Volka shouldn't worry too much.
Bahnstein was a fief belonging to the Kingdom of Nederslant, located far to the west of Ehrenberg. According to the locals, the journey would take about a week if they stopped in towns and cities along the way.
Rickert packed the necessary supplies and set off with Ice. This was their first time adventuring as a pair.
Autumn was in full swing, and the wind was rather chilly. They had to dress carefully for the cold mornings and evenings. Rickert wore a red cloak, while Ice wore a black one. Ice carried the pack, as he was slightly older and knew how to manipulate his mana.
No one recognized Rickert immediately just because of his red cloak. He had become so famous that red cloaks had become a fashion trend. However, red fabric dyed with cinnabar was expensive, so most people wore cloaks dyed with flower petal extracts, which quickly faded to pink after a few washes.
Rickert and Ice had once been ranked first and second at the Academy; it was hard to find anyone who could match them. They had few worries about their safety, but they could do nothing about the weather.
From the very first day, autumn rain began to fall, causing them no small amount of trouble.
The sun set earlier than expected, forcing them to seek shelter from the downpour in an abandoned house. However, there were already people inside. About a dozen men and women were gathered, and judging by their cheap fabrics and gaudy accessories, they seemed to be traveling prostitutes and their pimps.
"Welcome, young strangers. Come to lose your virginity?" one of the pimps called out, clearly intending to tease them. The prostitutes giggled in response.
Rickert and Ice didn't reply, choosing instead to settle down in a corner. As they were about to start a fire with some kindling they had prepared, the pimp handed them a burning log.
"Use this, young travelers."
"Thank you," Rickert said, pulling down his hood.
At that, the prostitutes' eyes widened. "Oh? He's cute, isn't he?"
"Are you lost, little boy? Where's your mommy?"
"Want big sister to give you a hug?"
Rickert merely offered an awkward smile at their teasing. But the real reaction came when Ice pulled down his hood.
"Ah!"
"Gasp!"
Upon seeing Ice's face, every single one of the prostitutes gasped in unison. His skin was as white as jade, and his silver hair, reminiscent of moonlight, hung damp and limp. Yet, that alone was enough to evoke a sense of pity and longing. He had a perfectly straight nose, flawlessly proportioned features, and above all, eyes that seemed to harbor a deep, silent sorrow. It was an appearance that simultaneously triggered a woman's maternal instincts and a desire to be held by him.
Even these women, who usually spewed vulgar jokes the moment they opened their mouths, were utterly speechless. A hush fell over the room.
"This won't do," Rickert muttered. "Put your hood back on."
"Yeah. Just let me dry my hair first."
"Alright."
Rickert built up the fire in their corner, sat down, and leaned his back against the wall. He kept his sword cradled in his arms, resting it across his knees.
"M-my, are you swordsmen? For a second, I thought you were princes." While the women fidgeted and stole glances at Ice, the pimp was the only one who managed to speak. His tone had completely changed.
"To be precise, we are adventurers," Rickert replied. "We're on our way to the Kingdom of Nederslant."
"Ah, so you're heading west. How kind of you to tell me."
Kind? Rickert thought. How? We haven't done anything. Apparently, just looking at Ice was a form of kindness.
Since Ice had carried the pack, Rickert rummaged through it to prepare a meal. He decided to use the potatoes and sweet potatoes first, as the dampness might cause them to sprout.
Just then, one of the prostitutes quickly grabbed the pot sitting over their own fire, went outside to collect rainwater, and began boiling something. After a while, the savory aroma of corn soup filled the air. She seasoned it with a few pieces of salted meat, ladled it into bowls, and brought them over to Rickert and Ice.
"Please, have some."
She couldn't even meet Ice's eyes. She was clearly smitten. Life seems so easy for him, Rickert mused. Or maybe it's just a nuisance.
"Thank you," Rickert said, accepting the bowls and handing one to Ice. Eaten alongside their roasted sweet potatoes, the soup helped fill their stomachs.
It was a chilly, rainy autumn day, but the abandoned house felt warm. The chance meeting of travelers filled the space with a cozy heat, and their spirits seemed to lift imperceptibly despite the awkward silence. When traveling, one was bound to encounter all kinds of strangers. As long as they didn't draw swords on each other, they were just passing acquaintances. There was a certain charm to it.
The hard lives of the pimp and the prostitutes were etched into their faces and wrinkled hands. Yet, they didn't seem cowed or disheartened. The way they used crude jokes as a balm for their hardships reminded Rickert of the soldiers on the Eastern Campaign Front. Both those soldiers and these people were merely combatants fighting fiercely on the battlefield of life. They were people content to smile whenever a rare good day came along, even if most days were bad. And Ice's appearance had provided them with just such a day.
But happiness was a fragile thing, and misfortune never waited for an invitation.
Footsteps splashed closer from outside, and another group of men entered the abandoned house. They were not travelers.
A group of rough-looking thugs stepped inside. Upon spotting the pimp and the prostitutes, one of them sneered.
"So here you are, you fucking bitches. Did you think we'd just let you go after you ran off without paying your street tax?"
"You must think we're a joke."
"Try not to beat them too much. We won't be able to sell them if they're bruised. You bitches are going to work your bodies until you've paid off what you owe."
The fragile warmth in the room shattered.
Rickert and Ice remained quiet in their corner, but the thugs eventually spotted Ice.
"Whoa, what do we have here?"
"Fenant, are you selling men now? Damn, this one is a real prize."
"N-no, they have nothing to do with me," the pimp stammered.
"Shut up. We decide who has to do with what."
Rickert turned to Ice. "Let's clean this up quickly and get some rest."
"Yeah."
"You first?"
"I'll take the left side of the door. You take the right."
"Got it."
While Rickert and Ice conversed, the thugs grabbed one of the prostitutes by her hair and tried to drag her out.
"Ah! W-wait! I'll go! I'll go!"
"No! Don't touch me!"
"Is this fucking bitch crazy?!"
Crash!
One of them kicked the pot over the fire, sending savory corn soup spilling across the floor.
At that moment, Ice drew his sword and stood up.
"W-what? You want a piece of us?!"
The sight of the finely maintained blade sent a chill down their spines. That brief hesitation was an opening as wide as eternity for Ice. There was no need to even show off his true skills.
Whoosh! Thud! Swish!
Plop.
In a flash of sword light, the arms holding the prostitutes' hair were severed and fell to the floor. Having freed the women, Ice immediately turned on the thugs, his blade a blur. With a horizontal sweep, he cleanly severed their necks.
Meanwhile, Rickert blocked a startled thug from drawing his weapon and plunged a dagger straight into the man's throat. He kicked the body aside, tripped another thug who was trying to flee in terror, and drove his dagger into the back of the man's neck with enough force to sever the spine. The man's body flopped on the ground like a fish out of water.
It all happened in the blink of an eye. There was no grabbing of collars, no shouting matches, no time for anyone to scream. Five burly men were dead.
Blood pooled on the floor. Because everything had happened so quickly, the pimp and the prostitutes couldn't even process it. The pimp could only blink his wide, disbelieving eyes.
"U-uh, uh…"
The pimp and the prostitutes trembled violently, their bodies shaking uncontrollably.
Meanwhile, Rickert and Ice calmly tossed the severed limbs out of the abandoned house. Rickert then turned to the pimp. "Let's move the rest of the bodies together."
"No, I'll do it," Ice said.
Activating his Mana Drive, Ice effortlessly lifted the heavy corpses and hurled them outside. All that remained were the bloodstains on the floor and walls. Rickert kicked dirt over the blood, covering it up.
Once they had finished, the two returned to their corner and sat down. They rested peacefully, as if absolutely nothing had happened.
To ordinary people, the entire sequence was utterly bizarre. Their uncanny swordsmanship was one thing, but the fact that they could remain so completely unfazed was truly terrifying.
In the end, the pimp and the prostitutes chose to brave the rain and left the abandoned house that night. Sharing a roof with those two was simply too frightening.
To them, Rickert and Ice were far more frightening than any vampire they might never see in their lifetimes.
And so, the two monsters had the entire abandoned house to themselves for the night. The sound of the rain lulled them into a peaceful sleep.
They hadn't acted out of some desire to play champions of justice, so they couldn't care less whether others feared them or found them unsettling.
The faint smell of blood was a minor nuisance, but the scent was soon washed away by the steady autumn rain.