Masquerade Ball (2)
An ordinary human whose limbs are severed dies of shock long before bleeding out.
How many people could watch their own body thrash about after every arm and leg has been cut away?
"S-save me. I'm human."
"How can anyone who prolongs their own life with the lives of others still be called a person?"
So Yoanna did not treat Patrick as human. A parasite that left plague in its wake was a far more fitting description.
"May your master take pity on you."
Yoanna's blade left a thin red line across Patrick's throat. The cut slowly widened, and a moment later flames erupted from the wound, swallowing his body whole. After watching for a short while, she tossed the heretical tome from the desk into the fire.
Dantalion observed Patrick's blackening bones and spoke.
"Not some quiet countryside village, yet a vampire has nested right in the capital. The world really is running smoothly, isn't it?"
"Truly... a horrifying creature."
Yoanna, who could read the weight of a soul, nodded in agreement. Patrick's soul was riddled with holes, its hollows filled with filth that gave off an unbearable stench. Only his flesh still lived; his soul was already as good as dead.
"Do even ruined souls fall to Hell?"
"Impossible. In that state they simply tear apart and vanish, like a loaf of bread thrown into a raging current."
Trading fresh blood for eternal life and power was absurd enough on its own. They were fools who had sold the afterlife for a pittance just to enjoy the present. And they did not even realize it—how pitiful could a being be?
"Still, thanks to your efforts, Yoanna, we won't need to tear the memories out of him in Hell."
Fortunately Patrick's mouth had been as loose as his head was empty; he had spilled everything he knew without resistance.
This club existed to recruit followers of the Blood Father and to secure a steady supply of blood. Rubies marked vampires, emeralds marked livestock, and black obsidian marked potential new converts.
The vampires distinguished rank by the gems set in their masks and ran the club with their striking looks and abilities...
"The real headache is that he doesn't know who actually owns the place."
"He was nothing special, after all. If we torture a higher-ranking vampire, we should be able to learn the owner's identity."
Patrick's station had been far too low; the information he possessed was meager. Anyone foolish enough to leak important secrets to a halfwit who could not even read an opponent's breathing would have had the club exposed long ago.
"We should head out soon."
"Shall I draw my weapon?"
"Mm. Anyone sharp enough to notice even without sound would have noticed already, so it hardly matters."
Yoanna stepped over Patrick's bones, lengthened her sword, and opened the door.
In that instant a crimson ice spear shot toward her throat. Blade and spear collided; a foul stench of blood exploded into a cloud of steam.
"Damn it, I can't see him through the steam!"
"Mother ordered us to subdue the bastard. Cut off his limbs—if we turn him into a vampire we can reattach them later!"
"She also said killing him is fine if resistance is too strong. Suppress him with crossbow fire, then move in!"
Urgent voices of vampires carried through the blast. They had clearly sensed the disturbance and moved to respond...
Ping—!
An arrow punched through the steam and skimmed over Yoanna's lowered head. She deflected the downward bolt and drew on her holy power.
"This looks a bit much for you alone, so I'll lend a modest hand."
Dantalion pointed beyond the steam, then swept his finger sideways and opened a red book. Crimson brands seared themselves onto the vampires' heads and necks—marks bright enough to be seen even through the haze.
Understanding their meaning, Yoanna pulled harder on her holy power.
Clank-clank-clank!
"Guh—!?"
"W-what is this?!"
"It's hot! Someone get these chains off me!!!"
Red chains erupted from floor, ceiling, and behind them, coiling around necks and punching through skulls. Impaled on the barbed tips, the vampires thrashed as hellfire consumed their bodies. The sight was so horrific that the remaining vampires momentarily forgot Yoanna existed.
"You idiots, this is no time to worry about—!?"
Slash!
Yoanna burst through the steam and took the mage-vampire's head. The blood-forged ice spear hovering above his palm lost control and began to fall. She kicked the falling spear into the cluster of vampires.
It skewered two of them and buried itself in the wall. Startled, the others drew enchanted weapons and charged—
"The matchup is far too poor."
How could power gained through foul means ever overcome the flames that punish sin? Yoanna's sword swept as though it would cleave the entire library, etching a red line through the air. Hellfire erupted from the rift and swallowed every guilty life.
Heat so fierce it stole even the chance to scream reduced the vampires to handfuls of ash.
"Hiiik...!?"
The sole survivor—a female vampire—dropped her mask and trembled. Despair she had never felt since choosing to serve the Blood Father drained the strength from her legs. The overwhelming gap extinguished even the will to resist.
Snap!
Yoanna stepped from the flames and flicked her fingers. The fire that had threatened to devour the library itself was sucked back behind her.
In truth Dantalion had assisted to conserve her strength, but...
A monster... of a completely different caliber!
To the female vampire, who could not see Dantalion, Yoanna simply looked like an untouchable monster.
Yoanna brushed ash from Dantalion's head and fixed her gaze on the vampire. Then she noticed the academy student medal pinned to the woman's dress.
"You're the academy student who invited Harald to dinner before, aren't you?"
"!"
The medal she had worn to lure prey flashed through her mind. The vampire's thoughts raced. She replaced tears that no longer flowed with magic and sobbed, shoulders quivering delicately.
"I-I don't know! When I came to my senses I was already like this... Even when I try to refuse orders, my body moves on its own!"
She hung her head and let tears fall as if she were some pure maiden. Senior vampires had taught her that priests were naïve and weak to a woman's tears. She had once seduced a priest that way and drained him dry.
But tears did not always work.
"Vampires are all so skilled at lying."
"Eh?"
Slash!
A casual swing of the blade sent the vampire's arm flying. Before the pain of the missing limb could even register, chains materialized from empty air, coiled around her throat, and began to glow white-hot.
"Kyaaaaaaaaaah!!!"
The stench of burning flesh and a thin scream filled the air. With a perfectly calm expression Yoanna yanked the chain and dragged the vampire close. She planted a foot on the woman's head and pulled harder.
Crunch-crack!
The chain bit deep enough to snap her neck. Melting skin fused to the links; scorching heat flooded her lungs as though she had swallowed a lump of charcoal.
She looked exactly like a dog being dragged to the slaughterhouse.
"From this moment on, tell me everything you know."
Once a beast's will is broken, it cannot resist even when it knows the end. Sensing her own death, the vampire opened her mouth without resistance, praying only for a painless end.
Please, in the next life, don't let me meet a woman like this again.
At least that final wish would be granted.
Having abandoned all hope, the vampire freely spilled every scrap of information.
If they sought Gavin, they should head to the third basement level. Academy students who had turned vampire were operating in secret. And Carmilla was one of the executives who knew the club's true owner.
Once she had told them everything, the vampire's head was cleanly severed, ending her life without further pain.
Yoanna caught her breath and asked Dantalion,
"Lord Dantalion, should we go straight down to the basement?"
"No need to worry about the upper floors. From the sounds I caught during the fighting, the club members were evacuating their guests."
Even the club had enough sense to prioritize evacuating members. Buildings could be rebuilt; members, once lost, were far harder to replace. If dissatisfied guests started spreading rumors, the club would never enjoy the same easy harvest again.
Yoanna started down the stairs toward the basement. With every step the lantern light grew weaker until it barely illuminated the treads beneath her feet. The staircase became a dizzying series of tiny platforms suspended in darkness.
"Yoanna, swing your sword behind you."
"Pardon?"
Looking puzzled, she nevertheless swung at once. Unconscious obedience to Dantalion's command came before any need for explanation.
Slash.
She felt the sensation of cutting flesh through empty air. Black liquid spilled beneath her feet, and a corpse tumbled down the stairs as though a piece of the darkness itself had fallen away. Instantly the darkness on the staircase heaved and swallowed the lantern light.
When no scream followed, Dantalion examined the corpse whose head had been split in half.
"They tore out the tongue and vocal cords so no voice could escape. And the ankles are made of mucus—to muffle footsteps, I suppose?"
"Lord Dantalion, how should we respond?"
Creatures that had literally become one with the dark were creeping toward Yoanna with extreme caution. The first to attack had had its head split for nothing, so the rest had grown careful. Unfortunately for them, caution was the wrong choice.
"They're unusual, but nothing special. Burn them all."
Aside from their fusion with darkness they were mere small fry.
Understanding, Yoanna manifested her halo.
The vampires froze for a heartbeat, then recoiled at the heat flooding the staircase and lunged at her. In that same instant a flash of searing light exploded from Yoanna's body.