Dead!
They're all dead!
"Uuuak!" The soldier choked on her blood as she stared in disbelief at the impossible scene. Her feet shuffled through ankle-deep pools of blood as she backed away till she felt the wall behind her. The woman still pressed against the wall, in a vain hope that if she tried hard enough, she would be able to blend into the wall.
Tears and snot marred a once beautiful face as she fervently shook her head. No, this had to be a dream. Yes, a horrible dream. She would wake up, and it would all be over. But no matter how hard she bit on her lip, the nightmare refused to end.
"Arara~ seems we have a survivor. Sloppy, sloppy."
The woman's knees buckled under her nightmare's progenitor’s sweet, mocking voice. Every step he took towards her was like decades shaved from her life. The mad man still had a pleased, almost amiable smile as he closed in on her, eyes shining with perverse delight. His hair was dyed a very deep tinge of dark red, same as the blood that pooled the earth. Little streaks of white choked for survival in the mass of red as if to signify the last vestiges of innocence that remained in the demon's soul.
A pair of bright yellow eyes emphasized the blood-splattered face as the demon crouched in front of the soldier. He reached for her face, but to his surprise, her eyes rolled back to show the whites, then she collapsed to the ground, dead.
"Well, I have to admit, this is a first even for me." Syèl's laughed as he clenched his fist. The woman's body exploded before it could return to the circle, adding her blood to the red pool.
"Needlessly cruel," a slightly familiar voice rebuked.
"Huh?" Syèl turned around to see Rider observing him with a neutral expression. "Oh, it's you. What you want, uh..."
"Rider."
"Yeah, Rider. Got a problem with me?"
Rider looked from the pool of blood their feet were submerged in, to Syèl's yellow eyes. "You inherited the blood magic."
Syèl raised a brow. "Doesn't sound like a que—"
"A pale imitation of the blood arts," Rider continued. He glanced at Rider's blood-soaked hair and shook his head. With a flick of his finger, all the blood droplets in the hair strands floated out, leaving only a single streak of red. "The blood tome. Where was it found this time?"
Syèl frowned. He hated people who acted like the whole world was in their control. "Why should I tell—"
"He found it in Mònòch," Shoko interrupted as she walked up to them. She sheathed her sword then bowed politely to Rider. "It was being worshipped by a cult."
Rider smiled at her and returned her gesture with a grateful nod. "The cult in Mònòch. I do recall coming across them a few centuries past. They are an outer branch of the Chaos Order. Hmm, so they were the ones who stole the book." Rider nodded as if he had finally solved an annoying mystery. "Ah, do they still have the tome? As weak as it is, it still should not be in the hands of such people."
Syèl and Shoko shared a look as Kira, Hektor and Jade walked up to them. Syèl frowned, but Shoko shook her head. "Fine," Syèl clucked his tongue and took out the Book of the Damned from his inventory. The book, which was almost as tall as he was, slammed vertically onto the floor. Oddly, not only did it stand straight without aid, the blood had parted and flowed around the book. "I have it."
Rider's eyes showed genuine interest for the first time. Strangely, his gaze was not on the book, but the halben that held it. "I do not believe they just let you leave with it?"
Syèl's eyes flashed with decisive cruelty. "I killed them all."
"Hmmm..." Rider's gaze alternated from the tome to Syèl then back to the book. His brows slightly creased like he was in the middle of a tough choice. Eventually, he asked, "What level were you?"
Syèl's interest was officially piqued when he noticed Rider's utter disregard for the Book of the Damned . He decided to see where this line of questioning was going. "Level 1 when the killing started."
Rider's lips curled in a slight smile. A glint appeared in his eyes as he appraised Syèl with newfound interest. "You. Would you like to obtain the vampiric nobility?"
"Haa!?"
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‘How long do you plan on running? Let's see how far you go.’
Kashi matched Froy's frantic pace with a steady speed that was neither too fast nor too slow. No matter if Froy sped up or slowed down out of fatigue, the distance between him and his pursuer neither increased nor decreased. Kashi was like an annoying pest that was just always out of reach.
After over thirty minutes of non-stop running, Froy's face was flushed red, and every breath he took caused stabbing pain in his chest. However, he did not dare pause for too long. He knew that the second he stopped would be the moment he breathed his last. So Froy spurred himself onwards, ignoring the blood that had begun to seep out from his legs. What terrified him, even more, was that whenever he looked over his shoulder, he would see the damned daeben easily following him like he was on a stroll.
Run. Run!
Froy cursed all the gods and demons he knew as he fled from tunnel to tunnel, hoping to at least delay the daeben with the patrolling guards, but no matter where he went, there were none to be seen. The rare instances he did see them; they were only in batches of one's or two's. Kashi quickly dispatched these few guards without a break in his stride, gaze apathetic.
"You can't kill me!" Froy's roars echoed through the caverns. "I am a High Priest! DO you want your entire family killed!?" The priest, delirious, flung threat after another at the daeben. "They will destroy everything you care about! Your guild? HAHA! You will watch as it crumbles to dust. Your men will be slaves for eternity! Your women... hehe."
Kashi's brows tightly bunched together at the priest's last words. His eyes darkened blood-red as an almost primal rage bubbled up within. "Ah, that's right," Kashi muttered. Somehow though, Froy could hear his voice right next to his ear. His voice was eerily level and calm despite all the rage that should have been festering in his heart. "I have yet to express my thanks for extending your hospitality to my guildmates ."
Kashi quickly sifted through his inventory until he found one of the experimental bows he had created in the lab at Meilfour. With a soft tap, the bow materialized in his hand. Unlike his previous creations, this bow looked crude and unrefined, its shaft strangely made of metal rather than wood. A pair of 30cm bone-white teeth protruded from both ends of the shaft.
The teeth, which were rare drops from a level 90 Desert Prima-Lion, were top-class materials for crafting blades for swords, axes, and the like. Through Kashi's 'drug method' he obtained four sets of the sharpest canines per lion, which he kept for himself. The remaining teeth were used for crafting a unique set of arrows that were in the new quiver he just equipped.
Of course, since the Prima-Lions themselves were so rare, and he wanted to avoid extinction, he could only get about ten of them, totaling to forty canines and close to a hundred 'normal' teeth—more than enough for him to forge about a thousand arrows from the teeth.
The bow's string, on the other hand, was crafted from a cave troll’s tendons. Obtaining these had proved challenging, as most animals tended to perish during the extraction process. Unfortunately, Kashi was nothing if not persistent. Since cave trolls, like goblins, had naturally high spawn rate/productivity, the daeben had no qualms slaughtering one after to the other to perfect his craft. The dark, violent bowstring, tougher than most metals, yet still quite flexible, was the eventual consummation of all his efforts.
Kashi notched an arrow and drew tightly on the bowstring. Even with his superior strength, his muscles were taut with vein lines etched across as it took all he had to pull the string fully. The bowstring quivered like the muscles of an ancient beast, then—
BOOM!
A scream erupted from Froy's mouth before the explosion sounded. The priest cried out in disbelief as he stared at the stump at his shoulder where his left arm had been. As if frightened by whatever had torn off his hand, blood refused to flow out of the gaping wound.
CRASH!
Froy stared in disbelief as an entire cave system collapsed ahead, forcing him to switch directions. Somewhere in that cave system, his missing arm had exploded, leaving behind only a dense blood mist, while an undamaged arrow lay buried underneath piles of rubble. Froy's expression blanched as he turned around to stare at the lightly perspiring daeben. That was the sound barrier!
What the hell!? Why was a weapon that could break the sound barrier in the hands of a barely Level 100? It was not like he had not heard of projectile weapons like that, but usually, they required impossible strength. The kind only found in warriors nearing Lv. 150 and above. But because warriors were naturally poor with projectile weapons, these barrier-smashing weapons rarely made it out until archers who invested in agility and dexterity had reached Lv. 200 and above. This guy was supposed to be an archer. What kind of archer invested so much in strength!
Froy could not be blamed for his delirious ramblings. As an archer, Kashi should have concentrated on agility and dexterity. But instead, he focused on Strength and Agility like a typical warrior. The reason for this was that he genuinely did not need the dexterity stat due to the game's unique structure.
Dexterity stat artificially improved proficiency with ranged weapons. It also aided non-ambidextrous people to slowly become able to use every finger independently of each other. Higher dexterity stats could even give players the sensation of being in full control of their bodies such that they could efficiently complete any task simultaneously with both hands and feet doing completely different things.
More than all this, though, to ranged and assassin class players, the real benefit of the dexterity stat was in the increased critical hit chances and bonuses.
A player with high dexterity could continuously smash a dragon's toenail and still shave significant HP because of automatic critical hits now and then. In the video-gaming era, High Dexterity players were a godsend and were genuinely feared by all players and monsters alike.
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However, then came Genaco and virtual-reality. Even with the lowest critical hit rate, if a strike lands on an opponent's head, it is given as a critical hit—similarly, the heart, spinal cord, and other essential body parts.
Aside from dexterity, a strike’s strength and accuracy also affected the chances and score of a critical hit. For example, a sharp punch that struck centimeters to the heart would receive a lower critical hit bonus than a strike that accurately hit the heart dead-center.
King's Journey developed Suzuki's dexterity until he was perfectly ambidextrous. Between the game and real-life his archery was also perfected, so the stat was not needed to raise his proficiency or dexterity. The only other use, the hit bonuses, was also nullified since Kashi could just pierce an arrow into his targets' skulls or hearts for even better critical hit bonuses.
Because of all these (plus a little bonus from the handiwork skill), Kashi could freely focus on increasing his strength and agility, resulting in a level 100 archer with the strength of an early to a mid-200 level archer. Of course, being an artist also helped. He often gained extra dexterity points when completing drawings, especially those with higher quality.
Kashi glanced at the weapon in his hands with an appreciative smile. For now, it was still too difficult for him to pull the string. It required monumental effort on his part, which meant it was not yet battle-ready. No, that was wrong. The weapon was fine. He was the one who was not worthy of the bow.
Kashi estimated it would take another five to ten levels before he could use easily pull the bowstring. At that point, he would be able to rapid-fire arrows with the penetrating force of sniper rifles.
Kashi smiled and returned the weapon and quiver to his inventory. He was satisfied with the test. He replaced the yet unnamed bow with another set of bow and quivers. For scum like Froy, this should be more than enough.
Froy screamed profanities within his heart, but he did not dare threaten the daeben again. He knew that despite how long it took to draw that bow, once Kashi shot, he had no hope of dodging it. Who knew, maybe the next arrow would explode his head instead. But at the same time, this caused an inferno to roil within the priest's heart.
‘ You want to play me to death?’ Froy's eyes were bloodshot as he bit his lip to distract himself from the pain flaring from his shoulder. ‘Fine, let's play! I'll play you to death!’ Froy's entire body glowed a deep crimson red as several veins ruptured in his system. His speed tripled before Kashi could even understand what was happening.
Kashi smiled as his pace also suddenly increased, easily keeping up with Froy but somehow never getting close enough to catch him. ‘ Show me your trump card!’ As an avid gamer, Kashi knew quite well every hidden boss should have an extreme trump card, which could instakill unsuspecting gamers.
At first, Kashi assumed the diamond earring was the trump card, but after obtaining it and not seeing anything too special about it, he began to suspect otherwise. His suspicions only grew stronger when he noticed that while chasing Froy, they took a route that had become almost second nature to the daeben.
Froy had something which he believed could turn the tides against the daeben.
Kashi was determined to obtain whatever that thing was. After all, he was scheduled to face an ancient dragon in but a few months. Conventional methods and weapons were not going to cut it.
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While Froy and Kashi neared the torture chamber, several pairs of eyes were wide with shock as they stared at the man in front of them. What did Rider just say? Vampire? Did he just ask Syèl if he wanted to be a vampire? A few pondered on what the process to change into a vampire was like.
However, the majority were struck stiff with fear. Vampire? That thing that relies on blood to live? Wasn't Syèl bloodthirsty enough as he was? Why would anyone in their right mind turn Syèl into a vampire? That was like consciously inviting a natural disaster into your town.
These pairs of eyes all turned to the silver-haired youth who sported a small smile. They wanted to know what his answer would be. The fate of all of Destia could very well depend on his response.
Syèl was conscious of the stares, but a playful smirk was his only acknowledgment. "What's in it for me?"
Rider did not even flinch like he had expected such a rude response right from the start. "Power."
"How much power?" Syèl asked with a tinge of amused delight.
"That will depend on you."
Syèl's brow rose in question. "What's that supposed to mean."
Rider held out his right palm. "You will understand soon enough." His fingernails grew long and sharp, and then his hand balled into a fist. The nails drew blood as they dug into the palm, which then dripped onto the pool of blood beneath their feet. "Make your choice." Syèl opened his mouth to answer, but Rider gestured for him to hold on. "Before you decide, I must inform you that what I am transmitting to you is not the vampiric virus, but the bloodline itself. You will be much stronger than a turned vampire of the same rank but, at the same time, require more blood to live.
“Most importantly, however, there is no cure for the bloodline just as there is no cure for humanity." Rider calmly observed Syèl's reactions, the only sound in the coliseum, the 'plop' 'plop' of his blood dripping onto the pool. "If you understand all these, then make your choice."
"Daylight's overrated anyway," Syèl answered with an exaggerated shrug.
A hint of a smile curled up Rider's lips. "Good answer. I will not waste your time any further then." He glanced at the pool. "This should be enough. [ Dusk Pelmut ] ." The sleeve on Rider's burst into dust as several streams of very dark, red blood slithered out of the hybrid's arm. The maggots watched dumbstruck as these uncountable streams coalesced into the form of a mythical Chinese dragon of roughly two meters.
Rider flicked his wrist, and his arm returned to normal, sleeves and all. He looked up at the blood dragon and muttered, "[ Dawn Pelmut ]"
The dragon issued a bellowing cry which shook the caverns for miles, and then began to fly around the length of the arena. To the spectators' surprise, the dragon absorbed the blood scattered around the arena ground. The more blood it drank, the longer and thicker its body seemed. Eventually, it reached an impressive ten meters in length, and its blood scales were so thick, they even looked solid.
The dragon, having absorbed all of the blood in the arena, flew over to Rider then coiled itself around his frame, its massive head looming above. Blood red sockets glared at the silver-haired halben.
Rider observed Syèl, secretly satisfied with the halben's reactions. The blood mage was not overwhelmed by the pressure emitted by the dragon. If anything, he was wildly grinning as if to challenge the dragon to do its worst. But at the same time, there were small but evident sparks between his fingertips. The halben had not relaxed his guard or vigilance even though he looked to be making fun of the whole situation.
"How much do you know about a vampire's nobility?" Rider asked.
Syèl frowned. "You're all Counts?"
Rider's smile surprisingly spread into a warm grin. "I see that rumor of my Uncle is still flying around." Rider ruefully shook his head. "Vampires—pure vampires that is—are segregated into nine ranks: Commoners, Baron, Viscount, Earl, Marquis, Duke, Prince, King, and finally Lord. For vampires, rank directly correlates to strength. Every child born to a vampire is born at commoner status regardless of the parents' rank. Increasing ranks for vampires requires comprehension of the blood arts."
Syèl frown deepened. That was the third time he heard that term. "Blood Arts?"
Rider pointed at the tome. "You see that Book of the Damned you're so proud of? It is merely an introductory supplement for the blood arts. All vampires at less than ten years of age are required to have mastered that book to perfection. Only then can you truly begin the steps to becoming a vampiric noble."
Syèl's previous elation deflated in an instant. "Wait, do I have to read even more books!?"
Rider smiled. "Not exactly. This blood dragon contains all of my memories in regards to the blood arts. The blood we collected should be enough to activate it for a few minutes, five at the most. Within these few minutes, you must comprehend as much of the blood arts as you can. The more you can comprehend, the higher your rank will eventually be. In the future, if you wish to attempt to attain a higher rank, you will need to collect and store vast quantities of blood to reactivate the dragon."
Syèl stared at Rider. "What rank are you?" From what Syèl understood, those born to higher-ranked families would have a much higher chance of becoming nobles themselves. If Rider was a Lord, wouldn't that mean Syèl also had a good chance at becoming a Lord?
"I was a King," Rider replied. He noticed Syèl's slightly disappointed gaze and could not help but chuckle. "There can only be one Lord at a time. King rank requires you to comprehend the Blood Arts fully, but you can only become a Lord by defeating the current Lord." Before Syèl could ask, Rider continued, "The current Lord is Danarius Dracula. He has lived for countless millennia and was the first-ever vampire created in tandem with the werewolf lord. Do you believe such an existence is someone who you can challenge?"
Syèl opened his mouth, but then shut it when he realized the words just would not come out. Challenge a god? How many levels would that require? Would the game even allow him to get that strong? Rider's next words stunned him even more.
"No wait, there was someone who challenged him a thousand years ago." Rider had a rare, sad look as he reminisced about a distant past. "Razznik Y'Terlow. He defeated ten Vampire Kings to gain the right to battle Dracula. That was one of the most intense battles I have ever seen. Of course, Razznik eventually lost, but it was more of a pyrrhic victory for Dracula."
Rider wryly smiled as he recalled a certain red-haired draconian laughing wildly at the scene. Even more so, he remembered the violet-haired beauty next to him.
"Hahaha!" Syèl shook his head as he released self-deprecating chuckles. He muttered under his breath. "I was about to repeat the same thing." ‘ How long do you plan on playing it safe, eh? Survival at all costs!? She would still be alive if it weren't for your damned cowardice!’ Syèl's gaze sharpened as he glared at Rider. "If I'm gonna do it, might as well aim for the top right?"
Rider's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Good!" He flicked his wrist, and the dragon adhered to his order. It issued another roar then dove straight for Syèl.
The blood mage stood his ground as the mass of blood opened its jaws and swallowed him whole. The dragon flew several meters into the air, where it began to revolve around a spot. The revolutions increased in speed, and then the dragon melted into liquid blood. The liquid revolved around a mass at its center till it formed a sphere, around 3 meters in radius.
It was not very perceptible to the human eye, but ever so slowly, the blood sphere began to shrink in size.
Rider knew that as of that moment, Syèl's brain would feel like it was about to explode from streams of information rapidly entering. The amount he could remember and decipher would depend on his self. Not just anybody could attempt this trial. In fact, among the thousands of Summoned, there were probably only about five to ten people with the adequate mental faculty required not to turn into a vegetable. He only judged Syèl worthy because he knew just how hard it was to not only finish but comprehend the Book of the Damned for normal humans.
Rider's eyes shone with a glint as he watched that sphere slowly shrink in size. "I wonder just how much you can comprehend."