New individuals emerged on the battlefield, four in total. Vast analyzed them and determined they were human due to the lack of a vampiric aura. Unfortunately, friendliness was a completely absent characteristic in the demeanor of each one.

"You there! Tell me, from which family do you hail?"

Vast struggled against the chains, apparently having difficulty freeing himself.

The one who seemed to be the leader took a few steps forward before continuing.

"We appeared right after a Transformed, and I even used the skills of a Curse to capture you. Do you still have doubts about who we are?"

"And do you think you're the first person trying to kill me? The life of a prince like me is already 90% based on the idea of avoiding being killed every minute."

"Tsk! It doesn't matter! Yes, we are from the Baskerville house," he gestured intensely, like someone having a stroke. "and I repeat: You're already dead!"

The cuts repeated on one of the remaining two lackeys. When the dead body collided with the ground, three more chains sprouted, finally catching Vast's arms.

I see. He sacrifices someone to catch another...

A few other observations could be made, but nothing worthy of explanation given the fact that we all know where this situation is heading.

"Tell me, are you the family leader?"

"Hmph! Do you think you're that important? I'm just a mere servant! The leader of the slaughter squad, so to speak. No one in the house even considered you worthy of hearing the leader's voice, so they sent me instead. But well, I recently gained a powerful Curse, so it's more than enough to deal with you."

A brief exchange of glances between the two. Disdain from both sides, the difference being that one had mixed in that classic look of an enrustid masochist.

"You're... already dead."

The last of the trio behind him was sliced, and the chains sprouted again, this time putting Vast on a leash. His torso, arms, and neck, everything was ensnared.

For greater convenience, the masochist, I mean, the squad leader explained:

"One minute. That's how long you need to be trapped for the ritual to be complete." No question was needed from the prince. "Once this time passes, a mouth will sprout from the ground and swallow you whole! I don't even know where it leads, so try sending a letter later to let me know."

Vast fell silent, eliciting a short victorious laugh from the unnamed enemy. However, despite the delay, the words came out.

"Do you... have a problem, by any chance?"

A totally indignant huh!? could be heard, but nothing more. Any other words would be suppressed by those of the prince.

"Curses are powerful indeed, but only if you know how to use them correctly." The total of 9 chains began to collapse with the mere movement of his body. "I've been Cursed since I can remember. Do you really think I'll lose to someone like you?"

Without realizing it, the boy took a few steps back. However, not even his fastest run would be able to get him away from that beast.

All the chains broke with the long step that Vast took forward. Everyone could feel the waste of potential — and how intense he go limp — that that enemy was.

"S-Shit...! You can't just do whatever you want!!" He pointed, indignant.

"I am the prince, so technically I have permission to do anything." He put away the nunchaku, pointing only with the Red Shooter. "And now, I sentence the traitors to death!"

The boy jumped back, calling for any help he could get now. Unfortunately, not even any gods were on his side at this moment.

An invisible beam bulldozed through the air, its rapid existence revealed only by the short thud when the red line pierced the head of the youth, who fell like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

Right, problem solved. Just in quotation marks.

Those were undoubtedly members of the Baskerville house. Given the location, it made sense for them to have appeared in such a way. The main house of the family was nearby, and he only didn't notice it earlier because of the focus on making up for lost time.

Do I still have time for this?

His fists burned with the desire to confront the leaders of the family, but the distance to the Tower and the remaining time before the curse killed him were true stumbling blocks.

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In the end, Vast looked determinedly in the direction of a nearby city, specifically the one for which the traitors were responsible until then.

Of course I won't leave my people in the hands of these vermin!

After that, he turned to the noble who suffered from the transformation. Unfortunately, he was already dead.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you a dignified burial, but I promise those who did this to you will pay with their own lives."

From the beginning, this was far from being just a personal matter for Vast. In any kingdom, traitors should be executed as quickly as possible. However, when it comes to a pact with vampires, the level of danger escalates to incomprehensible heights.

Better keep walking... He looked in the direction he should go. A straight line to the next city, but not without looking back first.

All the citizens of that community were watching him, timidly — Russisch and his wife included. Their looks mixed admiration and concern. The savior of all was about to go into the snake pit, each one more poisonous than the other.

Being a prince, Vast had worked hard to become immune to various types of poison, but that was beside the point.

Before all those people, he didn't need anything but a simple grateful smile to bid farewell. And thus, he set off toward the mansion. The goal getting closer and closer, a countdown made by the days that remained before he was taken by his own curse.

***

In the end, a whole day had passed. Twelve days remained. Thanks to the strength enhancement from [Mutter], running there had been easier than he imagined, but caution acted as a limiter to his speed.

Ignoring these inconveniences, there he was, in the city of that cursed family, just as he expected.

His father, Vast Los, probably had already decreed the family as traitors, so the information was already public. The citizens seemed to have revolted against the family in the city — the desert that everything was now — but where exactly had they gone?

He was unaware of any kind of underground shelter. The Ghost Church had a mega tunnel underground, this was something known by royalty from all regions, but the place was not accessible to anyone other than Cardinals and Popes.

"They have to be around here somewhere..."

The mansion might be too obvious, but he couldn't doubt the people who sent that incompetent quartet to kill him. He still couldn't believe he had gotten rid of them so easily, but he would never complain.

After a few minutes walking around the small town and finding not a single living soul, the only option left was indeed the family mansion. Visible from practically any point in the city, it boasted on top of that hill the great impenetrable walls, decorated walls, and windows that allowed a view of an interior as luxurious as Von Legurn's own castle.

"The most practical way must be to launch a surprise attack. Since I don't know if it's really them or innocents inside, it's best to avoid any major destruction."

If there was a way to be sure, he could just use the Red Shooter from a distance to cause damage to crucial points of the structure, resulting in a collapse and thus crushing everyone inside. However, fate would never be that good.

He took a step forward, determined. He would combine the nunchaku with the Red Shooter and smash the faces of the damned who had harmed his future kingdom and subjects.

"Hey, you in fancy clothes..." That was his intention until this voice emerged. "Where are you heading?"

Vast turned around and there he was. At the end of the street he was following emerged a young boy, perhaps the same age as him. He wore light clothes and strange shoes, with what appeared to be iron spikes on the soles. The slightly short shorts highlighted a phenomenal pair of thighs, while the sweaty shirt clung to the body to display an enviable physique. Printed on that white fabric, not a number, but the letter T.

"Who are you?" he asked, no Vampire aura in sight. He was undoubtedly a normal person. "Are you a resident? Do you know where the others are?"

"Don't worry, I'll answer all your questions. That is..." He made a sinister footwork, a swankiness that prevented Vast from figuring out where the soccer ball next to him came from. "If you beat me in a one-on-one, Prince Vast."

"Another Cursed!" He pulled out the nunchaku and took up a defensive position. "Another member of the family, I imagine. Damn it! He must have already pulled me into some ability, he's too dangerous to attack now!"

He surveyed the surroundings, no sign of change. Perhaps something that required a specific action from the prince. It was impossible to tell. The best scenario would have been to catch that boy off guard and end it all in one blow, but how to act when the opposite happened?

"One-on-one? What do you mean by that?"

"Well! Come on, don't tell me you don't know what that is, little prince!"

He obviously knew, after all, it was a popular sport among children. The problem was the fact that the boy wanted to delay him. He just wanted to start the game right away to get out of whatever Curse it was, but it was a dangerous action. Before that, he had to get some information from the opponent.

"Tell me the rules of the game. Obviously, I can't play something unfair, so I hope you have the decency to do something balanced."

The boy gave an eager smile — a touch of masochism from the last Cursed.

"It's quite simple. We'll play on a futsal court, each defending our own goal, just like in the basic game. The first to score 30 goals wins, regardless of the point difference. Of course, interventions that are considered external to the game itself will result in immediate elimination."

Vast frowned. "And what about the loser?"

The boy widened his smile and said, "Goes into the collection!"

He turned his back, displaying marks on the white fabric that, even from a distance, Vast was able to recognize. Similar to military emblems that would fit in the palm of his hand, they extended from the collar of the shirt to almost the hem. Countless human faces.

Before the prince could object, the boy continued:

"These are all the ones who tried to defeat me before you. And look! There's still room for at least ten more faces!" He leaned forward to appreciate the pale face of the prince. "What a pity, isn't it? You, a prince, will be just another face among several on this shirt!"

"Who cares?"

"What?"

Vast's gaze narrowed as his forehead wrinkled. An aura began to emanate from his body, one that only other Cursed could feel.

"Who cares how important I would be? You have harmed my subjects, and with that, you have extinguished any chance that might exist for me to forgive you. In other words..." In a quick movement, he began to apply blood on the nunchaku. "You asked for a death sentence."

Hoo~! An excited groan was the signal for the real deal to begin.

"Let's see how long this confidence lasts, Prince Vast."

The ground began to change. The earth was replaced by rough concrete, painted to resemble a futsal court. Behind each of them, a goal also appeared, along with a counter above the midfield, where a photo of both of them was just above the number 0, indicating the current number of goals.

Vast extended the nunchaku, the red chains firm enough to stop any ball that came his way. Against a Cursed whose potential he didn't know, the fight began now!