Chapter 70

Humans were not the only beings in the world. They certainly were not its masters, either.

A single dragon could burn an entire city to the ground, and when a massive orc invasion struck, humans had no choice but to wait for it to subside on its own, like a typhoon.

Fortunately or unfortunately, however, such things—things utterly beyond human power—belonged to the distant past.

People had difficulty comprehending anything that was not directly before their eyes. If something had happened long ago, well before they were born, they might even refuse to believe it had ever existed.

And so humanity lived numbly in its little corner of the world, believing itself safe. Yet refusing to believe in something did not make it nonexistent, just as believing in something did not necessarily make it real.

“…So what I’m saying is, why deliberately lift the lid of a cauldron filled with venomous snakes?”

Volka spoke while poking the flames inside a discarded cauldron with an iron rod.

Late at night, three people sat around a bonfire in a secluded clearing somewhere in Ernberg. They were Rickart, Ice, and Volka.

“It’s just a commission, Volka.”

“It’s not just a commission, Ricky.”

Volka clearly opposed the special-class commission. Since he was the clan leader, Rickart had no choice but to respect his wishes. He also respected him as a friend.

Rickart understood perfectly well why Volka was trying to stop him, so he could not simply insist on having his way.

“It might not be as serious as we think. Everything we know is secondhand information. Maybe the Guild didn’t understand it either and simply classified it as special-class.”

“You don’t have to taste shit to know it’s shit. Someone I know knows a vampire hunter. This was back when Delphy and I were only handling minor commissions together, before the Guild War. I happened to meet him once. He said an ordinary vampire might be manageable, but a high vampire is practically a demigod. They possess strength and speed far beyond those of humans, as well as blood magic and the boundless knowledge accumulated over their long lives. The most frightening thing is probably that they drink blood. What am I supposed to do if you get infected and become a vampire, Ricky?”

“Kill me. No, I’ll take care of it myself.”

“Haah… No, listen to yourself.”

“Who is he? That vampire hunter.”

Ice, who had seemed lost in thought, asked the question. He was present because he had strongly insisted that he wanted to participate in the commission as well.

However, Rickart was the one who had received the commission, so Ice could not make that decision on his own.

Volka stared at Ice. He recalled something Dunkel had once said—that Ice was a man obsessed with attaining special-class status.

Volka had felt uneasy about accepting Ice in the first place, but Rickart had wanted him, and so they had lived together as members of the same clan.

However, once Volka accepted someone, he trusted them completely. He had no intention of dredging up the past.

Ice had also behaved well until now, and there was no denying that his help had been invaluable in managing the branch.

Even so, Volka said what needed to be said.

“I know you have an important goal, Ice. But as your clan leader and your friend, I’m responsible for your safety, and I’m worried about both of you. Let me ask you one thing first. Ricky, why do you want to take this commission?”

“It’s not that I want to. It’s that I decided to do it. Besides, it’s my ‘first commission’ after graduation. I don’t want to run away.”

Despite Sally’s warning, Rickart had been the one who chose the card. Backing out afterward simply because it seemed like the wrong choice would be shameful to him. It would be dishonorable, and he did not want to live that way.

Others might ask why he would deliberately risk his life when he did not have to, but perhaps that was the difference between extraordinary people and ordinary ones.

No matter what others said, he would always do what he had decided to do. Conversely, no matter what others said, he would never do what he had decided against. It was something different from mere stubbornness. It was simply part of his nature.

Volka looked back and forth between Rickart and Ice before speaking.

“Fine. Then let’s do this. I’ll invite the vampire hunter here, and we’ll hear what he has to say. After that, we’ll assess our chances. If I decide it’s feasible, I’ll support you. But if it turns out to be completely absurd, I’m against it. What do you say?”

They were no longer students. Their work demanded professionalism. Volka understood that, and so did Rickart and Ice.

They nodded simultaneously.

Two weeks passed after Volka used his various connections and the Guild’s resources to track down the vampire hunter.

It was raining outside, so more people than usual were resting indoors.

Those contractually obligated to meet their deadlines donned cloaks, pulled up their hoods, and ventured outside, while everyone else rested beside the hearth.

Three or four adventurers occupied a table, playing cards to relieve their boredom. They did not appear to be having much fun. They simply laid down and flipped over cards with almost mechanical motions.

Delphy was near the bar, teaching the children how to do their jobs, while Volka snored in front of the fireplace, listening to the rain.

It was a peaceful, languid moment. The weather might have been miserable for those working outside, but to those resting indoors, the sound of rain was the finest remedy for a feverish mind.

Then the door suddenly rattled open, making the sound of the rain outside much clearer.

A man in a soaked hat and black cloak entered with heavy footsteps. He carried a large leather bundle over one shoulder.

Thud. Thud. Thud…

The brim of his hat concealed his eyes, making it impossible to see his entire face, but the peculiar atmosphere surrounding him was unmistakable. He was certainly no ordinary passerby, nor did he seem to be a low-ranking adventurer.

Delphy signaled the card-playing adventurers with her eyes to wake Volka, then addressed the man.

“What brings you here?”

“I am Rickart the Hunter. I heard the branch chief here was looking for me.”

He removed his hat, revealing his face. His beard had been allowed to grow wild, and his features were rugged. Surprisingly, however, his eyes were intelligent.

“Volka was looking for you? Ah, could you be the vampire hunter?”

“Shh!”

“Do not mention those abominations so carelessly. You never know when or where they might be listening. I would appreciate it if you simply called me Rickart.”

What was all this about? Delphy found it ridiculous, but she nodded in acknowledgment.

Volka soon awoke, wiped the drool from his mouth, and stood.

“Ah, you’re here. You’re the vampire hunter, correct?”

“…Please call me Rickart. Might I warm myself by your fire?”

“Of course. Follow me. There’s another fireplace upstairs.”

Volka led Rickart to the third floor. It was a cozy, attic-like space.

There was no need to stoop, and the ceiling was just high enough for a person of average height. However, since the roof was directly overhead, the rain sounded especially loud.

Volka lit a fire in the small stove connected to the chimney and said,

“I’ll bring the others. Please wait here for a moment.”

Volka went back downstairs, awakened Rickart, who had fallen asleep after inspecting his equipment, and returned with Ice, who had been organizing documents with Boribori.

“Hello. I’m Ricky.”

“Ice.”

Rickart and Ice, both dressed in ordinary clothes, introduced themselves first.

Rickart had hung his cloak on a rack beside the stove and was carefully examining his crossbow after releasing its string. Several stakes and a wooden mallet lay around him.

“Rickart.”

Volka, Rickart, and Ice sat across from Rickart with the stove between them.

“What business do you adventurers have with me?”

“We’d like to ask you a few questions about high vampires.”

Rickart answered. Rickart’s expression immediately darkened.

“A high vampire… May I ask why you want to know?”

“We intend to kill one, if possible. Before that, we invited an expert so we could learn more about our quarry.”

“Hmm… On my way here, I heard plenty about the Red Cloak and the Violet. However, this is not a conversation to be approached lightly.”

“We’re not taking it lightly. We make our living by the sword. Nothing about that life is entirely carefree.”

What Rickart said was true, but he looked unmistakably young as he said it. Rickart quietly studied him.

Perhaps because of the disparity between Rickart’s appearance and his tremendous reputation, he possessed a mysterious air. Though this was Rickart’s first time meeting him, he could clearly sense that there was something extraordinary about Rickart.

“I do not mean to dismiss you. However, have you ever seen tiger hunters? I mean the people who hunt enormous tigers capable of tearing knights apart. Surprisingly, they are very ordinary people. They are not even particularly skilled fighters. Yet three of them can kill a tiger, each carrying nothing more than a pole into the mountains. Hunting vampires is much the same. Your swordsmanship will probably be of little use.”

“I understand.”

Rickart accepted his words with surprising composure. Someone extremely proud of his swordsmanship might have considered them insulting, but Rickart did not react that way at all. He was here to listen.

Rickart found his response somewhat surprising.

“Good. Then let us proceed like this. I will teach you how to identify and hunt a vampire. After that, I will show you how to kill one myself. We can discuss high vampires afterward. If you cannot manage even this much, speaking of hunting a high vampire would be absurd.”

Rickart looked at Volka and Ice in turn, then nodded.

Seeing how unexpectedly obedient the adventurers were, Rickart nodded as well before continuing.

“There are two main ways to kill a vampire. The first is to attack its resting place after sunrise. There is no need to open the coffin. Place a stake against the lid and hammer it through. That will finish it. The other method is to burn the vampire completely. However, that method is not particularly effective. They take a surprisingly long time to die. Still, unless they enter water, they will continue burning. Weaken one with a silver weapon, and it will eventually burn to death.”

“That sounds simpler than I expected. But how do we locate a vampire’s coffin?”

“That is the crucial part. A proper vampire keeps servants. Capture and torture them, then force them to reveal its hiding place. There is no need to feel guilty. They are traitors to humanity—the ones who supply vampires with human victims.”

“Don’t we need garlic or holy water?”

Ice asked. Surprisingly, he seemed to believe in such things.

“Garlic is misinformation. That nonsense does nothing. Holy water can inflict minor burns, but it is not fatal. Remember only this: always attack after sunrise. A stake is sufficient to kill one. Everything else is merely a supplementary tool. Finally, never confront a vampire head-on.”

Since that was what the expert said, Rickart simply nodded in understanding.

Neither he nor Ice nor Volka had ever seen a vampire. Rickart thought it would not be a bad idea to see one with his own eyes before making a judgment.

“Vampires usually remain in major cities. They are discovered too quickly in smaller cities or rural areas, so they rarely stay in such places. However, I recently obtained information that one is hiding in the nearby city of Gates. Once our preparations are complete, we shall go and destroy the abomination. You will be safe as long as you remain behind me.”

“Understood. We’re always ready, so we can depart whenever you are prepared, Mr. Rickart.”

“Very well.”

Rickart and Rickart spoke strictly about business, and nothing more. There was no personal conversation intended to help them become better acquainted. It was not because they were indifferent or coldhearted, but because each of them was a professional in his respective field. Rickart had not been invited so they could make friends.

Rickart departed three days later. Rickart and Ice gathered their equipment and followed him. After crossing the Main River by ferry, they traveled west.

The city of Gates was a full day’s journey away. It could be considered either far or near, but the thought of a vampire living so close was unpleasant and sent chills down their spines.

Rickart met with someone who might have been an associate or a fellow hunter and obtained information from him. Afterward, they left their belongings at an inn.

At dawn, he led the two of them into an alley. After walking for around two minutes, they reached an area that was not quite a slum, but was mainly inhabited by people who lived from one day’s wages to the next. The faint stench of sewage brushed their noses.

Surprisingly, the vampire’s lair was hidden in plain sight among the people.

Rickart entered a dilapidated building fit only for vagrants and opened a trapdoor leading underground. The moment he did, Rickart was struck by a familiar scent.

The smell of death.

Rickart descended first with a torch held before him. Rickart and Ice followed.

Before long, they reached the basement and saw a coffin standing upright against the wall.

However, the coffin’s lid was open. Chills instantly raced across Rickart’s entire body.

His associate had betrayed him.

“It’s a trap.”

Thud.

The trapdoor above them slammed shut. Rickart instinctively raised the torch toward it. However, the response came from the ceiling.

“You filthy rat.”

Rickart looked up. Something leaped down and landed on the floor, its pitch-black cloak billowing like wings.

The figure who landed before them had skin as pale as a tuberculosis patient’s. Its crimson eyes gleamed in the torchlight.

“You are not the only one whose trail can be followed, Rickart.”

Just as Rickart hunted vampires, it appeared that the vampires had also been hunting him.

And of all times, their trap had been sprung while Rickart and Ice were with him.

Furthermore, although the sun had risen outside, not a single ray of sunlight entered the basement.

Instead of answering, Rickart swiftly splashed holy water through the air and shouted,

“Run! Don’t look back!”

He drew a silver dagger, but the vampire blocked the holy water with its cloak and immediately reached out to seize him.

Before it could, a flash like a snow-white flake of light streaked through the dark basement.

It was Ice’s sword.

Slash!

The vampire’s arm was severed.

Rickart had instinctively squeezed his eyes shut and did not know what had happened. For a split second, the vampire could only wonder what was going on.

With monstrous reflexes, it hurriedly retreated. However, the basement was cramped.

Rickart drew his sword like a bolt of lightning and charged.

The vampire bared its fangs and kicked off the wall, lunging forward to tear into Rickart with its teeth. Its explosive power and speed were beyond anything a human could easily react to.

“Kyaaaaargh!”

However, Rickart’s ability to judge distance and track movement was equally inhuman. Despite the torch being the only source of light, he watched the vampire with an unwavering gaze that seemed capable of piercing the darkness itself.

More importantly, he could already see almost as clearly as if he possessed foresight what his opponent was about to do. In an instant, he had instinctively combined every fragment of information available to him—the vampire’s gaze, its current posture, the angles of its joints, its excitement, and its state of mind.

The precise moment. The precise force. The precise angle.

A single exquisitely clean stroke, with no need for another.

Whoosh!

Slice!

The blade cut through the air, followed by a light sound like a radish being sliced cleanly in one stroke.

The vampire’s head flew off.

Its headless body did not lose momentum, however, and hurtled into the opposite wall.

Thud! Crash!

By the flickering light of the torch, Rickart calmly looked down at the vampire’s severed head.

Its facial muscles convulsed violently of their own accord before gradually stiffening. In an instant, the head shriveled until it resembled a mummy. It was a truly hideous sight, but Rickart merely regarded it with calm curiosity.

How fascinating.

After confirming that it was dead, he turned toward Rickart and said,

“It seems cutting off its head kills it even without a stake.”

Rickart could not answer.

He stared blankly at Rickart for a long while, as though his mind had stopped working entirely. Finally, he managed to respond.

“Pardon?”