Chapter 71

They were in a clearing some distance from the city. Dry grass grew around them, and crickets chirped nearby.

The moon in the night sky gazed silently down upon Rickart and his companions, as if it were the sole witness to what was happening.

Beside the blazing bonfire lay a man whose entire body had been bound. Tears and snot streamed down his face as he pleaded for mercy.

“I-I have a family. They were taken hostage. I had no choice. No choice at all. Please…”

The pleading man was none other than the person who had betrayed Rickart. Acting as a sort of double agent, he had warned the vampire in advance that Rickart was coming.

His story sounded quite tragic, but Rickart did not respond. He simply held a silver dagger over the bonfire, heating its blade.

Neither Rickart nor Ice appeared particularly interested in the man’s pitiful circumstances. All three wore indifferent expressions. None of them was easily swayed by sentimental appeals.

More importantly, the man was lying.

He had no family. There was no need to employ any special ability or interrogate him to realize something that obvious.

Only one thing was genuine: his terror.

That was all, and it was enough.

“You have two choices, Marly. You can die painfully, or you can die in an instant. Tell me everything you know—the locations of the other vampires’ lairs, whether there are any more traitors, everything.”

The fire reflected wildly in Rickart’s intelligent eyes, but the resolve behind them was as solid as stone.

The traitor named Marly looked back and forth between Rickart and the red-hot dagger with a trembling gaze.

Then he suddenly began to chuckle. No one could predict where a person’s emotions might turn when driven to the brink by fear. Perhaps he had given up on living, or perhaps he had accepted his death.

They said one could fathom the depths of the deepest waters but never the human heart. Yet a terrified man would readily reveal what lay at his core.

“Heh-heh-heh… Heheheheh! Hic, hic, hic…”

Rickart, Ice, and Rickart merely watched him laugh like a madman, their expressions devoid of emotion.

“Rickart, Rickart, my friend. What will you gain from this? You can kill vampire after vampire—hundreds or even thousands—but who will ever acknowledge it? Do you think vampires will disappear from the world? Everything you’re doing is meaningless in the end, Rickart.”

“Why do you think so?”

Rickart, who had merely watched with apparent indifference until now, asked the question. Marly answered with a smile still lingering on his face.

“Because life is too painful. Do you think paradise will come if the vampires disappear? Do you think there’ll be salvation? Not a chance. The ones who torment humans most cruelly aren’t vampires. They’re other humans. The world won’t become any worse just because one man like me works for vampires. What’s wrong with making some money along the way? That’s all it is. Fuck. Fuuuck! That’s all it is! Why are all of you taking it so seriously?! A traitor to humanity?! Fuck that! Fuck!”

Overcome with emotion, Marly trembled violently. Yet the three neither agreed with him nor denied what he said.

That somehow made them even more frightening.

“You don’t know anything, Marly.”

Rickart spoke calmly. He rose with the red-hot dagger in his hand and approached Marly. Only then did Marly begin trembling with fear again.

“H-Hey, wait. Money—I’ll give you money. I’ve saved some up. Rickart, my friend, just listen to me.”

With his entire body bound, Marly writhed like an insect. He scraped himself across the ground in an attempt to retreat, but there was no escaping Rickart’s slow approach.

Rickart pinned Marly’s head to the ground with his knee, drove the dagger into his throat, and sawed through it. Because the blade had been heated in the fire, it produced a brief sizzling sound before quickly cooling.

“Cough! Gah! Cough! Grrrgh…”

Marly convulsed before swiftly dying. Rickart shoved the corpse with his foot, rolling it aside. Blood poured across the ground, leaving a long trail.

After roughly concealing the corpse in the grass, he returned to the bonfire.

The quiet night, the chirping crickets, the blazing bonfire, the stars and moon overhead, and the smell of blood were all that remained.

“To fall into depravity for money… Absurd. Most people become servants of vampires because they desire eternal life.”

Rickart spoke bitterly as he cleaned his dagger.

Now that they had dealt with an ordinary vampire, all that remained was for him to tell them about high vampires.

Rickart and Ice remained silent and did not press him.

Rickart stared into the bonfire for some time, seemingly lost in thought, before opening his mouth.

“As you saw today, ordinary vampires generally live alone. That is because creating another vampire diminishes their own power. Vampires are therefore extremely cautious when creating ‘children.’ Recklessly increasing their numbers even appears to be considered a crime among them. The punishment is to place the offender inside a coffin, nail it shut, and bury it deep underground. They remain there forever, unable to die and tormented by hunger.”

“So even they have rules of their own?”

“They have rules, but fundamentally, they have no interest in one another. Do not expect them to maintain any meaningful order. In any event, vampires grow weaker with each succeeding generation. Their minds endure only slightly longer than those of humans—roughly eighty to a hundred years.”

“They have a limited lifespan? I thought they were immortal.”

In response to Rickart’s question, Rickart tapped his temple with his index finger.

“That is approximately how long their minds can endure. Their bodies are immortal, but their minds eventually collapse, and they become true monsters. Such creatures are known as ghouls. Have you heard of them?”

“I’ve only heard that they’re monsters that devour humans.”

“They are ferocious and savage, but they lack intelligence, so killing them is not particularly difficult. They wander through forests until they are slain by wild beasts or werewolves. Sometimes groups of farmers tear them apart with farming tools.”

It seemed that vampires possessed weaknesses as distinct as their strengths. If they did not, they would have no reason to live in hiding.

So-called witch hunts occasionally occurred in rural communities, and vampires were sometimes swept up and killed during them.

Furthermore, people in the countryside knew everyone who lived nearby and how they went about their lives. If a sinister creature like a vampire wandered into the area, it would be discovered almost immediately.

That was why vampires generally lived in major cities—places where no one cared if someone died in the slums.

“However, there are always exceptions. Vampires whose bloodlines are close to those of the True Ancestors live well beyond a century and possess extraordinarily powerful blood. They form extremely insular families and live together. These are called vampire houses, and their members are commonly known as ‘high vampires.’ They are qualitatively different from ordinary vampires. The most famous houses include Draken, Fasania, and Vanstein.”

Vanstein was the house of both the client who had issued the special-class commission and the vampire who was its target.

“I thought House Vanstein was a count’s family. Did vampires become nobles?”

“That, I do not know. Perhaps one of their ancestors was a human who later became a vampire, or perhaps a vampire house was granted a noble title. There is no way to know. But no one can interfere with a house of that stature—not the Emperor, nor the Holy Emperor. They simply leave it alone and pretend it does not exist.”

“How can they do that? I don’t understand.”

“From what I have heard, they conduct an investigation every once in a while, whenever the matter begins to draw attention again. But they never find any evidence. So they leave the house in some worthless borderland and forget about it. Even people like me do not go out of our way to interfere with them.”

The Emperor and the Holy Emperor faced threats more urgent and formidable than mere vampires.

Those threats were the provincial nobles, the cardinals, and the secular houses.

One wrong move could cost them their power or even see them deposed. They saw no reason to expend manpower and money on something like this.

Even so, Rickart found it difficult to understand.

Yet in another way, he could understand it.

More than anything, it simply left him feeling uneasy. It was as if he had learned one of the world’s secrets that he would have been better off never knowing.

“The most important thing when confronting a vampire is to keep your heart from wavering. What makes those abominations truly frightening is their ability to slip into the empty spaces within your heart and corrupt you. Remember that.”

With those words, Rickart rose. It seemed he was preparing to leave.

“The truth is that even I know very little about high vampires. However, it seems I did not know enough about the two of you, either. I do not know why you intend to kill a high vampire, but I wish you good fortune in battle.”

Then he simply walked away.

His footsteps gradually receded until they disappeared into the darkness of the night.

“That information wasn’t as useful as I expected.”

Rickart looked at Ice as he spoke. Ice seemed to ponder the matter alone for a moment before replying.

“What do you want to do? Go back and report our progress to Volka? Or…”

“Go directly to meet the client?”

“Yeah.”

But had Marly truly been corrupted by a vampire?

Everyone felt greed for money.

“Hmm. Should we at least send a letter?”

“Let’s do that.”

They had originally agreed to return and discuss the matter with Volka before making a decision, but they could simply continue onward and meet the client.

It might have seemed rather willful, but adventurers were like that by nature. The greatest difficulty every clan leader in the world faced was keeping unruly adventurers under control. Rickart and Ice were no exception.

Still, surely that was better than indiscriminately killing people and causing trouble. There were plenty of truly troublesome adventurers in the world. Given the nature of their profession, the boundary between adventurer and criminal was often blurred.

Rickart stamped out the bonfire and left the clearing. The only thing remaining was the corpse hidden in the nearby grass.

From Gates, Rickart sent Volka a letter. He wrote that they had easily killed a vampire and that, based on what Rickart had told them, there did not appear to be much cause for concern.

He told Volka not to worry too much and explained that he and Ice would be departing for a place called Vanstein.

Vanstein was a territory belonging to the Kingdom of Netherland, located far to the west of Ernberg.

According to the locals, the journey would take approximately a week if they stopped at villages and cities along the way.

Rickart obtained the supplies they needed in the city and set out with Ice. This was the first time the two of them had gone on an adventure by themselves.

Autumn had fully arrived, and the wind was rather cold. The mornings and evenings were chilly enough that they needed to dress carefully.

Rickart wore his red cloak, while Ice wore a black one. Ice carried the pack. He was older and knew how to use mana, after all.

People did not immediately recognize Rickart merely because he wore a red cloak. He had become so famous that red cloaks had spread like a fashion trend.

However, red fabric dyed with cinnabar was expensive, so most people wore cloaks colored with dyes extracted from flower petals. After being washed a few times, their color quickly faded to pink.

Rickart and Ice had once ranked first and second at the Academy. It was difficult to find anyone capable of opposing even one of them, let alone both. They were therefore not particularly concerned about their safety, but even they could do nothing about the weather.

Autumn rain began falling on the very first day of their journey, causing them considerable hardship.

The sun set earlier than expected, forcing them to take shelter from the rain inside an abandoned house. However, other people had already sought refuge there.

There were approximately fifteen men and women. Judging by their cheap clothes and gaudy ornaments, they appeared to be prostitutes and a pimp who wandered from place to place.

“Welcome, young strangers. Have you come to rid yourselves of your virginity?”

The pimp spoke with the clear intention of teasing them, and sure enough, the prostitutes began giggling.

Rickart and Ice did not answer. They settled into an isolated corner and prepared to light a fire with the tinder they had brought. The pimp, however, handed them a burning piece of firewood.

“Use this, young travelers.”

“Thank you.”

Rickart expressed his gratitude as he removed his hood. The prostitutes’ eyes widened when they saw his cute, handsome face.

“Oh? Isn’t he adorable?”

“Did you lose your way? Where’s your mother?”

“Want your big sister to hold you?”

Rickart merely smiled awkwardly at their playful remarks.

The real problem began when Ice removed his hood.

“Gasp!”

The moment they saw Ice’s face, every prostitute inhaled sharply without exception.

His silver hair, reminiscent of moonlight, was soaked and drooped over his porcelain-white skin. That alone made him appear so vulnerable and forlorn that it stirred their sympathy.

His nose was as straight as if it had been measured with a ruler, his facial proportions were flawless, and above all, his eyes conveyed a profound sorrow even when he remained still.

His appearance simultaneously awakened a woman’s maternal instincts and her desire to be held by him.

Even the women who had been spouting vulgar jokes whenever they opened their mouths were now speechless.

The entire room fell silent.

“This won’t do. You should put your hood back on.”

“Yeah. Let me dry my hair first.”

“All right.”

Rickart started a fire in the corner and sat with his back against the wall. He kept his sword across his knees and between his legs, cradling it in his arms.

“A-Are you swordsmen? Here I was thinking you might be princes.”

While the women fidgeted and kept stealing glances at Ice, the pimp finally managed to speak. His manner of speech had changed considerably.

“To be precise, we’re adventurers. We’re on our way to the Kingdom of Netherland.”

“Ah, then you must be heading west. How gracious of you.”

Gracious? In what way?

Ice had not done anything, yet the pimp called him gracious. Apparently, Ice’s appearance itself was an act of kindness.

In any event, because Ice had carried the pack, Rickart rummaged through it to prepare their meal. He intended to use the potatoes and sweet potatoes first, since the moisture might cause them to sprout.

However, one of the prostitutes swiftly picked up the pot hanging over their bonfire, went outside, collected rainwater, and began cooking something.

As time passed, a rich, savory aroma filled the room. It appeared to be corn soup. She added a few pieces of salted meat for flavor, ladled the soup into bowls, and brought them to Rickart and Ice.

“Please, have some.”

The woman could not even look Ice in the eyes. She must have been thoroughly smitten.

Ice certainly seemed to have an easy life. Then again, perhaps the attention was more troublesome than convenient.

“Thank you.”

Rickart accepted the bowls and handed one to Ice. They ate the soup with roasted sweet potatoes and potatoes, leaving them pleasantly full.

The autumn rain made the air outside quite cold, but the abandoned house was warm.

Although it had lost its owner, chance had brought enough travelers together to fill its interior. The warmth of their bodies seemed to lift everyone’s spirits without them even realizing it, despite the awkward silence hanging in the air.

Travelers inevitably encountered all manner of strangers. Unless they drew blades against one another, they were merely fleeting acquaintances who would eventually continue on their separate ways.

Yet such encounters possessed a charm of their own.

The pimp and the prostitutes appeared to bear the marks of difficult lives on their faces and wrinkled hands.

Even so, they did not appear intimidated or dispirited. They used vulgar, rough jokes to relieve the misery of life, reminding Rickart of the soldiers from the old Eastern Expedition.

Both those soldiers and these people were merely warriors struggling fiercely on the battlefield called life.

Most of their days might be terrible, but they were content to laugh whenever fortune granted them a rare good one.

Ice’s appearance had made this a good day for them.

However, happiness and misery were like two sides of the same coin. They could turn over with astonishing speed.

Footsteps approached from outside, and another group entered the abandoned house.

No, they were not travelers.

Several rough-looking men stepped inside. Upon seeing the pimp and the prostitutes, they spoke.

“So this is where you were hiding, you fucking whores. Did you think you could run away without paying your protection money and we’d just let you go?”

“You must think we’re fucking pushovers.”

“Try not to hit them too badly. No one will buy them otherwise. You’ll have to work until you’ve paid off what you owe us.”

Happiness was like a thin glass cup.

It shattered far too easily.

Rickart and Ice had remained quietly in their corner, but the thugs eventually noticed Ice.

“Whoa, what’s this?”

“Penant, are you selling men now too? This one’s a real prize.”

“N-No, those gentlemen have nothing to do with me.”

“Shut up. We’ll decide whether they’re involved.”

Rickart turned toward Ice.

“Let’s deal with them quickly and get some rest.”

“Yeah.”

“You first?”

“I’ll take everyone to the left of the door. Ricky, take the right.”

“Got it.”

While Rickart and Ice spoke, the thugs grabbed the prostitutes by their hair and attempted to drag them outside.

“Aaagh! W-Wait! I’ll go! I’ll go!”

“No! Don’t touch me!”

“Have you lost your fucking mind, bitch?”

Crash!

One of the thugs kicked over the pot that had been hanging above the bonfire. The fragrant corn soup spilled across the floor.

At that moment, Ice rose and drew his sword.

“W-What? You want to fight us?”

The sight of the immaculately maintained blade sent chills through the thugs.

However, their brief moment of hesitation was an opening that seemed to last an eternity to Ice.

There was not even an opportunity for him to display his full skill.

Whoosh! Slash! Swish! Whoosh!

Thud. Thump.

His sword flashed repeatedly. The arms holding the prostitutes by their hair were severed and dropped to the floor.

After freeing the women, Ice struck the men’s heads. His sword swept horizontally, severing their necks with perfect precision.

Meanwhile, Rickart stopped a startled thug from drawing the weapon at his waist, then plunged his dagger straight into the man’s throat.

He kicked the man backward, knocking him down. Then he tripped another thug whose hair had finally risen in terror as he attempted to flee. Rickart pressed his dagger against the back of the man’s neck and sawed through it with all his strength.

The thug’s cervical vertebrae were severed instantly, and his body flopped like a fish.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye.

There was no pointless grabbing of collars, no shouting or angry exchange of words, and not even enough time for anyone to scream.

That was all it took for five grown men to die.

Blood soaked the floor. Everything had ended so quickly that the pimp and the prostitutes could not immediately comprehend what had happened.

The pimp merely blinked his wide eyes rapidly.

“Uh… Uh, uh…”

The pimp and the prostitutes trembled violently. Their bodies shook beyond their control.

Meanwhile, Rickart and Ice calmly picked up the severed body parts and tossed them outside the abandoned house. Rickart then turned toward the pimp.

“Let’s carry out the remaining bodies together.”

“No, I’ll do it.”

Ice activated Mana Drive, effortlessly lifted the corpses of the large adult men, and hurled them outside.

Only the bloodstains on the floor and walls remained.

Rickart dragged his foot across the ground, roughly covering the blood with dirt.

Once they had finished cleaning up, the two returned to their secluded corner and sat down.

Then they relaxed as comfortably as if nothing had happened.

To ordinary people, the entire scene was utterly grotesque. Their swordsmanship had been almost supernatural, but even more disturbing was how completely unperturbed they remained.

In the end, the pimp and the prostitutes braved the rain and left the abandoned house that very night.

The two young men were simply too terrifying to spend the night beside.

To them, Rickart and Ice were far more frightening than a vampire—the sort of creature most people would never encounter in their entire lives.

Thus, the two monsters claimed the abandoned house for themselves and spent the night there.

The sound of the rain helped them sleep soundly.

They had not acted because they wished to proclaim themselves champions of justice. It did not matter whether others feared them or found them disturbing.

The smell of blood was slightly unpleasant, but the autumn rain soon washed it away.