Volume 4 Chapter 38 The New Vampire
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
The Demon’s thorny vines disguised themselves as ordinary plant stems. Even when pulled from a host’s body, they lay limp, motionless.
But the moment they absorbed life force outside the body, they writhed like caterpillars, thrashing until they shriveled to brown husks and died. Some specimens even released faint, pitiful cries. At first, Kian had worried such grotesque scenes might drive Aliona into panic.
Yet she never so much as furrowed her brow. Each time an extraction ended, she only asked in her steady, indifferent voice, *”Is it done?”*
It had been so in August, and now, with December nearly over, nothing had changed.
”Is it finished?”
”Yes.”
Blood stained her pale neck, then began to rewind as though time itself unraveled, the wounds sealing under invisible power. Whether it was Healing Magic or some form of Restoration Curse, Kian could not tell. As always, Aliona cleansed herself with magic and rose from the bathhouse drain where she had been crouching.
”Here is the vine we removed this time.”
Under the bathhouse lantern she displayed a narrow object, scarcely two centimeters long.
It had gorged itself on her blood, and now glistened red-violet and green, bristling with tiny thorns in the shape of a vine. It looked like nothing more than a fragment of some common plant.
”They keep shrinking. This one I cut out back in a town on the eastern outskirts of the Franz Kingdom… and this was the first I removed here in Crete.”
From his cloak’s hidden wraith-pouch, Kian drew out two bottles.
On the black stone floor he set them side by side: one contained a coiled vine, the other a shriveled stalk no larger than a twig, leaning against the glass.
That twig was five centimeters. This newest one, barely two. The growth had been halved again. Clearly the parasite’s cell division was being suppressed.
”Excellent,” Aliona murmured, watching as he sealed the fresh sample inside its jar. “The southern sun is dulling the Thorn Demon’s activity. If we keep removing them, perhaps the cells will weaken until they cannot multiply at all.”
”In that case,” Kian said, “we may never need to risk summoning the Thorn Demon again merely to overwrite its command.”
Aliona gave a small nod.
”A hopeful speculation, yes. Then once we travel back from Franz’s eastern town, we’ll measure how far the cells regrow. By testing different patterns, we can pinpoint how long you must remain bound here in Crete.”
”If a single month of sunbathing could suppress growth for half a year,” Kian mused, “then there would be little reason left to consider summoning a Demon.”
”Indeed. Calling one would only trouble Ms. Sarah and the others. My reputation among our companions would suffer as well. We’ll be together for a long time yet—I cannot afford to squander their trust.”
”Aliona,” Talia said gently, “whatever Sarah, Linca, or Rufna might think, neither Kian nor I would ever change our opinion of you. You are a witch of extraordinary strength and talent.”
”Thank you, Ms. Talia. Then I must live up to those expectations. Let us see this messenger’s duty through without incident.”
A white dress and dark green robe shimmered into existence around her figure. Kian handed the High Elf Head Magician an envelope containing shards of the Windsong Blade and a hair tie.
”Deliver these to Rufna and her lady. Tell Rufna also to ask Lord Guy for an analysis.”
”Understood. On the way back to the eastern town I’ll ask Chatillon to return Ms. Priscilla the heart. If she refuses outright, I’ll depart at once. But what of this—Lord Jibril may be raising the dead. Shall I inform Lord Guy? If I do, Ms. Priscilla is almost certain to learn of it.”
”It would help if you told Lord Guy in strictest confidence, even at the risk of Ms. Priscilla’s betrayal. I’ll draft a note for you while you eat breakfast.”
Aliona tilted her head. “And Ms. Sarah?”
”She should still be traveling the Frontier territories. She won’t be there.”
Kian hesitated, then shook his head. “Fly straight from Chatillon to the eastern town. There’s no need to stop by the Izerland fortress.”
”If I did, I’d have to teleport first to the outer hills and pass inspection on foot at the gates,” Aliona observed. “It’s not like Chatillon, where the barrier forbids teleportation and forces ships to dock. As for Linca and Natra, perhaps we’ll send letters through Rufna.”
Kian added quietly, “One more thing—Rou’s survival must remain secret. He himself insisted.”
”Oh? Why?”
”He refused to inherit his house. His father, Lord Ryoma, and mother, Lady Hanami, are both on campaign. If Linca learns the truth, she might abandon her post and rush here. And she holds command of the Salon while Sarah tours the Frontier with Princess Maribel.”
Aliona arched a brow. “The acting Head Magician abandoning her duty to dash across the continent? Is Ms. Linca some hopeless brother complex?”
”Not exactly. But at times she does act on emotion, ignoring orders. And her follow-through tends to be sloppy.”
Kian’s tone grew grim. “If she discovered Rou had fled Azrael and his parents were targets for Jibril’s purge, she’d be unable to sit still. She has lived freely all this time, believing the Tsai line secure because Rou was there. But the situation has changed. If she puts her parents’ safety first, the fortress may be left to Natra alone. That cannot be allowed.”
For that reason, Rou had insisted his sister not be told. And Kian agreed. At times, information must be withheld to use Linca effectively.
”Once Sir Ryoma and Lady Hanami are dead or taken, Rou and I will report afterward in person at the fortress. Until then, it must remain secret.”
”Are you certain?”
”Yes. We cannot afford to move our queen from the board.”
At his firm words, Aliona nodded.
”Very well. In Chatillon I’ll deliver your letter to Lord Guy, confront Ms. Priscilla, and then return directly to Franz’s outskirts.”
”Please.”
”Then forgive me—I’ll take breakfast before I leave. I’ve eaten nothing since yesterday, and I’m absolutely starving.”
”If you like, take something for the road. Though most provisions went to Leprobus, so the pantry may be bare.”
Aliona chuckled. “I spent eighty years in a country monastery, living simply. If it’s edible, I’ll enjoy it.”
Aliona smiled faintly at that.
* * *
After escorting Aliona to the pier and bidding her farewell, Kian stopped by the village market. He purchased vast stores of food, including supplies for Minotaur Island, then hurried back to Priscilla’s villa.
In the kitchen he deposited the goods, and from there carried the equipment Aliona had left behind down into the cellar—torture devices, or rather, instruments for bodily transformation.
There was not only a multi-functional chair but also a coffin-shaped bed. The victim lay inside while tubes were fitted into mouth, breasts, urethra, womb, and rectum for injection of fluids or disposal of waste.
It was said to place less strain on the body than sitting upright in the chair. But the sweat and waste would pool inside, fouling the coffin and harming health. The stench would surely become unbearable, and unlike the chair, cleaning would be arduous.
One suggestion was to fill the coffin with cleansing slime, though the amount consumed would be astronomical and costly.
Truthfully, Kian felt the chair was cheaper, easier to clean, and more practical. But neglecting the bed was no option either. It, too, had to be tested.
The Lady had spoken as if assigning errands to a servant—*”Check the chair, check the bed, while you’re at it.”* But these were no chores to be thrust on a familiar. Each test consumed gold and resources as though water itself.
It reminded him of her old life, back when the Empire of Night still stood—days of boundless luxury, fueled by a magical civilization that turned out abundance upon abundance, consumed without end. She had never lost that sense of entitlement.
*And yet,* Kian thought, *this time I cannot call it simple selfishness.*
As he carefully folded the bed’s legs and maneuvered it down the stairs, making sure not to scrape the stone wall, Talia remarked quietly:
”After all, this might one day be the vessel for her own body.”
”True enough. If we cut corners, she’d only regret it. Better to craft the finest body we can—otherwise she’ll grow disappointed in Eleonora and start hunting for her next vessel before long. Still, I’d rather she simply dieted and cared for the one body she already has,” Kian muttered. “A person is meant to have only one, after all.”
He spread the tubes wide so they wouldn’t tangle, then lowered the bed carefully to the cellar floor.
”That reminds me,” he said, “if the Lady abandons her current body… doesn’t that mean the extinction of the ancient vampires?”
”That depends on how you define ‘extinction,’” Talia replied. “To her, discarding one body for another is not the end of the race but its evolution. And I believe the same. Changing bodies means progress.”
Kian put his hands to his hips, studying the bed and chair. “That’s a hard value to grasp.”
Talia shook her head. “Not at all. The transformation isn’t simple. Injecting the elixirs doesn’t just turn a human into a vampire. The body burns with fever—and in that moment, the germ cells of the desired form must be introduced. Only then does the body change.”
”…What?”
”Did you not understand? When we prepare the Lady’s new vessel, Eleonora will be infected with the ‘disease.’ During that fever, you will inseminate her. Then her body will change—into yours.”
Kian’s eyes widened. “But I was told I’m no true vampire. Just something vampire-like.”
”That’s because the Lady’s body still exists. As long as the ancient standard endures, yours is different. But once her vessel is discarded, *you* become the model. You will define the new era’s ‘vampire.’”
Her voice was steady, as ever, but Kian sensed a strange heat beneath the calm.
”A being unweakened by sunlight. Immune to silver blades, unshaken by the divine swords of the Western Church. Undying. And still wielding Transformation, Charm, even the power to create false life from your own body.”
Kian gazed into the cellar’s dark.
”…I see. The ancient vampires were strong. But they had weaknesses. They never conquered the world. Their frailty under sunlight crippled their reach. So the Lady wishes for a body that overcomes every flaw. A *new vampire.*”
”Exactly. One more thing—vampires carried a fatal defect in reproduction. But with you as the standard, their fertility will rival that of humans or Beastmen. That’s why she gave such specific orders regarding the womb and reproductive organs. She means to perfect herself in that regard as well.”
Kian gave a short laugh. “So that’s why I’m the ‘new king.’”
”Precisely. Kian—do you remember that I gave you my first kiss?”
”…Mm. I do.”
”You’re a hopeless pig sometimes. And half the time your words make no sense. But the truth is—though I find it terribly, terribly distasteful—in the end, you will sire Cain’s line with me.”
Kian almost choked. “Wait—sex? With you? You’d accept embodiment?”
”I’ve told you many times—I’m not ready. Not yet. But one day I must. If I never overcome my trauma, never claim a body, then Albert Cain remains nothing more than a fool—a puppet of the Black Onyx spirit Kharab who destroyed his own bloodline. History must say otherwise. After Cain’s death came rebirth—stronger than before. To prove it, I must bear a child.”
”Hmph. Guria, Amora, Sarah, Maribel… all of them share the same refrain—duty to family, duty to the house. Sleeping with men not for love, but for obligation. I’ll never understand it. I live for love, for passion. That’s the hunter of the night I am.”
”And that purity… is why I like you, Kian.”
Talia’s tone softened, then brightened suddenly. “Enough of this! Leprobus is waiting. We must hurry.”
Kian turned back toward the stairs, light spilling from above, and left the cellar’s gloom behind.
* * *
He set a sign beside the guild’s post: *”Kian is away.”* Then he mounted Chin-chin, and took flight for Minotaur Island, where Leprobus awaited.
It was still before noon when he arrived. The island shone beneath unbroken sun, a stark contrast to the overcast skies of their first landing.
Along the eastern coast of Black Island, wrecks of great ships had been dragged ashore, their ribs forming the bones of a new settlement. Though only three days had passed since Leprobus began his “crafting life,” he had already finished salvaging metal and timber from the hulks and was raising the framework of a base.
Kian had expected a few crude huts conjured from sand. Instead, he found real progress. Leprobus was applying himself diligently.
Kian leapt down from Chin-chin, then guided the two wyvern golems to land upon the beach. He began unloading the supplies stacked high upon Man-man.
The sound of hammering ceased, and soon Leprobus lumbered toward him, massive and bare-chested, his only covering a simple loincloth. Fiery red hair blazed in the sun as he scratched his head.
”What day is it? I got so caught up in this deserted-island life I lost track.”
”The 29th morning.”
”Almost year’s end, huh? Feels unreal—just me, endless sun, endless work on an empty island.”
”How’s progress? From above it looked like you’d gathered wrecks and started on the base.”
”Pretty much. Also scouted inland a bit—plants, terrain. Not much else yet.”
”That’s still faster than I expected.”
Kian offered him a new toga, but Leprobus shook his head. “Nah, loincloth’s easier for working.”
”No minotaurs attacked?”
”Nope. They’ve noticed me, I think, but don’t come near. Since the currents stopped, no corpses wash up anymore. I figured they’d try to eat me for meat instead—but nothing yet.”
”So they’re there.”
”Yeah. Inside the labyrinth. No idea how many. They’ll need driftwood for fuel, so I thought they’d come to the beach. Guess they have another exit—maybe on the western coast.”
He plucked some dried meat from Man-man’s load and chewed.
”Did you know the time you’ll be summoned as Asterios?”
”Yes. The fifth of next month, at seven in the evening.”
”Then I’ll be ready—armor and chains, waiting in the center of the summoning circle.”
”That’s the plan. On my very first summoning, I want the labyrinth be cleaned—it reeks of filth. Tell them: ‘Hire cleaners. If no one takes the job, I’ll order again. For now, just post the request.’ They’ll agree. Then I’ll be first to bid.”
Kian glanced at the stout stone pillars rising from the sand.
”If the base is presentable, Asterios can easily recommend Kian’s Merchant Guild. It’s unlikely, but if another guild undercuts us, we’ll need every advantage.”
”Got it. Summoning’s the fifth at seven, so the job post goes up the sixth morning. As long as the base looks decent by then, we’re set.”
”Exactly. I’ll help today. But starting tomorrow, I’m obliged to train with the Order of the Lightning Knights. Since I slew Asterios, I must teach them the Warrior Monks’ deadly arts. At least six of my Secret Techniques—they must study them until they can counter.”
”Can humans even withstand those? Aren’t they all one-hit kill?”
Kian nodded. “They are, but only at first sight. A Secret Technique isn’t flawless. If the opponent knows its nature beforehand, it can be countered—provided their strength is comparable.”
”Huh. Sounds fun. Show me too, during breaks?”
”Gladly. As many times as you like.”
”Great. It’s a promise.”
”So, where are the armor and chains? I have no intention of letting myself be shackled to Crete’s royal family without knowing the details first. I want to study them.”
”At the outpost,” Leprobus replied. “Rou’s plan depends a lot on your acting skills, so prepare carefully. It’d be pathetic if we spent all this effort clearing land for the base only to have the plot exposed and end up fleeing the country.”
”Of course. I brought the rest of Asterios’s head and torso. I’ll consume all of it by tomorrow. The only thing I still haven’t figured out is how to share his thunder with someone else.”
Leprobus rubbed his bearded chin. “Hmm. Ten years ago he didn’t help Crete either, right? Maybe he was just fickle.”
”Not fickle. Resentful,” Kian corrected. “He did hold a sense of belonging—’I’m part of the royal family too’—but it was poisoned by hatred.”
”Really?”
”When I meditate in his form, I can trace his thoughts. I’ve never been good at empathy, but I can share enough of his fragments and circuits to play his role convincingly.”
”I see. Then maybe that works to our advantage. If he hated them, it makes sense to snub the Kingdom. Probably muttered insults in past summonings, too. Just say something like, *’Maybe I’ll help the Lightning Knights… eh, no, you lot annoy me!’* and refuse.”
Kian nodded thoughtfully. “That’s the idea. The wording will need polish, but I’ll reject their request for cooperation. I can’t act as though powers Asterios once had are suddenly gone.”
If necessary, he would even smash royal property to feign a tantrum. But such antics would earn him dangerous enmity. It required just the right touch.
Still, improvisation was his forte. He was confident he could manage—after all, it was no different from playing the role of a brutish husband who beat his wife, a part Kian knew all too well.
Leprobus bared jagged teeth and laughed. “That summoning’s going to be a riot. Wish I could slip in with the crowd just to watch. You’d better tell me all about it after, Kian.”
”I’ll spin you the tale over drinks. Focus on your part.”
”I know, I know.”
The talk ended there. They steered the wyvern golems toward the half-built outpost. While Leprobus hammered fittings into place, Kian and Talia examined the armor and golden chains of Asterios.
Talia deciphered the spirit-letters etched into the links. As they suspected, there was no mention of the staff’s side effects. The chains bound only the soul of Asterios.
What that meant was simple.
Neither the binding chains nor the Staff of Dominion would touch Kian. Guria, however, would suffer the staff’s backlash with nothing to show for it—summoning Asterios yet failing to bind him, taking only the penalty herself.
It was a farce. And an advantage.
All Kian needed was to meditate, trace the bull’s memories, and play the role of General Asterios. No obstacles remained.
After lunch with Leprobus, he joined in building the outpost. Even after the giant slept, Kian worked on alone—carving stairs into the hillside, clearing away the scattered thunderstones from the ground until it was smooth enough to walk barefoot.
Before dawn, he bid Leprobus farewell, then guided his two wyvern golems back across the sea to Grass Island.
* * *
From today onward, his focus would shift. He would accompany the Lightning Knights in training—and begin winning their hearts.
For a merchant guild to flourish in Crete, it was crucial to sink deep ties into the Order of the Lightning Knights, one of the kingdom’s military pillars. The sharper their talent, the more he intended to seduce, recruit, and spirit them away—to Izerland, Eastend, even Dacia.
Kian meant to approach them boldly.
Notes:
• Mag – The wolfwoman under Yelmar—the one who was caught by Kian’s group earlier.
• Linca – Jibril’s favorite girl. High-ranking warrior monk woman from Shin, with strong abilities like ignoring attacks and poisons.
• Leprobus – Rou’s comrade who sacrificed his chance to escape during a pirate raid by pushing Rou off in a small boat. He returned to the deck, sword in hand, to protect the others. Distinguished by his giant blood and burning red hair, marking him as more than human. He is released by Kian on Cyclops Island jail.【v4c23】.
• Kharab – The enemy who stole Talia’s soul and possessed her body; referred to by the Black Onyx Spirit; defeated by Kian.
• Amora – Scipio’s fiance, and the knight of crete.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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