Volume 9 Chapter 7 An Unchangeable End
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
The village was under attack.
Flames devoured the houses, orange light flooding the twilight, heat blasting Sylvia’s face.
”What… bandits?” Sylvia whispered, stunned.
Two girls stood frozen. The village, peaceful yesterday, now burned. Their shock was only natural.
”RugRug, get Lady Sylvia out of here!” Viola shouted, sprinting toward the flames.
”Viola?!” Rugandia cried.
”That idiot!” Sylvia muttered, heart racing. But she turned to Rugandia. “We need to leave. The villagers outside will be panicking. As a Croce, I have to lead them.”
”Y-Yes, understood!” Rugandia stammered.
Sylvia, as powerless as in her past life, worried for Viola but prioritized Rugandia’s safety. This can’t be real. It’s just a dream, right? If it’s not… Anxiety crept in, but she pushed it down. I have to protect Rugandia.
Rugandia gasped, staring upward. Sylvia followed her gaze.
Eyes glowed in the sky—the same eyes I saw in Beast Country?
”Where are you going?” a voice called.
”Maid leader—” Sylvia began.
But Rugandia crumpled, struck in the knee. She collapsed to the ground.
What— Sylvia froze. She’d seen the attack but couldn’t react. A blade flashed before her eyes.
”Don’t move, Lady Sylvia,” the voice warned.
”You—” Sylvia started.
Her vision lurched. A blow to her head, merciless, sent her sprawling. She realized she’d hit the ground only as her sight shifted.
”You’re… a spy,” Sylvia rasped, teeth gritted.
”Oh? You catch on quickly,” the voice replied, smug. “I didn’t think you were that sharp.”
Sylvia knew instantly—Nelia, the maid leader. How could I miss it?
She tried to stand, but her body refused. Just one hit, and I’m this weak? Humans are so fragile.
”Are you going to kill me? Or take me somewhere?” Sylvia asked, stalling for time.
She felt oddly calm, banking on this being a dream. I probably won’t die. But it’s just a guess—no guarantee.
”Quite composed, aren’t you? Or is this your way of burying fear?” Nelia didn’t answer, seizing Sylvia’s collar and dragging her toward the flames. Viola’s borrowed nightclothes scraped through the mud, ruined.
”Let go, Nelia! Why are you—” Sylvia pleaded.
She couldn’t resist. Sylvia Croce was too weak, unable to fight even a foe she hadn’t feared. She struggled, but her body only dragged limply across the ground.
Houses burned fiercely, their heat searing even from a distance. Then she saw it—a figure lifting another, fangs sinking into their neck. Vampires?
Villagers collapsed, dragged from homes, discarded like refuse. Screams rose and were silenced, mouths covered. The horror overwhelmed Sylvia’s senses.
Her eyes caught a figure on the ground, golden hair splayed in the dirt. She froze.
Viola?
The vibrant eleven-year-old, so full of hope, lay lifeless, mud-streaked, discarded. A girl who dreamed of adventure, crushed like an ant.
No… Viola! Sylvia’s vision blurred, her mind blank with grief.
The villagers of Sand were slaughtered methodically, like daily chores. The cruelty was unbearable.
Is this my fault for coming here? Or… was this already fated?
The Three Houses’ conflict had sparked countless theories. Some whispered of a hidden hand, but nations avoided deep investigations to prevent escalation. The truth, uncovered years later with Brave Knights, pinned Klock’s murder as the trigger—a deceptively simple cause.
”Nelia,” Sylvia said, voice steady. “You’re a spy for the Demon Lord’s Army.”
Nelia said nothing, her brow furrowing. Her silence was as good as confirmation, surprised by Sylvia’s clarity.
The Croce today, Croce’s Estate would burn. The raiders—Vampires, Demon Lord’s Army—were behind it. They’d sown discord among the Three Houses, driving Sylvia to her death, costing Klock his home.
”Count Trenton,” Nelia called to a man.
”What about her?” he asked, glancing at Sylvia.
”Croce’s daughter. I brought her, but what now?”
”Kill her,” he said, barely looking.
Sylvia’s fate was decided in a moment, like sorting trash. Everyone’s the hero of their own story, yet mine ends so easily?
Nelia raised her blade to Sylvia’s throat, her movements cold, practiced. She’s served Croce for years, yet she’d slit my throat without hesitation? Sylvia wanted to cry, but there was no time.
Klock! she screamed in her mind, eyes squeezed shut, a blade at her throat. This is a dream. It has to be. But fear gripped her. I don’t want to die.
”This is just a dream,” a voice said. “A finished event. Interfering now won’t change history.”
Sylvia felt unmoored, detached from the world.
”What?” she gasped.
Nelia’s blade passed through her, cutting air. The maid leader dusted her knees, looked around calmly, and walked away, sheathing her knife.
No one saw Sylvia. The raiders, the villagers—they all ignored her, as if she’d been erased. The flames’ heat vanished, her body weightless, like she’d died.
”That was close,” a voice said.
”Who’s there?” Sylvia whispered.
A woman’s voice, youthful yet sharp, came from behind. But no one was there.
”You’re about to see something interesting,” the voice said.
”Interesting?” Sylvia frowned. In this chaos, what could be interesting?
”Those eyes in the moon just now,” the voice continued. “Seems they were that girl’s doing. A mere human with such a fascinating trick.”
The words carried an aged cadence, yet the voice was young, vibrant. Two figures approached—a small one cloaked in a hooded mantle, radiating unease, and a man in a cassock beside them. A Theocracy cleric?
”She’s already been bitten?” the hooded figure asked.
”Yes,” the man called Count Trenton replied. “She was… pleasing to look at.”
Sylvia’s stomach churned. They were talking about Viola—her beauty, her youth. They targeted her for that? A sex slave? The thought was vile.
”Stop it,” the youthful voice cut in. “It’s pointless. This is just a vision, a past event. You can’t interfere anymore.”
Sylvia tried to pick up a stone, but her hand passed through it. She couldn’t touch anything. Looking down, she saw her feet hovering slightly above the ground. I’m not even touching the earth.
”Put me back in the dream,” Sylvia demanded.
”Impossible,” the voice said. “All you can do is watch.”
Sylvia was severed from the dream, a mere observer. Resistance was futile.
A groan broke the silence. Viola, collapsed on the ground, clutched her head, struggling to rise.
”No…!” Viola screamed, her voice raw.
Sylvia rushed toward her, knowing it was useless. Then Viola’s back exploded. Blood sprayed, bones jutting out, tearing through her flesh.
Vampire transformation…
Blood stained the ground red. From the protruding bones, wings formed rapidly. Viola’s eyes glowed crimson, fangs elongating. She staggered to her feet, blood dripping from her neck and eyes, her expression vacant, like a zombie.
”Her eyes,” the hooded figure said. “They’re already monstrous.”
Sylvia noticed it then—Viola’s left eye was a black void, like a hollow.
”She was born with a Unique Skill,” the figure explained. “The Cursed Eye of the Moon Mirror, projecting eyes onto the moon. And upon becoming a Vampire, she manifested another—a second Cursed Eye in her left eye. A human with two Unique Skills? Unheard of.”
Unique Skills were rare, said to appear in one person per town. Multiple Skills in one person were thought impossible—until Viola. She’s proof the stories were wrong.
”The legend of Vampire Princess Viola begins here,” the figure continued. “She’ll face hardships, then wreak havoc on the Demon Continent. But this showing ends here.”
The world blurred, dissolving into mist. The dream ended, its temporary scenery fading. Viola vanished, Rugandia faded, Sand Village erased. Only a blank, white void remained.
A demon descended before Sylvia.
”Who… are you?” Sylvia asked.
”Oh? I’m Kispe,” the figure replied, a petite girl in a chic black overall skirt, smiling sweetly. “We met last night, didn’t we? Or is your memory slipping, along with your appearance?”
Wings like a pterodactyl’s spread behind her, a barbed tail swaying. Her white, otherworldly feathers marked her as monstrous despite her delicate look. Not friendly. She’s a demon, here to corrupt.
”You’re the Demon Lord?” Sylvia ventured.
”No, no,” Kispe laughed. “Just a humble Succubus.”
She’s far stronger than that. Sylvia, powerless as Cianie, sensed Kispe’s immense presence—like a whale claiming to be a minnow.
”How curious,” Kispe mused. “Your form’s changed, and I sense no magic power. If not for your sunny aura, I might’ve missed you. I’ve been searching for you.”
Searching? Sylvia’s heart sank. This must be the Crimson Spire. She’s after Cianie, likely with the Demon Lord’s Army.
”What do you want?” Sylvia demanded.
”Well,” Kispe said, her eyes glinting, “I planned to evict you from the Crimson Spire. But seeing you like this, I can’t just send you away empty-handed. What a delightful surprise—I wish I’d noticed sooner.”
Her gaze was predatory, appraising Sylvia like a ruler sizing up prey.
”How much do you remember?” Kispe asked. “You don’t recall me, but what about Sir Klock?”
”Why do you know about Klock?!” Sylvia snapped.
”Oh, good,” Kispe purred. “You remember your lover. It’d be a shame if you forgot him, since he’s our hostage.”
Hostage. The word froze Sylvia. The worst possible scenario.
”Don’t worry,” Kispe said. “He’s unharmed. I’ll reunite you soon. I wouldn’t dream of separating lovers.”
But your hearts are your own to decide, Kispe added with a smile that sent chills through Sylvia.
No power to fight. A strange realm. Klock a hostage. Sylvia realized she was trapped, utterly powerless.
”Give Klock back,” she said, voice trembling.
”Of course, Hero,” Kispe replied. “I’ll take you to him—along with a contract just for you.”
”Contract…” Sylvia echoed.
The word felt sinister. As Cianie, a Hero with immense magic power, she could shatter slave contracts effortlessly. But as Sylvia, powerless, what could she do?
”No need to fear,” Kispe said, tracing a heart shape over Sylvia’s stomach with a delicate finger. “This contract will let you reclaim your beloved and protect him forever.”
* * *
Kispe gazed at the chained girls in the dungeon. Viola, slightly haggard but fierce-eyed, stood out among the Dhampirs—villagers transformed by the Vampire ritual.
She looked down at the corpses littering the floor, likely girls who’d angered the Vampire Nobility and were made examples.
”How interesting,” Kispe said. “She’s worth keeping alive.”
Naked, their bodies torn open, they lay sprawled on the ground amid pools of blood.
Born as lesser races, doomed to such fates. It stirred a faint unease in Kispe. If they were my kin, no man could toy with them like this.
”Two Cursed Eyes in her left eye,” the hooded figure said. “Manifesting a second skill while alive—she’s a rare specimen. Count, release her.”
”But…” Count Trenton hesitated, his ugly gaze lingering. He’d want to take her back to his castle, humiliate her further.
The Count had a taste for girls, it seemed. Successful Vampire conversions were dragged to his lair, dressed in revealing gowns, kept as sex slaves to be abused and toyed with.
But Parl Forestier paid his whims no mind. To her, Vampires’ desires were irrelevant. She sought the world’s wisdom, and if it gleamed in a slave’s eyes, the girl’s value outweighed all.
”You,” Parl said to Viola. “Work for us from now on? It’ll be confusing at first—rage at your family’s killers, no doubt. But throwing your life away in anger won’t help.”
”Then… grant my wish,” Viola replied, her voice hollow.
”What is it?”
”Give me that man’s life.” She pointed at Count Trenton, hatred burning in her eyes despite her blank face.
”Don’t get cocky, brat!” the Count snarled. “You inferior trash, daring to mouth off—”
He must’ve been tormented by her defiance. Kispe chuckled softly. As the Count reached for Viola’s throat, it happened.
”Very well,” Parl said.
The corpses stirred, rising abruptly. The girls, gutted and slain by Vampires, moved as if alive.
The Count yelped in shock, tackled sideways and crashing down.
”What?! Lady Parl, what’s the meaning—”
The dead girls swarmed him. Before he could scream, his jaw was torn away. Monstrous strength snapped his legs, ripping them from the knees with brute pulls.
He tried to fight, but arms were bitten off, bodies pinning him. Helpless, he was devoured.
The dead feasted like a harem of naked women overwhelming him—not with whispers or caresses, but teeth sinking in, flesh gouged out, every inch devoured in a mocking embrace.
In moments, he was gone, reduced to nothing.
The corpses collapsed again, remembering their death. Blood-smeared, they seemed almost satisfied—revenge exacted in the afterlife.
”Your wish is granted,” Parl said. “Now you join our ranks. I’ll ensure Hanover treats the successful converts well.”
The Dhampir prisoners looked terrified, though saved. The method was horror itself. Only Viola seemed dazed yet hopeful, a spark in her eyes.
”Are you… the Hero?” she asked.
”What? Think a Hero came to save you?” Parl scoffed. “Heroes save worlds, not one little girl.”
Vampire Viola was taken to the Moon Court. Soon, she awakened as an apostle, surpassing Parl’s expectations, rising as a fearsome Vampire.
* * *
”Kispe,” Parl said later. “There might be a way to truly revive the dead.”
”Intriguing,” Kispe replied. “We do that all the time.”
”No. I mean restoring them exactly as they were—full return from the grave.”
Once, this world was a wasteland, laws shattered, the dead overflowing without return. But that was long ago. The broken world merged with nine others, realms overlapping. The junctions warped into otherworlds. An empty vessel and nine full ones—order flowed through, equalizing like water in cups.
”Goddess Teekua’s feat endures,” Kispe noted. “The dead filter through the Abyss, blooming in the Grand Cathedral. They never return as before. You know this, Ms. Parl. If you insist… how would you revive them?”
She never explained. But she’d drawn hints from me and Ms. Viola. I could guess what she’d seen and pondered.
”The Hero’s intrusion into the Crimson Spire makes her plan possible,” Kispe mused. “So there is a way into forbidden realms.”
Notes:
• Sylvia – The hero who accuses Klock of abandoning her in her past life. She was reborn as Anna after dying in a fire and holds a grudge against Klock.
• Rugandia – Human maid from Sand Village appearing before Croce Estate’s fire, assigned by Sylvia’s father as her loyal, diligent servant.
• Nelia – Head maid appearing in Sand Village before Croce Estate’s fall, halts Rugandia from hiring Viola, judging her unfit. Calm, strict leader. A spy for the Demon Lord’s Army, responsible for the village attack and Sylvia’s capture.
• Count Trenton – A vampire noble who abuses converted villagers, killed by Parl’s revived corpses. Cruel and lustful, targeted by Viola for revenge.
• Cianie – A noble girl with a fluffy white and light blue dress, indicating her high status. She has a hesitant and flustered personality but is kind and courteous. Her relationship with Klock begins as an accidental encounter and develops into a romantic interest. She has a fiancé but expresses feelings for Klock, complicating their relationship.
• Parl Forestier – She is the Demon King’s strategist, appeared as a sharp-eared, high-pitched voice, known for her role in annihilating resistant tribes.
• Goddess Teekua – The deity who saved Sylvia after her death and granted her rebirth as a hero.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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