"Captain. By the way—"
It was night.
A desolate night, filled with dry air. Thick clouds stretched endlessly, obscuring the moonlight and draping the world in a cold, grim darkness. In a dim campsite that felt hollowed out and isolated from the rest of the world—with no artificial structures in sight—a small band huddled around bonfires that seemed to struggle against the encroaching gloom.
They were a knight order from a neighboring country, and they had just taken custody of Alphana from the Holy City of Granfloze.
"What exactly did that woman do? She was in a pretty terrible state."
"Right, I suppose I haven't properly explained it to you yet."
The middle-aged captain answered the young female knight's question while slowly stroking his chin. His unit was small, totaling about ten people. They had finished their nightly resupply, and the soldiers were currently enjoying a brief period of downtime.
In the campsite dotted with flickering firelight, the captain turned his gaze toward a single carriage that commanded a heavy presence. It looked like any ordinary merchant’s wagon one might see on the road, but the interior hidden behind the canvas hood had been reinforced with iron bars. It was a mobile prison for transporting the condemned.
"Supposedly, she’s a woman with a trace of Vampire blood in her."
As the captain stated this nonchalantly, the female knight’s expression went blank, and she let out a low, sharp breath.
"...You mean she's a Half-human, Half-demon?"
"No, the records say the amount is truly negligible. Physically and magically, she’s no different from an average adult woman."
The captain crossed his arms and exhaled through his nose.
"However, because of that drop of Demon blood, she could use Charm Bloodline Magic. She used it to take over convenient adventurer parties, stripped them of every cent they owned, and then threw them against monsters to kill them off once they outlived their usefulness. She traveled from country to country consuming adventurers like that—at least, that is the view from Granfloze."
"I see. So she's just a piece of trash."
"Apparently, several parties in our own country were killed in a way that looked like monster attacks. That's why we’re taking her back—to conduct a thorough re-investigation."
Color returned to the female knight's face. She nodded, satisfied for the moment, but then added, "You really should have told us sooner... What would we have done if she’d charmed us?"
"My bad, my bad. The Holy City supposedly placed a seal on her Bloodline Magic, so she really is just an ordinary woman now."
Besides, the captain continued, "Even if she weren't, she isn't in any state to cause trouble."
"..."
The female knight had been assigned to the unit to provide support for a female prisoner. She had peered through the iron bars several times since they took custody of Alphana.
"...I think her hair color changed, didn't it?"
"Yeah. I believe it was originally purple."
Her haggard hair had turned white in patches, and her skin looked like the life had been sucked out of it. She didn't react when called; she simply sat there with dull eyes, muttering something to the void. The knights wondered just what kind of terrifying punishment she had endured in the Holy City.
Of course, neither the knight nor the captain felt any sympathy for a serial murderer who had ruined so many lives.
"That place is as merciless as ever. I heard that not long ago, a group of Ruffians involved in human trafficking were all executed."
"I heard the rumors. That country has always been like that. Why anyone would choose to commit a crime there is beyond me."
The mighty magical technology of the Royal Capital's Magisterica and the absolute medical authority of the Cathedral in the Holy City... it was no exaggeration to call them the center of the world. At the very least, they held the most overwhelming influence on the continent.
"Do not make them your enemy" was a phrase surely coined for people like that.
"At any rate, we’re moving in earnest tomorrow. Rest well so you don't drop dead halfway—"
The captain suddenly fell silent. He spun around, glaring into the darkness away from the center of the camp. He shifted into a low stance, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.
"C-Captain...?"
"Who's there?"
No voice answered his sharp challenge. Not even a twig snapped. The female knight strained her eyes, but saw nothing but the silent, deep night.
"Captain? What is it—"
It happened in an instant.
"—Splendid. Truly splendid. I did not expect to be detected."
A voice offered unreserved praise, followed by the sound of polite yet arrogant applause.
As if a stage hand had swapped the scenery, a man appeared at the edge of the firelight.
"...!?"
The female knight reflexively ducked behind her captain. This was no ordinary traveler. Emerged from the gloom was a man in a gorgeous, deep wine-red gothic coat and a refined silk hat adorned with a large black feather. A monocle glinted on a chain, and he leaned on a walking stick with a strangely curved handle.
He looked like a nobleman from a bygone era, well into middle age. But no true nobleman would wander alone into a military campsite in the dead of night.
Tension electrified the camp. Any normal human would have flinched under the collective gaze of ten armed knights, but the man remained perfectly composed. He even removed his silk hat and pressed it to his chest in an elegant bow.
It was as if the knights were beneath his notice.
"Good evening, humans. Have I startled you?"
"Who are you?"
The captain’s second challenge was barked with more force. He clearly recognized the threat.
"Oh, nothing much. I simply felt the faint presence of a compatriot in this vicinity."
"I asked who you are!"
Ignoring the question, the man put his hat back on. "What spirit. Truly worthy of a unit commander."
The captain eased his blade an inch from its scabbard. The resting soldiers scrambled to their feet, drawing their weapons as an ominous pressure settled over the camp. The man hadn't shown overt hostility yet, but his refusal to identify himself was enough to keep them on edge.
Was he a lost traveler, a Ruffian in disguise—or something inhuman? Just as the captain was about to issue a final warning, another voice chimed in.
"Hmm... is he really that special? I don't feel anything from him."
"Father just loves humans too much. These are just small fry, Sister."
Two children had appeared behind the man as if they had materialized from the shadows.
The female knight felt a cold shiver run down her spine. A girl and a boy stood there, dressed in the same old-fashioned attire as the man. They looked no older than their early teens. Ordinarily, a knight would have no reason to fear children, but this was a desolate wilderness in the middle of the night. There were no towns nearby. This was a world of total darkness where monsters roamed freely. No normal child—and no normal parent—would be strolling through such a place with such nonchalance.
The knights realized they were facing something they should never have encountered.
"You lot... could you be—"
The captain's voice carried a faint tremor.
The man smiled. "Then, I shall introduce myself. I am—"
At that moment, the clouds parted, allowing a sliver of moonlight to fall upon them.
Under the pale glow, the man's features were finally clear.
His eyeballs were a terrifying, unnatural black, and his pupils were the color of fresh blood.
The captain made an instant judgment. "All units, draw your swords!! The enemy is a Vam—"
A gunshot rang out.
Not a single knight reacted in time. Not the female knight, not the subordinates—not even the captain who was the target.
"...Eh?"
The female knight looked to her side.
A gaping hole had been punched through her captain's chest, right where his heart should be.
"..................Eh?"
He coughed up blood. His body wobbled for a second before collapsing into the dirt. He was dead before he hit the ground.
"...Oh? He died."
The boy.
The remaining knights couldn't comprehend what the weapon in the boy's hand was, or how their captain had been killed so effortlessly.
The man sighed. "My son, 'striking first' is a strategy for fragile humans. We must remain noble and high-minded at all times."
"I-I'm sorry... I didn't think he wouldn't even be able to react. Father, these guys really are just weaklings..."
Finally, the female knight's scream tore through the silence. "Nooooooooo!! Captain!! Captaaaaaain!!"
The strongest and most experienced warrior among them had been killed instantly. Even the most disciplined soldiers couldn't maintain their composure in the face of such a reality.
Some screamed, others recoiled in terror, and some simply stood paralyzed. As the unit dissolved into a crucible of chaos, the man sighed again.
"A leaderless mob once the commander falls. My children, do as you please."
The girl shook her head, looking bored. The boy's eyes sparkled.
"I'm not interested. I don't care about weak humans."
"Yay! Then I'll take them all!"
The boy skipped forward. He was a beautiful child, like something from a fairytale. He had slightly pointed ears and fangs bared in a grin—and his eyes were the same black-and-red nightmare as his father's.
A battle requires a certain balance of power between two sides. When the disparity is this vast, it can no longer be called combat.
Terrifying mana converged into the "Gun" in the boy's right hand.
"—Well then, big brothers and big sisters, play with me!"
A one-sided slaughter swallowed the campsite.
"Aaaagh!!" "Uwahhh!? Stay back, stay awayyyy!!" "No, nooooo!! Someone!! Someone hel—"
The man watched the tragedy—the mix of gunshots, laughter, blood, and death cries—with a neutral expression. He turned to the girl pouting behind him.
"My daughter, we are the absolute masters of this world. Sometimes, showing our strength to the pitiful weak is—"
"I hate Father's lectures!"
The girl turned away and ran off into the night, having lost all interest. The man slumped his shoulders.
"Good grief. The rebellious phase... the unavoidable fate of a father."
He walked through the carnage, stepping calmly over the corpses until he reached the prisoner’s carriage. He traced the canvas hood with his walking stick, and the fabric tore open to reveal the interior.
He stroked his chin, nodding with interest. "The faint presence of a compatriot... I see, a mixed-blood."
Alphana.
She sat shackled inside the iron cage, curled into a ball as if she couldn't hear the screams around her.
"Can you hear me?"
She didn't react, but she wasn't silent.
"—Everyone..."
She was saying something.
Her voice was hollow and worn thin, but it was saturated with hatred. Only the man's inhuman hearing could catch it.
"Everyone... everyone should just die. Every single person who gets in my way... I'll kill them all..."
The man smiled with satisfaction. "Quite interesting. Yes... this could become a fine 'story'."
He stepped onto the carriage bed, looking down at Alphana from his towering height.
"Do you hate this world?"
She still didn't respond. He continued regardless.
"If you have the will for revenge, you should drink my blood."
He extended his left hand toward the bars, treating the echoing screams as background music.
"It will be an excruciating agony. For seven days and seven nights, you will wail until you wish for the peace of death. You may scratch your own throat and bite off your own tongue from the pain. But if—if you can endure it..."
His words were like the sweet temptation of a god—or the hideous prophecy of a demon.
"—Now, what will you do?"
Alphana finally raised her gaze.
Reflected in her dull eyes was the arrogant, transcendent calamity from the distant west.
"........................Who are you?"
The man answered with an elegant smile.
"I am Oscarrain.
—A Vampire, known as Oscarrain of the Crimson War."
As the last of the gunshots and screams died out, the girl was perched on a distant tree branch, looking up at the pale moon. Her fair cheeks were puffed out in boredom, and her legs swung like pendulums.
"Moo. I don't see what's so fun about bullying weak humans..."
It wasn't that she possessed a noble spirit or felt pity for the knights. She just didn't care. To her, the weak were like flowers by the roadside; as long as they didn't get in her way, they were irrelevant. She couldn't understand why anyone would go out of their way to trample them.
She knew she was the odd one, but her heart only beat for the strong.
Humans who would face a Vampire head-on, surpassing the racial gap through sheer willpower and the radiance of their souls—that was what she craved.
"Sigh... I wonder if he’s out there somewhere... my strong, wonderful gentleman..."
The girl was dreaming.
Dreaming of a life-and-death struggle where blood and the powerful would mingle.
"—Hmm. So the Star-rare was completed without any issues."
"Yes!"
It had been a week since I was discharged from the Cathedral. In the living room of the Holy Sanctum, the Saint of Hakua, Restardia, was gently brushing the hair of Anjesheit, the Saint of the Heavenly Sword. As usual, Anze was gushing about the progress of my Prosthetic Upgrade Plan.
"That's a relief. Since it was Star Silver from the Church's private stock, it would have been a disaster if it had been ruined."
"Thanks to Lady Lieselalte, the quality is exceptional!"
Although Dia wasn't directly involved in the project, she was keeping a close eye on it as a friend. A next-generation prosthetic leg made from materials used in Holy Knight armor and embedded with formulas that would make a first-class mage weep... calling it a prosthetic was an understatement. It was a high-level magic tool. It was almost fate that such a thing had been sitting in a workshop in the Commercial District for all those years.
Anze had pulled some strings to secure the Star Silver, and so far, everything was moving steadily.
On the opposite sofa, Yulirius, the Saint of the Starry Eyes, smiled over her tea.
"That is good to hear. When I heard the blueprints were almost stolen, I feared the project might be cursed."
"Tell me about it. I nearly choked on my tea when I heard the news."
The theft of the Griffith Workshop’s blueprints a week ago had caused quite a stir. Fortunately, the thief had been caught immediately, saving Dia a massive headache.
Anze had nearly fallen to the dark side while organizing the thief's punishment, muttering about "imposing the heaviest possible penalty."
Yuli had been giddy about interrogating the man.
And Rosche’s "smile" as he sharpened his sword had been anything but friendly.
In the end, the thief had been stripped of every secret he had, and his entire bandit group was rounded up. Rest in peace.
"...Alright, you're done. Try to be more careful when you get dressed next time."
"Thank you, Lady Dia!"
Anze was dressed as a sister today, not a Saint. She must have been in a rush to get ready, as her hair had been a mess before Dia tidied it.
And the fact that Anze was dressed as a sister meant...
"Now, I shall head over to Lord Wolka's place!"
"Yes, yes."
...Exactly what you'd expect.
Liesel, Yulitia, and Atri were all busy today, leaving me unattended. Faced with the "emergency" of me being alone, there was no way Anze was going to stay at the Holy Sanctum.
Watching her depart with an infinite sense of mission, Dia slumped into the sofa with a sigh. Yuli chuckled.
"To be young... how nice."
"Look who's talking. You'd be right there with her if your legs worked."
Despite being nearly a hundred, Yuli was full of curiosity and playfulness. If she weren't in a wheelchair, she’d definitely be following Anze just for the fun of it.
"...Now then. With Anze gone, someone has to cover her paperwork."
Yuli immediately looked away. She had a full schedule of judgements today, and her special eyes made paperwork difficult.
"Arka, help me out over here once in a while—"
Dia looked up at the ceiling, appealing to the crescent moon cradle floating above. A carefree yawn was the only response.
"You can do it, Dia. I believe in you..."
With that irresponsible dismissal, the lazy moon princess drifted off somewhere. Dammit.
"If it bothers you, you should just tell her. You're always so soft on her."
"...Shut up!"
Dia’s cheeks flushed, and she pouted in a futile attempt at resistance as Yuli laughed at her.
Since my discharge from the Cathedral, life had been peaceful—so peaceful it felt like the constant duels and judgements were a dream. The upgrade plan was moving forward steadily, clearing hurdles one by one.
Anze had secured the highest-quality Star Silver through the Church, and Claesta had managed to find a good source of Mithril. This was the Holy City, after all; its commercial port was one of the largest in the world.
A few days ago, Master had synthesized the two materials with her mana, creating a high-purity Star-rare alloy. With the core material finished, the project had entered a new phase.
And in the middle of all that, what was I doing?
"—Ow!?"
I parried a downward slash with my scabbard and delivered a sharp quick-draw strike to my opponent's flank.
I felt it connect. Even with my Heartless sword, a direct hit still hurts. I looked down at Ramsey as he groaned in pain.
"Alright, that's a point."
"Tch... fine, fine. I give up."
We were in the back garden of Le Bouquet for our daily training. Ramsey rubbed his ribs as he surrendered.
"You're pretty merciless against a retired old man."
"Don't play the retiree card. You can still fight better than most."
"Hah, you're just overestimating me."
He was lying. Claesta had told me the whole story of the blueprint theft. The way he had neutralized the thief proved his combat skills were far above what his B-rank history suggested. If he had the right mindset, he could have easily been an A-rank.
"Lord Ramsey, shall I treat your injury?"
"I-It's fine... don't worry about it."
When Anze asked from the bench, Ramsey got all flustered. Ever since she treated him like a suspicious person at the Cathedral, he’d been a bit wary of sisters. Or maybe he’s just intimidated by girls his disciple's age in general. He’s really settling into the "pathetic middle-aged guy" role.
To explain why I was training with Ramsey: our party, Silvery Grey, was split up for the day. Master, Yulitia, and Atri were all away, leaving Ramsey to spar with me and Anze to act as my support/monitor.
Master was at the Griffith Workshop today, helping Claesta incorporate formulas into the prosthetic. After a lot of groaning and complaining, she had finally found a way to reconstruct the bizarre circuits in the blueprints.
Yulitia and Atri had left the city to gather specific materials for the next stage. A larger workshop had bought up the local supply of certain components, so the girls had volunteered to go fetch them from a nearby source.
Ramsey gave me a cynical grin. "Heh heh. Look at you, being loved by everyone."
"If you have enough breath to talk, you have enough breath to fight. Let's go."
"Wait, hol—"
I swung. Ramsey scrambled back, and we resumed our exchange.
"Watch it! You'll break that temporary leg if you get too excited!"
"It's fine."
In truth, I was grateful. A few months ago, Master wouldn't have dreamed of leaving my side for this long. She was working herself to the bone to finish my leg. Yulitia and Atri were also finding purpose in being able to help.
The guilt and regret that had paralyzed them was slowly turning into action. Through this project, our party was finally taking its first real steps forward. If the price was being watched by Anze around the clock, I could live with it. Though I really wished she’d let me shower alone.
I delivered a final strike.
"Gah. Damn, you're too fast! Your swordsmanship makes no sense!"
"It's cool, though, right? Want me to teach you?"
"In your dreams!"
Lamentable. He just couldn't appreciate the beauty of the quick-draw. I’ll have to enlighten him later.
Sparring with Ramsey had another purpose, too. "Do your best, old man. You’re guarding Claesta starting the day after tomorrow, right?"
Surprisingly, Ramsey had been hired as a bodyguard for Claesta’s upcoming business trip. She had been so impressed by how he handled the thief that she insisted on hiring him.
Ramsey clicked his tongue. "That fake young lady... I'm not an adventurer anymore. I don't know what she’s thinking."
"But you took the job."
"...My wallet was getting thin. I had no choice!"
I didn't need a tsundere act from a middle-aged man. "Just keep going. You can't afford to fail as a lady's bodyguard."
"I know, I know!"
We kept at it until he was out of breath. I won every round, but since I was limiting myself to accommodate my temporary leg, I hoped to spar with him for real someday.
Sweat poured down my face. I really did love the sword.
"Honestly... look at that happy face."
"Hmm?"
"Nothing."
He never did come around on the quick-draw, though. I guess I’m just not skilled enough to convey its charm yet. Once my leg is upgraded, I’ll get even stronger.
Those peaceful days felt like they would last forever.
But a few days later, Rosche arrived with a grim expression that replaced his usual jovial grin. It was then I realized the peace was an illusion.
"Wolka. Do you have a moment?"
"...What happened?"
He was quiet, almost biting his lip. "This is... news you won't like. Do you remember Alphana?"
"Yeah."
I could never forget that name. She was the one who nearly triggered the "Original Work" tragedy for my party. A criminal who used Charm magic to destroy countless lives.
"But she was exiled."
I stopped. Why was he bringing her up now? If her deportation had gone smoothly, there would be no reason for him to mention her. I felt a cold knot form in my stomach.
"...After she was handed over to the neighboring country, the unit of knights escorting her was attacked. They were wiped out."
"—..."
"Her body wasn't found. She's missing."
My first thought was that she had escaped, but how? Her magic should have been sealed. The escort should have been competent. They wouldn't have let a high-profile criminal just slip away.
"The knights were all killed by Guns."
...I see.
Despite being a fantasy world, this world had Guns. They weren't like the gunpowder weapons of my old world. Here, a Gun was a magically modified catalyst—an attack-specialized tool designed to converge and fire lethal spells at high speed.
But humans didn't use them. We didn't have the technology to make them, nor the mana capacity to wield them.
There was only one race that had used Guns since ancient times. A race that lived in the distant west, possessed physical abilities far beyond humans, and was considered a living calamity on par with Dragons.
"Vampires," Rosche said quietly. "They might already be in this country."
Wait.
In the "Original Work," this never happened. Not a single word of this was in the script.