Chapter 72

Chapter 72

***

The autumn wind was cold. Crossing mountains and rivers, two young swordsmen walked westward.

Eventually, the mountains became almost invisible, and they arrived at a land where the rivers were woven like spider webs and the wind blew ceaselessly. It was the Netherslate Kingdom.

Windmills turning with a creak-creak sound could be seen easily in places, and there were many reed fields that grew taller than a person.

It was a land not suitable for farming because the soil quality was poor, so the people here mainly lived by grazing sheep or cows.

If one went to the west coast, there were coastal cities that had developed from ancient times, but the inland area was not a very good environment to make a living.

Vanstein territory was exactly such a place. A barren land where only reeds grew lushly.

It was midday. But the sun in the sky shone hazily, as if covered by fog.

So even though it was midday, it was a strange day, seeming like dawn or early evening.

Somewhere in the reed field, at an old and abandoned-looking ferry, an old boatman was casting a fishing rod. His appearance was like the last person remaining in the world, waiting for approaching death.

Towards such an old man, two young swordsmen walked, rustling as they pushed through the reeds.

"Hello."

Rickart offered a greeting. Then, as if to show he wasn't dead yet, the old man lifted his straw hat a little and glanced at Rickart and Ice. And looked at the river again.

"Let me ask you something. Is this Vanstein territory? There are no signposts."

The old man just raised a wrinkled hand like an old tree without a word and pointed to the opposite side of the river.

"I will pay the boat fare, so could you take us to the other side?"

"It is a futile act."

"Yes?"

"Very occasionally, forgettable heroes visit. Saying they would finish off the vampire count. But there is nothing there."

"......"

Rickart gazed at the old man blankly, then laughed slightly.

"We are adventurers. We came to meet a client. Whether we kill the vampire count or not, we don't know how it will turn out either."

Then the old man looked back at Rickart and Ice once again slightly, then gathered his fishing rod and stood up. And he boarded the small ferryboat.

"How much is the boat fare?"

"Just get on. Since it is merely a pastime."

Rickart looked back at Ice and shrugged. And they boarded the ferryboat together.

The old man rowed, creak creak, from the back seat of the boat. The boat advanced slowly.

Then suddenly, fog started to rise in the middle of the river. It became thicker and thicker until it was hard to see even an inch ahead. It was a strange phenomenon.

Also, the river width was not that wide, but the old man rowed for quite a while.

Creak, creak, creak......

"Seems like he's using magic or something."

Ice said dryly. An ordinary person would have fallen backward in surprise.

Then, at some moment, the fog lifted. The old man had disappeared without a trace, and before they realized it, they had arrived at the opposite side of the river.

"Did we cross the river to the afterlife or something?"

Like Ice, Rickart didn't seem particularly impressed. Two strange swordsmen in a strange phenomenon.

Pushing the oars with force to bring the boat close to the riverside, Rickart and Ice got off. It was cool autumn, midday, and the sun was bright in the sky.

Far away, there was a hill rare to see in Netherslate, and a small castle surrounded by a wooden fence was visible on top of it. They headed straight there.

Not long after, they arrived at a village like a small manor below the castle, but not a single soul was in sight. Abandoned vegetable gardens, empty stables, creaking doors in empty houses.

There were no traces of an army or bandits having come and burned everything or massacred anyone; just a declined village that everyone had left.

Rickart looked around roughly, then adjusted his sword and headed toward the castle on the hill.

"Let's go."

Indeed, it might have been eerie, but Rickart and Ice showed no sign of fear. Whether they had lost their fear or were confident.

They climbed the hill and reached what seemed to be Vanstein Castle. But the wooden fence was rotten in places and crumbled. This place, too, seemed to have been abandoned for a long time.

The castle gate was also all rotten and scattered on the ground, and only the gate of the inner castle, where the count would have once lived, was firmly closed.

Passing the inner courtyard where only weeds were lush, Rickart reached the inner castle and knocked on the door, thump thump. Surely it's not that no one is there.

But soon, the door opened with a rattle by itself. Rickart entered carefully. Worn-out carpet, dusty furniture, and spider webs were seen in the corner.

Judging by appearances, it was clearly an abandoned castle, but some alien sound was heard.

Gururuk. Guruk. Gurururuk. Guruk.

The sound was heard intermittently, cut off and then not heard.

Just as he was wondering what on earth that sound was, suddenly torches hung on the wall lit up by themselves.

Hwareuk. Hwareuk. Hwareureuk.

As if guiding the way, they led to some place at the end of the hallway, and Rickart and Ice looked at each other, then walked straight following that path together.

Reaching the end, they found a very wide hall rather than a dining room. In the fireplace, a bonfire was burning, and there was nothing else at all, to the point of thinking the waste of space was severe; only a long table stood there alone.

On the table, all sorts of fresh delicacies from land and sea were set up, totally not matching the abandoned castle. And on the owner's seat, the old boatman they saw earlier was sitting.

Unlike earlier, his white hair was combed neatly, giving a very tidy impression, and he was dressed in luxurious black silk clothes.

He stood up from his seat and said in a neatly arranged tone.

"Welcome. Adventurers. Please enjoy the banquet."

Am I possessed by a ghost, or under a spell? But Rickart's sharp, blade-like senses told him this was reality.

Rickart and Ice sat on the prepared chairs near the middle of the table. Seats facing each other.

Rickart scanned the food set up on the table first; a freshly roasted whole piglet and fresh fruits not matching the season caught his eye.

Where did he get these ingredients, and how did he prepare them exactly on time? It was a rare thing.

"I cannot eat human food. So do not stand on ceremony for the owner, and eat comfortably."

Rickart asked, looking at the old man with an extremely neat impression.

"You are Count Lehman, right?"

"That is so."

"The Vampire Count?"

"Hahaha, that is so."

"Perhaps a trap or something? Saying you want the fresh blood of young people?"

Then Count Lehman laughed and shaken his head. And the strange sound heard earlier was heard again.

Gururuk. Guruk.

"Sorry. That sound is coming from my stomach. I have not drunk blood for over 50 years."

“......”

Rickart blinked his eyes. He couldn't understand anything about the situation, from A to Z. What should I say? Is standing on ceremony right? He was dumbfounded and absurd, so it was hard to bring up any words.

"Time is relative. The time called a lifetime to one person might be as short as a moment to another. in my opinion, the time we share in conversation seems sufficient. So there is nothing to be too flustered about."

"Why don't you drink blood?"

Ice asked abruptly.

"Penance is not necessarily the exclusive property of humans. I am wishing for a long death."

"Why?"

Rickart asked.

"There are two paths to ending one's own life. One is running away quickly; the other is carrying through one's will. I do not want to run away."

In a word, it meant he would starve to death.

What kind of situation is this? Rickart wondered if this old vampire was deluding him now.

Moreover, a High Vampire was half immortal. So to starve to death, he had to starve for at least over a hundred years, or much longer than that.

As a human, he couldn't even understand it, and estimating that time of patience was even more difficult.

"Leaving aside the method, why do you want to die?"

"The beginning was my father. I also had a hard time understanding at first. But now I understand. Because this is the last resistance against God. Changing the curse placed upon us into a blessing."

Somehow, asking questions and hearing answers seemed to increase curiosity like growing branches. Whether pedantic or philosophical, it seemed to have depth in its own way.

"What curse do you mean?"

Ice asked again.

"Humans often forget, we were also all humans once. The first vampire was also human. He was the first murderer. So, he received the curse of being unable to die."

"But they die if their neck is cut?"

"Such a thing is not death. An accident."

Rickart thought, rolling his eyes for a while. Are the two different? Since they only live continuously if they suck blood, is it indeed different from humans dying when their time comes someday?

Questions hard to accept hastily, and hard to conclude an answer to hastily. Lehman seemed to have concluded the answer in his own way and moved to execution, but Rickart recalled the reason he came here.

"I want to ask regarding the request, but before that, why did you give the request to us? The fog earlier and the cooking here too seem to show you have quite good talent."

"As I said earlier, the beginning was my father. That person hasn't drunk blood for almost 600 years. But my younger sister, Lemania, disobeyed father's will and kidnapped him. That is an attempt to steal a noble death. I don't know if I can show off a little talent, but now I am in a very weakened state. I cannot win against my younger sister. So, I came to make a request."

"If he is killed by our hands, isn't it an accident?"

"Better an accident than being stolen."

Rickart met Ice's eyes on the opposite side. And said with his eyes: This won't be easy.

A High Vampire was an existence of a much higher dimension than he thought. He thought they were just powerful monsters, but they existed in a deep realm of understanding hard for humans to reach. They didn't live long for nothing.

But Ice was conflicted. To become a Sword Master, he had to take the final test, and the qualification for the final test was given only to Special Grade Adventurers.

It was not easy for him to back down right before his eyes.

Lehman stared at such an Ice blankly, then spoke.

"Do you know what the essence of the curse lowered to the first murderer, the first vampire, is?"

"......Guilt. A prison without bars, unable to escape. By the way, you are inflicting a curse upon yourself. Even if you achieve your goal, your younger sister won't come back alive. What remains will be only emptiness."

Lehman saw through Ice's essence at once, something even Rickart didn't know. At this point, Ice was speechless and made a surprised expression.

"Unexpectedly, salvation might not be far away. It might be right by your side. Isn't it so? Murderer of murderers, devil of devils."

Lehman said, turning his gaze to Rickart.

Rickart looked at him quietly, then smirked. If counting the years Lehman lived, even combining Rickart's previous life and void period, Lehman was an existence who had lived much longer.

"Regarding salvation, I also don't know much. I'm not particularly interested in theology."

"But you saw. A human saved."

He seemed to speak of Nameless.

"I did. But simultaneously, I knew that not just anyone can do it. I have no confidence."

"Pain is also felt more intensely the purer the soul one possesses. Love is a curse. Conversely, a blessing too. You seem afraid of the tragedy repeating. But what can you do? Even if your heart is torn to shreds, you have no choice but to accept it. Your salvation is there. That is exactly the blessing lowered to humans. Accepting. Wouldn't it be easier than starving for hundreds, thousands of years?"

His last words were a joke in his own way; Lehman laughed slightly.

Truly strange. Even if Rickart couldn't understand all of Lehman's words, he knew that his words reached reason. But that was a vampire of all things.

Lehman put a small medicine bottle on the table quietly, as if he understood that it was difficult for them to withdraw their suspicious gaze. Inside, a yellow oil was contained.

"The holy oil that revived Dragon Slayer Ilya. The pilgrim was none other than the first vampire, Cain. This is what my father received from him, so it is unmistakably genuine."

"What effect is there? Do you get tremendous physical strength like the legend?"

"Might be, might not be. All medicines are poisons too. All poisons are medicines too. Cain is said to have spoken like this: Ilya's cheerful heart without a spot of shadow made me recall the sunshine I had forgotten for a long time."

Whether he was just giving it to them even though they hadn't completed the request yet, Lehman left the medicine bottle and stood up from his seat.

"Go to Harlen. My beloved father, Armand, is held there in the Rose Circus. If necessary, kill my younger sister. At the very least, please grant an incomplete death to my father. If my father falls for my younger sister's trick by any chance, I don't think I can endure it either."

Lehman walked out of the hall. Rickart and Ice were left alone.

The food on the table had cooled. Rickart grabbed one bright red apple abruptly and took a bite.

Then he chewed, crunch crunch, and savored the taste. The sugar content was high, so it was marvelously delicious.

"This isn't human flesh or something like that we'll find out later, right?"

Ice seemed to have many worries, but seeing Rickart like that, he laughed. He also took out a dagger, sliced the piglet roast, ssk ssk, and ate a piece. Although cooled a little, the flavor was great.

The two friends, as if not uncomfortable, ate and drank comfortably the food the vampire had set up. Eating until their stomachs were about to burst, sleep came softly.

They packed Ilya's holy oil and went up to the 2nd floor. Other places were all like ruins, but the bedroom was neat.

The two of them took a nap there. However, after sleeping sluggishly and waking up, they were by the riverside. The moon was floating in the sky, and a rainbow-colored moon halo shone hazily.

It seemed like a dream. But the topic Lehman threw out remained in his chest. Like that faint moon halo.