Chapter Thirty-One: A Miraculous Escape (Part One)

If I had not witnessed it with my own eyes, I could hardly believe that the omnipresent majesty of the Supreme God Darimos would permit such an evil place to exist.

In the second basement of the forest mausoleum lies the sanctuary dedicated to the ruler and guide of the journey of the dead, the protector of the austere and unyielding realm of eternal silence, the goddess of death, Tafer Milans. People hope that this goddess, who manifests mercy through death and guards souls with silence, will be kind to the loyal spirits she leads away. Thus, as a gesture of reverence, they built this sanctuary at the deepest level of the underground tomb.

Yet now, this hall—once meant to be solemn and sacred—is filled with the stench of decay. In the corners by the walls, beneath the pillars of the temple, even beside the statue of the goddess of death, countless corpses are piled together in a manner so savage it defies imagination. These bodies are shriveled and hardened, devoid of a single drop of moisture, their sagging skin loosely sheathing their bones, making it impossible to discern their gender or identity. Even so, you can still make out expressions of infinite terror and despair on their desiccated faces; the agony they suffered in their final moments is etched deep into their bones, transforming each one into a shocking sculpture.

These corpses are utterly naked, stripped of any dignity in death. Rusted iron chains pierce their shoulder blades, linking them into grotesque chains. Murky yellow liquid, reeking and foul, flows unchecked across the floor; some bodies are already rotting and moldy, while others have simply eroded into dust.

A scattering of vampires stands around the sanctuary—viscounts and barons, clad in noble attire adorned with tassels and lace. Alongside them are a number of alluring and wanton “vampire countesses.” These wicked men and women, who feast on human flesh and blood, gather together, caressing and kissing each other wantonly, even sinking their sharp fangs into each other's necks to suck blood. Crimson liquid drips slowly from their lips and teeth, painting seductive, sinister lines of blood. These repulsive creatures seem to take immense pleasure in this cruel intimacy, cackling and grinning with intoxicated expressions. At this moment, blood and lust, death and violence, entwine to create a twisted, eerie atmosphere that nearly makes one retch.

“Shh…” Triangular Whistle teased with a whistle, “...now I understand why minors aren’t allowed to register accounts...”

I could not maintain the composure and optimism of my half-orc friend. My heart swelled violently, a fire named “rage” searing my chest, making each breath burn. My hands gripped my weapon so tightly that my knuckles turned pale and numb. Yes, I could not tolerate it—I could not tolerate such brutality and evil, nor could I tolerate these vile creatures persisting in the world.

For the first time, an irrepressible desire for slaughter arose within me: I would annihilate these human-shaped beasts, leaving not a single one alive; I would reclaim the flesh and blood they had consumed and avenge those slain by their hands. If the deaths I caused on the way here were merely due to orders, duty, or opposing sides, then now, I was driven entirely by my own will to pursue carnage.

At that moment, a vampire countess dragged a trembling living body from the pile of corpses—a young boy, whose fair face bore not a single trace of sunlight. He screamed in terror, powerless to stop the vampire countess from sinking her twin fangs into his throat. The vampire gulped down warm, life-filled blood, swallowing it greedily. The boy struggled at first, his legs kicking frantically to vent his pain. But soon, the kicking turned to convulsions, slowed, and finally ceased. When the vampire rose, satisfied, the once handsome, pale boy had become nothing but a hollowed skeleton, his body utterly drained. The female vampire laughed wildly, triumphant and content.

The fury that had been accumulating in my heart now erupted completely.

I do not know when I charged into the enemy ranks; I only know that when my senses returned, I had fought my way to that vampire countess. I do not know how many vampires my reckless charge had attracted—they were all behind me, howling and closing in. I had no time to think; the sight of the boy’s tragic death rendered me incapable of silence. My mind held only one thought: to tear this vampire countess to pieces.

She wore a violet satin evening gown, delicate straps resting on her shoulders, a V-shaped neckline accentuating her proud bust. Blue eyes, curled golden hair, a graceful figure—no one could deny she was a seductive, beautiful woman.

Yet to my eyes, she was the ugliest demon in existence. Her bright eyes glinted with greed, her alluring red lips drank in desire, her slender fingers tore at death. Every aspect of her beauty became grotesque and hideous in my view.

“Oh God, he’s gone mad! How are we supposed to fight with so many monsters coming over?” Trapped and surrounded, I hacked desperately at the vampire countess before me, fending off attacks from behind. Amidst the battle, I heard Triangular Whistle’s exasperated complaint.

“Ha! Who cares—I like it like this! Let’s slaughter them all first!” Longbow Sunshot cheered and charged toward me, his strange chants echoing through the tomb before he even arrived. The minotaur shaman and elven mage, inspired by his enthusiasm, also plunged eagerly into the fray.

“A bunch of lunatics with no regard for their lives—just wait, we’ll be wiped out at this rate...” The half-orc rogue stamped his foot in fury, cursing aloud, then resignedly shouted, “Fine, kill away, if we all die so be it! We’ve got priests and shamans, and whoever needs to run back for resurrection won’t be me!” With that, his figure blurred, melting into the shadows of the tomb’s stone walls. When I saw him again, he was standing beside a vampire corpse, bloodied dagger in hand.

Compared to the male vampire nobles who fought with weapons and brute strength, these female vampires excelled at magic. Aside from the enhanced “Blood Extraction” spell, the countess I pursued could also condense blood into sharp spikes and fire them at me with incredible speed. This attack magic was somewhat similar to the ice arrow spell, but with less power and no freezing effect. Still, she was not the only female vampire around me. When a dozen bloody spikes rained down on you, their force was not to be underestimated.

Besides attack spells, she cast a defensive spell called “Blood Demon Armor.” A layer of blood encircled her, forming a thin, spherical membrane, shimmering with bands of lurid red light. This film absorbed most of my attacks, making it difficult to inflict fatal damage in a short time.

However, although my direct attacks were blunted, the tearing wounds inflicted by my “Jagged Ripper” were not diminished by the magic shield. Under my relentless assault, the countess’s life quickly dwindled to half. And with repeated use of my “Armor-Piercing Sword” skill, the color of her “Blood Demon Armor” grew paler, clearly on the verge of collapse. Finally, with a powerful swing, the defensive spell reached its limit, shattered, and dissipated in a cloud of blood mist.

Without the protection of magical armor, this vampire sorceress was as defenseless as a turtle without a shell against a warrior’s close-range attacks. In a few swift strikes, I stabbed her through, then, not forgetting, delivered a vicious kick to her fangs still stained with the blood of the human youth.

I killed this brutal woman and eradicated the source of my furious impulse. But as I calmed down and surveyed the battlefield, remorse swept over me. I realized my reckless outburst had drawn my companions into peril along with me.