Rapture

Shalltear Bloodfallen desperately savored the remnants of excitement and pleasure that still tingled throughout her body. The initial spike of sudden, inexplicable emotion had worn off some time ago, but the faint memory of that moment of elation in a sea of despair remained imprinted upon her very flesh and blood.

Shalltear narrowed her scarlet eyes in concentration as she wondered just how much time had passed since that pulsing rapture coursed through her.

After all these years confined inside this forsaken chamber, her very perception of time had long become warped and defunct. The days, weeks and months blended together; the ticking of her inner clock fading away under the symphony of her rage and despair until finally, even that was no more.

But something happened not so long ago; an infusion of sensations had awakened her from her growing numbness. And as the myriad of emotions struck her like a flash of lightning, she thought she could sense just a sliver of the Supreme One's presence.

That faint spark of familiarity rekindled the ashen remains of Shalltear's broken heart for a brief moment, but it had dispersed far too soon. Before she could dare to dream of its implications, the feeling had fizzled away, leaving her with naught but the slight tingle of that fleeting bliss.

But it was enough. Shalltear smiled in exaltation as she continued relishing the faint caress of her Master's spectral presence-she had been reminded once more the purpose of her existence.

Ainz-sama…..

"Looking a little more lively than usual, I see."

Shalltear's blood red pupils dilated in anger as a sudden voice cut into her silent delectation, and she snapped her gaze towards the sound of the icy drawl. The speaker's position was shrouded in the shadow of the unlit chamber, but Shalltear's undead vision bore straight into him, undeterred by the darkness between them.

Her eyes locked upon a tall, thin man that looked to be in his fifties or sixties, draped in a simple robe of midnight blue. His long, straight hair and beard retained an unnaturally dark shade of red despite his age, complemented by a pair of stormy grey eyes devoid of warmth.

"What do you want?" she snapped, a dangerous glimmer in her ruby eyes. "Can't I have at least this one moment to myself, or are you craving the same fate as your pathetic subordinates?"

...

The Jailer did not immediately respond as he swept his gaze across the chamber. Over a hundred skeletons and corpses were strewn across the room, impaled upon the walls and tiles in an almost ritualistic pattern. Dried blood and bits of gore lay splattered all over the floor to form a twisted mural of violence and desecration.

The Jailer still recalled the first year following the Great Vanquishing, when the immobile bodies of the Imprisoned Trio were being transported to their respective locations of confinement. Each member of the Trio had been moved using a different method, and he had personally overseen the Blood Valkyrie's relocation. Back then, they had simply loaded the body into a crate, and carefully transported it over the span of a year to the abandoned prison complex of the ruined Argland Council State.

Occasionally, the Blood Valkyrie's counterattack response would be triggered by accident, resulting in numerous casualties, but the process remained relatively smooth throughout. In due time, they reached their destination and began reinforcing and enhancing the stronghold in the hopes of preparing a permanent prison for the lifeless vampire.

But little did they know that the Sorcerer King's champions would not remain completely inert forever. In time, the Blood Valkyrie awakened, and her mental faculties began to return.

The passive statue they had been working with for months quickly regained all of its cruel thoughts and unfathomable ability. While the vampire still could not attack or move at will, it became far, far more dangerous to work with.

The Blood Valkyrie utilised her unholy presence and speech to evoke terror and hatred from the soldiers around her, knowing that the subconscious release of killing intent from the humans would immediately trigger her counterattack response. Unlike with her prior state, where she would simply eliminate the target in a single blow before returning to her position, she now had her consciousness intact as she went about her dreadful killing sprees.

In the event of these "accidents," the vampire would do her utter best to prolong her limited freedom. She would draw out the deaths of every man or woman she could get her hands on, relishing in their agony before impaling the humans in a twisted display of her power. These outbreaks of violence occurred intermittently enough to drastically hamper the progress of the operation, and it would take several years and countless deaths before the Blood Valkyrie was finally taken to the heart of the labyrinthian prison.

A unit of several dozen elite soldiers had initially been stationed in the complex to monitor the Blood Valkyrie and renew the enchantments in her chamber. However, even that effort had been abandoned several decades ago as the Blood Valkyrie found ways to pick them off one by one, their mutilated corpses impaled upon the walls as a final testament to their painful sacrifice.

Now, aside from the occasional visit by members of the Black Scripture, only the Jailer remained to stand watch over the Blood Valkyrie. With no more human victims upon which to unleash her vengeful wrath, the vampire gradually slipped back into a state of dormancy.

The Jailer had hoped that over time, the Blood Valkyrie would eventually return to how she had once been in the first year following the Great Vanquishing-a rigid and mindless body.

However, when his gaze finally met the fervent light of the vampire's bewitching eyes, he realised that pure evil would not be extinguished so easily. Something had rekindled her faltering spirit.

But...what could have done such a thing?

A deep worry pricked at him from the back of his mind, but the Jailer maintained a veneer of calm as he finally responded:

"My emotions are not so fickle as to fall victim to the woes of your profane presence. You pose no threat to me in your current state."

"If that is the case," the Blood Valkyrie sneered, "Why don't you come a bit closer-arinsu?"

The Jailer ignored the vampire's taunting words. He had lived for far too long to be one prone to taking unnecessary risks.

"To what do you owe your sudden change in disposition?" he asked in the same monotone drawl, "You seem to have regained some of your earlier...flair."

"That should be obvious, no? I am simply reveling in the glorious memory of my Master. What other stimulation would I need, besides the thrill of anticipation towards Lord Ainz's return?"

The Jailer's brows creased in suspicion as he carefully took in the vampire's words. There had to be more to her sudden excitation than the mundane explanation she had just provided. Was she simply being coy? Or was there something she was trying to conceal?

He decided to prod further:

"Why do you continue to hold on to your deluded faith in the Sorcerer King? He has been cast away from this very plane of existence, and the Extra Seat has grasped his Staff in her hands and brought you and your ilk to your knees. The Sorcerer Kingdom has fallen; your supremacy shattered by the legacy of our gods."

The Blood Valkyrie's eyes flashed with annoyance, and she bared her fangs into an impatient scowl.

"Eh? Is that really what you've been told? You've witnessed my power with your own two eyes; do you really still believe that ridiculous tale?"

The Jailer kept silent at the vampire's rebuke, but that moment of hesitation was all the vampire needed. A hint of contemptuous understanding slithered into her scarlet gaze, and she pressed on with her words.

"Oh, or perhaps you're not so sure yourself?" she mused, her voice dripping with mockery. "You've come here looking for answers, wondering if you've been cast out and deceived."

"You poor thing." she added with a sarcastic pout. "Stuck here with me, growing all the more irrelevant by the day."

"You are sorely mistaken.." the Jailer coldly replied, "My task is to serve Lord Surshana in whatever is required for the continuation of his heritage. If that means my role is to watch over you for the ages to come, then so be it. Your scheming words have no effect on me."

The Blood Valkyrie curled her pale, perfect lips in distaste. "Scheming? Don't lump me in with that overbearing gorilla. I prefer a more...direct approach. No, I am merely pointing out what is clearly apparent in my intuition."

"Besides, your blathering obsession with that pretender god is just painful to listen to. Pure, unquestionable subservience is a creed I share myself, but your faith is sorely misguided. The God of Death….that title has already been claimed."

Even the Jailer's natural impassivity could not prevent the faint stirrings of anger as he heard the vampire's casual slandering of his God. The implication that there was any similarity at all between them only added to his indignation.

"Our Theocracy stands stronger than ever-a testament to the continued grace of the Six Great Gods." he countered. "If anyone is a pretender, it is your Sorcerer King. Despite all his strength and supposed wisdom, did he not fall like all the other inhuman forces that dare to tread upon our blessed nation? You have stood in helpless defeat for a hundred years, and yet you call me misguided?"

"You put on a brazen facade," he continued "but I can sense the doubt and fear in your words. You are not truly certain that your King will return, and that gnawing doubt torments you day and night. You grapple with the possibility that your very purpose of existence has disappeared forever, but you cannot be sure, and that tiny hope is both your salvation and your suffering."

"Tell me, Shalltear Bloodfallen, how many more years can you really wait? Another century? Millenia? How long until your mind unravels, when you realise he is either gone forever or has forgotten you?"

An extended hush fell between them. Not a single gust of wind, nor the dripping of water could be heard in the silence of the labyrinth as the Blood Valkyrie's features froze at the sound of those words-before contorting into something indescribably monstrous.

A tremble resonated across her body, causing her crimson armor to shudder in place, and the temperature of the very chamber seemed to drop inexplicably during the few creeping moments that ensued. The Jailer recoiled slightly as he saw the very air around the stationary vampire blur and distort, as if some extreme pressure was clashing against the very laws of the world.

In the span of that unspeakable moment, the Jailer wondered if he had just committed a terrible mistake.

A second later however, the Blood Valkyrie returned to normal. Her body regained its still, tireless stance, and a neutral expression reemerged upon her immaculate face.

And yet something had changed.

The Jailer's previous statements had not been a bluff; he had indeed sensed those very doubts and fears deep within the Vampire. In fact, he had very quickly caught onto them, for he himself had struggled with that same inner crisis for so many years.

But as the vampire began to speak again in that calm, captivating tone that could capture the heart of any man, the Jailer could sense naught but a resolve of unwavering steel-lined with the hint of tempered rage.

"A long time ago, your words might have had more of an effect than I would care to admit. But I am no longer the same, insecure little vampire from the distant past. Time and time again I have proven myself to my liege, and He has in turn recognised me as his most valued enforcer. My Lance has tasted the blood of upstart dragons and false gods in his name, and he chose me to fight alongside him-to crush the greatest foes this World had deemed fit to pit against us."

"He will never forget me. And for as long as I exist in this World, I shall never stop waiting for him."

The Blood Valkyrie's eyes glowed with a calculated fury, her voice lowering to an icy whisper:

'You might be able to conceal your true nature from those soldiers that you worked with to "imprison" me, but I can see right through it. Your very existence is one of pitiful irony."

"When Lord Ainz returns at last and these invisible bonds around me shatter under His will, you shall be my first prize to him. For those words of scorn you have uttered against My Master, I will drag you by your worthless skull before his glorious presence, where he will dominate your mind and turn you against the very people you have sworn to protect. The First Follower of Surshana shall become but another nameless minion under the great banner of Ainz Ooal Gown, marching across the sundered ruins of the Slane Theocracy."

The Jailer narrowed his eyes wordlessly towards the vampire. A slight shimmer rippled across his body, and for a fraction of a second, the hint of something dark and inhuman flickered into existence beneath his human visage.

And yet, the Vampire did not so much as blink in response to his unsettling display, staring back at him with the same mirthless scarlet eyes. The Jailer felt his fists clench and unclench before he finally turned and walked away, his footsteps making no sound upon the stone tiles as he disappeared into the darkness.