Chapter 1: Vampire Encounter (Part 1)

Just as the female knight had shouted, Asa indeed stood still without making a move. He knew that if the three of them turned and fled, the knight would undoubtedly draw her sword and pursue them relentlessly. While his face was hidden behind a mask, his posture and subtle movements weren't deliberately disguised. For someone who had previously fought against him and remembered him well, he might as well have been wearing a name tag.

As for the dark elf's nomadic attire, which might fool those unfamiliar with her, the temple knight had faced her more than a few times. Being recognized was absolutely unavoidable.

If this chase were to unfold in broad daylight, given the knight's personality, the situation would only escalate further. Even if they managed to escape, it would likely alarm the newly arrived Cardinal, creating far more trouble than necessary. Thus, when the dark elf and Ruya instinctively tried to dash toward the door, Asa grabbed them both and pulled them back.

"The Lord says, 'Those who show me grace shall be rewarded.'" Asa bowed and performed a believer's salute toward the female knight. "Honored knight, it is truly unexpected to meet you here. I believe this must be the Lord's guidance—a call to resolve past grievances and misunderstandings."

The knight's expression indeed began to waver, her gaze shifting between confusion and severity.

"The Lord says, 'Violence is the worst solution; all confusion and conflict can find salvation through faith and dialogue.'" Asa continued, "I believe it would be better for us to sit down and talk privately. You know that the worst methods only lead to the worst outcomes."

The knight hesitated for a moment, her expression and gaze uncertain, but eventually, her hand moved away from the hilt of her sword. Although her demeanor remained wary and alert, Asa could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

The meaning of Asa's words was simple: he was reminding the knight of the favor he had once done for her and hinting that if they fought now, she wouldn't come out unscathed. Therefore, it would be better to find a quiet place to talk things through. Yet, conveying such a message subtly and without drawing attention in public wasn't easy. Asa couldn't help but feel grateful for the time he had once spent as a priest at the magic academy. While he had no interest in studying scriptures, hearing the daily recitations of the clergy had left him with a basic familiarity—something he hadn't expected to come in handy now.

More importantly, the mental strain of dealing with the two elves' disputes over the past few days seemed to have sharpened his wit and quick thinking. Even Asa himself could hardly believe he had managed to deliver such an eloquent speech at this critical moment.

"Hmph, I have many questions to ask you as well. This place is too crowded; let's find somewhere else to talk," the knight said, turning on her heel and striding out boldly.

The tavern owner behind the counter took a step forward as if to speak but ultimately dared not call out. He could only look at the mess on the floor, sweat already breaking out on his anxious face.

Asa sighed, tossed the owner a gold coin, and followed the knight out. Ruya and Jessica had no choice but to trail after him.

"She's just another brainless, self-righteous woman," the dark elf muttered angrily, glaring at the knight's back. "Damn it, why do I have to deal with these pretentious women who only use their heads to grow hair? I told you we should've just gotten rid of her."

That same evening, in the royal capital.

The darkness before dawn was the quietest time in the city. The lights and voices had all faded into silence, and only a few figures remained walking the streets. These people were usually either drunken fools soaked in liquor or hedonistic playboys indulging in debauchery.

Baron Thomason was undoubtedly both. From sunset the previous day until now, he had devoted all his energy and time to wine and the viscountess. This woman, after just one drink, had her cheeks flushed and eyes glimmering, which greatly fueled Thomason's enthusiasm. He continued to ply her with drinks and shower her with sweet words and flowery compliments, drinking and talking endlessly. Yet, even when he felt as though the alcohol had replaced the blood in his veins and his tongue was so tired it felt like a block of wood, the viscountess remained in that tipsy but not drunk state, unwilling to leave with him to a more private venue for "further communication."

In the end, the sound of a carriage bell outside the tavern signaled her departure. She fluttered away like a butterfly, gracefully stepping into the carriage, leaving Thomason with nothing but a fleeting, flirtatious glance, a "see you next time," and, of course, a hefty bill.

"See you next time? My ass," Thomason muttered angrily. He briefly considered hiring someone to assault her—but no, even in his drunken state, he knew better. The viscount and her lover were far beyond his reach. Seduction and assault were entirely different matters. So, cursing under his breath, he staggered through the dark streets toward home.

He was almost there. Thinking of his wife waiting at home, Thomason felt a twinge of guilt. Though his wife of three months was merely an attachment to his father's promotion and was far less attractive than the tavern maids, she was at least considerate enough to prepare warm water for him to wash up before bed.

But then, he heard the sound of faint sobbing ahead in the darkness. Lifting his lantern, he saw a woman crouched in the corner by the wall.

This woman was entirely wrapped in a black cloak, revealing only her face. Yet it was this face that instantly sobered the half-drunken Thomason, only for him to become hopelessly intoxicated once again. It was a face so beautiful, so delicate, it seemed as though it belonged only in a man's dream. Her snow-white complexion exuded an ethereal, otherworldly aura, as though untouched by the impurities of mortal life.

Thomason was no longer a naive youth prone to fantasies. He could instantly picture any woman's naked form upon seeing her attire and could vividly imagine her expressions in moments of passion. He knew that no matter how noble, pure, or moving a woman might seem, they all looked the same once stripped. Yet, this understanding failed him now. In the presence of this face, he was completely stunned and captivated, more so than by the half a gold coin's worth of liquor he had consumed earlier.

The woman was also gazing at him, as though she had been silently watching him from the shadows all along. Her mesmerizing eyes shimmered with tears, and her expression was one of sorrow and melancholy, as if she had just experienced great heartbreak. Thomason felt as though his soul and very being were being drawn entirely toward her.

"Miss, what's wrong? What's making you so sad?" Thomason mumbled as he cautiously approached the woman, afraid that any sudden movement might scare away this dreamlike figure.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the woman sobbed, tears streaming down her face.

"There's no need to apologize, it's fine, really," Thomason said as he stepped closer. He felt his heart ache with the sight of her tears.

The woman said nothing more but stretched out her hands, placing them on Thomason's shoulders. Her face slowly leaned toward his.

"Miss, why don't we go somewhere else to talk?" Thomason felt her delicate body press against his chest. Though it was slightly cold, the softness and allure of her touch made his soul leave his body.

But then, the hands on his shoulders slid up to his head, and with surprising strength, she forced him to lower his head. Her slender arms were far stronger than they appeared—stronger even than the muscled arms of the tavern owner.

In the next moment, Thomason felt two sharp points pierce his neck, breaking through the skin and sinking into his artery.

What kind of fresh game is this? Thomason thought hazily. Then, slowly, he thought no more.

The body of Baron Thomason was discovered the following morning, lying in the corner of the street by the wall. Strangely, his face bore an expression of satisfaction and contentment. However, his neck had two sharp puncture wounds, and all the blood in his body had been completely drained.

The only thing capable of leaving behind such a corpse was a vampire. The entire capital erupted in chaos.

More than a year earlier, a vampire incident that shocked the entire eastern continent had left an indelible impression of these wicked, terrifying undead creatures. The horrific scenes of slaughter committed by vampires had been witnessed by kings and nobles alike. So when news of this spread, the capital was immediately gripped by an atmosphere of heightened vigilance and tension.