Aura

Arin stood rooted to the ground as if he had been turned into a statue. The now-alive Vampire's gaze landed on the tome in his hands. She was thrown into a sudden frenzy, and the pulsating vines shot toward the frozen Arin at a speed that even its shadows couldn't be noticed.

Nocterin's figure turned into a flash, a desperation showing on his face. But before his frame could reach Arin, the rope-like vines struck the prince's frail body. Wherever they hit, red marks appeared on those spots.

A streak of crimson escaped his closed lips, eliciting a moan. The vines had wreathed around his frame, restraining his already still body. They refused to move despite his struggles.

Nocterin, having reached Arin, swung the scythe, cutting the vines and causing them to split in two. Arin immediately set himself free.

However, the vines, despite having lost their other halves, still didn't give in. They shook around in the air crazily, and this seeming frenzy somehow made them regenerate. The reinvigorated vines attempted to lunge at Arin but had to face the serrated scythe of Nocterin, who stood in front of him.

The vines were cut time and time again, regenerating instantly. It was a perfect stalemate. This irked the ire of the vampiress, a slight disgust showing on her face.

Deciding to end the lives of these pesky mortals, she tore apart three strands of her hair—three blood-red strands. A sepulchral voice escaped her once-shut lips as a cadence of chants flowed outward.

In the air directly before her, a mahogany-colored magic circle manifested with three circular patterns. Lifting her hand, she placed a strand of hair on each of the patterns.

Afterward, she flicked her hands toward one of the strands, aiming it at Nocterin.

Nocterin's back shuddered, a sudden eeriness consuming his mind. His body tried to get away from the spot, but the relentless vines didn't give him that liberty. The soft strand of her hair hit his back, and as if possessed by the soul of a sharp blade, it cut into his bloodstream.

The calm inner state of Nocterin was suddenly hit by a chill. His head started spinning, a numbness crawling through his lower limbs. The lightheaded Nocterin was immediately restrained by the sanguine vines.

The vampiress had already shot the other two strands at their respective targets. Arin's head writhed in pain, a sharp ache in his chest maddening him. There was a strange sense of déjà vu. It hit him suddenly: this was a hypertensive crisis. This vampiress could actually control their blood pressure.

On the other hand, the spirit of emotions seemed unfazed, as if he hadn't been affected in the slightest.

The vampiress's visage bore a deep, rooted hate. Seeing no blood flow out of him, she instantly surmised his identity. This revelation turned her already angered face deep red.

Vampires and spirits were among the worst of enemies; their mere existence defied each other. Coexistence? Something that was useless to think about.

While the lady fumed with anger, a grave expression showed on Bhavesh's face. Just now, he had tried to use the resonance of the esper but had failed miserably. This could only mean one thing: this vampiress was at the very least, two entire grades above him—above a third-grade spirit.

Seeing her chanting some ancient mantra, Bhavesh had no choice but to use his last resort. Countless rays emerged from his body, each of a different color. Converging, they attacked the vampire's voluptuous body. The spirit's soothing, mellow voice announcing, "Thence rise the energies of discombobulation."

The lady's inner body was in extreme turmoil. Her necro energy (the life energy of the undead and vampires) and mana, which had always existed in harmonic synergy, seemed to have been converted into the worst enemies. They fought for space inside her vessel, the mana fluxing against the necro essence.

This momentary energy frenzy stopped her blood spell, causing Arin and Nocterin to finally regain some energy.

Nocterin had gauged the vampiress's prowess and had to admit she was much stronger than him. Nevertheless, his resolve to protect Arin didn't falter in the slightest. The fact was that he had enough power to just leave and abandon the prince; he, however, would rather kill himself before attempting that.

As Nocterin wondered what he should do, the vampiress had regained her composure, her energies having stabilized.

A chilling upturn of lips accentuated her unblemished face. But to them, nothing could be more eerie. Her two hands opened wide. Several gusts of gelid winds appeared out of nowhere. The whole hall trembled, shockwaves traveling through the ground.

The runes that were carved on each of the doors shone harshly. Deep purple beams of flux shot out from each one, at incredibly short intervals. The beams seemed to possess tracking abilities, relentlessly following the three visitors regardless of their incessant dodging.

Arin's hands were held tightly by Nocterin's strong grasp as the warrior evaded all the beams. At some point, the sheer number of beams surpassed comprehension. Almost every foot of the room had at least one.

Despite his best attempts to save Arin, Nocterin could only watch as one of the beams approached Arin. All his escape routes were blocked, leaving no alternative but to save Arin with his own body. Nocterin did exactly that. As the beam touched his frame, it seemed to have sucked away his Gorth Essence, and he felt immensely weak.

The now enfeebled Nocterin could barely avoid the swift and deadly beams. Arin, on the other hand, felt like complete dead weight. The fact that his subordinates had to fight such a monstrously powerful being to protect him, when they could easily escape, gnawed at his mind and soul.

Sure enough, Nocterin's body had eventually become too fatigued to evade the beams, causing one of them to strike Arin's body. Since he had neither mana nor other battle energies, the beams only had one thing left to suck: his life energy. The fatal beams seemed to draw his very being, as if he himself was shredding into nothingness.

Nocterin's mind ached with defeat and self-hate, an overbearing sense of compunction had devoured him.

Arin's lips released countless cries—innumerable moans. The fear of another death hurt his very being; he didn't know if he would reincarnate once again. This world had given him hope—a purpose to live and thrive for. Now, that exact world seemed to be becoming distant from him. He felt completely and insanely maddened.

The spirit, who watched from afar, had his head hung low, his face hidden from view. To him, the only thing that mattered was the prince's wellbeing. A sense of immense helplessness and desperation had filled the empty him. His face suddenly lifted upward, an expression of absolute frenzy evident on his face. His pupils and hair had turned completely white, bursts of ethereal numinous aura radiated from within. Every part of him exuded divinity—he stood there like an enraged god of purity.

This new form of him stunned the writhing Arin, a look of complete disbelief evident on his face.