Chapter 122 - Separated—But Not Without a Plan

  The echo gradually broke the heavy silence of the grand hall of footsteps. Slowly, from the massive archways and entrance of the castle, the Vampire Lords and Elder Vampires began to return. They emerged one by one from the shadows of the nighttime exterior, their presence solemn, composed, but visibly unsettled by the events that had just transpired.

  Each of them carried the kind of aura that marked their age and power—ancient, oppressive, and proud—but now there was something else in their bearing, a cautious respect mixed with apprehension as they approached the center of the hall once more. Robes of crimson, black, and deep violet swept across the stone floor like waves of blood, and the low murmur of whispered thoughts buzzed through the air as they slowly regrouped beneath the towering spires and broken arches of their sanctuary. They returned not as conquerors nor as dignified nobility, but as witnesses to something they could not explain—and perhaps feared even more.

  Adam descended from the platform with slow, measured steps, the echo of his shoes deliberate, his expression composed. Behind him, the rest of his group followed quietly, standing in formation several paces behind, their presence respectful but alert. The boy stopped at the center of the hall where the Lords and Elders were beginning to gather, his gaze calm, sharp, and unwavering. As the last of them arrived and the room settled into expectant silence, he finally spoke—his voice clear, even, and commanding.

  “I thank you all for returning.”

  He said, addressing them directly.

  “There are things we must discuss. And I ask for your transparency, as I offer mine in turn.”

  There was a moment of stillness as the Elders exchanged glances. The most prominent black-robed Elder, who had led the ritual, stepped forward first and gave a curt nod.

  “We are listening, Lord Adam.”

  Adam inclined his head slightly, not in deference, but in acknowledgment.

  “Then let us begin with what you know of the world’s state after the appearance of the goddess Arianka. I need to understand the complete picture—the history and situation. I was asleep most of the time until very recently, so I don’t know the current position of our people.”

  The same Elder’s voice was quiet but steady.

  “Velmoria is all that remains of our kingdom. The last bastion of true vampire royalty. When that dammed Arianka descended upon this world, everything changed. The paladins she blessed—her chosen—became instruments of destruction. One by one, our cities fell. Our territories vanished. And now, this is all that remains.”

  Another Lord added.

  “We have survived through careful retreat and protection of what little is left. Every few years, the paladins assault Velmoria. And whenever they breach our outer defenses, they retreat as if on command. We do not know why. But this pattern has repeated for decades.”

  Adam nodded, absorbing every word, but there was one name he had to ask about.

  “And what of the Crimson Monarch? What became of Lilith? Please explain from the beginning, I have some new vampires in my entourage.”

  A noticeable silence fell upon the group. Eyes shifted uncomfortably. Some Lords lowered their heads slightly. It was another Elder—an older male with sunken eyes and silver hair tied in regal knots—who answered.

  “As you know, she’s Empress of our kind. The mother of the vampire race. Every strength we possess… every art of blood and shadow came from the ‘Blood Oath’ that bound us to her. As long as she lived, we flourished. Our power was unified. Absolute. But she vanished the same day Arianka arrived in our realm. The day the divine light tore open the heavens—that was the day our Queen disappeared without a word, without a trace. We do not know where she went or if she still lives. What remains are her direct descendants—very few in number- scattered across the world. Sir Vaelric, as you now know, is one of them. The only one in Velmoria.”

  The room grew quiet again, the memory of their lost queen still fresh even after so long. Adam folded his arms, considering the implications.

  “And the giants?”

  He asked after a pause.

  “You mentioned them briefly before. What is your history with them?”

  One of the older Elders gave a small sigh.

  “In a time long past, there was an alliance. Fragile, but present. Empress Lilith herself declared that vampires were not to make enemies of the giants. There were no treaties, no formal exchange—but there was an understanding. We did not interfere in their affairs, and they did not interfere in ours. Only we Elders recall those days. The bond faded long ago. We never knew why.”

  Adam nodded thoughtfully, then spoke again.

  “Do you know where we might find them?”

  The Elder hesitated before answering.

  “That is... not so simple. There was only one known big settlement, as they are a tribal race—the village of Uldroth. Unlike Velmoria, it was completely destroyed. The paladins razed it to the ground and built a temple in its place. It is said that one of the four Paladin Paragons now resides there. If any of the giants survived, they are scattered, hiding, or long dead, we haven’t seen any since the ‘Great Awakening’.”

  A ripple of tension moved through Adam’s group. His allies exchanged glances, recognizing the weight of the challenge ahead. The boy remained still, thoughtful, but resolved. His expression hardened as he stepped forward again, lifting his gaze to the gathered Lords and Elders.

  “Then we’ll go there, to Uldroth.”

  Adam said, his voice low but steady, firm as stone.

  “We’ll investigate what remains. If any truths about the giants or what happened are buried there, I intend to find them.”

  The words hung heavily in the air, and this time, the reaction was immediate. The Lords shifted uncomfortably, and the Elders drew in tense breaths. Several exchanged hushed words, their expressions etched with disbelief. One of the older Elders finally stepped forward, his voice laced with restrained urgency.

  “Lord Adam…”

  He said cautiously.

  “The ruins of Uldroth are no mere ruins. As I told you, the humans built an important temple there. It is surrounded by a paladin settlement—large, fortified, and filled with their divine guards. To even approach the area would be a death sentence for our kind. The divine presence alone is poison to us.”

  Adam said nothing at first. Instead, he lifted one hand, and in an instant, a wave of cursed energy burst outward from his body, followed almost immediately by a surge of devilish power—a sharp, serrated presence that cut through the room like a blade against still water. The pressure was suffocating, the temperature of the air dropping as shadows thickened around him. His silhouette darkened, and his presence expanded with such unnatural weight that even the Elders stepped back unconsciously, their ancient instincts sounding alarms deep within their cold blood.

  “But we are not what we once were.”

  Adam said, his voice now layered with that impossible mix of calmness and command, his eyes glowing faintly beneath the pulse of power.

  “Noctharis has returned to us in spirit. His protection still lingers. And I stand here with his essence, my will is his own. What threat do they pose to us now? What fear can the divine strike in our people who have already struck a deal with another god?”

  For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then, slowly, one by one, the Lords began to lower their heads. The Elders, once so hesitant, now knelt in reverent silence. Doubt slipped away, replaced by something deeper—renewed belief. Whatever else they had seen, whatever they feared, in that moment, they were reminded of who now stood before them. Not merely a Lord. But the chosen of a god, the bearer of infernal might, and the one who had dared to take command when even they had faltered.

  “We will gather our most loyal warriors.”

  One of the Lords said at last, his voice quieter now, almost reverent.

  “If that is your will, Lord Adam, then we shall follow.”

  And just like that, the order was no longer a proposal—it was a decree. But before the Lords and Elders could fully disperse, Adam raised his hand again, his voice cutting cleanly through the heavy atmosphere.

  “I will go to Uldroth personally, but I already lead a large entourage. If any of Velmoria’s warriors are to accompany us, they must be the best—only the strongest, the most loyal, and the most disciplined. Choose carefully. I will not tolerate weakness.”

  He said every word measured and firm. There was no hesitation in his tone, no room for negotiation. The message was clear: this was not a march of desperation, nor a pilgrimage—it was a mission, one with no room for vanity or excess. Those chosen would represent the last vestiges of vampire nobility and strength.

  The Lords bowed their heads first, and then the Elders followed. None dared question the judgment of the one who now carried the weight of Noctharis’ essence. They turned as one, filing out through the dark arches of the hall without another word. Plans were being born in that very instant. Strategies whispered, names remembered, old blades called from forgotten walls.

  Angela stepped forward again, her eyes narrowing slightly as she approached Adam once the last of the Lords and Elders had disappeared from view. Her tone was calm, but the edge behind her words was unmistakable.

  “Why bring the vampires at all?”

  She asked.

  “That place—Uldroth—it’s a stronghold for the paladins now. Wouldn’t it have been easier, safer, if it were just us?”

  Her question wasn’t accusatory, but it carried a weight of concern, as though she already anticipated the risks and couldn’t understand why he’d be willing to magnify them. Adam turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze with something between resignation and certainty.

  “Yes, probably. But after everything we’ve seen in the previous scenarios, playing things safe hasn’t exactly worked in our favor.”

  He glanced at the fading darkness of the hall, where mere hours ago, three godlike beings had clashed for his soul.

  “These hidden subplots… they’re always tied to the people of the world they belong to. Strangers like us can push events, even guide them—but only the native pieces can trigger the deepest outcomes. If we’re really going to unravel what’s going on here, we need those pieces in play. And besides…”

  He added with a faint smirk.

  “It’s not such a bad thing to have a backup from a species that reveres you as a divine figure. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Angela exhaled through her nose, not quite laughing but not arguing either.

  “Well, if you can find a way to resist the divine energy that place is bound to be soaked in, then I’ll handle their disguises. I can make them look human, like I did with us. Just make sure they don’t fall apart the second someone with real holy power walks by.”

  Adam nodded, his expression softening for a brief moment.

  “Thanks.”

  He said simply. But the quiet did not last, as the ground beneath them trembled.

  A deep, guttural rumble echoed from the depths of the city, shaking the walls of the ancient castle. Dust rained down from the cracked arches above them as everyone in the chamber instinctively reached for balance. Adam’s head snapped toward the sound, eyes narrowing in alarm.

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  “What the—?”

  Another tremor followed, stronger this time. The entire floor shifted underfoot, and a few of the less steady among them stumbled. There was no mistaking it now. Something massive was happening. A third quake boomed through the stone, and this one was different—it carried the faint sound of metal. .

  With unspoken urgency, Adam and the others made their way toward the outer balconies of the castle, the highest vantage point available. The ancient vampire fortress was built upon a mountainous rise, hence the enormous stairs, a structure carved into the rock and shadowed by centuries. From that height, they could see everything.

  And what they saw froze them to the bone… Across the fields beyond the ruined outer districts of Velmoria, there was light.

  Not the soft illumination of torches or the sickly glow of cursed flames, but a blinding, radiant wall of gold and white. A tide of divine brilliance spilling across the horizon, pushing aside the night itself like a curtain. The darkness of the land recoiled from it, shrinking under its approach as though the very world recognized what was coming.

  It was an army, a divine crusade unlike anything any of them had ever witnessed.

  The formation stretched farther than the eye could follow, a sea of armored figures whose presence lit the world like a second sun. Rank upon rank of holy soldiers, their pristine armor gleaming with sacred energy, advanced with perfect coordination. Standard-bearers marched in the vanguard, each banner pulsing with the symbols of Arianka. At the head, shining like celestial giants, stood two titanic figures—each one easily surpassing the height of the outer walls of Velmoria.

  Though their forms were humanoid, they moved with unnatural stillness, clad in gold and ivory armor too massive that it was weird to think it had been forged by mortal hands. Great hammers, their heads the size of siege towers, rested on their shoulders, each one crackling with condensed divine energy. The sight alone made the air burn in their lungs.

  But worse still was what followed above. Winged paladins soared through the skies in shifting formations, dozens upon dozens of them radiating light so intense it left trails in the air. These were not mere soldiers. These were the elite of the elite—Paladin Champions, the most powerful vanguard of Arianka’s will. Their presence alone was enough to signal catastrophe, and their numbers made it unprecedented.

  Between them, the clatter of marching boots and the grinding of divine siege engines filled the night with a steady rhythm. Machines of war, plated in ivory and glowing with scripture, rumbled forward on reinforced wheels, cannons of judgment mounted upon their frames.

  The thunderous sound of holy bombardment echoed again, and this time, they understood the source. Across the battlefield beyond the ruined gates of Velmoria, the divine siege engines of the paladins unleashed another volley.

  Projectiles—massive spheres of compressed divine energy—shot into the sky like miniature suns, trailing radiant tails as they tore through the night. They struck the great outer walls with violent impact, shaking the ground as stone crumbled under their assault. Some arced over the defensive structures entirely, crashing into the city beyond and reducing entire sections of buildings to splintered debris and flame. The kingdom erupted into chaos. Screams filled the air, soldiers shouted orders, and the haze of burning stone rose into the heavens like a cloud of judgment. Panic and sacred fury danced in tandem beneath the blood-colored moon.

  Adam and the rest of the group wasted no time. With a single glance and a terse nod, they descended the castle steps in a rush. Some of the recently awakened—Chloe, Dayana, André, Jonathan, and Sebastian—still stumbled as they moved, their minds barely catching up to the reality of what had just unfolded. Drake took the lead without being told, offering quick support to Jonathan, who muttered incoherent protests about holy bombardments between clenched teeth. Angela gripped Chloe’s arm and kept her steady while Emir hurried beside them, his Interdimensional Cube safely tucked under his arm, guarded like a sacred artifact.

  They sprinted through the winding streets of Velmoria, weaving between terrified citizens and rushing soldiers. All around them, vampires clad in dark armor moved with panicked purpose, trying to usher civilians deeper into the city’s fortified sectors. Shouts echoed from every direction, orders to seal the lower gates, to prepare the anti-holy barricades, to brace the sheer impact of the human empire that had claimed so many lives time and time again.

  Their destination was clear: the great northern gate, the same entrance through which they had first arrived. It was there, as they neared the final stretch, that two figures intercepted them—a blur of movement before recognition. Vaelric stepped into their path, his dark cape trailing like smoke, followed closely by one of the Elders, a man with narrow, silver eyes and pale, dignified features who Adam remembered but whose name he hadn’t learned.

  What startled the group even more, however, was Vaelric himself. He looked completely different from how he had appeared just a few hours ago. They all remembered him as gaunt and pale, a man whose body had been ravaged by years of starvation and decline. Back then, his cheeks had been hollow, his skin paper-thin, and his hair a tangled mess of dirt and neglect. But now… he was whole. Restored.

  His face, once sunken, was full again—undead, yes, but vibrant with vitality. His hair was clean and neatly combed back, shining beneath the flickering light of the burning skyline. He wore a fitted black and red armor adorned with the sigils of old vampiric nobility, and his eyes burned with a cold confidence that hadn’t existed before. He was, for the first time, unmistakably regal. A true descendant of the Crimson Monarch.

  “Lord Adam, you cannot go any farther. You’ll be caught in the next wave.”

  Vaelric said firmly, his voice calm despite the panic all around them.

  “We need to assess the situation. What the hell is happening out there?”

  Adam answered, stepping forward. The Elder took over then, glancing toward the horizon where holy light scorched the sky.

  “It’s one of the empire’s offensives.”

  He explained, his voice carrying the weight of tired familiarity.

  “They attack Velmoria every few seasons, testing our defenses, claiming uncountable souls… but this—this is unprecedented. Never before have they committed this much force.”

  As if summoned by his words, another sphere of radiant destruction broke through the clouds. It descended in an arc of golden fury, heading directly toward them with terrifying speed. Vaelric and the Elder barely had time to react, their hands raising in instinctive defense, but Adam moved faster. His eyes caught the light, and his body responded with clarity forged in experience. One step forward. One breath.

  A clawed hand erupted from his shoulder—massive, spectral, and dripping with corrupted energy. It belonged to one of the Daemon-Type ghosts that lived inside him, called forth by his will. The hand surged upward, intercepting the divine projectile in mid-air. Fingers closed around it with bone-snapping force, and with a sound like glass shattering under pressure, the claw crushed it into useless shards of divine metal, disarming the spellwork within before it could explode.

  Both Vaelric and the Elder were left frozen, their eyes wide, not from the danger but from the spectacle. From the display of power and other proof of the truth behind Adam’s identity. But he didn’t give them time to speak.

  “We need to get to the gate. We can’t just stand here while they bombard the city.”

  “No.”

  Vaelric said immediately, placing a hand on his chest as a formal way to stop him.

  “You are the messenger of Noctharis, our divine guide. You must not be seen by our enemies' forces just yet.”

  His tone wasn’t fearful—it was resolute. “This attack… It’s divine luck. If they’ve deployed so many forces here, then they’ve drawn them from other regions. Uldroth may be vulnerable. More vulnerable than it has ever been.”

  Adam hesitated. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. His first instinct was to object, but the logic couldn’t be ignored. Especially when he remembered the events in Celestia Sanctum. How his presence had been noted by some prominent figures there, and that was the same for Drake and Angela. It had triggered consequences none of them could control. If they revealed themselves now, they risked escalating everything. He didn’t say it aloud, but it was clear in the way his jaw tightened and his gaze lowered.

  He turned back to the others and exhaled slowly.

  “Change of plans. Most of you will stay here and assist however you can. Defend. Support. Help evacuate. But don’t engage. This probably isn’t a full assault—just another test. The city will hold.”

  “And you?”

  Takeshi asked, brow furrowing.

  “A small group will head to Uldroth, we can’t waste this chance.”

  Adam said.

  “What group? You can’t mean to go without backup.”

  Dayana asked sharply.

  “We don’t need many; too many bodies would attract attention. It was the better option from the start.”

  Angela replied, making it clear that she already considered herself part of the group that was going to go. Adam paused, but before he could add something more, Kazue raised her hand.

  “I know that face… Let me guess, you are planning to bring only yourself, Drake, and Angela, right? Well, I think Katya should go with you.”

  She said, her voice steady and looking at Adam directly into his eyes. Everyone turned, and Katya herself blinked, noticively dumbfounded.

  “Wait, what?”

  “Two reasons.”

  Kazue continued, ignoring the stunned silence.

  “First, she has that Plot Device. ‘Accompany!’ If she goes to Uldroth with the others, she can teleport back here—and bring others with her. That’s invaluable.”

  Katya’s eyes widened, and she started to protest.

  “But I don’t— I mean, I don’t want—”

  “And second…”

  Kazue interrupted gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  “We’re soulbonded. If we’re apart, we can still sense each other. If anything goes wrong, we’ll know. It’s the only way we can stay linked across distances.”

  Katya opened her mouth to argue again, but then stopped. Her gaze locked with Kazue’s. There was no hidden meaning in Kazue’s words. No manipulation. Just trust. Pure, unflinching trust. The blonde swallowed hard.

  “I don’t want to go, not without you…”

  The blonde muttered. Kazue smiled and took her hands.

  “Please, do it for me?”

  Katya turned bright red. Her body trembled with suppressed emotion. But slowly, she nodded.

  “If… if that’s what you want… then I’ll go.”

  Adam blinked at the exchange, then turned toward Kazue.

  “You thought that through fast.”

  He said, impressed.

  “I watch anime, the smart characters are always underestimated.”

  She replied with a small grin. Adam nodded as if understanding what she was talking about, his mind already recalculating. Then it was decided. The assault group would be four: Adam, Drake, Angela, and Katya.

  There were no objections from Adam’s team, save for the usual sigh of resignation from Li, who looked like he was already imagining the chaos ahead. On the other side, however, WNATN's members were visibly more unsettled. The idea of letting their leader travel alone with another group was clearly uncomfortable for them. Angela noticed the tension and raised a hand calmly.

  “I’ll be fine, You know what I can do. Besides, Adam and his people have proven themselves more than trustworthy.”

  She said with quiet confidence, her voice cutting through the noise around them. Her words, though simple, carried a weight that slowly eased the stiffness in her team's shoulders. They still didn’t look thrilled about it, but they nodded in reluctant agreement. Angela offered them a small smile, then added.

  “Support the defense however you can—but don’t throw yourselves into anything too dangerous. Hold the line. This isn’t the final battle.”

  Her tone was firm, instructive, maternal in its own way. Then, without letting anyone see the shift in her gaze, she turned to look at Adam. Just for a moment. Her expression darkened ever so slightly, a flicker of mistrust returning—but only for a heartbeat. It vanished before anyone noticed.

  The rest of the teams gathered for their final check-ins. Quiet conversations passed between them—last-minute instructions, words of caution, and encouragements masked as sarcasm. Within a few minutes, those who would stay and those who would go had separated. At the center stood the chosen four: Adam, Drake, Angela, and Katya. But just as they prepared to leave, Vaelric stepped forward, his posture rigid with discipline, his expression formal and resolute. He bowed slightly, his crimson cloak sweeping out behind him as he spoke.

  “Lord Adam, with all due respect, I humbly ask to accompany you.”

  He said in a voice that carried far more weight and confidence than the withered shell of a man they had met in Morvael.

  “Originally, I was chosen to join the selected group to represent Velmoria’s elite, alongside other Lords. But now, with the situation demanding their presence here… only I remain. I believe it is my duty to follow you in this divine undertaking. That you saved me in Morvael was not a coincidence—it was providence. A test of loyalty. And I will not fail it.”

  Adam looked at him for a long moment and immediately recognized the fire in Vaelric’s voice. It wasn’t desperation—it was devotion.

  “Then I’d be glad to have you at my side. But be ready. Where we’re going may well be more dangerous than anything you’ve ever faced.”

  Adam said sincerely, placing a hand on the armored pauldron of Vaelric’s shoulder. To that, Vaelric simply dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

  “Even if the path leads to a hell worse than the ‘Great Awakening’, I will follow you to its end.”

  He said solemnly. That earned a rare, genuine smile from Adam, one not born of manipulation or strategy but of quiet gratitude.

  A sharp voice cut the moment short—Drake, as always, focused and to the point.

  “We leave now. Everyone, grab on. Adam, think you can bind us together?”

  Angela and Katya both blinked in confusion, not fully understanding what he meant. But Adam didn’t hesitate. He raised a hand, and in a moment, several chitinous appendages burst from his back—sleek, black limbs like insect legs, eerily silent and precise. Before anyone could protest, they wrapped gently around the five of them, locking the formation into a single group.

  “Hey, watch out!”

  Angela protested under her breath while Katya wrinkled her nose in discomfort. But there was no time to complain. Drake raised one arm toward the sky and called out with a calm command.

  “Zhuhai, it’s time to go.”

  A seal ignited beneath them—elegant, sweeping lines drawn in a calligraphy of ink-like strokes, glowing with ardent power. In an instant, it expanded outward, opening like a gate across space, and from within, something emerged. A great serpentine shape began to slither through the rift, rising higher and higher.

  A dragon—not the Western kind with scales and claws, but a majestic Eastern beast, long and flowing like a river of crimson lightning. Its eyes were sharp and intelligent, its fur a radiant vermilion streaked with gold, and its horns curved like ancient blades. This was no ordinary creature. Its presence alone spoke of divine ancestry—Zhuhai, descendant of one of the Four Emperors of Murim.

  The team found themselves nestled atop the soft fur between the dragon’s brows, barely even jostled as the creature began to rise. With fluid, effortless grace, Zhuhai surged upward, his body weaving between falling divine projectiles with the precision of a dancer. Several glowing orbs of energy arced past, grazing the edge of his form—but none made contact. And then, with a pulse of wind, he took off across the sky, flying faster than the eye could follow, vanishing into the distance like a streak of fire.

  “Vaelric, you’re the guide now.”

  Drake said over the wind, his voice calm but firm. The vampire noble nodded without hesitation.

  “I will lead us to the ruins of Uldroth.”

  He said over the roaring wind, his eyes forward, locked on the horizon.

  “Whatever awaits us there… we shall face it head-on.”