**Chapter One: Noble Blood**
The air inside the tavern, with its windows tightly shut, was thick with a stifling heat.
There weren’t many patrons inside. Discussions unfolded in hushed yet fervent tones, the strong scent of alcohol stimulating the senses.
A silver cross hung on the wall, something that had been rarely seen in taverns until recently.
I sat deeply in one of the seats, legs crossed. The small ticking of the clock echoed softly. Even the voices of the inebriated guests carried a hint of dark emotion.
Night was falling.
It seemed that it had been two years since the word began to be spoken with a sense of fear. The cross displayed in the tavern, the meager trickle of water flowing around the establishment, and the tightly closed doors—all resonated with that shadow.
Living beneath the earth with only my heart as my status was not painful. I felt no pain at all. What I experienced was—nothingness. After somehow delivering Senri, my consciousness faded, and when I awoke, three years had passed.
It was a foolish tale. The world, which had remained unchanged for ten years, had transformed drastically in just three. The tavern now displayed crosses, people no longer wandered outside at night, and nearly every town had flowing water laid out.
The establishment now carefully vetted guests before allowing entry, and of course, the amount of garlic used in the dishes had increased.
“Excuse me, but we’re out of garlic for today,” the waitress said apologetically to a new guest.
A lie. There was a large stock of garlic in the back pantry. It had been a common ingredient in dishes at this type of tavern even before the turmoil began. The guest widened his eyes at the waitress’s implausible words.
“W-What!? You’re open on a night like this without garlic? Are you insane!? You know a tavern was attacked in the neighboring town, right!?”
Vampires come with fear. The price they demand is a nuisance, but they coexist with that price while being vampires. I knew well, being a person of the night. Flowing water, holy water, silver crosses, and garlic—none of these were insurmountable weaknesses. Water could be evaporated with magic, and one could also block it. The silver cross only worked if touched. And garlic—while it was a weakness, it didn’t mean one couldn’t drink the blood of a human who had consumed garlic.
At that moment, the girl sitting across from me, picking at the town’s famed dish of fried monster bird, lifted her gaze.
Her platinum blonde hair stretched to her toes. Her skin was pale, as if no blood flowed through it, and her delicate hands and feet looked as if they could break with a mere touch.
Mireille-Noah. Senri had also been delicate, but after being bedridden for years, her physique was noticeably frailer compared to others her age. Just days ago, she could hardly stand, yet now she cast a disdainful glance at the man who had just spoken, but upon realizing I wouldn’t say anything, she turned to me and asked.
“Brother, what are you thinking about?”
“……That cross isn’t a holy cross. It’s a bit warped; a proper cross needs to have a solid ratio to be effective. That one only has the effect of silver.”
“!! I see!! As expected of you, brother! I will work hard to become as impressive as you!! I need to take notes… so it’s not a holy cross, and thus, it’s ineffective…”
Mireille beamed with a smile like blooming flowers, pushing her meal aside to pull out a notebook (which she must have acquired from somewhere) and began to jot down notes. Perhaps having spent so long with someone stronger than herself, her reaction was somewhat uncomfortable. But surely, having such ambition is a good thing.
Just then, the man who had been confronting the waitress noticed us and widened his eyes.
“W-What!? Why is a kid here in a tavern on a night like this!?”
Our eyes met. His limbs trembled, and he instinctively stepped back. I gathered power in my gaze and spoke in a whisper.
“‘Well, calm down and sit. Sometimes a tavern might not have garlic, and sometimes there are children present.’”
“Ah… y-yeah, you’re right…”
The man’s eyes instantly lost their light, and with a dazed expression, he nodded and staggered to one of the seats.
This was the special ability granted by becoming a noble vampire—interfering with the thoughts of those who met my gaze, known as “Fascinate Eye.”
As expected of the powers gained from becoming a noble, this ability was quite formidable. Particularly, with this power, the condition of not being allowed inside unless invited could almost be ignored. It could be cast even through glass, and in taverns, a new rule had emerged where guests would slightly open the door to confirm the face of incoming patrons, allowing the ability to be used then as well.
Of course, “Fascinate Eye” was not infallible. It could fail depending on the strength of the target’s mental fortitude, and professional vampire hunters or Eclipse Knights were careful not to meet my gaze. However, it was impossible to impose such strategies on all humans.
Even in this age of increasing vampires, the scarcity of noble vampires likely contributed to the delay in counter-strategies.
“As expected of you, brother! Will I be able to do the same someday?”
Mireille asked timidly. I finished off my chilled tomato juice and smiled.
“You will. After all, I’ve shared my blood with you.”
—
The age of darkness had arrived.
The catalyst was said to be the First-Class Knight—Annihilation’s heir, who had fallen ill.
It was hard to believe that the monster capable of nearly obliterating me from an extreme distance had fallen, but nonetheless, as if waiting for that moment, the demon kings who had previously engaged in minor skirmishes rose up against the Order of the Final Knights all at once.
Among them, the most formidable demon king was the one known as the “King of Stakes,” who had once dispatched Seablue to me. This king had amassed an army of an estimated thousand vampires, a force overwhelming enough to lay waste to towns.
The Order of the Final Knights had maintained dominance over the armies of darkness, partly due to the elite Eclipse Knights, but also because the number of demons and powerful familiars—especially vampires—had not been that great.
That premise had been overturned. The army of demons, beginning with the vast number of vampires, was not something the Order of the Final Knights could contend with. They were heroes. But they were human. Faced with monsters possessing boundless physical power, they lacked the strength to protect the humans while fighting.
Thus, the Order of the Final Knights was defeated.
No—saying they were defeated is not entirely accurate.
They continue to fight even now, centered around Senri-Sylvis, the heir of Annihilation.
However, the towns of humans were unfortunately scattered. The Order of the Final Knights was also at a disadvantage, unable to protect everything. The world was engulfed in chaos. The demon kings still targeted the Order of the Final Knights, yet many towns fell, and nations crumbled.
While there were still towns that had not been destroyed, the fighting power of the demon kings was far beyond that of even a trained knight. The demon kings themselves were strong, but they commanded armies. During Rainer’s time, his own temperament had allowed for a direct assault on the stronghold, but facing off against noble vampires would inevitably lead to defeat.
In the first place, I had been able to fight at my best thanks to the high-quality blood of Senri.
With my revival and the harsh reality laid bare before me, my options were nearly nonexistent.
—
“What’s wrong? Why are you staring at me?”
I asked Mireille, who had been gazing intently at me. She blinked and, with her hand on her cheek, spoke dreamily.
“Brother… you look so cool.”
“R-Really…”
It was strange to be called cool when I hadn’t done anything. Was it a side effect of her becoming a vampire’s familiar?
Mireille was once a patient of the Death Soul Disease, and now she was this—an End-Baron’s familiar.
As I traveled from town to town, I continued to search for those who were unfit to live—those whose essence was far too reminiscent of the dead.
All of it was—for the sake of new companions.
To fight against the demon kings, to assist Senri, and ultimately to save humanity—strong companions were necessary. I had promised Senri not to create familiars, but perhaps she would allow it if the other party shared the same circumstances as I.
Generally, it is said that those bitten by a vampire become vampires themselves, but vampirism and becoming a familiar are, strictly speaking, different.
Vampirism is about taking, while becoming a familiar is about giving. Surely, the curse of creating werewolves that the destroyed Beast King possessed was a derivative of familiarization.
Those who are given vampire blood become vampires. Perhaps that was why Mireille began to call me brother, despite the lack of a blood connection.
At that moment, Mireille’s brow furrowed slightly, her small nose twitching.
“Brother, I smell the scent of the dead… it’s getting closer.”
Recently, there had been frequent incidents of vampires attacking taverns and shops that lacked counter-strategies in the nearby towns. Before my revival, vampires had been a rarity, almost mythical, yet now it was a chaotic era.
I had come this time to put a stop to it.
The door was smashed to splinters, and a massive chunk of stone came crashing into the shop, causing utter destruction. A drunken patron was caught in the chaos, pinned beneath the rubble.
A strong scent of blood quickly filled the air, and a moment later, screams erupted from the patrons.
Yet, the expression on Mireille’s face, who had only recently been an ordinary human, remained unchanged.
She merely twitched her nose slightly, a smile creeping across her lips as she spoke.
“Brother, may I kill them? I promise to meet your expectations.”
“Ah, go ahead. Show me what you can do.”
As soon as I gave my permission, Mireille’s physical form began to swell. Her thick coat tore apart from within, revealing a shimmering silver fur beneath.
This was the manifestation of her power.
While the familiarization of a vampire could only create lower-ranked beings, Mireille, having received the blood of a noble vampire, was a true vampire from the very beginning. Even now, transformed into a vampire, her soul continued to plummet into the abyss, just like mine.
Mireille’s transformation resulted in a sleek silver wolf. Despite the color being quite similar to the dog I had once transformed into, there was something undeniably striking about Mireille’s new form.
The wolf glanced at me with intelligent eyes before shifting its stance and barreling through the shop’s wall, bursting out into the open.
Debris fell around us in a chaotic shower. I took a bite of the leftover fries Mireille had abandoned and sighed.
If her instincts become too overwhelming, I might have to consider killing Mireille.
It was something I wanted to avoid at all costs—but in her current state, she would inevitably meet her end. I doubted she would have any regrets about it.