**Chapter 2: Noble Blood②**
As I listened to the ticking of the clock, I felt my mind gradually sink into tranquility.
Having mutated into a Noble Blood Vampire, my abilities had significantly increased. And surely, my rising combat spirit was not merely a figment of my imagination, drawn forth by the enhancement of my powers.
Previously, I had been cautious. It was evident that I had changed since becoming a Vampire, as I no longer hesitated to inflict self-harm.
But that was fine. The opponent cornering Senri and the others was formidable; I had little confidence in facing them without the fighting spirit of a Vampire.
I settled down at the table and began counting. My powers had surged dramatically since my mutation into a Noble Blood Vampire. It was only recently that I had become adept at utilizing my numerous special abilities.
For those who had been Vampires for a long time, their skills would likely be even more refined. In terms of sheer power, I should have been surpassing the average opponent, yet the abilities of a Vampire were an extraordinary nuisance. I could find no peace of mind.
The living humans had already been evacuated to the kitchen. I doubted that leaving them behind would expose Senri, but it was undoubtedly better to minimize casualties.
After a brief wait, something flew in through the hole created by the earlier raid.
It was a large man with a chunk of his right arm bitten off. His eyes were as red as blood, and his sharp canine teeth peeked out from the corners of his lips. More than anything, I could tell from his scent that he was not human.
How ironic it was that, despite having spent so long in a lower rank, the existence of Vampires had become so commonplace.
The man, now a Vampire, skidded across the floor, but quickly regained his footing. His severed arm regenerated within seconds. His muscular arms were twice the size of mine, yet his skin was as pale as snow.
“Damn it! Young girl—why is one of my kind in a place like this?” he exclaimed.
Suddenly, a wolf, shimmering with dull silver, burst through the ceiling as if it were mere paper. What Mireille transformed into was not particularly large, but a Vampire’s transformed wolf was no ordinary beast.
The man effortlessly lifted a table, large enough to be held in one hand, and hurled it toward Mireille as she leaped in. She merely shivered and sent it flying away.
However, in that instant, the man had already transformed.
His large physical form tore apart with a sound, expanding in size. What emerged was a dark brown wolf, approximately five times the size of Mireille.
With its jaws wide open, the giant wolf collided with Mireille. I felt as though I were an observer outside a mosquito net, watching the clash of beasts.
It seemed the man had not even noticed my presence. Perhaps it was due to the power absorbed from the King of the Void Shadow, which suppressed the aura of death surrounding me.
The curse held by the King of the Void Shadow was, despite its ominous name, a power of “compression.”
It absorbed the negative aura released from my being and compressed it. The power, sharpened and compressed like stone or bone, would not even be detected by the sensing abilities of the Order of the Final Knights.
This was the curse possessed by the King of the Void Shadow. And likely, this power, derived from the curse of the Void Shadow—Skeleton, was exceedingly rare.
The powers held by ancestors derived from the special abilities of Vampires, but this was different. Though I could not hear its name, if I were to name it, I would call it “Extreme Bone.”
That said, the power only shielded me from the irradiation of negative auras. It would not have been strange for a Vampire to notice my presence through scent, but perhaps it was mixed with Mireille’s.
The silver and dark brown wolves clashed head-on. While the latter was larger, their mutation stages were likely comparable, yet the battle was heavily tilted in Mireille’s favor.
Fights between Vampires were typically gritty. Vampires possessed high regenerative powers and fatigue was nearly nonexistent, so unless one struck a vital point by surprise, battles tended to drag on.
However, this fight was one-sided. The giant brown wolf’s massive fangs struck the silver wolf, but it remained unfazed, countering with a strike from its supple limbs that easily pierced through the thick brown fur.
Blood splattered. A roar of agony reverberated through the air. Perhaps sensing the dire situation, the brown wolf attempted to retreat, but Mireille pursued without hesitation. Her fighting spirit was so high that it was hard to believe she had been a sickly person without dreams or hopes just days ago.
As the man was tossed about by the relentless assault, he croaked out, “You fool—how could you…?”
Mireille crushed his head beneath her right forepaw.
The familiar bond of a Vampire is not an “infection.” It is a transfer of power.
A Vampire created through familiarization with the deceased is stronger the purer the lineage of the parent. It seemed that Oliver was transformed into a Werewolf by the familiar of the King’s familiar— a third-rank Vampire.
As an ancestor—a zero-rank Vampire—I had directly bestowed blood upon her, and having inherited the power of the King of the Twilight Palace, she became a first-rank Vampire of the “Twilight Palace.”
With a brain injury rendering him momentarily immobile, Mireille repeatedly slammed the man’s head against the ground. The floor cracked, and the tavern shook like an earthquake.
Eventually, perhaps losing control of his power, the wolf’s physical form shrank back into a human shape.
Having begun hunting Vampires for some time now, Mireille seemed considerably accustomed to it. Looking down at the half-dead, twitching man sprawled on the ground, she let out a small growl and rushed over to me.
Her silver fur, though slender, was a monstrous physical body compared to a human, and it shrank in an instant. No matter how many times I saw it, it was a wondrous sight. By the time she reached me, there was not a trace left of her wolf form.
With her transformation having left her clothes in tatters, Mireille showed no signs of embarrassment as she leaped onto my shoulders.
“Brother! I did it!” she exclaimed.
Even I had been concerned about my clothes tearing, yet her boldness was remarkable.
“How many did you take down?”
“I killed two.”
She must have ambushed them. Hmm… there was nothing to criticize.
The proof of her being a Vampire—her blood-red eyes sparkled as she clung to me, and as I stroked her head in praise, my adorable familiar shivered slightly.
Perhaps, to Senri, I had once appeared in a similar light… Was my praise insufficient?
The twitching of the fallen man gradually subsided. Crushing his brain could limit his thoughts, but it wouldn’t erase his regenerative powers. However, Mireille had refrained from delivering the final blow because I had ordered her to leave one alive.
This was partly for information gathering… If there were no witnesses, our information would not smoothly reach the other side.
If we were to ambush, we should conceal our information, but even as we did so, Senri and the others were enduring a tough battle. If the target was dispersed, it would ease their burden.
Mireille tilted her head, presenting her white neck before me, and in a sweet voice, she said, “Brother, please reward me… Take my blood.”
I see, perhaps Senri felt this way when I asked for blood. While the roles were reversed, it seemed that being drained felt good too…
Though her face was not flushed due to her undead nature, her voice was melting.
I had been faithful to my desires since the beginning, so I tossed Mireille aside with the power of my ancestors and stood before the Vampire, whose regeneration was nearing completion.
I too now had a familiar. I needed to show my capable familiar a solid performance.
The regenerated eyeballs met my gaze firmly, the dazed look in them sharpening. No restraints were necessary. There was a vast gulf between me and this Vampire. It would be no issue for Mireille to handle him alone, and he should understand that as well.
Vampires were made to function this way.
Grabbing his hair and lifting his face, I locked eyes with him and smiled deeply, threateningly saying, “State your affiliation and objective. This is… my domain. Speak plainly, and I may spare your life.”