Part 3 epilogue: Happenings, advances, and progressions

-27th day of AC, 27.04.1052-

-Time: Around 12:30-

"Useless."

The older man’s voice rang out, sharp and unforgiving, cutting through the still air like a blade. He stared down the boy who stood a few steps away.

The single word struck Norbert like a dagger laced with venom, his father's scorn sinking deep into his chest. His eyes stared at his son, who looked at the ground. His entire form, frail and shivering, sent a clear message of fright he felt.

"You should do something useful with your life," the man spat, turning a small contraption over in his rough, calloused hands. The device let out faint, mechanical whirs as he jostled it, his expression a mixture of disdain and skepticism. "I don’t keep you here to loiter and waste your time on stupid things like this," he said. Despite his son explaining what it would do, the man was skeptical. There was no way a machine would be more precise than the human eye, not without magic.

His son’s voice wavered, barely above a whisper. "F-Father… i-it’s n-not useless… it can help m-measure--"

"Enough!" The man’s roar reverberated through the cramped room, silencing the boy mid-sentence. "You’re a farmer, Norbert, not some scholar or blacksmith! You should focus on what matters, not waste time on these absurdities," he stepped closer. "This is why you’re so weak. You never listen. You’ll never learn. I know what’s best for you, whether you like it or not."

Norbert's hand shook faintly. It felt wrong. Looking at his father, he could see that the man was barely holding himself upright despite the hour being barely past noon. The smell of his alcoholic breath made him almost nauseous.

"F-Father... why do you hate this s-so much?" he inquired carefully.

Suddenly, however, he saw stars.

"You dare question me?!" his father's voice sounded with anger that was only further accentuated by the stench of his ****-ridden breath.

"N-No, F-Father... I j-just don't k-know why--"

"Exactly! You don’t understand!" the man bellowed, his face contorted with rage. "Because you’re too stupid to follow even the simplest instructions! And you think this will help?" He shook the contraption violently before hurling it to the ground. The device shattered, tiny pieces scattering across the floor. "You're useless," the man sneered. "Maybe I'm better off without a failure like you."

The boy didn’t respond. His father’s words cut deeper than any blade, leaving unseen wounds.

"Clean up this mess before I come back," the man ordered, staggering toward the door. "And have dinner ready."

Norbert looked at the man's back. His father almost tripped on the uneven floor, his current state not helping in the slightest. However, uncoordinated as he could be, he had virtually no trouble finding the door's handle. Within seconds, he slammed the door behind him, leaving the brown-haired boy alone with his thoughts.

...

...

...

Tears ran down Norbert's cheeks. The sensation of the burning drops was the same as ever. It always hurt.

Releasing a shaky sigh, he dropped to the ground. With a somewhat languid motion, he picked up the small pieces. Each tiny shard felt like a reminder of his own inadequacy, of everything he’d failed to be in his father’s eyes.

But not today.

Today would be different.

Deciding against putting the thing back together right now, Norbert stashed it in his pocket. Then, he walked to the other side of the room, where the window was.

Silently, he watched his father step away on the road. Given his state, Norbert would probably be all on his own until the evening.

He sighed, looking over the room. However, no matter how much he did so, the scrawny and poor aesthetic never failed to remind him of his crude conditions. The depressing atmosphere of the room was only further amplified by how weak his steps were.

However... today, this would change.

For the first time in forever, the boy felt something pierce through the fear of his father he felt. Was it his loathing for him? He wasn't sure. Right now, it didn't matter.

Norbert approached a small drawer in the corner. Opening it, he immediately noticed a length of rope. It was a sturdy piece he kept to himself, stolen from his father some time ago.

Taking the rope out, he looked to the ceiling. The strong supports were like stark trees, offering to uphold the rope together with whatever he'd hang on it. A momentary thought about using it for something that crossed his mind so many times emerged.

However...

'Tomorrow will be better.'

Norbert put the rope on his bed. Subconsciously, he rubbed the spot on his head that was hit by his father before reaching for a small backpack nearby. Stashing the rope inside, he pulled out a few more items hidden around the room. From small tools that he liked to tinker with at times to loose pieces of metal with mildly unknown use, he filled the pack until it was about half full.

He looked around the room once more. A deep, stinging feeling of longing pierced his chest. Faintly, Norbert could imagine the face of his mother calling out to him to not do what he thought of doing. But within his mind, the decision was already made.

He knew it was foolish. He knew that better than anyone. He was weak and scrawny, barely able to use his strength to even use a plow. However, underneath that weakness, a resolve burned.

'...maybe you really are better off without me, Father.' he thought silently, stepping through the small house. Picking a small jacket - the only one he owned - and donning it, the boy glanced around the room one last time.

And then, he pressed the handle leading outside.

...

...

...

He took a breath. The world beyond the threshold was brighter than he remembered, the air crisp with the scent of earth. Each step he took felt lighter, as though the oppressive weight of the house no longer held him down.

For some reason, even though he could tell his decision was rash, Norbert didn't feel bad about it. Rather, his heart beat with more power than ever before. It was still faint, but a glimmer of resolve burned within him.

A memory danced in front of his eyes as he walked away from the nearby buildings, and down a road leading east. The reminiscence was about a man, or perhaps a savior, who reached out with a hand to him when his own father would not. The golden eyes of the man were now seared into the boy's consciousness, almost like there was an intangible, ethereal connection guiding him toward him. Somehow, even though he barely saw where he was going, he didn't feel lost. It was like he was following a road to salvation, paved by that very man.

He knew it wouldn't be easy. For that very reason, he had stayed with his father for so long. The grand world, open and inviting, was full of threats and uncertainties. Any step or glance could be his last. Any encounter with a monster could end in his ****. However... he made peace with that. He would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid. Every time he went further away from the large village east of Poiri, Norbert felt his form falter slightly.

Yet, he pushed on regardless.

Deep within him, resolve burned. It was a faulty and still childish thought. A call for help, a glimmer of hope... whatever it took for him to get stronger. He wanted to duplicate that strength, to copy that stride, to become like him. Within him, a thought emerged.

'Tomorrow will be better. I will make it better, even if only a little bit.'

It was a thought alien to him. Yet, it was something that made him step forth with strength and resolve that was unknown to him. He wanted to stand strong, just like the stranger who implanted this thought within him.

-Meanwhile-

Four travelers stepped forth, passing by a large boulder marking a crossroad. The road to the right led to the nearest mountain's peak, the path barely visible in the dirt and stone. They, however, went left, off any beaten paths, beginning their descent into a slightly shallow valley.

The humid air was thick with the scent of pine needles, the mire beneath them letting out faint, squishy sounds with every heavy step they made.

The man leading the group, Leopold, got a hand to his breastplate, checking its state once more. The silvery metal, thick and strong, almost vibrated with the magical power surging just beneath the plates. A faint smirk of confidence donned his face; it was an armor once worn by his ancestor, who went against the 20th great demon more than 400 years ago. The armor's nigh-perfect condition signaled its **** resilience - whatever they were dispatched to destroy would barely even scratch it, he knew it.

"We're approaching the location," he heard a man to his right say, a rustling of paper sounding as he folded the makeshift map they'd received. "It should be under the next peak."

The leader nodded, stealing a glance behind as they slowly came to a halt. "How's everyone? Jia, Buner?" he eyed the two, a Mage-type class with a small body and a far bulkier man with double axes by his side.

"I'm alright," the woman smiled with confidence. Her amber eyes glimmered with power, and she got some of her black hair out of her face, letting it cascade to her elbows.

"As am I," the man nodded, his strong jawline emphasizing the power of his every move.

"I'm glad," Leopold felt at ease with their confidence. "What about you, Selar? How's your first appointment looking so far?"

The man, standing somewhat shorter from Leopold, looked over the group before blurting out, "Boring. It's been only walking."

The trio almost immediately burst into brief laughter.

"Don't worry, you'll fight soon enough," Buner gave Selar a strong pat on his back. "Never fought a demonkin, have you? Don't let your jaw drop when you see it."

"...I know. I've seen a few in captivity. It's my job to know them all."

"Still, it is an experience you won't forget," Jia chimed in. "It's frankly disturbing how human vampires look. Don't let that shake you."

Selar nodded, though his grimace made it clear he felt mildly annoyed with the words.

Leopold sighed, looking over the group.

"Before we go and search for it, let's briefly discuss it again. This time, how about our Demon Slayer shows what he's gathered?" he nodded toward Selar, who immediately rummaged in a small bag by his side. 'Young, but with a lot of vigor.' the man conceded.

Selar shuffled a few papers in his thin fingers. "Our target is a vampire, around level 250 on estimate. It's a baroness of Ashthorn line, whose specialty is precise control over blood magic. Exact abilities are not known, but are speculated to be mostly debilitation magic, with potent paralysis debuff as a primary skill. It's expected that the magical strength will be rather large, but it will be very brittle in physical terms. More than that, the vampire is currently starved, and freshly woken from a hibernation period. Given that a pre-1st-advancement Rogue managed to get away and not get hunted down, the danger assessment placed the vampire as a three out of ten (probably only because of its level estimate, too)."

Leopold hummed, his head going in a slight nod. "Good, good," he said before looking at the other two. "The verdict I assume is the same as before?"

"I've been through worse," Jia nodded. "A few light spells and it's done."

"Same here," Buner agreed. "I'll chop its head off before it even tries to paralyze us."

"Now, then," Leopold smirked, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword. "Me and Selar will lead the attack, as we are the best counters to both Mages and demonkin. Buner, you support us and guard Jia when needed. Jia, you blast the thing away when we give you a clear shot. Any questions?"

His three companions shook their heads. Leopold immediately resumed his stride, the rest of the group following.

...

It took a few minutes to reach down into the valley. The magnificent mountains in the distance began hiding behind closer, no less imposing peaks. The spare forest they entered was vivid with animals, anything from small game to even a deer crossed their paths. A small stream they crossed was full of clear water.

That, however, didn't last forever.

Selar was the first to point out the irregularity.

"Is it me, or are the birds quieter here?" he looked at his companions, a tinge of uncertainty crossing his features.

Jia was the first to nod in confirmation. Immediately, her hand went to her side, undoing a small seal on a container. From within, she pulled out a small, half-translucent orb of a blue color.

"Let's tread carefully, we're approaching the location," Leopold ensheathed his weapon as well.

Continuing further, the travelers started noticing that the forest ahead was clearing out. But rather than feel relieved, only tension made its way into their throats. The clearing wasn't natural. Signs of destroyed trees were everywhere, from myriad wooden chunks to whole coronas lying around. Their path was barricaded in several spots, forcing them to circle the obstacles.

Eventually, they reached the clearing. Roughly 50 meters in diameter, it was full of broken tree stumps and cracked branches. Their leaves were still vividly green. However, plenty of dirt was thrown around. Its moist scent indicated that the destruction did not happen that long ago.

Leopold gave everyone the command to halt. They rummaged in their pockets, fishing out small vials of red potions. Without a word spoken, they downed the contents.

Silently, they unsheathed their weapons, stepping forth. High on alert, they scanned their surroundings.

And then, Jia's voice piqued everyone's attention.

"There," she pointed. "There's something in the distance. About 50 meters."

The trio of men looked carefully in the direction. It was difficult to make out anything amidst the overall destruction, the flutter of green leaves almost entirely concealing a gray smudge beneath. With slow steps, they approached, watching out for any movement.

"...it's a wyrm," Leopold's voice pierced the air suddenly.

"A wyrm...?" Selar repeated the word, his eyes dimming for the faintest blink as he searched his head. "A field boss resting in a place like this?"

The incredulous question hung in the air for a blink. However, no matter how much any of them wanted to deny what they were thinking, the sight in front of them cleared up, only confirming Leopold's words. The gray scales formed uniform, interlaced layers that covered the monster's whole skin. A few protrusions were visible to the side - the beast's head, no doubt. However...

"...it's hurt," Leopold said quietly, noticing several cuts in the scales. Some of them had faint blood stains. "Should we finish it off?"

Jia shook her head. "It'll be a waste of stamina. Maybe after we finish our objective."

Selar nodded at the woman's words, agreeing with her. Leopold lowered his blade with a sigh at their reactions, conceding their point.

Buner, however, didn't answer. He squinted briefly, approaching the wyrm. His companions sent him a questioning look, but he didn't care. Rather, all his attention was focused on the monster up ahead. Eventually, he came to a halt.

"It's not hurt," he noticed, turning to his companions. "It's dead. Probably been for a few hours."

Buner's hand went over the wyrm's scales. What immediately piqued his attention was the cuts in its armor. They were... suspiciously clean. Whatever made those cuts was far sharper than any weapon he'd ever seen. And more than that...

'...looks like the work of a single person. I don't recall report saying any mercenaries in Lodiz were on this level...?'

Jia's eyes widened. "Dead...?" her hand shook, the orb therein glimmering faintly. "If it's dead, then what did I sense?" she asked the question, her eyes scanning everyone briefly, conveying the silent message.

Buner was the first to react, bolting in their direction and standing in front of Jia while Leopold and Selar assumed their own positions. It was one of the formations they had practiced thousands of times in their time as mere initiates of Forna's Church. Assuming a battle stance, they listened to Jia's words as the woman sent another wave of mana, scanning the surroundings again.

"...it's... gone?" she half-stated, half-asked, turning around.

"What do you mean, 'gone'? We'd have heard it move, no?" Leopold frowned. A pang of nervousness made it down his gullet. Something felt wrong about this.

Jia froze mid-step, her breath hitching. Her head whipped around sharply. "Behind us!" she hissed, her voice tight with urgency.

"!"

Leopold, Buner, and Selar turned around, scanning the terrain in front before setting their sights on the singular woman roughly fifteen meters from them.

She was of a somewhat moderate height, standing at 1.6 meters. A long cascade of beautiful, silver hair was let loose, hanging around her midriff and shimmering brilliantly in the sun's rays. The woman's proportional face had a very mild look to it, with a small nose and sleek cheeks. The pointy ears were poised somewhat high, and just like her overall carnation, they were very bright, just barely tinted with a pink color. That, in turn, was countered by her ruby-red eyes that scrutinized the four with faint curiosity. She looked like an ethereal beauty that not even the highest nobles could compare to.

The woman's body was finely pronounced. Her chest was no doubt in the upper third of the sizes Leopold had ever seen, and her hips had an enticingly flaring curvature to them. Her waist, however, was graceful and thin in a way that further accentuated her seductive look.

Her dress did nothing to hide her body's shape, either. The cascade of dark purple complemented her eyes in a way that seemed almost contradictory, and its bustline was rather low. Similarly, it ended just above the woman's slender calves, showing that her small, delicate feet were unbound by any footwear.

Leopold slowly expulsed some air, shuffling to the front of the group. There was no need to say a word. They all knew who this being was - Isolde Ashthorn, the very vampire they were sent to take care of.

He poised his sword, waiting briefly for Selar to join him. Stealing a glance at the youngling, the Paladin noticed that he just barely managed to take his eyes off of the vampire's generous assets, no doubt incited by the sight. Truth be told, Leopold wasn't immune to luscious thoughts himself. If only this woman was not a monster...

"Oh?" Isolde gave a sound. Her very voice stirred the air, its tone soothing and pleasant to the ear. Her face showed a slightly perplexed expression. "Humans? Splendid, exactly what I wanted," she suddenly smiled, her form somewhat relaxing. "I have a proposition for you."

The four blinked in confusion, uncertain what to make of the vampire's words.

Isolde continued, "The man I met, who I assume told you about me. I want to find him," she said. Her tongue brushed her full lips slowly, making an almost sensual motion. If Leopold didn't know any better, he'd have said the vampire was hungry not for the blood of the supposed man, but for... something else. "Tell me where he is and I'll spare you. I have no interest in you."

Jia was the first one to break the silence, her voice aimed at her comrades, "Snap out of it!" she raised a hand, a surge of mana transforming into a circle of curing magic that enveloped them all. "We found the target!"

The first one to regain his cool was Leopold. Almost immediately, he charged his mana.

'Blessing of Light.' he chanted the skill in his mind. It was one of his signature abilities as a Paladin, granting him massively increased attack power against demonkin. No, more precisely, it granted a great amount of 'light' attribute attack power, but he didn't care about the specifics. All he cared about was, that it was a perfect skill to use against a vampire.

Isolde frowned, lifting a hand at their response. Suddenly, a few small spears of blood appeared, shooting forth. Unable to avoid it in time, all four of them felt the unpleasant sensation of the blood being injected into their bloodstreams. Equal displeasure spread as the magic affixed to that attack started its work.

...but then, they moved like nothing ever happened.

Leopold connected his steps rapidly, unbothered by the minimal stiffness in his muscles. It was the effect of the potion they had drunk beforehand - a concoction to temporarily raise their resistance to paralysis. It wasn't perfect, but it did the job.

Isolde's eyes widened. She was clearly not expecting her debuff magic to be resisted. Her hand raised as she backpedaled. Scarlet-colored fluid merged into a spear-like shape in front of her, aiming to block. What happened instead, however, was that his sword pierced the obstacle almost like it was not there. His sword just barely missed as Isolde instinctively shifted her position, and he ended up only cutting her slightly on her midriff.

"!" Isolde hissed, her face contorting. It, however, was a gesture not of pain but offense. "You dare!" she almost yelled, blood magic welling in her palms. In the next moment, they shot forward as balls of concentrated energy that hit Leopold square in the chest.

The man staggered, unable to block or evade. The blow didn't pierce his armor, but the sheer power behind them spoke volumes about Isolde's power. It appeared the supposed report of her being level 250 was not false, after all.

However, he wasn't alone. As he took a step back, Selar was already rushing from the side. His weapon made a clear arc that aimed to behead the vampire in an instant. His movements were very quick, nearly on par with an Assassin of a similar level. That made his blow unavoidable.

"!!!" Isolde concentrated her magic around her neck, just barely able to deflect the strike. She could sense the sheer amount of light magic pouring from the youngling's sword. It was not comparable to the annoying Paladin, but dangerous nonetheless.

But that wasn't the end. An axe suddenly flew through the air, narrowly missing her face. Isolde gathered more magic, letting it spread across her body evenly. Then, she shot a hasty glance in the direction where the weapon came from. The bulky man who threw the axe was already close, the other, identical weapon aimed at her torso. He wasn't powerful against her, but he still took the precious time she needed for a counterattack.

It was a horrible situation. For a Mage, getting cornered by melee fighters - three of them, at it - was no different from sentencing them to **** with no ability to retaliate. That was a fact that Buner, Selar, and Leopold exploited to its fullest. Whenever one of them struck, another was preparing for their turn. Their victory was certain now.

Or, at least, that's what they thought.

Isolde, who barely managed to respond to their attacks, gathered magic in her hands again. As Selar rushed in during his turn to attack, she pointed her hands at the ground.

"BLOOD WAVE!" she yelled, her beautiful voice tinged with pain.

Instantly, a surge of pure blood erupted from underneath her feet, blasting in all directions. The strike's momentum was enough to push Selar back, and even Leopold had to briefly stop. Buner staggered a little as well.

Isolde hissed lowly. Her dress was cut in several spots, including but not limited to a large vertical cut that - at the time - was aimed to pierce her throat. Her reflexes let her avoid the blow narrowly, but her cloth paid the price, causing her already visible decolletage to be even more pronounced, also showing that the vampire wore no additional clothing underneath it, prodigious inner sideboob visible. She pointed her hand at the still-recovering Selar. A large spear of a dazzlingly scarlet color formed. It was a blow that would surely be critical for a human like him.

But that was when the fourth variable stepped in.

"!" Isolde suddenly staggered, a sensation of searing pain emanating from her stomach. Looking down, she saw a spear of light - which was an ironic weapon to her - lodged deep in her abdomen. The faint pulses of its mana reverberated in her body painfully. Her ruby eyes shot a hateful glare at the woman in the distance.

With a groan, Isolde removed the spear. Exhaling heavily, she barely reacted as Leopold approached.

"And that's the end," the man said, rushing forth. His blade, still surging with the power of light magic, pierced straight through Isolde's sternum.

Isolde staggered weakly as Leopold removed his blade. Her face, once so vivid and full of cockiness, now showed a new emotion: fear. Whatever was there of color on her face vanished, and her eyes stared into his blankly for a second or so. Then, she slumped to the ground motionlessly.

...

"Phew," Buner's voice rang in the air. He glanced at the vampire's body briefly. "See? They aren't that difficult, as long as we know what we're going against," the huge man let out a hearty laugh.

Selar nodded, hiding his weapon. "I can see why they were so easily wiped in the last holy crusade."

"Well, to be fair, we are a terrible matchup for them, even if we were dispatched hastily. Even if you're just about level 100, I am freshly past my 2nd advancement," said Leopold. "And Jia is the next closest. Level... 195, right?"

"Yeah," the woman answered, lowering her orb and rummaging in her pocket. "Who knows, maybe even 196. The office said I was close," she droned on briefly, fishing out her MID. With a quick click, she fired it up, displaying a small panel in front of herself. Then, she frowned. "No, still 195."

Buner got a hand on her shoulder, the gesture warm and reassuring. "You'll level up on the way, I'm sure."

The two started talking quietly, checking the state of their equipment and preparing to return to Lodiz. In the meantime, Leopold poked Selar's elbow with his own.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, looking over the youngling.

"I'm all right," he answered, a faint sigh escaping his mouth as he brushed his hair. "A little uneasy, but I'll be fine."

The Paladin hummed. "I know that feeling," he said slowly, watching Buner and Jia finish their preparations.

"They bleed like anything else," Buner said, wiping his axes with a grin. "Even pretty ones."

"I know, I know," the Demon Slayer nodded. "We're doing just work, and keeping people safe. Yet..." his expression turned troubled for a blink. "I don't know if I'd have this mindset if it were..." his voice quieted down. However, his expression turned tense.

"...Selar?" Leopold turned slightly, scanning the man's expression. Suddenly, he felt a chill run down his spine. It was a subconscious feeling of being stared at by a predator. There was no time to ponder. "Jia, Buner, in formation!" Leopold called out to the two, quickly unsheathing his sword.

"Huh?" Jia suddenly turned to them. "What do you--!" suddenly, her words stopped.

A blinding flash of crimson light burst from her abdomen, and her body jerked violently. The group froze as Jia staggered, her face contorted with pain and disbelief. Slowly, her trembling hands moved toward the massive, blood-red spearhead protruding from her stomach. Before she reached it, her muscles lost their strength, and she slumped to the ground.

"Jia!" Leopold was the first to react, running closer to help the woman.

The petite woman convulsed violently, blood spluttering from the huge wound as the spear vanished. Her hands spasmed, just barely grasping at Buner's. Her amber eyes, so vivid and warm previously, faded almost immediately.

"No!" Buner cried out, catching the black-haired woman. "Jia, stay with us!" he urged, immediately searching around for his pack.

Jia grasped at the large man's hand. Life sept from her body by the second. Leopold arrived within a second, his hand coated in an aura of light. However, even as the light dispersed, Jia's wounds could not close immediately. It would take at least a few seconds.

Selar, in the meantime, was completely still. Fear pierced through his heart, spreading in his veins like frozen rivers. His mind abruptly felt blank. The sudden reality of what just happened weighed on him, and his eyes watered.

The moment was broken by a peal of laughter. The voice carrying it was as beautiful as they had heard previously.

The trio turned around, immediately readying their weapons. Rage surged within them, but it mixed with a palpable sense of confusion and bewilderment. The vampire, who was supposed to be dead, stood on their other side, exactly opposite from where she had supposedly died, next to the wyrm's body. Naught a tinge of damage was visible on her alluring form. Even her dress appeared completely fine.

"What?" Leopold let out half a gasp. "H-How...?" he sounded confused, barely able to form even a word, let alone a sentence.

"Did you think I wouldn't be prepared?" Isolde asked her voice full of laughter that was painted on her face. "I'd have died long ago if I were to lose so foolishly."

Buner was the first to react. With a furious roar, he threw one of his axes while rushing forth.

Isolde's reaction, however, was starkly different from what anyone imagined. Suddenly, she swiped her hands as though holding something. As the motion continued, blood magic around her concentrated, forming a scythe. The vampire held the weapon with an experienced hold.

The silver-haired woman swung her scythe, deflecting Buner's axe. Then, she stepped forth. As she did so, a sudden pulse of magic enveloped the nearby area. The gravity around appeared to double, forcing Leopold to hunch over. Selar dropped to one knee, and even Buner's advance was slowed.

"You've put up a good fight," Isolde continued, her voice calm and melodic. "But now, it's time I finish this," she said, raising a hand. Then, she snapped her fingers.

Instantly, several blood spears appeared behind her. They weren't that powerful, but Leopold could tell their main function wasn't attacking.

'The report was wrong...' he realized, forcing his body to work as the projectiles surged right at them. 'The report was so wrong... why?' he pleaded inwardly, feeling his body being hit by a few of the spears.

Was it because the vampire was freshly woken back when the Rogue met her? Or because the vampire was at low power back then, so she tempered her strength? But before everything, Leopold couldn't understand one thing. How did she survive? He definitely pierced her chest. He'd killed no less than five vampires and thousands of beasts. The sensation didn't feel any different from before. She definitely had her heart pierced. Just how...?

'...an illusion.' he realized, stealing a glance toward where the vampire's body should've been. A large puddle of blood was visible. 'We were tricked...'

He slashed. However, his movements, once rapid and filled with energy lethal to demonkin, now were sluggish and uncoordinated. Isolde barely even had to move.

'But... how--'

His thought was stopped by the scythe's blade.

...

Selar couldn't even look at what was happening, dropping to his knees. Only the sound of Leopold's head plopping to the ground entered his ears.

A reflux of stomach acid surged. He barfed, unable to bear what just happened. He had heard stories that sometimes, expeditions would fail. Sometimes, it was just like that. A person or two died - a harsh reality he thought he was prepared for. But the truth of what just happened was too much. He was not ready to see a human die.

"How pitiful," he heard the vampire's voice sound. "I'll give you a chance, human," the woman spoke, her eyes glistening with faint power. "The man who told you about me. Where is he? Tell me, and I will spare you."

Selar remained silent. His mind surged with all the images he'd seen.

Where has it gone to hell? Was it when they thought they won? Or when they believed they were prepared? Or maybe... it was all his own fault for ever thinking he was special with his class...?

"My patience is running thin, human," Isolde spoke, her voice tinted with faint impatience. Her scythe brushed Selar's neck tenuously. "Where is that man?"

"...go to hell."

"?"

"I will not say a thing to a mons--!" suddenly, Selar's voice was cut off. Quite literally.

As the Demon Slayer's head dropped to the ground, Isolde let out a sigh. Looking around, she located the other three bodies.

'First attack, then ask questions. How typical of humans.' she thought, stepping back so as not to stain her dress. 'I was serious when I said I'd let them go... oh well.' she shrugged, taking in a deep breath. The scent of their blood, which would normally feel amazingly appetizing, now was... somewhat dull.

Isolde licked her lips instinctively. Just the thought of the delicious taste that one man gave her was enough for her to discard the fact he managed to overpower her. It was thanks to his blood, after all, that she managed to survive this encounter. And she wanted more.

She opened her mouth slightly. Saliva dripped as the buxom vampire giggled lightly. Her expression turned somewhat manic. She was hungry. She was so hungry. But she would no longer set for just any blood, not after tasting that.

Her hand lifted. Within a few seconds, the blood magic around her gathered, concentrating on her back. Then, it transformed, forming a pair of blood-colored wings nearly twice as wide as she was tall.

'Just wait for me... don't you die...' she pleaded. 'Because I need more.'

And then, her wings flapped, sending Isolde into the sky. She wanted to interrogate the humans before, but it wasn't a necessity. Even without questioning them, she could still faintly sense the dainty scent of that man's mana. It guided her in a direction that she discerned to be the city from where humans and other beings she usually fed on would sometimes come. Isolde's smile widened as she soared higher and higher, reaching a stable altitude from which she could see for many kilometers in each direction. She felt her heart throb with an unknown, almost constricting feeling of hunger, much like her stomach did. It was anticipation.

The hunt has begun.

-Elsewhere, during the evening-

Ivran's steps were deliberate, guiding him into the darkening obscurity of the corridor the stairs led to. The dark robe around his body shuffled lightly with every silent step he took.

The torch on the nearby wall cast an ominously low amount of light, painting the nearby stones in a dimly orange tint that quickly faded into black. This was of no concern to him; he had long since had no use for his eyes. The two companions who stepped closely behind him, however, were not as lucky.

"Dammit," he heard his first student, Runis, swear under his nose. The unsteady click of his boots sounded as though he had tripped.

Ivran paid him or Misla, the other person, no further attention than a simple gesture of a hand, telling them to stop in their tracks. Stepping forth, he focused on a single guard standing further in the corridor.

The man unsheathed his sword as he noticed the intruder.

"Who are you? Unmask yourself!" he raised his voice, the blade poised as he walked toward them.

However, Ivran had no intention of letting him close the distance further.

"Stop," his voice, husky and heavy, echoed in the corridor, carrying a weight that appeared to bend the light itself.

The guard immediately stiffened up to his own surprise. His mouth parted, but no voice came out. His hand shook, just barely clutching the blade, unable to either continue his advance or relent it. His eyes immediately showed a new emotion: fear.

Ivran lifted his hand roughly. Its surface, covered in a matte black glove, was immediately illuminated by red light. A ball of red energy - his Willpower - was immediately fired from his palm, striking the guard in his forehead and making him tumble. Stiff as a piece of stone littering the walls, the guard could only watch with dim eyes as Ivran came closer, looming over him. The strange, bird-like mask covering his face did nothing to make the situation any calmer, but it was of no concern to Ivran.

Psion's hand lifted.

"Sleep."

The guard's eyes widened, a sense of apprehension in his spirit no doubt surging. However, he went limp just a second later. Ivran turned to his two companions, the bright material of his mask the only thing visible in the dark.

"Runis," he said simply before resuming his stride.

"On it, Master," the man nodded. The dark shawl around his head hid most of his face, but the glimmer of his amber eyes was unmistakable. His hand, of a dark carnation, raised as it became enveloped in red energy not dissimilar to Ivran's. He knelt by the guard, hand over his head.

Misla's steps led her right behind Ivran. The man, standing about a head taller than her, stopped in front of a cell. The metal door separating it from the outside had no openings, but they both could tell that their target was behind it.

Ivran turned to her a little and nodded. She understood.

Summoning her own power, she felt Willpower seep from her very core, quickly condensing on her hands where she had the most control over it. With a simple gesture, she commanded the power to explode forward, enveloping the cell door's lock. A piercing sound of bending metal went through the air as the red power annihilated the lock before opening the door, allowing the two to slowly step inside.

The inhabitant of the cell, a huge man, sat in a chair, bound by some chains. The obstacles almost immediately whined as Misla's power enveloped them before ripping the cuffs off the man's limbs. As if waiting for it, he stood up to better face them. He was taller than either of the two, his imposing frame illuminated by a torch in the corridor. Misla faintly remembered seeing this fool once or twice, years ago. The stare of his brown eyes lingered on the two for a second or so before he went to one knee, his gaze lowered.

"Commander, this lowly servant greets you," Chris's voice sounded rather quiet.

Ivran hardly reacted. His gaze swept across the cell as though he were searching for something. "Why did this happen?" he asked, with no urgency or anger behind his words.

However, Misla felt the pressure from her master envelop the entire cell. She could not count how few people she'd ever met who could make her feel this weak by just unleashing their bloodlust.

The kneeling man was no different. His body shook involuntarily, primal fear consuming his spirit from within.

"It's a s-small complication, is a-all," Chris stammered quietly, not daring to raise his eyes.

"A 'small' complication? Getting rid of a bystander or two would be, but this? Exposing our work in here and Icla is a 'small' complication to you?"

"...nobody k-knows w-who we a-are... I made s-sure of it..."

Ivran turned to Misla for but a second. He appeared to be contemplating something deeply. "Who caused this?"

"It was just a-a nobody... some r-random idiot who was a l-level 1 last month. Goes by the name of Salliv. I swear, I'll get his h-head--"

"Salliv?" Ivran's tone suddenly changed. From mildly disinterested and slightly annoyed, it now sounded... wary, almost. "Elaborate."

"?" Misla almost flinched, her attention turning to her master. Something about him being interested in something as mundane made her feel bewildered. He was not the type to care about individuals who stepped in the way. They were minute stepping stones, after all. However, she knew better than to voice her opinions.

"He's a-a Mage or s-some such... comes from a s-small town by the capital," Chris uttered quietly, his voice shaky as he felt his two visitors stare him down. "H-Holia... or s-something similar..."

"?" Ivran's form flinched. The way his hand raised slightly as though to touch his mask told Misla something about Chris's words stung in a very unpleasant spot. "Holia..." he whispered, his voice displaying a tinge of hesitance. He appeared to be thinking about something particularly deeply.

Misla's brows, hidden under the cowl, furrowed. She could not help but feel as though Ivran seemed... a little anxious.

Suddenly, his hand raised. "Lift your head," he commanded Chris, who did so quickly. Ivran's rugged hand reached the man's forehead. Misla knew what he was about to do.

Her master's hand, clad in a red aura, poised toward Chris's forehead. In an instant, the man inhaled sharply as though something painful stung him. He groaned for but a moment before his eyes became blank; Ivran entered his mind, browsing through his memories.

...

...

A little over a dozen seconds passed before the contact subsided. Chris woke from his state, his breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts.

Ivran's hand retreated slowly. His pose as he stepped back told Misla that he was deep in thought, processing what he had gathered.

"Those eyes..." the Psion let out a quiet whisper. Misla, looking at the man, could not help but notice a slight shake of his hand before it clenched. However, whether the clenching was out of anger or another feeling was impossible to determine for her. "...is he her son...?" Ivran's voice sounded even quieter now, so much so that Misla could scarcely hear a word.

"...Commander," Chris slowly started speaking, his gaze lowering to the ground. "I-I promise, I will do everything in my power to-- urk!" suddenly, he stopped talking. No, rather, he was prevented from. Red power tied itself around his neck, squeezing tightly and almost fully preventing him from breathing.

"You issued a background check without informing anyone," Ivran said, his voice betraying an angry tone.

"I... a-almost... got him..." Chris spoke with pauses, struggling against the hold on his windpipe.

Psion snorted. His hand visibly tensed up, fingers curling. "You were nowhere close."

Chris didn't speak. His brown eyes stared into the bright mask, fear painted clear as day.

"You were a good seedling, a very good one," Ivran said with a sigh. "Should you have kept that attitude a year more, you'd have had Silvana in your grasp, just as you had Icla," he commented, turning slightly away as though to ponder. "Alas, you made one critical mistake. You failed to understand who your enemy is."

"...C-Commander," Chris stammered weakly. "He's... j-just... a-a n-nobody... I'll k-kill him..."

"No," Ivran interrputed. "You already failed us enough," his hand relaxed. The restrained man gasped and bent over, feeling the power around his neck vanishing.

"...P-Please... he's a w-weak man relying on t-tricks... if you just let me--"

Chris didn't get to finish his words. A blade of maliciously red aura formed atop Ivran's hand before the Psion swung. The psionic energy cut straight through Chris's neck. Blood spluttered before the man's hands clutched around the wound, trying to stem the rapid flow. His body convulsed as he dropped to the ground. Within a dozen seconds, it was finished.

...

A few moments of silence passed until a faint sound of footsteps announced that Runis was finished with his task. The man did not even voice his presence nor a question about the situation. Using the quiet atmosphere, Misla sent a mental spell toward Runis's mind, encapsulating the entire conversation as of now.

Ivran finally spoke, "Misla, Runis."

"Yes, Master," they replied uniformly, signaling their readiness. The woman, in particular, was already expecting what the order would be.

"We must wrap up the situation in this city, as well as Icla. Remove all traces of our involvement, whatever the means. Truthseekers never existed in either location."

"Of course," Runis was the first to answer, his deep voice laced with loyalty.

Misla followed in his tracks, bowing her head further and watching the cold stones of the floor. However, her mind was filled with uncertainty and confusion. The order was vastly different from what she'd normally hear. She could understand that Ivran wanted to tie a loose end that that fool, Chris, was - silencing him was bound to cut off any major flow of information about Truthseekers. However, that would normally be the end. Even when Forna's authorities got involved, it was sufficient, and the Psion was satisfied with as much. But this time, he commanded a complete retreat from two cities, one of which they already had a firm grasp on.

On top of that, he said it must be done 'whatever the means'. He would not care if they had to kill everyone involved. Such a level of cleanup was rare, even for someone as cautious. Just who was that Salliv person that he'd want to hide his traces that much?

"...Master," Misla started quietly, lifting her head a little. "Shall we take care of that man?"

"..." Ivran didn't answer for several seconds. A hand went to his mask, almost like he wanted to feel the skin underneath.

"If it's a single man, we can handle as much," Runis said. "We're both approaching our 2nd advancement."

"Confidence will only lead to your deaths," their master finally spoke. His voice was even heavier than before, but both his students could feel the layer of caution staining his tone. "Especially when it's those people. I will permit this, but it must be done with utmost care. If you feel even the slightest bit threatened by that man, do not think about engaging in a fight."

"?" Runis's eyes squinted with surprise, just barely visible under his cowl. "Master, isn't that level of caution too much for one man who doesn't even have his 1st advanc--"

Suddenly, the dark-skinned man stopped speaking, feeling Ivran exude some pressure.

"Do not. Confidence has only one result when it comes to those people," Ivran said, his voice booming with power. A hand went to his mask as he slowly removed it from his skin. "You do not know what a Salliv is capable of," he continued, slowly turning to them.

Despite the dimly lit atmosphere of the cell, Ivran's face was rather easy to make out. The skin of his face was partially melted, unable to regenerate from whatever scalded it deeply. His eyes were closed, unable to be opened ever again as his eyelids were almost completely melded together. His mouth was the only part that looked relatively normal, but even it was deformed partly.

This was a sight Misla only saw once or twice. Their master rarely took the mask down, much less with anyone around. That was how much he was scarred by whatever happened. He never told them how he was hurt this much. Now, however, Misla had a clue, a very faint idea, of what could've happened.

"And you best never learn that yourself. If you wish to live, give it everything you got, no matter how weak he might seem," Ivran continued. "Be prepared for anything."

"Understood," Runis immediately went to one knee.

Misla followed in his tracks silently. However, she could not help but feel a strong sense of confusion and curiosity stir within her spirit. Who in the world were Sallivs that Ivran would be so wary of them?

"Master," she said slowly. "May I have a questi--"

"Monsters," Ivran answered, cutting her off.

"What?" she asked. Her eyes glimmered with immense surprise.

"That's the answer to your question," the Psion answered.

---

[A/N: Well... there's part 3.

Firstly, I'd like to bow my head to everyone who read up until this point. It really gets me going on, knowing that the story is enjoyed.

I honestly never expected it'd get this far. When I started part 1 over 2 years ago, I barely even remember what my original idea was. All I know is, I didn't expect to get past chapter 10 with writing it. And yet, here we are, just about 350k words in. It's hard to believe it's come this far. It's even harder to believe we're still so early in it. Barely 2 months in-story.

Part 3 was definitely the hardest one to write up until this point. So many things had to be changed and introduced that it was difficult to make any space for them. Isolde, in particular, was a difficult choice to put in. Originally, she was supposed to appear much later in the story. In fact, she was supposed to appear around the time we will meet Crystal in June. But along the way, Violet and Red Crown happened, and I figured that stashing both to appear then would be too much. I mean, they still will both appear, but now we know both characters to an extent. Introducing them around that time would've been a headache.

One of the things I won't stop bashing my head about is the title system. Would you believe me if I told you I had it in the very first chapters of the story in the very, very first raw version? I honestly can't tell why they ended up not being posted. Especially since they're one of the more important things in the long run, I was honestly baffled when I started doing the stat screens from chapter 31 onward and found out that I never specified no titles for Travis. Eventually, I addressed it when I did the rewrite of the story, but the aftertaste is still sour.

So many things happened in part 3. Personally, it's hard to believe part 3 spans only about 10 days. Starting from Isolde, going through the linked quests, and up until obtaining HSD, it's all been a ride so far. In my original plans, chapter 80 or so was supposed to already be back in Holia, in June... yeah. So much for that, huh?

Hyllen Sword Dance was a huge leap. Until the very chapter I introduced it as a skill, I contemplated whether it was a good idea to add it in. Those of you who know a thing or two about me might know that I love a book called Overgeared. Those who had heard of it might recall one of the signature skills Grid used - Pagma's Sword Dance. Yup. Draw the parallel, I dare you. It's mostly true anyway.

The plans for the future are rather simple. Although I haven't fully planned what part 4 will be about, I do know that the sidestory of it will be either about Leaf (introducing a really feisty character planned to be a tsundere - courtesy of DocOfRedheads) or Crystal (which will begin shedding some very faint light onto the situation surrounding Holia). Which of it will it be? I guess it's up to debate, or perhaps a vote. I'm all in for a vote on that.

A lot of things come and go as the process unravels. Those who have seen the initial version of this story know just how different it is now to what it was. As it evolved, it continued straying away from the strict 'mind-control with RPG elements' story. I blame mostly myself for that - I just don't like mind control. Why did I even start writing in a story with 'mind control' in its name? ...well... I'd say 'RPG story' played a part, but that'd be a lie. 'I wanted to try things out' is closer to the actual answer. How did it go to 'I want to make TWO consecutive stories in this vein'? ...well, I might touch on my motivations for that when we wrap up the first part of Lucas's story (that'll probably be chapter 45-50 at the very least). But, to put it bluntly, it can be shortened to 'my goals are beyond my understanding'.

On that note, the more I write this story, the less inclined I feel to make it a porn story. I never was keen on erotics in the first place, but this tendency doesn't seem to diminish as much as it is increasing.

...

...oh well. My own stupidity was let out, and now here I am.

Well, I think I best wrap this up now. It's already been a long chapter (8k words + however many this has), and I think posting more than 30k words at once is a bit of a strain.

Again, thank you to everyone for reading. For now, this branch will go onto a temporary hiatus. I'm not sure how long it will last. I would like to first wrap up part 1 of Lucas's story, but I might be struck by the metaphorical lightning of ideas beforehand and begin this sooner than intended.

Well, feel free to share your thoughts and ideas. I love reading theories and ideas, and even more so do I love brainstorming. It's been delightful so far.

This has been 'MH-0' MeedrowH. (Or, if anyone wants to know the genesis, Heather Meedrow)

Thank you for staying up until this point. Sincerely, I bow my head.]