Chapter 8
Marcus belonged to the non-mainstream in Barsia’s Noble society.
At the very top reigned the First Clans. Below them were families who, though not quite as high, still maintained their noble blood.
These haughty Vampires held the majority of influence in Barsia society.
Below them, a large number of half-bloods, called Dhampir, were positioned. Though they were the most numerous, they were treated as Commoners.
The Dhampir claimed to be Nobles of the Night themselves, but they were often ridiculed by the Pureblood Vampires.
Marcus was the most renowned Knight and Feudal Lord among the Dhampir. He had issued a Duel Challenge to Pureblood Knights who had insulted him as a half-wit six times, and he had won every one.
His handsome appearance intimidated even those who hated him. His leadership allowed him to unite both Purebloods and half-bloods under his command as if they were brothers.
He was an undeniable Rising Force of the Night. However, that also meant he had to contend with many rivals.
Marcus was neither in a status nor in a situation to rush to a *Backwater* village in the Southwestern Continent in the middle of the night, but he had no choice.
“The Young Lady will be safe.”
Because his only sister, Maria, had been captured by the malicious Principal Religion, of all people.
“They say nothing has happened since the cart entered the Temple.”
“If we strike now, we can surely rescue her.”
Marcus nodded at his subordinates’ reassurances.
His sister’s capture was due to Marcus’s rivals plotting a scheme, taking advantage of his absence.
To rise in the rigid Barsia Noble society as Dhampirs, both siblings had to struggle fiercely.
His sister had been dispatched far away for a secret negotiation she couldn’t refuse, and then all contact was lost.
“Maria must have let her guard down in the remote region.”
She was capable, but still lacked experience.
“Even so, it’s strange. There were mercenaries hired, and the Principal Religion shouldn’t be in a position to act so brazenly.”
“Either the Mercenaries were bribed, or a rival family kidnapped her and handed her over to the Religious Order. There’s no end to the possibilities if we consider them all.”
Marcus decided not to dwell on what had already happened. Rescue was the priority now. Once Maria was safe, he could find out the full story.
“If even a single hair on the Young Lady’s head has been harmed, I will not forgive them. I will burn not just the Monastery, but the entire village!”
“Calm yourself.”
Marcus restrained the enraged, pale Knight.
His name was Aaron. He was one of the six Vampires who had insulted Marcus, had received a Duel Challenge, and had been defeated.
While the others had retreated with resentment, Aaron had cleanly admitted his defeat and apologized for his transgression.
Since then, he had become a fervent follower of Marcus, pursuing a shared ambition. He was one of only two Knights in this group.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t wish to harm the weak.”
Aaron suppressed the urge to argue.
In his opinion, Marcus was a man who had received the most unfair treatment relative to his abilities. Perhaps because of this, Marcus himself disliked oppressing the innocent.
His character, which saw through and soothed the injustices everyone carried, might be the secret to his popularity.
“For a *Backwater*, it’s quite large.”
“Even so, there’s no Feudal Lord, not even a City Guard.”
“That just means it’s far from war. And even if we took it, it’s a useless piece of land.”
His subordinates said confidently.
It was night, but they all possessed *Darkvision*.
The village outskirts were lined with diagonally placed stakes. They were meant to ward off beasts or monsters, rather than a human army.
Given the village’s size and the number of monks, ordinary Bandit groups wouldn’t be able to cause trouble.
“Remember, our objective is not plunder. While a fight may be unavoidable, we are not here to revel in bloodshed.”
As always, it was Marcus’s role to curb his subordinates’ impetuousness.
“We know.”
“There will be nothing to tarnish our Liege Lord’s honor.”
Marcus nodded, and everyone donned their helmets.
Their fighting spirit was fierce, but they raised no shouts. A Cavalry Unit of over a dozen riders swept silently into the village entrance under the cover of darkness.
***
*Meanwhile, Eugene had successfully entered the Sealing Chamber and was searching.*
It was night, and it was extremely dark without any light. However, this was no problem for him, whose senses had been honed to a keen edge.
It should be around here.
Having been there once before, he quickly located where the mementos were kept.
A book describing the *Witch’s Mysteries* and his mother’s diary were among the items. He secured the two most important books.
Both were, for some reason, written in *Elven Script*, so he couldn’t read them. Eugene had only learned the *Continental Common Script* and the *Ancient Kingdom Script*.
Besides the books, there were a strangely twisted staff, an amulet with magical significance, and a black crystal ball.
He didn’t need to take those three. They held no magical power, nor were they objects imbued with memories of his mother.
She used the staff due to a knee injury during her wandering life, and the amulet’s Magic had run out. The crystal ball was merely a placebo, used to placate villagers hoping for prophecies.
They’re just bulky and would be noticed immediately if they disappeared.
Eugene turned away without hesitation.
As he left the Sealing Chamber, he felt his heart pound. It was not tension, but excitement born from anticipation for the future.
*Kingdom’s End* was a familiar and peaceful village, but also a stagnant place. Frankly, he couldn’t cool his boiling blood there.
There was just one thing he regretted: not having a horse to ride.
Godfrey had bequeathed everything to Eugene: familial affection, literacy, *Combat Techniques* as a Knight, *Noble Speech*, and even armor.
But he wouldn’t part with his horse.
“Don’t look at him with greedy eyes. I won’t give you this one.”
Godfrey grumbled before leaving the village.
“I wasn’t looking greedily.”
Eugene, feeling unnecessarily stung, averted his gaze.
“Isn’t your stamina declining with age, Master? Of course, you need a horse for a long journey.”
“My stamina is still as good as a young man’s. But in my later years, I need this fellow by my side, so an old man doesn’t wither from loneliness.”
“If you put it that way, don’t I seem like a bad person?”
“Do you feel the pangs of conscience? You probably won’t have much pain in the future, so you should feel some now.”
Godfrey chuckled heartily. But Eugene could sense the sadness of farewell beneath that laughter.
Thinking of his departed Master, he felt a heaviness in his chest for no reason.
“This is truly a stench.”
The foul odor broke his reverie. He had already passed through the secret passage and returned to the Prison.
Soft snores.
*Zzzzzzz.*
The three women were still asleep in the Prison.
Even the Noble *Young Lady* was snoring with a satisfied smile. She was sprawled out completely, as if she’d sold off her usual dignified posture.
Eugene chuckled at the sight, then closed his eyes and focused on his hearing. He planned to slip out when the Priests outside were gone.
As his other senses receded, the foul stench that had assailed his nose faded. With all his attention focused on hearing, Eugene’s world expanded beyond the walls.
It was one of Godfrey’s great teachings.
***
“Get out if you don’t want to die!”
Well-armed Cavalrymen immediately breached the entrance and galloped into the center of the village.
The peaceful rural night was instantly tinged with grim tension.
The *Militia*, patrolling with torches, quickly stepped aside as if saying, “Welcome!” Their usual swagger and displays of strength were nowhere to be seen.
“What are those things?”
“Is it a Bandit raid, dear?”
“Mom, those people’s eyes are glowing.”
Frightened eyes peeked at the invaders through the windows.
A Knight wearing the most splendid armor emerged from among the Cavalry Unit and raised his visor.
“We have not come to harm you. If you close your windows, we will not look at you. Return to your beds and close your eyes. Then, you will awaken among your families as usual tomorrow morning. I pledge this on my honor.”
Marcus’s words carried an undeniable power.
*Thump! Thump!* Wooden doors slammed shut all around.
“Let me reiterate, we have not come to wage war. We have come to the rescue.”
“Yes!”
Shouts were filled with confidence.
“But there’s no need to hesitate in attacking. Value a single scratch on yourselves more than a hundred lives of those Principal Religion fanatics.”
“*Yes!!!*”
The second reply was even more resounding. It was because respect had been added to their confidence.
At the *Monastery Entrance*, two *Armed Priests* stood guard, holding spears.
“Halt! Stop there!”
“Riding horses into a sacred *Monastery* in the middle of the night! Do you not fear *God’s Wrath*?!”
The *Armed Priest*, hearing the sound of hooves, leveled his spear.
It varied by Religious Order, but monks with *Quarterstaffs* usually stood watch in the form of an *All-Night Prayer Vigil*. In cities with good public order, even that was often omitted due to the presence of a *Professional Guard*.
It was rare for a place like the *Principal Religion* to have its members on duty like an army, carrying bladed weapons. One Priest even had his bowstring drawn.
*Twang!*
An arrow flew, but it ricocheted off the shield of the leading Cavalryman.
“It’s not just one or two of them!”
As the intruders, revealed by the torchlight, were realized to be a better-armed Cavalry Unit than expected, the Priest’s expression changed.
“Emergency!”
“It’s an attack!”
A whistle blew, and the sleeping *Monastery* began to stir.
“Gah!”
By then, the Priest who had fired the arrow was hit in the leg by a *Cavalry Crossbow* bolt and dragged away, his neck ensnared by a flying lasso.
The other was also struck by Marcus’s sword, had his spear shaft cut, and was sent flying after being hit by a horse ridden by a Soldier.
Marcus dismounted and immediately seized the fallen Priest by the neck.
“Where are the Dhampir women you captured?”
Simultaneously with the question, he stabbed the Priest’s thigh with a dagger.
*Thwack!*
“Aargh!”
“If you don’t answer, I’ll twist this three times.”
Experience taught him that few would confess readily if asked politely. In urgent situations, this was the most efficient interrogation method.
“The *Prison*! They’re in the *Prison*!”
“Where is that? Tell me in detail.”
Marcus twisted the dagger half a turn as he asked.
“Aaaaargh!”
This, too, came from experience. Even if someone answered the first question after a beating, many would hesitate on the second, out of loyalty to their organization.
“That way! Go that way, then turn right, and go *straight ahead!* It’s a single path, and it suddenly drops underground, so it’ll be easy to find! *Find the place that smells like a sewer!*”
The Priest, covered in tears and snot, added detailed explanations, fearing Marcus might twist the dagger again.
“Thank you.”
*Thud!*
Marcus pulled out the dagger and struck the Priest’s neck with its hilt, knocking him unconscious.
“Let’s go!”
The *Rescue Team* stormed into the *Monastery*.
A few Priests were seen rushing forward. Each held a bladed polearm.
There were only a few now, but their numbers would soon swell to dozens.
“We’ll hold them here!”
“I’m counting on you!”
As planned, those skilled in *Shieldmanship* stood firm.
“Anyone who wants a hole in their body can come at us!”
They lined up their large *Square Shields* and threatened the Priests with short spears.
*Please be safe, my sister.*
Moonlight poured onto Marcus’s handsome face.
Even with the combination of Dhampir skin and chilling moonlight, his affection for his only blood relative kept warmth in his expression.
“There it is!”
A *Scout*, running at the front with a buckler and an *Estoc*, pointed towards the *Monastery Basement* ahead.
A foul stench assailed the Dhampir’s keen sense of smell, but smiles appeared on everyone’s faces. The operation was unfolding smoothly, without any unforeseen complications.