Chapter 71

Chapter 71

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HEL SCANS

[Translator – Zain]

[Proofreader – Demon God]

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Ophelia placed her hand on Ronan’s cheek. Gradually, mana gathered in her palm, emitting a chilling light.

“What the...?”

Cita’s eyes widened in surprise. Ophelia withdrew her hand, and Ronan touched his own face, furrowing his brows. The contours beneath his palm felt different from usual.

“Darn it, it feels strange. Are you sure it’s done correctly?”

“Yes... it’s perfect. I used a catalytic spell. If we go off track, I’ll cast it again for you.”

“Ugh...”

Seeing Cita’s disgusted expression, it seemed to have worked as intended. Ronan and Cita left Philleon, their hearts pounding, to arrive at their destination on time.

***

It was a crescent moon night, with a mischievous glint in its eye.

Mist rose over the swamp covered with fallen leaves. Dead, white trees gestured under the moonlight.

About a third of the swamp, suitable for walking, was covered with short, mossy grass. The agreed-upon meeting point for the exchange of pure blood’s essence was a small mound rising in the middle.

It was once a forgotten ancient tomb, now only remembered in the annals of history. Two burly men were guarding the tomb entrance, serving as gatekeepers.

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PR/N: Annals- the record of an activity or organization, arranged year by year, or a history that covers a long period of time.

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The man with a stubble beard scratched his head and spoke.

“Who did they say was coming today? He’s awfully late.”

“You forgetful fool, don’t you remember? It’s Jhordin Stonesong.”

“Oh, right. Was he a mage?”

“Not just any mage. He was a legend who once sparred with the Grand Swordmaster in the past.”

The man with curly hair sighed. Working with such a careless partner was embarrassing.

‘Why did the masters bestow such honor of serving them on such a lowlife like him.’

He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead and spoke. He spoke, his gaze fixed ahead.

“The masters are looking forward to this transaction, so keep your wits about you. Do you have the scroll with you?”

“Yeah, yeah, how many times are you gonna ask? Don’t worry too much. No matter how high and mighty that mage acts, in the end, he’s just a human...”

“Hush! Look, there he comes.”

The man with curly hair pointed forward with his finger. In the distance, a single flickering torchlight approached.

Soon, a man carrying a torch emerged from the darkness. He was dressed in a long robe that covered him from head to toe, making it impossible to see his face. The gatekeepers, brandishing their swords, approached him.

“Are you Jhordin Stonesong?”

“Yes.”

The stubble-bearded man frowned. It was a horrific voice, reminiscent of a crow being strangled. The man with curly hair, holding up a portrait of Jhordin, spoke with gravity.

“We need to confirm your identity, so please remove your hood.”

“Very well.”

The mysterious man obediently flipped back his hood, revealing a rather plain, gaunt face.

Deep-set blue eyes, preserving some remnants of past beauty, with thick and distinct eyebrows. The man with curly hair compared his face to the portrait and then sheathed his sword.

“We’ve confirmed it. You are the Tower Mage, Jhordin Stonesong.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Please enter. The honored guests are waiting.”

The man with curly hair led him into the mound. The stubble-bearded man, scrutinizing Jhordin’s appearance, muttered sarcastically.

“Quite skinny, aren’t you? I thought you would be a monster or something.”

“Shut up. Don’t be rude to the guest.”

“It doesn’t matter; just open the door.”

“Ah, sure!”

The gatekeepers opened the stone door, and a cool breeze rushed in from the revealed passage. Jhordin’s forehead tightened as the stench of blood pierced his nose. The man with curly hair pointed inside the mound.

“Just keep following the main path. The interior is intricate, so be cautious.”

“It’s larger than I expected... I have some difficulty in the dark. Could you guide me, perhaps?”

“That... we have other duties to attend to. I apologize.”

The curly-haired man politely lowered his head. It seemed that both of them had separate tasks beyond guarding the entrance. Jhordin sighed and asked.

“Well, It can’t be helped. Are there no personnel outside, apart from you two?”

“Well? Um... that’s correct, but...”

“Good. I’ll give you a little gift.”

Jhordin rummaged through a small pocket and pulled out a scroll, no larger than a finger.

Without giving the gatekeepers a chance to question, Jhordin activated the scroll.

Swoosh!

A translucent cube enveloped the three of them, instantly silencing the noise from outside.

“This is... Silent...”

The curly-haired man was about to say something when a glimmer flashed from under Jhordin’s robe.

“Join us as one of our family members.”

A moment of silence fell. It was as Ophelia had expected. Ronan responded with a deadpan expression.

“...You must be joking.”

“We are not asking for an immediate decision. We will give you a ten-year reprieve. Once you have formed the Blood Pact and the time comes, you may come to us.”

“So you want me to be a slave to your vampire kind.”

“We are aware that you have come to us out of desperation. When mortals seek the essence of pure blood, isn’t it nine times out of ten to save a precious person?””

Ronan’s face momentarily froze. Zwei noticed this and grinned with a disgusting smile.

“Haha, it seems I hit the mark.”

“Shut up.”

“Well... if this deal falls through, obtaining the pure blood Essence will be impossible anywhere. It took us a long time and considerable effort just to find it.”

Zwei replied politely. Based on Ronan’s conversation with Ophelia, it seemed that what she said might be true. Ronan twisted his lips.

“What happens if I refuse?”

“It would be a shame. You probably won’t leave here in one piece.”

“What?”

Snap!

Zwei suddenly flicked his finger, and at the same time, twenty vampires rose to their feet. Silently, they closed in on Ronan, surrounding him.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

“Don’t do anything foolish. You can sense the mana disruption, and there are treasures scattered about that even a mage of your caliber can’t ignore.”

Ronan hadn’t noticed at all. Now that he listened closely and observed, he could sense an ominous aura emanating from every corner of the banquet hall. Zwei bared his fangs and grinned.

“Even if you manage to escape using magic, you will suffer irreparable damage. Your magic circles may collapse, rendering you unable to use magic again.”

“So you were prepared in advance.”

“It’s your misfortune that you were blinded by desperation. Jhordin Stonesong, as a fellow mage, it would be wise to accept our offer.”

He could feel the life force surging around him. The vampires were on the brink of launching an attack, their eyes flashing with a predatory hunger. Ronan, who had underestimated their preparations, dropped his head.

“...I’ll accept the offer.”

“An excellent choice. Now, let’s proceed with the Blood Pact.”

Zwei reached into his pocket and pulled out a crimson piece of paper, which was made of the finest quality parchment, commonly used for most magical pacts. Ronan sighed and was about to prick his fingertip to sign it.

“Wait... before that, I need to see the pure blood essence. Who is the vessel?”

“You’ll find out once the pact is complete.”

“Vampire, remember that we’re making a concession here.”

Ronan glared silently at Zwei. The young leader of the Blood Hook, aware that it wasn’t just an empty boast, sighed lightly and tapped his chest with his right hand.

“Fine... I understand. I’ll show you.”

As he raised his hand, a crimson mana lump emerged shakily. It matched the description Ophelia had given. Ronan nodded in approval.

“So, you’re the vessel. Are you showing your leadership qualities?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then. It took a long time.”

“What?”

Without warning, Ronan lifted his robe and drew his blade from its sheath at incredible speed. The razor-sharp sword flew towards Zwei’s limbs, severing them nearly simultaneously. His two limbs detached from his body almost at once.

“What...?”

“Looks like you might have been in real trouble if I were the real Jhordin.”

Zwei’s eyes widened in shock. Just as the vampires surrounding them were about to react, Ronan rotated his body widely and swung his sword. With a whoosh, five heads flew into the air almost simultaneously.

“Arrrgh!”

“Zw-Zwei!”

Late screams erupted along with fountains of blood. Ronan stepped on the headless body and quickly leaped away. The vampires, who had belatedly tried to encircle him, found that he had already escaped. He breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the headless bodies move as if they were still alive.

“These damn mosquito bastards...”

Ronan’s movements were unlike those of a magician. In his hand, he held a black and translucent sword. The sudden calamity left the vampires in shock, and they shouted in disbelief.

“A sword...?!”

“For God’s sake, you said he’s a magician. What’s going on?!”

“Leader!! Snap out of it, leader!!”

“You idiots, this is what happens when you let prejudice cloud your judgment.”

At that moment, Cita, who had been hanging on Ronan’s back all along, spread its wings and took flight, landing right in front of the entrance of the banquet hall.

“Beahh!”

“Did it ever occur to you that Jhordin could be good with a sword?”

“That’s...!”

The faces of the vampires who had been blocking the entrance turned pale. Dozens of silver-made stakes dangled around Ronan’s waist. Ronan untied a scroll he had taken from one of the guards’ bodies and opened it.

“Whatever... don’t think anyone’s getting out of here alive.”

As the scroll unfolded, a mana barrier shot up, sealing off the entrance of the banquet hall. Ronan gripped his sword and charged towards the vampires.

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HEL SCANS

[Translator – Zain]

[Proofreader – Demon God]

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