Chapter 377: Dracula, look! It's your son
Despite his surprise at the current Wolf Alpha's strength, Mike's mind was clear.
"First, we max out the Exploration Rate on this floor and see if that changes anything. In the meantime, we need to search the wilderness. The Wolf Alpha, the Nature Elf Envoy, they're both potential threats. Best to find them before they find us."
The White Wolf King nodded, agreeing with Thor's plan.
Speaking of the Exploration Rate, Mike suddenly remembered his task to bring Remus home. "By the way, do you know where Remus is?"
The White Wolf King blinked, surprised by the question. "Yes, he's been here with me for the past few days."
He led Mike to a secluded passage nearby, where they found Remus.
Remus, still a child, was short for his age. He beamed at the sight of the White Wolf King and ran towards him, shouting, "White Doggy! Are you feeling better?"
"Remus, this gentleman is here to take you home." The White Wolf King explained the situation briefly and promised to visit him again soon.
Only then did Remus agree to go back to Brookfield Town with Mike.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om
"Let Vladimir and Dracula escort Remus back," Mike suggested, opting to divide their forces. "We need to focus on finding the Nature Elf Envoy."
They returned to the valley entrance, where Mike located Vladimir and Dracula, who was still "patrolling" the area. He briefed them on their new task.
"Consider it done, Master!" Vladimir declared, puffing out his chest. "And I swear on Dracula's life, if anything happens to Remus, Dracula's a dead man!"
Dracula: ...
Please, just once, could you act like a respectable vampire and not a shameless buffoon?
Mike ignored their antics and simply reminded Vladimir to notify him immediately if they encountered anything unusual.
"Understood!"
And so, the two vampires set off on their return journey, Remus in tow.
The boy carried a basket on his back, filled with what looked like weeds.
"Aw man, I was gone for too long. All the good grass is gone!"
"Don't worry," Vladimir said reassuringly. "I'll take you to a good spot!"
Following Remus's directions, they arrived at a small meadow, where the boy began gathering grass.
Dracula stood nearby, observing with a sneer. "My esteemed colleague, if you're feeling so generous, why not lend the boy a hand?"
Vladimir, his expression uncharacteristically serious, ignored Dracula's taunts.
Just as Dracula was about to unleash another round of snarky remarks, Vladimir spoke.
"Shut your trap, old man."
Dracula blinked, surprised by Vladimir's sudden outburst. Could it be... had Vladimir secretly grown stronger?
"You senile fool," Vladimir spat, adding insult to injury.
Both vampires had ample experience with being turned into pigs. They knew exactly what triggered the transformation.
The more times it happened, the more resistant they became!
Simply hearing the word "pig" wouldn't cut it anymore.
However, if someone were to utter Apollo's exact words from that fateful day... well, they would still turn into pigs immediately.
Dracula, unable to tolerate any more of Vladimir's insults, was about to teach him a lesson. He would show Vladimir that even among servants, there was a hierarchy!
But just then, Vladimir spoke again, his voice deceptively gentle. "Remus, that grass you're collecting, it smells rather... peculiar. What kind of grass is it? What's it used for?"
Remus, still gathering grass, turned to face them, a disarmingly innocent smile on his face. What harm could a child possibly pose?
"We call it pig grass," Remus replied matter-of-factly. "It's for feeding the pigs!" Feeding the pigs?!
To an ordinary person, this was a perfectly normal statement.
Families raised pigs. Children gathered pig grass to feed them.
What could possibly be wrong with that?!
But for the two vampires, it was as if a switch had been flipped.
"I knew it! I knew it!" Vladimir muttered, his voice trembling. "It was bound to happen on this floor! It was only a matter of time!"
The fear of Apollo's curse gripped their hearts.
They couldn't forget that man, those words.
"Calm yourself! Calm yourself!" Dracula hissed, struggling to maintain his composure. "We're professionals! We've trained for this!"
Firstly, any information regarding their progenitor was valuable! They couldn't simply hand it over to Thor for free!
Secondly, if the Blood Ancestor had truly been reduced to a pig, it would be a stain on the
entire blood clan's reputation.
If they were to discover their progenitor wallowing in a pigsty, both Dracula and Vladimir
would likely take matters into their own hands and put the poor creature out of its misery!
Such an embarrassing past, if it were to spread, would tarnish the vampires' reputation
beyond repair.
A cruel smile spread across Dracula's lips. "A vampire, reduced to livestock for over a century? They must be from a weak, pathetic bloodline."
Mike rolled his eyes at Dracula's blatant discrimination. "Okay, first of all, let's not jump to conclusions, shall we? What if Remus's family just happens to own regular pigs?"
"They do," the White Wolf King interjected helpfully.
Both Dracula and Vladimir fell silent, their faces burning with shame.
They had been so quick to assume the worst about their own kind. "Alright, it seems our plans have changed." Mike adjusted their strategy accordingly. "You
two take Remus home. The White Wolf King and I will follow discreetly."
If Remus's family did turn out to be a bunch of Pig Monsters, it would be wise to proceed with
caution.
And so, under the watchful eyes of several powerful beings, Remus was safely escorted home.
The journey was uneventful.
Upon their arrival, Remus's mother wept tears of joy, thanking Mike and the others profusely.
Mike took this opportunity to learn more about Brookfield Town's history.
"Please, come in, have a seat. I'll get you some water..." Remus's mother ushered Mike
inside, instructing Remus to tend to the pigs.
Mike exchanged a knowing glance with Vladimir, who immediately headed towards the pigsty
behind the house, Dracula in tow.
...
The two vampires stood before the pigsty, watching as Remus poured a bucket of slop into
the trough.
A horde of pigs descended upon the food, jostling for position.
They snorted and squealed, their table manners atrocious.
Life was good.
They had food, water, and a warm place to sleep.
Being a pig wasn't so bad after all.
So good, in fact, that they had almost forgotten who they once were. Outside the pigsty, the two vampires observed in silence, their hearts heavy with dread.
Their faces were ashen, their expressions grim.
The worst-case scenario had come to pass. The pigsty was teeming with Pig Monsters!
This was undoubtedly Apollo's doing!
Neither vampire dared to voice their anger or fear. The power gap between them and Apollo
was simply too vast.
Suddenly, Vladimir's eyes lit up. He pointed at a particularly large, rotund pig. "Dracula, look!
It's your son!"
He then pressed play on a recording device, and Dracula's voice filled the air, cold and
resolute.
"A vampire, reduced to livestock for over a century? They must be from a weak, pathetic bloodline."
Dracula: ...
Fuck. I disown that swine! I'm going to kill him!