Chapter 70 - 69: Arrival And Recognition

Chapter 70: Chapter 69: Arrival And Recognition

1 hour later,

"A black knight must be chivalrous, not merely in the grand gestures of battle, but in the quiet moments when honor is tested most. His armor may be darkened by time or choice, but his heart must remain unwavering in its commitment to justice." Percival let out in a grandiose manner, his gestures commanding all attention around him.

"He must be the shield for the defenseless, the voice for the silenced, and the hand that reaches out not only to vanquish his foes, but to lift his allies. Chivalry demands more than valor; it requires compassion for the weak, respect for women, loyalty to his lord, and truth in his word." Percival's tone only grew more passionate with every word uttered, clenching his fist then releasing it upwards.

"Even when his path is clouded by deceit or treachery, the black knight must shine through-wait I- '' Percival carried on with his lecture, his voice steady and unwavering, while Ricky, growing increasingly impatient, finally opened his storage and tossed the cross back into it, causing his ancestor to suddenly disappear into the hollow space in time.

Ricky had expected at least a shred of useful guidance, a hint, anything to give him direction.

But for the past hour, his ancestor had droned on solely about chivalry, principles Ricky found more tedious than enlightening.

The frustration gnawed at him, and he couldn't help but feel that Percival was deliberately avoiding what he truly wanted to know.

Ricky felt the weight of the endless lessons on honor and virtue pressing down on him until something inside snapped.

Instead of enduring another hour of lecture with a growing migraine, he simply threw the cross back into the storage space.

Rising to his feet, Ricky strode over to Abraham, who was casually leaning against the side of the boat, flask in hand.

Just as Abraham was about to take a swig, Ricky swatted the flask from his grasp, sending it clattering into the ocean.

"What's your problem?" Abraham, his lips pressed into a frown, watched as Ricky dropped onto a nearby crate.

"I'm an alcoholic and an addict." Ricky made a cynical joke, and despite himself, Abraham let out a small laugh before reaching into his trench coat and pulling out another flask.

"No kid, that's how you've been treating your problem." Abraham spoke from experience, his crippling sadness momentarily eased by the contents of his flask as he tipped it toward Ricky.

Ricky scoffed, but the retort he had ready was caught in his throat as the old man's words left him momentarily speechless, unable to muster a comeback.

"Dammit." Ricky couldn't think of any comeback, throwing something nearby at Abraham who easily dodged it.

"You know, you have to be the biggest little sh*t i've ever seen, do you know that?" Abraham said, taking a swig from the half-empty bottle and fixing Ricky with a scornful look.

"I'll take that as a compliment." Ricky rested his head on the back of the boat's ledge as Abraham's face contorted into a perplexed expression.

"How?" Abraham's expression shifted to confusion, clearly not understanding how that could be considered a compliment.

"Never mind." Abraham spoke before Ricky could open his mouth with a smart retort.

"HEATHEN, YOU ARE ALL HEATHENS IN CAHOOTS!" Alexander slammed the playing cards onto the box, prompting a sigh from Chores.

"Ricky, can you tell Alexander that I am in fact, not cheating?" Chores turned to Ricky, clearly exasperated, as this was the fourth time Alexander had done this.

"He knows, he's just a poor loser." Ricky informed Chores, who sighed in response as Alexander frowned but chose not to argue, picking his battles.

"So Abraham, what's the plan now?" Ricky gestured towards the old drunk, his eye in his flask before patting the back for the very last drop.

"The plan is for me to deliver you to the Vatican so that I can finally continue my hunt." Abraham continued, drinking the last drop from his flask while staring straight ahead.

"Is Dracual really that powerful-" Ricky asked, curious if he was stronger than his son, but Abraham interrupted with a scoff.

"Yes, he is that powerful." Abraham answered before Ricky could even finish his contemplation.

"He is a being who has prevailed against humanity's best for centuries, upholding the title given to him by the first vampire, Varnae." Abraham said. Ricky nodded along until he caught the last part.

"Wasn't Dracula the first vampire?" Ricky asked, recalling stories he had heard as Abraham laughed in response, acknowledging the mix-up.

"No, but it's common for plebs like you to assume Dracula was the first. It was actually that bastard Varnae." Abraham said with a disgruntled sigh, taking out another flask from his trench coat.

"The bastard was around before the sinking of Atlantis and has tried for eons to conquer the world, yet like his successor, he's failed time and time again." Abraham dropped this truth bomb, leaving Ricky reeling from the impact that Atlantis was real.

"So in the end, you want to stop all vampires-"

"Oh god no, I just want to kill Dracula." Abraham suddenly laughed out, holding up his hand to stop Ricky.

"I could care less about good or bad since the fight against evil is bullsh*t because, in the end, I just want to be free from the fate I was born into." Abraham gazed down at the wine bottle in his hand, leaving Ricky in contemplative silence.

"Do you know what the most unfair thing about being a Van heisling is?" Abraham suddenly looked at Ricky, who wore a thoughtful expression.

"Being born ugly?" Ricky asked, theatrically wiping away a nonexistent tear for the old potato in front of him, which made Abraham chuckle.

"No, asshole, it's that we're born into the fate of forever being in purgatory. We could live good Christian lives, and we'd still be cursed." Abraham sighed, hitting his head against the ledge in a gesture that mirrored Ricky's earlier move.

"Man, it does really suck to be you." Ricky nudged Abraham with a smile, who rolled his eyes in response.

"What about you, 'Slick'? How does it feel knowing you're being pulled into something you'll never escape?" Abraham asked from experience, but Ricky simply scoffed.

"If I want to leave then I-"

"Jesus, it's like I'm looking at a younger me." Abraham laughed at Ricky's naivety, causing Ricky to frown at the constant interruptions.

"That's what I thought long ago. I told myself, 'How hard can it be?' All I had to do was kill one person. And here I am, sixty-four years after being inducted into the Vatican, and I haven't done sh*t. I've only failed." Abraham said, before drinking himself to the bottom of the barrel and letting out an aggrieved sigh.

"Oh, come on, for an old man, you don't seem that bad-" Ricky genuinely gestured toward him, only for Abraham to roll his eyes.

"Because you're just as bad as me, you can't see the problem in your own reflection." Abraham sighed, covering his face at actually having to relate to someone.

"We are nothing alike, your a loser and I'm a-"

"Loser." Abraham finished his sentence, noting their oddly similar fates.

"I didn't lose-"

"That's not what I saw yesterday. From what I saw, you had completely lost," Abraham said, pointing at him as Ricky just laughed it off, but he continued.

"Your friends died, your fellow mobsters turned their backs on you, and you were exiled from New York. How is that winning?" Abraham asked genuinely, causing Ricky to stop smiling.

"And you're any better?" Ricky asked, pointing the finger back at Abraham, who simply laughed in response.

"No! That's why I'm saying we're so alike. It's because both of us keep failing that we're so similar," Abraham announced, drawing the attention of Chores and Barko.

Ricky was about to retort but simply closed his mouth, standing up and walking into the cabin to get some shut-eye.

"Told you-" Abraham smiled wryly, only for Chores to voice his opinion.

"You two aren't the same, merely similar." Chores suddenly said to Abraham, who plucked the cards from Alexander's hand.

"Listen Fee fye fo fum-" Abraham immediately went to make a joke, but Barko interjected before he could finish it.

"Chores is right; both of you are similar, but in the end, you're alone," Barko said, pointing his paw at Abraham, who widened his eyes in surprise.

"Well, back then-"

"You drew the comparison that you two are alike now, not back then. So your points are wrong and you're simply similar, not the same," Chores informed Abraham, who frowned and scratched his head.

"Yeah we're only similar!" Ricky yelled from behind the curtains, prompting Abraham to scoff and turn to the side.

"Whatever."

A couple days later,

"Dammit." Ricky cursed under his breath as Chores drew a three from his hand and placed his last card on the box.

"See!" Alexander pointed at Chores with an accusing look, while Henry sat perched atop Ricky's head.

"See!" Henry mocked Alexander, who growled in response, while Chores raised an eyebrow.

To Ricky, it seemed like Henry was merely repeating a word, but to the others, Henry was actually imitating Alexander's squeak.

"Seriously though, Chores, be real with me, are you cheating?" Ricky stood up, scanning the area for a mirror.

"It's simple observation and a good recollection," Chores informed Ricky, just as Abraham stood up suddenly.

"We're here, get ready kid." Abraham took out his crossbows, causing Ricky to raise an eyebrow in curiosity.

"What do you-"

*BANG*

*DINK*

Ricky turned his head as a bullet casing bounced off his shield and fell into the nearby sea, his shield quickly extending to cover the entire boat.

"What the-" Ricky looked up, only for his eyes to reflect the sea of metal suddenly launching at him.

A flurry of bullets erupted in rapid succession, each shot slicing through the air with deadly precision.

This time, Ricky wasn't caught off guard as his senses, sharpened by the earlier volley, now honed in on the cascade of metal being hurled toward him.

He moved with practiced agility, his shield shimmering as it deflected the incoming storm of bullets while grabbing a nearby butter knife.

'Full counter.'

Swiping the butter knife upwards in a clean arc, Ricky redirected the bullets lodged in his shield. In the next second, they were propelled backward at twice the speed and force with which they had originally been fired.

Screams echoed through the increasingly foggy morning as the bullets traced their swift return path. The chaos gradually subsided, and as the fog began to clear, the view revealed the aftermath of Ricky's counterattack.

"Remember what I said about Ernst trying to take you out? Well, he's going to attempt to kill you before you reach the docks, but it looks like that won't be a problem." Abraham informed Ricky as they both looked up at a distant cliff, where bodies were slowly falling into the sea below in mangled bits.

The distinct military uniforms, marked with Hakenkreuz, clarified their allegiance as the bodies fell from the cliff.

Only one man remained atop the precipice, Ernst.

He glanced down at the boat, unperturbed at the carnage around him as he hadn't fired a single bullet, thus avoiding any potential return fire.

Without a hint of concern for his fallen comrades, Ernst turned and marched away as Ricky raised an eyebrow at the scene, observing the cold detachment with which Ernst abandoned his men.

"And these walls display all the heroes of the Vatican, those who sacrificed everything for the greater good and God's grace." Father Sebastion eagerly announced, stepping in front of one distinct painting.

Ricky expected an explanation but received none. He walked over to Father Sebastian and looked at a painting labeled 'Sir Percival'.

"This child is your ancestor, the original Black Knight," Father Sebastian continued, gesturing to the painting.

Ricky felt a shiver of unease as he noticed how closely they resembled each other but unlike Ernst, who inherited his blue eyes and blond hair, Ricky had inherited Percival's distinct structural features, with a jawline that seemed to cut through time itself and was transported onto his own.

"He was a noble man, one who fought not only for the Round Table but for God himself." Father Sebastian said with a smile, recalling how the stories of the Black Knight had been his favorite to hear and tell growing up.

Honestly, deep down, Father Sebastian's reactions toward Ricky were influenced by inherent favoritism as although less known in the States, the Black Knight was a notable figure in Europe.

"He's pretty annoying if you ask me." Ricky scoffed and walked past Father Sebastian, who tilted his head in curiosity.

"Annoying?" Father Sebastian asked as he hurried to catch up with Ricky, who swung open the door.

Inside, a large council of high-ranking Vatican members sat, with the Pope positioned at the center.

As Ricky entered, immediate whispers filled the room, the air buzzing with astonishment at how closely he resembled the portrait of Sir Percival.

"Yeah, yeah, I sort of look like that Percival guy, but before we start, I want something from the church. And since you guys make up the church, listen up," Ricky suddenly demanded, addressing the high-ranking priests as Father Sebastian's face went pale at Ricky's boldness.

"Child wait-"

"You dare make demands in the house of god!" A bishop slammed his hand on the table, but Ricky merely shrugged.

"I do or I shall, or whatever you weirdos say." Ricky said, walking to the center of the room to place himself in full view of everyone.

"BLASPHEMY!"

"THIS HUBRIS SHALL NOT STAND-"

"Quiet." A man with round glasses softly uttered something, yet his voice clearly towered above all, even when it was the quietest.

"Child, I understand that your upbringing may have been different, but in this holy house, I ask that you please conduct yourself in an appropriate manner." The man continued, crossing his hands together and looking down at Ricky.

"And you are?" RRicky didn't even try to follow his words as the man closed his eyes, then opened them again.

"Pope Pius XII." Pius informed him, and Ricky raised an eyebrow, accompanied by a smile.

"Then you're the top brass here, right?" Ricky pointed at him in a boisterous manner, and while the others wanted to object, they couldn't deny that, in a way, he was right.

"From how you speak your words, I am." Pius nodded, while Father Sebastian, standing to the side, prayed quietly with his prayer beads.

"Then before I start these trails, I need you to do something for me." Ricky informed Pius, who raised an eyebrow at his boldness.

"And what is that child?"

"My friend committed suicide, but I need you to give him a Catholic funeral." Ricky said, uttering words no one was prepared to accept as the room fell into silence.

"That is impossible-" One of the bishops was about to shoot him down, but Pius raised his hand.

"If you become the Black Knight, then you will have the authority to make such decisions on behalf of the church, as you will not only have a voice but also be one of the swords of God." Pius said suddenly, his soft words forcing exasperated expression causing all the members to rise to their feet.

"Pius, this is an outrage!" One bishop yelled in disbelief, unable to believe Ricky's, let alone the Pope's, words.

"Child, do you accept the trials put forth upon you by your blood and seek to bring about the glory of God?" Pius asked, ignoring the bishop as Ricky, all smiles, spread his arms in response.

"Yeah, why not!" Ricky laughed maniacally, taunting the surrounding members of the high council who were in disarray at his lackluster acceptance.

"Then place your blood on the center stone and receive your guide." Pius voice echoed submission in the surrounding disgruntled high council, gesturing to the stone monolith in front of him.

"The souls of your ancestors that reside in the holy kingdom will be called down to guide you through these peerless trials. It is proof that you are worthy to partake in such a holy ritual." Pius informed him as the members all turned their gaze toward Ricky.

If Ricky couldn't summon an ancestor, it would prove he wasn't who he claimed to be, and for those who opposed him, this was their last chance to expose him which is why the surroundings suddenly quieted down.

He took the knife lying on the stone monolith, slashed his palm, and pressed it against the monolith, which began to glow with a black hue.

They all closed their eyes, and when they opened them, they were greeted by the shocking sight of a figure never before summoned.

"Sir Percival." Pius whispered under his breath as the mighty Sir Percival of Galles appeared in front of Ricky.

But instead of reverence, Ricky looked at the figure materializing before him in clear annoyance.

"Descendant-"

"Oh great, it's you," Ricky muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes and cutting him off before Sir Percival could speak as the ghostly figure's eyebrow twitched in response.

"T-This is impossible." The bishop from earlier let out an exasperated sigh at the sight.

"Greetings, members of the Council. You know me well, but I am truly on the side of this young and rude descendant of mine." Percival said, turning to the men in their robes, while Ricky clicked his tongue from the side.

'Great, now I can't get rid of him.' Ricky thought to himself with a slight sigh as the members looked on, unsure of what to make of the situation.

"Sir Percival, it is an honor to be in your presence. But may I ask why you chose this one over Ernst, a member of your direct line?" The bishop asked, voicing the question everyone wanted to hear as Percival nodded in acknowledgment.

"I saw a vision when Ernst first touched the black stone, and it was something I could have never imagined." Percival uttered with a knowing expression, his connection with the black stone was so profound that even in the next life, he remained bound to it, sensing its dark influence across the realms and even through time.

"What did you see?" Pius asked, his eyes widening as Percival cast a light that illuminated unholy images swirling above them.

"Ernst becomes consumed far faster than anyone previously in our family with the ebony blade and wreaks havoc across Europe," Percival spoke solemnly, his hands casting Ernst fate towards all the onlookers.

As the ruthless display unfolded, the members of the assembly instinctively reached for their crosses, their faces etched with concern and resolve.

The scenes unfolded like a bloody horror: thousands of innocent souls fell beneath Ernst's blade, each life extinguished with brutal efficiency as the wielder, himself, bore a bloodthirsty smile, reveling in the carnage he orchestrated all around him.

"I-It cannot be." The bishop spoke, though the images of Ernst killing women and children in cold blood were painfully clear to all of them.

"And what of that child?" Pius spoke, his interest piqued by the decision, as Percival turned to Ricky as he looked up, a frown etched across his face as he took in the grim images.

"I do not know; I cannot see his future," Percival admitted truthfully, leaving the others in uncertain contemplation.

"However, that is why I have appeared to him, to guide him." Percival explained, promising his guidance to the young man beside him.

"Then without further ado, per the rights of the succession of the Black Knight, the trials will begin tomorrow," Pius announced but through the destruction Ricky saw something different.

The images were plastered all around Ricky, a grotesque tapestry of chaos and destruction.

The blade in the vision cut mercilessly through anything in its path, men, women, children, and even the very structures that stood as symbols of civilization all crumbled beneath the smiling Ernst.

However, instead of the horrified expressions seen on the faces of the other holy men, Ricky's eyes shone with deep determination.

The need for power, real power, first seeded within him during his initial defeat against Necrotis, and nurtured and watered by the overwhelming pain he had endured, coddled by the endless failures around him, and weathered by the trauma burrowed within him.

Started to sprout.

"Ricky Luciano, do you accept these conditions to take place within God's home?" Pius asked as Ricky responded without his usual sleazy smile, his eyes fixed on the challenge ahead.

For the first time since entering the holy sanctum, his expression was one of unwavering seriousness.

"I do."

Meanwhile in Ersnt's quarters,

"HE WAS CHOSEN BY PERCIVAL, THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE!" Ernst screeched, his anger erupting as he slapped the bishop who had previously spat out remarks at Ricky during the council.

"Calm down child-"

"HOW CAN I REMAIN CALM WHEN SOMEONE IS TRYING TO USURP MY BLOOD RIGHT!" Ernst roared, his eyes flickering with madness as he slapped the bishop.

The bishop stared at the young man in horror, memories of their past together flashing through his mind.

This was the very bishop who had taken Ernst in after his father succumbed to the madness of the sword, raising him as his own.

From childhood, Ernst had been filled with promises of greatness, constantly pushed to his limits yet consistently achieving only lackluster results and a persistent sense of inadequacy.

This relentless drive to prove everyone wrong and to validate his worth ultimately led him to join the Nazi regime, where he sought to fulfill the grandiose expectations imposed upon him.

The teachings the bishop had tried to impart through his bloodline were twisted by the sadistic ideologies of the Nazis.

They sought to monopolize Ernst's strength for their own gain, and Ernst, deeply influenced by their promises, wholeheartedly embraced the regime's dark ideals.

Though he had once wished to be destined for glory and to fight for God, that dream had long since morphed into something unholy, something that the bishop could only now fully recognize.

"LEAVE ME BE!" Ernst yelled, shoving the bishop aside with a surge of rage, causing the old man to scurry away, leaving Ernst alone in the dimly lit chamber.

Gritting his teeth, Ernst pulled out a letter sealed with a capsule, his eyes blazing with hatred as he stared at the repugnant document and despite his revulsion, he forced himself to tear it open.

Dear Ernst,

I know you think of our race as nothing but scum, but I assure you that is not the case. Although we are divided by our beliefs, we are united by the regime. I wish for us to settle this misunderstanding between us here and now. You are mighty and strong, but if there is ever a time when you thirst for more power, this vial shall suffice in that endeavor.

Sincerely,

Baron Blood.

Ernst harbored a deep-seated contempt for Baron Blood, yet he endured the vampire's presence out of allegiance to the Reich.

Despite his loathing for vampires, the allure of the power Baron Blood promised weighed heavily on him.

"Son, please do not succumb to your hatred-"

"CEASE YOUR WORDS, FATHER!" Ernst turned to the ancestral figure meant to guide him, his own father.

"I will do what I must to claim the birthright you left me for." Ernst declared, gripping the vial tightly as his anger overshadowed his reasoning.

"Whatever the cost, I must take the first step towards my destiny., I must become the Black Knight"