Chapter 95 - 93: Last Year

Chapter 95: Chapter 93: Last Year

*Huff*

*Huff*

*Huff*

In a small patch of grass, Ricky drove a sleek ebony sword down, its blade casting a dark gleam as arcs of red energy crackled around him.

His muscles tensed, and he gritted his teeth as the weapon's power surged through him, every fiber of his body straining against the force.

The midday sun bathed him in a warm, golden light, softening the edges of the serene landscape around him, a sharp contrast to the storm churning within his mind.

'All this training is pointless.'

'You'll never amount to anything.'

'You're a failure.'

Thoughts pulsed in his mind like a relentless headache and yet, unlike a year ago, when Ricky had been crushed beneath the weight of its seething hatred, he now bore it with unyielding resolve, his gaze hardened.

His green eyes, however, were stripped of their usual luster, dark red tendrils now pulsed through his irises, casting an eerie glow.

With that crimson fury fueling him, he swung the ebony sword down once more, each strike charged with a power that seemed to ripple from deep within him.

*WHOOSH*

The air around him suddenly flashed out as Ricky once again entered his berserk state as the red energy crackled all around his being.

'KILL!'

'KILL!'

'KILL!'

The thoughts within Ricky's mind twisted from mere words of hatred into a raw, bloodthirsty urge until, in an instant, his entire being erupted with a torrent of vivid green energy.

A typhoon of power surged around him, as grotesque, murky red tendrils of aura wove into the brilliant green, creating a fierce, swirling storm.

His sovereign haki surged, pushing back against the consuming bloodlust that the ebony blade sought to drown him in, forcing his will against the weapon's dark intent.

The energies collided violently, clashing in a dazzling explosion around him, while Ricky's eyes crackled with both red and green.

*WHOOOOOOSH*

Then, with a single, decisive slash, Ricky brought the ebony blade down, slicing through the typhoon of swirling energies as if cleaving the storm itself in two.

The chaotic aura split apart, dissipating into the air as Ricky straightened from his stance, his breath steadying, shoulders relaxed yet charged with latent power.

"Phew~" Ricky wiped his forehead, walking over to the side and wiping his face with a towel as Alexander nodded his furry head.

"Your progress has been most excellent Ricky, though it is a bit flashy." Alexander remarked, nodding with genuine approval before adding with a smirk

"Yeah, but I'd rather look like a Christmas tree than let my brain get turned into barbarian mush," Ricky quipped, leaning forward with a grin as Alexander conceded his words with a slow nod.

Over this last year, Ricky had been refining, training, and then refining some more.

Ricky wasn't merely honing his swordsmanship; he was refining his abilities, seamlessly weaving them into his combat style.

It struck him how much he'd been shooting himself in the foot, how he'd barely tapped into the range of skills available to him.

Only now, as he embraced their full potential, did he realize how foolish he'd been for neglecting them.

Perhaps it was his prolonged isolation or the fresh awareness of his system's value, but he knew now that he'd taken it for granted.

Though confined to his training grounds and New Salem, Ricky resolved to fully exploit the system's potential and to embrace his inner degenerate even further to get even stronger.

This past year had been transformative; his growth as a fighter was evident not only in his skill but in the way he carried himself.

[Status]

Name: Ricky Luciano

Titles: Deadbeat, Royal Thug, Prodigal Son, Witch's Gigolo

Age: 18

Born: October, 27, 1918

Race: Human

Strength: 43→56 (Middle realm of Superhuman)

Stamina: 41→53 (Middle realm of Superhuman.)

Vitality: 46→59 (Middle realm of Superhuman.)

Agility: 37→49(Peak Lower realm of Superhuman)

Dexterity: 40→52(High realm of Superhuman)

Intelligence: 28→35 (Above Peak Adult)

Mana: 65→85 (High realm of Superhuman.)

Charm: 38→50 (Gracing superhuman levels, it is shocking that a bastard could grow this much and not be an incubus.)

Appearance: 38→50 (Have reached superhuman level of good looks, ones that are only portrayed in animated media that seemed impossible for regular minds.)

Skills Improved:

(Epic Skill) Master Swordsmanship: represents an elite level of proficiency in the art of wielding a sword, surpassing advanced techniques and embodying true mastery. This epic skill is acquired through years of dedicated practice, intense training, and combat experience. Individuals with this skill showcase unparalleled control, precision, and effectiveness in battle, making them formidable sword fighters.

(Epic Skill) Master Spearmanship: signifies an elite level of proficiency in the art of wielding a spear, transcending advanced techniques and embodying true mastery. This epic skill is developed through extensive training, practical experience, and deep understanding of spear combat. Practitioners of this skill demonstrate exceptional control, versatility, and tactical prowess, making them unrivaled opponents in combat.

(Epic Skill) Master Hand-to-Hand Combat: signifies an elite level of proficiency in unarmed fighting techniques, surpassing advanced methods and embodying true mastery. This epic skill is developed through rigorous training, practical experience, and an in-depth understanding of martial arts. Practitioners of this skill demonstrate exceptional control, strength, and tactical acumen, making them nearly invincible in close-quarters combat.

This year's growth had surpassed even last year's strides, largely thanks to the potent growth tonic, which had fortified Ricky's already developing body, hardening it to a new, formidable level.

Ricky's progression defied conventional limits, nudging him closer to a realm that seemed almost unnatural for any ordinary human.

His anomaly was evident, pushing his physique and abilities beyond reason, yet it wasn't just the system or his X-Gene that fueled his rise, it was his relentless drive to refine the skills he had gained and cultivated on his own.

Elevating an epic skill to a legendary level, however, proved far more challenging than advancing from rare to epic, which was why his bowmanship remained at the epic level for now. But despite these hurdles, Ricky felt prepared.

The merging of his innate potential with his hard-won abilities left him ready to face whatever lay beyond his training grounds as a pair of eyes gazed towards him.

It wasn't only Ricky who sensed the change as Rachael, too, noticed his newfound strength, her initial surprise shifting into a grudging approval as they prepared for their confrontation with Dracula.

Alongside his progress, though, Ricky had grown increasingly narcissistic, seizing every chance to boast about his strength, much to everyone's annoyance.

Still, his arrogance carried a playful edge, a swagger that had become both endearing and exasperating to those around him.

Now, after three years of training on and off with Rachael, she actually believed they might have a sliver of a chance against Dracula, though only a slim one.

In reality, three years of grueling growth couldn't match the centuries of power Dracula had amassed.

Ricky's progress was extraordinary, yet in the face of such ancient power, it was still a far cry from what he would truly need, at least to Rachael.

This secrecy is why Rachael has devised a plan she refuses to share with Ricky, convinced he'd spoil it if he knew.

Her trust in him only went so far, and she believed that keeping him in the dark was the best way to ensure their survival.

Surprisingly, Ricky wasn't frustrated by her secrecy but rather disappointed; but he understood that his moment to step up would come, but until then, Rachael seemingly convinced herself that she would strategically maneuver around him, making use of his power without depending on his judgment.

15 minutes later,

Stepping out of the shower, Ricky glanced over at his desk and frowned at the sight of Garfield peacefully napping.

The cat's serene presence contrasted sharply with the chaotic energy that often filled the room.

With a flat expression, Ricky turned and headed back to the bathroom, returning moments later with a glass of water in hand.

As he approached, Garfield stirred slightly in his sleep, a blissful smile spreading across his face.

"C-Cheese pizza~" Garfield murmured, drool pooling slightly as he scratched his sizable belly, lost in a delightful dream.

*Splash*

Water splattered across the desk, jolting Garfield awake with a startled jerk of his head. His eyes darted around until they landed on Ricky, who stood there with an outstretched hand, his grimoire slowly levitating into the air.

"W-Wait-" Garfield stammered, wide-eyed, looking up with horrified eyes at his summoner.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop drooling on my research?" Ricky replied, irritation evident in his gaze as he shot a look at the papers now smeared with Garfield's slobber.

"I-I-"

*Sigh*

"You're going to spray me with water regardless, right?" Garfield slumped his shoulders in defeat.

"I'm going to spray you with water regardless." Ricky repeated his words at the same time, his grimoire turning to a specific page.

In an instant, a jet of water shot from Ricky's palm, drenching hissing Garfield and sending him sprawling off the desk.

The fat cat squawked as he was sprayed sideways, his plush form instantly looking slimmer as the water soaked through his fur.

He landed with a soft thud, rolling and hitting his back hitting the wall, a look of incredulity plastered on his face.

"You're a monster," Garfield hissed, glaring up at Ricky, who merely shrugged as he adjusted his notes and settled into his seat.

"And you're fat," Ricky shot back with a chuckle, fully aware he could've crafted a better comeback but feeling a sense of accomplishment nonetheless. Garfield scrunched his brows in annoyance.

"Crappy story, lazy writing-" Garfield scoffed, crossing his arms in indignation and directing his frustration at the author.

But before he could finish his thought, a random vase toppled off the shelf, clattering down and smacking him on the head with a resounding thud.

*TINK*

*THUMP*

Garfield face-planted onto the floor, the vase rolling away from him in a daze and Alexander, perched on Ricky's shoulder, tilted his head in curiosity, glancing from the unconscious cat to Ricky.

"I must say, Ricky, your dedication to studying is impressive. But remind me again as to why it is so important to you?" Alexander asked, hopping off Ricky's shoulder and striding over to the scattered papers as Ricky began to arrange them.

"Because the ebony blade made me realize I have to protect my mind at all costs."

That was the answer he gave anyone who asked why he suddenly immersed himself in this field of research, and it held some merit however, the truth was far more complex.

The real reason Ricky dedicated himself to this craft lay buried in his past life.

Honestly, he couldn't recall much of relevance; his previous existence had been a haze of self-indulgence, marked by self-loathing, alcohol, and drugs.

Yet the Cave of Regrets had sparked a profound awakening within him as it forced him to confront the fact that those memories from his past life were still etched in his mind, lingering like shadows.

This newfound clarity not only propelled him to not just be better, but it showed that those memories were not lost forever but still lingering within the depths of his mind.

In reality, Ricky had been transported back to the 1930s, a full 70 years from where he had been born.

But the only significant action he took during that time was investing $50,000 in Coca-Cola.

When Ricky returned to New York, he didn't want to simply be a changed man; he wanted to be someone who could provide for those around him.

Yet he faced a significant hurdle since although he possessed the skill of 'Business Acumen', he had never actually worked in the field of investing that wasn't on a baccarat table.

He understood that, much like mastering the sword, it would take time to develop the necessary expertise.

To bridge this gap, Ricky decided to hone this ability to make sound decisions that would lead his family to success.

Simultaneously, he began to delve into his old, foggy memories, trying to recall the names of companies that still thrived far into the future.

In this way, as he developed into a competent player in the corporate field, he would have a solid foundation to springboard from, leveraging knowledge of companies that would excel in the future.

Ricky recognized that combining his emerging skills in business with insights from his past life could give him a significant edge, allowing him to navigate the complexities of the market with a strategic mindset.

4 hours later,

*Sigh*

Ricky leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes in frustration after yet another failed attempt.

Heaving a large sigh, he tried to shake off the disappointment that weighed heavily on his chest.

Right now, he was attempting to form a spell from a collection of existing incantations, hoping to delve deep into his mind and simulate the experience he had in the Cave of Regrets.

Each time, however, he found himself falling short, the spell unraveling like a poorly woven tapestry before it could fully manifest.

"Another failure?" Alexander inquired, peeking out from his own studies, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity.

"What are you doing?" Alexander added, noticing Ricky opening his storage and pulling the desk into it as if it were nothing more than a prop in a magic trick.

"Getting ready to leave." Ricky replied, dusting off his hands with a sense of finality.

"Does that mean-"

"I think I'm ready." Ricky could feel it, he felt that power earlier as if breaking through and actually seeing through the haze of his berserk form.

"Are you sure you can stand before Dracula?" Alexander asked, slowly closing his book. He hopped onto the cover, fixing Ricky with a resolute gaze.

"Honestly, I'm not sure, but I know that if I don't leave today, I'll just stagnate." Ricky admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as the uncertainty of facing Dracula loomed over him though not as fear, but as a strange ambiguity, like the hazy edge of a storm.

Ricky wasn't intimidated by Dracula's towering strength anymore but instead, facing him felt like standing at the edge of an oncoming storm, vast and ominous.

The unknown swirled before him, a force that was impossible to fully measure.

Ricky knew the storm was there, looming in his path, yet he couldn't tell if it would pass with a light rain or strike with the fury of a fatal hurricane as his progress had changed everything so drastically.

"And besides, I can't even flirt with the other witches here. Agatha literally made three babes I hit on just, disappear." Ricky sighed, glancing around the cluttered room that had become both a sanctuary and a cage.

Agatha didn't care if he messed around with other girls, but when it came to witches, her irritation was oddly palpable, becoming akin to Hera confronting Zeus when it came to him trying to bang another witch.

Ricky's eyes scanned the dusty shelves until they rested on an old bottle tucked away, gleaming faintly in the low light.

Ricky plucked the bottle from the shelf, brushing off a layer of dust to reveal a handwritten note tied around its neck.

Dear Slick,

I had a feeling that you'd come back one way or another, and if so, here's a little of my good wine to tie you over.

- Rotolo

"Oh, Rotolo, truly a man of God." Ricky sighed in relief, clutching the dusty wine bottle as though he'd unearthed buried treasure and strolled back toward Rachael with a satisfied grin.

"Of course the alcoholic sniffs out the liquor, what a surprise." Rachael said with a sarcastic sigh.

In her mind, Rachael should have known, considering how Ricky had always managed to track down wine like the alcoholic bloodhound he was.

Her judgmental gaze pierced through Ricky, but he couldn't care less, even as he imagined her slowly undressing him with those eyes.

Ricky took another hearty swig from the bottle, savoring the rich flavor as it washed over him as he gave Rachael a mischievous grin as he lowered the bottle.

"Oh, come on, you've tasted those witches' brews. If you're using alchemy and can't even make a decent ale, are you really an alchemist?" Ricky chuckled, waving the bottle in her direction only to see her hold up her hand, rejecting the offer to day drink with him.

"Alchemist aren't judged by how well they brew liquor-"

"Ah, well, they should be~" Ricky sighed with a sense of relief, clutching his heart at the thought of how good a man Rotolo had been to him, even in his absence.

Although Rachael was clearly judging him for his drinking habits, Ricky had actually been cutting back significantly.

Zatanna's tears over the smell of any booze weighed heavily on his conscience, and Johnny always seemed to find a way to sneak into his flasks, making it harder for him to indulge.

So the only times he ever had the chance to drink were after long hours of research, but even then, fatigue often claimed him before he could truly enjoy it, leaving him to fall asleep with a half-finished glass still in hand.

"So, who is the one that possesses this army?" Rachael asked calmly, her curiosity piqued as she wondered if Ricky had managed to sway yet another one of his girls from outside New Salem.

"His name is Verdelet-"

"What?!" Rachael shot up, her eyes flashing an ominous yellow as the mere mention of the name ignited her transformation.

A chill swept through the air, thickening around them, as if the very atmosphere was responding to her brewing fury.

"Verdelet—" Ricky teased, fully aware that it wasn't the answer Rachael was looking for.

His laughter echoed through the room as he watched her expression morph from surprise to outrage, her composure unraveling before his eyes.

"I know who Verdelet is, Ricky!" Rachael yelled, her voice sharp with frustration. Alexander, caught off guard, furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Then why did she ask?" Alexander wondered aloud, his gaze shifting between Rachael and Garfield, who was still lost in dreams of lasagna.

"Did I not tell you about this? Weird, I wonder why I didn't do that?" Ricky mused, taking another sip from the bottle as he savored the moment of catching this control freak off guard.

Rachael let out a hollow laugh, the tension in the room easing slightly as she shook her head in disbelief.

"I would've known if you mentioned one of the oldest disciples of Dracula's master!" Rachael yelled, her fury palpable as she glared at Ricky, who seemed unfazed by her outburst.

"Ah, now I remember why I didn't tell you," Ricky sighed, bracing himself as he could practically hear the gears turning in Rachael's mind, knowing a lecture was imminent.

Ricky watched her stomp over, determination etched on her face, ready to unleash her frustration.

"Do you know the monster Verdelet is? The things he's done!" Rachael demanded, her grip tightening on Ricky's collar, her eyes blazing with concern as he pried her fingers away with a nonchalant shrug.

"I know him well enough to say I'd probably grab a beer with him, but not lunch, I don't really know him well enough for that." Ricky replied casually since for him, it was the ultimate measure of character; if someone could share a drink, but he wasn't friendly enough for lunch.

"RICKY!"

"Oh my god, not particularly." Ricky said with a slight sigh, raising his hands in mock surrender at the buzzkill before him.

"But at least he seems a little more reasonable than Dracula-"

"THEY'RE LITERALLY THE SAME! IN FACT, THERE'S A RUNNING JOKE WITHIN THE SUPERNATURAL WORLD ABOUT WHO IS THE MORALLY WORST VAMPIRE!" Rachael screamed at Ricky, her frustration evident as he nodded, the words going in one ear and out the other.

"But in my view, the difference between them is that I actually like Verdelet, or at least I can stand being around him without worrying if he'll rip out my heart." Ricky shrugged, a nonchalant grin on his face.

Given his encounters with both ancient vampires, he had clearly developed a bias, favoring Verdelet despite the danger he represented.

"Oh my god, I thought you were stupid, but I never imagined you'd do something this idiotic!" Rachael exclaimed, grabbing at her hair in exasperation as she couldn't fathom how little Ricky understood the implications of his connections and the dangerous company he kept.

Her frustration simmered as she tried to wrap her head around his reckless behavior, feeling the weight of the potential consequences for them all.

"Listen, I get that Verdelet is a monster-" Ricky pinched the bridge of his nose, a vein of frustration pulsating at his forehead from Rachael's verbal onslaught.

"Monster doesn't even begin to cover it, Ricky! He literally experiments on and tortures not only humans but his own kin, for the-" Rachael's voice trembled with a mix of anger and disbelief, the words spilling from her lips as she struggled to comprehend Ricky's apparent nonchalance toward such a horrific figure.

"For the pursuit of knowledge."

Rachael immediately drew her crossbow at the sight of Verdelet appearing in the doorway, the moonlight casting a pale glow on his vampiric figure.

"As creatures, as life, we stop evolving when we stop learning." Verdelet declared, stepping into the shop and surveying the dust-covered remnants of the past.

"Humans, Dracula, they all go about progression wrong. Power isn't just about pure strength; it lies in the purity of the mind." Veredelt advanced toward Ricky, extending his hand.

To Rachael's shock, Ricky accepted the handshake without hesitation, their palms meeting in an unexpected display of camaraderie.

In a sense, Verdelet stands as a polar opposite to Dracula, yet they share striking similarities in their methods of pursuing power.

Both seek to unite the supernatural world under one banner, driven by their visions of supremacy. However, their paths diverge significantly after that goal is achieved.

Where Dracula thrives on terror and dominance, reveling in chaos and bloodshed, Verdelet takes a more cerebral approach, favoring manipulation and experimentation over brute force.

His methods often involve intricate plots and philosophical musings about evolution and progress, contrasting sharply with Dracula's penchant for raw power and fear.

"Hey, Verdelet! How have you been?" Ricky greeted, giving the old vampire a friendly pat on the shoulder as if they were old pals.

Verdelet chuckled, clearly entertained by the audacity of this human who showed no fear in his presence.

"My research is progressing well." Verdelet replied, his expression shifting slightly at his next thoughts.

"Though that human Mussolini is beginning to wear on my nerves." Verdelets eyes flickered with annoyance, but he maintained his smile, an unsettling juxtaposition of charm and menace.

"You have done such horrible things, caused numerous atrocities, taken millions of lives-" Rachael's entire body shook violently, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to contain her anger as Verdelet merely side-eyed her, an expression of detached amusement on his face.

"And saved the same amount." Veredelt interrupted, cutting through her outrage with an unsettling calm.

Rachael opened her mouth to retort, but Verdelet continued, his tone smooth and persuasive.

Although Verdelet has exterminated countless lives and cultures, he has saved just as many through his groundbreaking research.

Most recently, he discovered a chemical called arsphenamine some time ago, which proved to be an effective treatment for syphilis.

This discovery marked the beginning of the world's first modern antibiotic, a breakthrough that would go on to save billions of lives.

Verdelet's research has created a ripple effect in the medical field, accelerating advancements in human medicine at an unprecedented pace.

In fact, nearly every significant medical discovery, whether pertaining to humans or the supernatural, can trace its origins back to Verdelet's findings, often published under various pseudonyms.

His work has fundamentally transformed the landscape of medicine, making it possible for innovations to emerge that otherwise might have taken generations to develop.

"Y-You-"

*Pffft*

Ricky couldn't help but laugh at the stunned expression on Rachael's face as the shocking revelations of Verdelet's so-called "good deeds" rendered her momentarily speechless. It was a rare sight to see her so flabbergasted, and the amusement was palpable in the air.

Yet, Rachael wasn't one to back down easily as she quickly shook off her surprise and resumed her stance, always ready to highlight the darker side of Verdelet's actions.

"But look at the cost!" Racahel shot back, pointing out the atrocities committed in the name of progress.

No matter how impressive Verdelet's contributions to science were, she refused to overlook the blood on his hands.

"And alas, we are met with the age-old dilemma that defines your hesitance: 'Does the end justify the means?'" Verdelet waved his hand dismissively, a smirk playing on his lips as he recognized that Rachael was, for the moment, left speechless.

"It doesn't matter, Ricky he is a vile monster who-"

"Rachael, can I be honest for a second? I really don't care." Ricky interrupted, cutting through her passionate tirade.

Although Ricky held the title of the Black Knight, his moral compass was worlds apart from that of this isolated girl.

He refused to let Rachael's indignation dictate his perspective, knowing that their beliefs and values diverged significantly.

As long as he and Verdelet maintained a mutual understanding and respect for each other, Ricky felt no need to harbor any ill will.

After all, Verdelet hadn't encroached on his territory or posed a threat to him personally, yet.

For Ricky, that was all that mattered in their complicated dance of alliances and enmities.

"Oh, I almost forgot, I also want to thank you for the diaries. They have been detrimental to my research but before I could voice them in full, that Van Helsing interrupted me," Verdelet remarked, casting a sidelong glance at Rachael, who bristled at the mention of her family's infamous legacy. Ricky nodded in agreement, intrigued.

"No problem-wait, how could you tell she's a Van Helsing?" Ricky asked, genuinely curious if he already knew Rachael.

"They all smell like wet dogs to me." Verdelet replied with a nonchalant shrug, causing Ricky to burst into a fit of hysterical laughter.

"Hey, Verdelet, about that deal we made three years ago, is it still valid?" Ricky asked, casually leaning against a nearby counter.

Rachael's head snapped in his direction, her expression a mix of shock and concern, while the ancient vampire nodded slightly.

"Of course the deal still stands. I will provide you with my hordes to fight Dracula-"

"No, I won't stand for this at all!" Rachael interjected, her voice firm and resolute.

She planted her foot down as if to physically ground her ancestors' legacy, knowing full well that this decision went against everything they had fought against.

The weight of her family's history hung heavy in the air, and she couldn't let it be tarnished by an alliance with someone like Verdelet.

"Then sit." Ricky dismissed her with a casual wave of his hand, his indifference palpable.

Ricky was completely unfazed by Rachael's passionate defense of her family's legacy and everything she stood for as a Van Helsing.

To him, her heritage was merely background noise, overshadowed by the allure of power and the chance to confront a formidable adversary like Dracula for his own desires.

"Ricky, we're just swapping one mad king with a crazed ideology for another!" Rachael pointed out, the irony of the situation clear in her tone.

"So?" Ricky shrugged, unfazed by her moral outrage.

While Rachael held on to her ideals of friendship and heroism, believing she could defeat Dracula with the power of good intentions, Ricky remained undeterred.

Ricky was far from convinced that this was some heartwarming tale where everything fell into place simply because he clung to the power of friendship.

From his experience, every time he'd dared to confront a vampire, he ended up losing those who trusted him most.

He wasn't about to gamble with another life just because Rachael was uncomfortable with the choices ahead.

Her ideals felt na?ve in the face of the harsh reality they were battling, and he couldn't afford to let sentiment cloud his judgment again.

Ricky had learned one undeniable truth during his time in the Mafia: someone in power would always be replaced.

He'd much prefer that the successor held a favorable view of him rather than someone who would gladly rip out his heart.

Rachael, on the other hand, wasn't willing to relent as she loved humanity deeply, always seeing the good in it, a stark contrast to her grandfather's darker legacy.

While she idolized him in many ways, her unwavering love for humankind had her locked in a battle of ideals with Ricky.

Rachael fought for a world where compassion could triumph, even in the face of overwhelming darkness, while Ricky was pragmatic, willing to ally himself with the lesser of two evils for the sake of survival.

Verdelet regarded humans with a measured indifference, seeing them as useful pawns rather than beings worthy of admiration.

He would keep them around, primarily for their utility, but his sentiments leaned far from favorable.

Ricky, however, found himself somewhere leaning towards Verdelelt as he'd witnessed both the good and the bad that humanity had to offer, and at the end of the day, he didn't care.

Ricky had reached a pivotal moment in his life where the suffering that surrounded him, suffering he could easily change, felt futile if it didn't somehow elevate his own standing.

The pain of others no longer tugged at his conscience; instead, it became a backdrop against which he measured his own worth.

Ricky had learned that altruism often came at a cost, and in a world riddled with darkness, he was unwilling to sacrifice his own interests for the sake of others.

The harsh reality was that he could only invest in what benefited him, and as he navigated this morally ambiguous landscape, he only saw whatever benefited him.

But even so, Ricky made an effort to grasp Rachael's perspective, recognizing her passion for humanity, but he still couldn't fathom why she would hesitate to seize such a powerful army on a silver platter.

"Wasn't the whole point of your family killing Dracula to free them from purgatory? Don't you want to liberate them?" Ricky asked, genuine curiosity etched on his face as Rachael gritted her teeth but let out a weary sigh.

"Of course I want to free my family from purgatory, Ricky. But I refuse to do it in a way that compromises everything they stood for when they died." Rachael's words hung in the air, leaving Ricky even more baffled.

"What is compromising your family's values? Your whole purpose was to kill Dracula, and over the hundreds of years, they couldn't even do that!" Ricky's voice rose, fueled by frustration, startling Rachael as she had always known him to be sleazy and flippant, but never this harsh.

His words struck her like a physical blow, and for a moment, she stood frozen, processing the weight of his accusation.

"God, you're so insufferable sometimes, Rachael." Ricky let out a sarcastic laugh, feeling the breaking point of her constant nagging.

"You preach to me, to everyone, how results require sacrifices and constantly pester everyone with your ideals. Yet when everyone in the world has to make sacrifices, has to compromise, you just expect everyone to fall in line with your whining." Ricky plopped down on a chair, his posture relaxed and dismissive, as if he were completely unfazed by the storm brewing between them.

Verdelet stood at the side, watching the exchange with an amused expression while patiently waiting for them to finish their squabble.

"Oh boo hoo, my life is so hard! Because everyone I loved died, everything should go my way, boo hoo~" Ricky mimicked in a high-pitched, mocking tone as he leaned back, crossing his arms

"What have you lost-"

"So f*cking much, I've lost so many people, and yet here I am, not being a complete b*tch all the time."" Ricky said, shaking his head while leaning back in the dusty chair, the bottle in his hand serving as both comfort and fuel for his argument.

"Look, Rachael, I understand your family has this whole legacy, and they died fighting Dracula. But holding on to their ideals isn't going to change a damn thing when we have a chance to finish what they started, and you're letting it slip away because of some outdated moral code." Ricky looked over at Alexander who was actually on his side, knowing he would never take hsi side to merely humor him.

"Do you even know how this all came to be, Ricky? How this feud with Dracula truly started?" Rachael asked coldly, her arms crossed as she glared at him.

"No, I don't. But since I've got some good wine, lay it on me so I can repeat the same opinion thirty minutes from now." Ricky spread his arms wide, a stubborn grin plastered across his face, knowing that unless Dracula was literally wearing Verdelt's skin then he wasn't about to change his mind in the next half-hour.

"Ah, the Van Helsing saga." Veredelt mused, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"Every iteration is a delight to hear. I do enjoy how each generation spins their version of events." Verdelet chuckled lightly, pulling up a seat next to Ricky and holding out a dusty glass that Ricky poured some into.

"It all started-"

Author's Note: I'll reply to comments probably tommorrow or the weekend cause I'm hella tired today.