Chapter 152 Vandread: Origin (Three)

Yanking the goblet from the bowl, he realized a skeletal hand resided in the bowl, extending from the bottom and gripping the jeweled cup before breaking away.

What was that…? Victor questioned.

“Oh? You found it? Great!” Julius said with a relieved smile.

“Hold on…What was that?” Vandread cautiously questioned.

“Huh? Don’t be so paranoid, it’s–” Julius replied.

Though Vandread’s instincts were vindicated the moment the chalice was freed from the skeletal grip, the robed corpses that sat still in the seats began moving, taking the youthful trio of adventurers by surprise.

“Gah–!” Vandread let out.

One of the robed skeletons gripped onto the injured, platinum-eyed adolescent, yanking him away from Julius’ support.

“Shit!–Vandread!” Julius called out.

Though there was no opportunity to aid his comrade as the robed corpses swarmed Julius, forcing him to back up against a wall and begin swinging his blade.

Victor was frozen for a moment, holding the chalice as he looked around frantically.

What should I do?…Who do I help? Julius has more on him, but Vandread is injured!…He thought.

Before he could come up with an answer, he was given a new option: survive. The black-robed undead surrounded him as well, forcing him to wield his bow and begin swiftly drawing arrows, shooting them towards the skeletal worshippers.

“Get back…! Away!–I need to help him!” Victor grunted, gritting his teeth.

Though he was clumsy at best in certain moments, when it came to his precision with his bow, he was like an entirely different person; it was second nature to him to sling the string back of his fine, wood-carved bow with an arrow pulled along its form before–FWOOSH.

The process was swift, only taking a second for him to draw an arrow, pull the string back, and fire. Yet, it wasn’t fast enough.

Robed undead continued pressing him, forcing him to step back while continuing to draw from his quiver.

Glancing through the gaps of the undead, he saw his companions struggling, fighting for their lives while he felt his own fears being undeserved.

Why am I on the defense…? Victor thought.

Despite his self-repairing body, he was still trembling with fear in the face of the enemy; his fingertips quivered as he drew another arrow.

What am I scared of? Being hurt? He questioned.

It was the truth; deep down inside, he knew it: what harm could the undead bring to his regenerating body? Yet, despite knowing this fact, he trembled from the natural cowardice that sprouted within his soul.

Even watching his friends struggle, he found his heartbeat pounding against his ear drums, blaring out all other sound before–

“Aggh–!”

An agonized scream filled the accursed cathedral, prompting him to focus again as he looked around, having to shoot down another few skeletal cultists to see what the meaning of the cry was for.

“…Vandread…” Victor mumbled in shock.

The platinum-eyed adolescent was across the room, being clawed and torn into by the robed undead. It was a harrowing, brutal sight; their jagged fingers possessed monstrous strength despite their fragile-seeming builds, allowing them to carve into flesh.

“Vandread–!!!” Julius roared out.

Though as much as Julius tried, he could only swing his blade so much while being swarmed by the undead, who seeped in from the outside halls.

It was difficult to tell what state Vandread was in as the undead surrounded him, but his blood curdling screams of pain were more than enough to discern.

How did this happen…? Is it because I was too scared to help? Why? Victor questioned.

Between moments of fleeting regret and anxiety, it was as though Victor’s life flashed before his eyes–

[As long as I can remember, I’ve had this undying body. I was born without parents. From what my grandmother told me, my birth was entirely cursed. I died the moment I was brought into this world, apparently due to a defect with my heart, and my mother was soon to pass from complications with my birth. There was nothing right about it.

My father was posed with two options: his wife or his newborn son.

He chose me. It was he that possessed it: the ‘Undying Blood’; bestowing his immortality from himself to me, I was saved, but he ended up passing alongside my mother.

My father was a great adventurer; regarded as a hero, even. ‘The Impervious Borealis’ is what they called him. He was still young…there was so much he could’ve done.

All my life the sacrifice both my mother and father made has felt wasted. ‘I’m not worthy’, ‘You both should have lived instead’–these thoughts are always on my mind.

Everyday I feel as though I was never meant to be born. By all accounts, I was fated to die the day I was brought into this world, but…my parents rejected that fate. Why? What did they see in me? I wish I could ask them.]

When recalling this, for some reason, a memory, buried so deep within his mind, it must’ve been from the very day he was born.

This is…? He thought.

The sight of a man with shaggy, blonde hair smiling down at him, holding him while a woman with hazel hair also watched him with a warm smile, caressing his cheek. They were both pale and nearing death, yet looked at him so warmly.

Mother? Father? He realized.

From a hazy memory, he at last realized what his own two parents looked like.

For some reason, that sight of them smiling, sure of their decision, moved him in such a way that he cast away his fears.

–

“…Dammit!” Julius yelled in frustration, backed against a corner and fending off the undead.

“Ngh…! Argh!” Vandread’s agonized yells echoed from across the room.

These sounds snapped Victor into focus as he suddenly rushed forward, sprinting directly towards the mass of undead without any second thoughts.

They weren’t scared for a second when they gave you life! You have no reason to be shaking! Victor thought to himself.

“Raaagh!” He roared out to give himself resolve.

As he tried barging through the wall of robed skeletons, he was held back as they gripped onto him, trying to tear into him and hold him down, though he planted his feet down and continued pressing forward with all of his strength.

I’m coming…Vandread! He thought.

Though their rotten fingers squeezed onto him, carving through chunks of his flesh on his sides, back, and arms, he gritted his teeth and managed to break through. He stumbled forward, nearly falling completely before he caught himself.

The path to Vandread was now clear, leaving only a few undead between him and his friend as he wielded his bow once again.

“Get away–!” Victor shouted.

Rapidly drawing and firing arrows from his quiver, he took down a half dozen of the decrepit guardians of the cathedral before reaching again to his leather quiver, only to find nothing left for him to use.

I’m out…? He thought.

For a brief moment, that cowardice etched into his soul resurfaced as his lack of arrows made him want to shrink away and flee, but he pushed forward through sheer reckless abandon.

As he raced forward, tossing his bow to the side with tears flooding his eyes, he swiftly retrieved a single arrow from the skull of an undead, now using it as a close-quarters weapon.

“Graaaaaagh–!”

Roaring out, he was gripped onto and torn into by the undead as he rapidly stabbed the arrowhead into their skulls; with the adrenaline surging through his veins, he ignored the pain. As much as they tried tearing off chunks of his flesh, cutting into him with their sharp nails, his body repaired itself.

Through his wild efforts, it seemed the robed fiends assaulting Vandread now focused on him.

Good!…Keep your eyes on me! He thought.

Vandread was lying on the ground, soaked in his own blood, “…Vic…tor?”

It was a sight to see; the once clumsy, cowardly adventurer was now fighting without any reservations, almost like a savage beast as he wildly used his single arrow as a knife.

Still, Victor found it arduous to get to his friend with the swarm of undead around, and even more difficult to do what he had to do.

Shit…I can’t do it like this! I need to keep them off me! He thought.

“Julius–!” Victor shouted.

The eccentric adolescent shouted back from beyond a group of undead, still fighting, “–I can’t get through! Give me a second!”

Though Victor knew time was of the essence with the rate Vandread was bleeding out, forcing him to act as he rushed over, leaping like a mad man as he aided Julius, thrusting his arrowhead through the skulls of all the skeletons he found in his way.

Somehow, Julius and Victor managed to surmount the wall of undead, finding one another through the mess of bones.

“Come on…! I need you to keep them off of me while I save him!” Victor shouted.

It was new for the blonde-haired youth to be so forward and adamant in his words, which took Julius by surprise for a moment before he nodded, trying to figure out what he meant by ‘saving.’

As he swiftly returned over to Vandread’s position with Julius following behind him, fending off the seemingly endless number of skeletons within the temple, he dropped to his knees by his comrade’s side.

“…Vandread…” Victor said with tears in his eyes.