Chapter 138: Ascension Ceremony (Part Five)
"Aaaah—"
Born Battle Maniac roared furiously, stomping the ground to activate Berserk.
"Die, damn it!"
His eyes glowed red as he used Flight to leap high into the air, swinging his massive axe toward the airborne vampire.
Duke Brad sneered contemptuously.
"Such futile struggles."
The blood mist in the air surged, transforming into a giant maw that engulfed Born Battle Maniac entirely. His blood was drained dry, leaving only a shriveled husk to fall lifelessly to the ground.
Just as Born Battle Maniac fell, several wooden arrows shot rapidly toward the vampire's heart.
"Swish—"
It turned out Born Battle Maniac had only been a distraction, while Singo's heart-piercing arrows were the true attack.
"Crack."
But the arrows were effortlessly caught by the vampire's pale hands and snapped in half.
"Impossible."
Singo muttered to himself, stunned by the boss's extraordinary strength, both in spellcasting and raw physical power.
"Pitiful rats."
Duke Brad's face twisted into a cruel smile as he said:
"Once, I was the mightiest general of Anzeta, riding a giant eagle into battle and conquering all before me."
"Now, I am something far more exalted."
"And you—"
"You think you can be my opponents?"
Duke Brad descended slowly, surrounded by swirling blood mist and countless shadowy hands.
[Vampiric Touch]
Anyone caught by these shadowy hands suffered devastating erosive damage, their lifeforce rapidly drained and absorbed by the vampire to nourish his body.
"Cleric, heal me!"
"Give me a Speed Boost!"
The commander shouted toward Windcloud.
But before he could finish, a black tendril rose from the ground, wrapping around him tightly. His strong body quickly shriveled into another empty husk.
"I need to cast—"
Before Charlotte could finish her sentence, blood mist enveloped her from behind and consumed her entirely.
Singo, standing at the platform's edge, notched another arrow to aim at the vampire, but black tendrils emerged from the ground, dragging him into an endless abyss.
The players scrambled desperately, trying to evade the deadly blood mist and shadowy hands, while Duke Brad leisurely paced atop the stone platform.
"I am the lord of darkness."
"I am the king of the night."
"Entering here was the gravest mistake of your lives."
His raspy voice echoed like a death knell, coldly declaring their doom.
Swarms of bats and rats poured forth from the darkness at his command, attacking relentlessly. Some players were gruesomely devoured alive by thousands of rats.
"Sacred Slash!"
Medrolash cleaved through a shadowy hand with a sword glowing red. The protective light surrounding him blocked the encroaching blood mist.
Raising his blood-stained greatsword high, he shouted:
[Oathbreaker's Divine Channeling: Manifest Fear]
A terrifying magical aura erupted, scattering the approaching swarms of bats and rats.
Medrolash fixed his gaze on the duke, his blade pointing unwaveringly at him.
"I will kill you, vampire."
His black eyes widened with cold fury, burning with vengeful madness. The intensity made even Duke Brad hesitate.
Feigning contemplation, the duke smirked.
"Oh? I remember you."
"The leader of the devil's brood, a pathetic scapegoat."
"Ah, the wails and cries of your people lasted three days and nights, bringing me immense joy. My righteous and brave subjects vented their rage fully, drenching Northwind Fortress with tiefling blood. Even the moat flowed red."
Duke Brad's tone was light, as if recounting a fond memory.
"But it wasn't wasteful. Your people's deaths were valuable—they secured my chance for this great ascension."
"It was all so perfect. My only regret is letting you escape."
"But now, that regret will be erased."
Duke Brad smiled sinisterly, his crimson eyes gleaming with malice.
He relished watching mortals like Medrolash drown in despair and pain. He would extinguish the tiefling's hope for vengeance with his own hands.
"I will kill you."
"Kill you!"
Medrolash pressed forward, hacking through countless shadowy tendrils until he stood within ten meters of the duke.
His body bore numerous wounds emitting dark mist, the sinister energy greedily consuming his lifeforce. But Medrolash's expression was numb—he seemed unfazed.
In his mind, he saw his family burning in the flames, the souls of his fallen kin crying out in unison:
"Kill him."
Watching the tiefling approach, Duke Brad's pale face lit with excitement.
"Yes, that's it—unyielding will, blind rage, clinging to false hope for vengeance."
"Only to be cast into the abyss by me."
He licked his lips in anticipation, savoring the despair-filled blood he had carefully cultivated.
"Come, kill me, devil's child."
"Hahaha, do you seek revenge? To slay your mortal foe?"
Duke Brad mockingly spread his arms.
Medrolash charged forward and swung his sword with all his strength, aiming for the vampire's neck.
The sound of blade meeting flesh echoed.
Duke Brad did not dodge. He allowed the sword to slice deep into his neck.
Blood spurted violently, splashing onto Medrolash's face.
Yet Duke Brad simply gripped the sword's blade, wrenching it free from his neck. As the blood-stained blade was removed, the wound on his neck healed rapidly, leaving no trace.
He toyed with the bloodied sword.
"Not bad, but you'll need more strength."
"Attacks like this can't kill me—I am immortal."
Duke Brad smiled, anticipating the familiar look of despair, regret, and terror on Medrolash's face.
But Medrolash's expression remained calm.
The earlier anger had been a façade.
The tiefling's black eyes focused on the vampire. "Years ago, around seven years, I began pondering how to kill you."
"You are powerful, almost without weaknesses."
"But you are too arrogant, looking down on all mortals—even your enemies."
"What?"
The blood-stained greatsword began glowing with intense magical light. Within it was sealed a spell Medrolash had sought for years—a spell capable of ensnaring a vampire:
[Otto's Irresistible Dance]
Under the spell's influence, Duke Brad began swaying, his feet shuffling comically.
Medrolash dared not relax, knowing the vampire could break free at any moment.
"Alger!"
Medrolash shouted.
From the shadows, Alger, long in hiding, revealed himself at last.
Gripping a wooden spear soaked in holy water, he dived downward on his giant eagle.
Alger's golden, dragon-like eyes burned with vengeance.
"This ends now!"
The spear pierced through the vampire's back, skewering the heart that had long ceased to beat yet radiated endless malevolence.
The holy water sizzled, burning the vampire's chest.
Brad Lackman was pinned to the ground by the wooden spear, his head slumping as blood poured from the wound.
His grotesque dance came to an abrupt halt.
"Is it over?" Alger asked, gasping.
"No," Medrolash replied grimly, staring at the vampire's still form. "Not yet."
Blood rituals still bound the progenies to the duke, and the platform's runes pulsed with ominous energy.
A towering vampire progeny burst apart, blood flowing into Brad Lackman.
Alger descended on his giant eagle, still panting heavily from the tension and excitement, exhaling sulfurous breath.
"I'm afraid it's far from over."
"Listen."
Medrolash stared intently at the seemingly lifeless vampire, his brow furrowed and his voice heavy.
Alger immediately became alert, drawing the Ever-Burning Greatsword from his back and scanning his surroundings warily.
"He is everywhere."
"Let our blood boil within His body."
"Let us embrace the grand ascension."
The chanting of the vampire progenies continued, growing ever more sorrowful and harrowing.
The heavy chains still bound them tightly, and the bloodlight continued to connect them to Duke Brad. Even the sinister formation beneath their feet thrummed with eerie vitality.
Suddenly, one of the towering, corpulent vampire progenies atop the stone pillar exploded, transforming into a mass of filthy, viscous blood.
Before dying, he murmured, "I will find eternal life within His immortal body!"
That was Travius Lackman, the duke's second son, infamous for his obesity and representing gluttony.
The blood oozed along the bloodlight and into Brad Lackman's body, which swelled from gaunt to robust—he had absorbed Travius Lackman's physical strength.
At last, the fear Medrolash and Alger dreaded most came true.
He was revived.
Or rather, he had never truly died.
The wooden spear lodged in Brad Lackman's body quivered.
A low voice echoed through the bunker.
"Hahaha."
"Such immense power."
"Centuries of patience have led to this moment."
The once seemingly lifeless Brad Lackman slowly stood, pulling the spear from his chest.
As he withdrew the spear, the wound rapidly regenerated, sealing completely by the time the spear was fully removed.
Having absorbed the ascension sacrifices, Brad Lackman no longer had the vampire weakness of "stake to the heart." He had become an unkillable monster.
Brad Lackman grinned.
"Good, this power exceeds my expectations."
Even as he spoke, Brad Lackman's body swelled to three meters tall. Towering over Alger and Medrolash, his crimson eyes gleamed with greed.
Sniffing the blood in the air, he recognized an old subordinate.
"Oh? It's you."
"Alger Yeoman, my most trusted hound. I thought you had perished at Storm Highlands. I intended to make you undead, serving me for eternity. Too bad you missed that opportunity."
"But you're just a dog—how dare you bite your master?"
Alger's half-dragon face twisted with rage, his golden eyes blazing with fury.
"Brad Lackman, you destroyed everything I had."
"I will kill you!"
Brad Lackman approached unhurriedly, exuding an overwhelming sense of oppression.
"So you know?"
"Poor little creature. I had planned to reveal the truth after converting you, to savor your agony. Alas, I missed the pleasure of that moment."
"You!"
Medrolash severed another shadowy tendril and shouted sternly, "Don't let him provoke you! Destroy the progenies, or his power will only grow stronger!"
Alger snapped out of it, mounting his giant eagle.
But it was too late. Another progeny, a graceful vampire, exploded into vile, viscous blood.
Before her demise, she moaned, "I will find fulfillment in His eternal desire!"
That was Lilany Lackman, the duke's second daughter, symbolizing lust.
The blood flowed into Brad Lackman, whose crimson eyes now shimmered with a strange and seductive light, making him the very embodiment of desire—he had absorbed Lilany Lackman's allure.
Brad Lackman stared at Alger.
"Your resistance is amusing."
"Since that's the case, let me turn you back into my loyal hound, Alger."
His crimson eyes gleamed with bewitching magical light.
[Dominate Human]
"No!"
Alger roared in defiance.
He shut his eyes tightly, trying to resist the spell.
Despite his unyielding will, he succumbed to the spell imbued with the sin of lust. Alger once again became Brad Lackman's puppet, a marionette under his control.
"Die!"
Alger's eyes went blank as he swung the Ever-Burning Greatsword at Medrolash.
Weaponless, Medrolash could only dodge desperately, sustaining injuries under Alger's expert swordsmanship. His expression grew more grave.
"This can't go on."
"But the master will arrive soon."
Medrolash clutched a shattered crimson crystal, bracing for what was to come.