A dim, eerie glow illuminated the stone chamber as Emily Astoria sat cross-legged on a throne of bones, flipping through the brittle pages of Noctis Vitae—the forbidden grimoire of resurrection. The ancient text, bound in human skin, seemed almost alive, its pages shifting on their own as if whispering dark secrets only she could hear.
She ran a delicate finger across the glowing red ink that bled into the parchment.
"616 souls collected."
Emily's lips curled into a smirk.
"Fifty more, and Ignilth will walk this earth once more."
The thought sent a shiver of excitement through her. Soon, the world would tremble before her divine vengeance.
Meanwhile, across the kingdom, the world had already begun to tremble—but for a different reason.
Ryle sat in his office, his fingers flying across the typewriter. His latest article wasn't just any report—it was an exposé.
Title: The Truth Behind the Blood Harvest Massacres
By Ryle Astoria
"For weeks, villages have been wiped from the map, their people slaughtered in ways too horrifying to describe. The culprit? A Vampire—Emily Astoria—who seeks to revive a divine dragon through mass murder."
"Her weapon of choice? The forbidden magic of Blood Harvest, a spell that specifically targets those of faith. Make no mistake—this is not just mass murder; this is a war against God Himself."
"Emily Astoria, if you're reading this—your time is up."
With a satisfying click, Ryle pulled the paper from the typewriter.
Within hours, every major city was in an uproar. The name Emily Astoria was now infamous, and her crimes were known across the land.
Ryle cracked his knuckles.
"Now that the world knows the truth, it's time to find her."
With Thea by arm, Ryle flew toward Dragon Mountain.
They scoured the land for Astoria House, the fallen noble estate where Emily had grown up.
But they found nothing.
No ruins. No abandoned mansion. Not even a single broken brick.
"Either it's too old, overgrown, or someone went through a lot of trouble to hide it," Thea muttered, frustration in her voice.
Ryle landed on a cliffside, scanning the vast forest below.
"If we can't find Emily's house, then we'll find the next best thing."
He pulled out his communicator crystal.
A moment later, Dravenith's deep, rumbling voice answered.
"What do you want, Ryle?"
Ryle didn't waste time. "Where is the Archmage Damien's body now?"
A long pause. Then, Dravenith chuckled.
"Buried deep in the mountain. But if you want him, you'll have to dig him up yourself."
Dravenith led them through a winding canyon deep in Dragon Mountain.
Finally, they arrived at a massive, unmovable boulder nestled between jagged cliffs.
Thea folded her arms. "So… Damien is just a rock now?"
Ryle smirked. "Not for long."
With a single punch, his dragon-infused fist shattered the boulder into dust.
And beneath it—
A twisted, skeletal figure lay buried.
His arms and legs had been severed and wrapped in metal wires, preventing him from moving or casting spells.
Yet his eyes still burned with a sickly blue glow.
Damien—once the archmage of his time—had been buried alive as an undead.
The moment he saw Ryle, he started laughing.
"Ahahah…! Oh, look who it is—the journalist who want to kill my master! Come to finish me off?"
Ryle crouched down, his gaze ice-cold.
"Not yet."
Then, without hesitation—
He drove his fist into Damien's ribcage.
CRACK.
Damien screamed.
Thea raised an eyebrow. "Huh. So even the undead feel pain."
Ryle ignored Damien's shrieks and twisted his hand deeper, shattering more bones.
"You were resurrected by Emily weren't you?" Ryle muttered. "Which means you know where she is."
Damien hissed, his undead face twitching.
"I'd rather die again than tell you."
Ryle smirked. "Oh, don't worry. I'll make you wish you could die."
For the next ten minutes, Ryle systematically broke every piece of Damien's ruined body.
He ripped out bones, crushed his fingers, and burned his flesh with dragon fire.
Damien howled in agony.
Finally—
"I'LL TALK! I'LL TALK!"
Ryle withdrew his clawed hand from Damien's chest. "Where is Astoria Mansion?"
The broken archmage panted heavily. "There's a cave in the northern cliffs… beyond the cursed lake. The mansion is hidden beneath it."
Ryle's eyes narrowed. "If you're lying—"
"I'M NOT!" Damien snarled. "Emily's has ritual chambers, an army of cursed souls, and a throne made from the bones of priests! If you go there now, you'll find nothing but death!"
Ryle exhaled slowly.
Then, without another word—
He buried Damien again.
Thea blinked. "Wait, that's it?"
Ryle dusted off his hands. "He's already dead. No point in killing him twice."
She smirked. "Cold."
Ryle stretched his arms, his wings twitching. "We have a mansion to burn."
And with that—
The hunt for Emily Astoria truly began.