14.3

John ran like the wind, no longer caring whether if a dead end awaits at him at the very end of the passage—which there certainly was.

All he knew was to buy himself more time.

More time for what, exactly?

As the question popped into his head, he arrived at a wall blocking his path once more. “It’s the dead end again…” his voice was shrill. “I...”

His left hand moved to his weapon, drawing his arming sword to defend himself against his pursuers.

Tap-tap, tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap-tap.

In the distance, various lights danced as Prishine’s underlings closed in on him, clad in suits of armor, equipped with swords, whips, and even maces alike.

All ready to forcibly take him prisoner.

Who knew where the hell in Meastes he was brought to?

One thing was sure, the outlook of escaping from the succubus’ stronghold was now impossible.

“Now that’s it has come down to this…” his grip clenched on the weapon’s hilt as he watched the battalion of underlings came running his way.

“Cease your resistance!!!”

“John Sarvod, this is as far as you can go!”

“Be grateful to Lady Prishine, you swine!”

“Not anyone gets the luxury to satisfy her!!!”

The voices of his pursuers echoed in his ears as they caught sight of him.

Whatever accursed magic I have, I hope this time, you won’t forsake me...

John lowered his body into a crouch against the stale wall behind him, with the full intent of launching himself forwards. His hands readied [Heal], taking deep concentrated breaths as he watched the group of people coming towards him.

“Three, two…one.”

At his own cue, John bounced off the wall that he had been leaning against. His body flew in a great arc as he swung his mythril sword at the enemy before him, precisely aiming for the neck.

A beautiful line shimmered in the air as his weapon pierced the first man’s throat. As soon as his attack landed at his target, dozes of blades came hacking down in his direction.

Watching as the weapons came down on him, the blue aura of his healing spell spread his body, fully expecting the devastating blows to chop his body into smithereens—

“[Negation].”

A gentle voice appeared to everyone. At that moment, the world around him froze, including John himself, had been placed in a state stasis.

The blades that aimed for him had suspended in thin air, his body, his weight, the air that he breathed, all of it became null upon the spell that was cast.

He could no longer breath, his heart had stopped beating.

Even so, at this frozen moment, he was aware.

Aware of all that was transpiring before him. The fervent rage behind the eyes of his enemies, their exaggerated savagery, their overzealous drive to take him down, as though they were compelled by something far beyond their intrinsic desires, something akin to a centralized goal, a hive mind of sorts.

Shroom…

A wave of scorching flames seared the passage before him, flooding the horde of brutes that were before him. At that moment, the stasis on the world became undone.

Then John felt it.

Accompanying the torrent of flames was an explosive force tearing John from the very air that he was suspended in, and explosion that pushed him and his enemies far away from each other in two opposite directions.

With no time nor strength to react, John, who had a powerful grip on his weapon, was sent flying backwards with his body curled up like a ball, fully expecting to be slammed into a bloody pump upon impact on the wall.

[Heal]!!!

His muscles tightened, body curled, just like how the Elder Dragon he encountered in Reperane Woods had once flung him. He did all he could to brace for the sudden impact.

Except…

The devastating impact did not come.

He opened his eyes, but all that was in his view were Prishine’s underlings became smaller in his view before completely from his sights as he passed through what seemed to be an opening. An opening that had appeared on the wall behind him.

What is going—

Splash!!!

John’s body dropped into a pool of cold, sticky water as he watched the opening that was made on the thick wall behind him sealed itself as suddenly as it opened for him to enter, swallowing up John before he could process what had just happened.

“Gulg…gah! Brakkk!”

He choked as some of the pungent, bitter, freezing water got into his agape mouth, spitting them out as he moved his body to the closest pavement.

Climbing up ashore with a filthy and wet body, John trembled like a horrified dog as he squeezed out the water that soaked his clothes.

“Damn it, what the hell was that?!” half annoyed and half relieved that he was sent flying mid-fight from Prishine’s goons, John walked towards the direction he had been flung from placing his hands on where the opening was moments ago.

“I didn’t do that, did I? The wall opened during the explosion...but now it’s...normal?”

The brick wall that he flew past earlier was at the very least a meter thick, and most likely reinforced with hardening magic, as all aged buildings did.

But he escaped. That was all it mattered.

The fire, the blazing fire that appeared before his very eyes, he knew where that originated from.

Fully bracing himself to feel a warm breeze brushing past his body, but this time, he felt no warmth, instead…

The memories of the embers that sparked the flames of [Rebirth] flashed before his vision, crackling in his ears as though he could hear the fires speaking to him, assuring him of his safety.

“You’re the one behind it….”

He closed his eyes, lowered his head om silence, hoping wherever and whoever was behind the Flames of Rebirth, understood his gratitude.

With his nose finally adjusting to the horrible smell, John got to edge of the pavements and placed a finger to the flowing sewer water to access the flow.

“To the left, huh?” he noted to himself before following the flow along the pavements. “That’s where I have to follow,”

These were undoubtedly the sewers, following the waste water would no doubt lead him to the outside where the sludge and mud would be deposited.

No one knows I am here, right?

He turned his head back towards the wall he came from, concerned with whether Prishine would send her forces to locate him. John stood in silence as he listened in the quiet underground sewage for any sounds aside from the flowing water.

…

…

…

Satisfied that there were no sounds of people trying to demolish the wall behind him, John followed the waste waters and headed towards the path of exiting this pungent hellhole.

Somewhere in Meastes, existed a rundown fort that was ridden with abundant plant growth around its rectangular walls, and at its center, an ovular dome protruded from it.

First glance at the fort’s deteriorating concrete structures and its unkempt façade would immediately inform of any onlooker that this structure was bastion of defense before its ruin.

Years, decades, centuries, millennia had passed, even the soil that surrounded it had buried a quarter of its exterior under the natural black soil of Meastes.

Added with the extreme growth of plants that were naturally occurring in this part of Meastes, it was hard for anyone to imagine having any reason to find themselves in this long-forgotten fort erected from ancient times.

That is…if one excluded the booming cacophony that was blasting from said fort at this very moment.

Loud howling, talking, even feasting, within the grand hall that was located in one of the fort’s many chambers, figures amounting to the triple digits were having the time of their lives, music were played, fights of bloodshed occurred.

And of course, in this place where there they were free from the watchful eyes of the Sovereign, debauchery, no doubt, became the modus operandi of said beings.

At the very end of the room that contained the sin crazed party, a lone man sat atop a makeshift throne carved by the battalion of fiends that he ruled over.

This was his hideout, his very own den, untouched by the government officials of the Sovereign.

This place solely existed for him as an escape from his superiors and what better way was there for him to organize such a party for all of those who worshiped him?

Drowning himself in the music with closed eyes—and the pained cries of a few—upon his throne of stone, he savored this chaos that he organized in this chaotic paradise of his.

I wonder how the other five royal families would react if they learned of this?

“Ha, screw them! Come here you!!!” the man chuckled at that thought as he pulled in the nearest female who was attending by his side.

Like many of those who were obscenely fornicating in the room before him, this female was also scantily dressed.

With a sinister grin, he raised his muscle-bound arm, pulled at the female’s clothes, stripping her of what little clothing that was on her, revealing her pale body for all to view

Her smooth breasts, shaven crotch, her supple flesh all popped into his view at once. The female blushed at the man’s brutish acts, but made no signs of resistance, instead, sticky liquid came leaking from her crotch as she gaze upon the man’s face meekly.

“I suppose, you could be, my temporary toy,” the man said, bearing his two sharp fangs as he lifted her chin to him.

Though the service girl belonged low in the hierarchy, unlike he who was a captain who lead a military company, the man threw away all his shame and status in favor satisfying of his growing lust when such a sultry woman was within his reach.

“...I-I would be more than honored to—”

Chomp!

Caring not for her responses, the man sunk his fangs into the service girl’s neck, causing the female to moan in pleasure as she writhed and wiggled in his arms.

In return to his grandiose gesture, she too, bore her very fangs against his neck and started siphoning his blood as he was doing on to her.

His large arms grabbed at his very own attire, ripping them as he did to the female that was in his arms as to take her—

The music that filled the room stopped.

Removing his blood stained fangs from the service girl, he looked to the room and spoke in a horrible voice, “WHO CEASED THE MUSIC!!!???”

It was common knowledge that while the man was indulging himself in his den, away from the six royal families' restraints.

He was specifically to not be interrupted in his pleasures in this place unless he was the one ordering it. And ceasing his music while he was about to drown himself in sexual pleasure with this service girl was exactly the most inopportune moment to bring his rage to the maximum—

“It was me, Captain Rabugra.”

A tall male appeared to the shirtless Rabugra as he bowed.

“Oh I see, it’s just you, Naild. Back from patrol I see…do you perhaps… HAVE A DEATH WISH!!!???”

Rabugra spat his words furiously, grabbed Naild’s neck.

“YOUR REPORT, YOUR INTERRUPTION, TO MY—”

“We have detained suspicious individuals within our vicinity. Security might be compromised,” Naild reported calmly, halting Rabugra’s sharpened claws from digging deeper into his neck.

Rabugra’s eyes widened, a frown appeared on his face, the beastly rage he had a second earlier became replaced by a grim expression. Using his large hand, he plucked the service girl that still had her fangs against his neck, wrung her away from him like an object.

“Get lost. We’ll continue this later.”

The nude female who fell to the ground nodded in obedience before grabbing the closest garment and left the chambers.

“Is it the Sovereign?” Rabugra asked in a concerned voice.

“No, but it appears to be from the Empire.”

Rabugra made a face. It was a slight improvement from the one he had, but it was still an unpleasant one.

Although Meastes was just the area that surrounded the perimeter of Sovereign, the imperial soldiers of the Empire had never dared step foot in these regions out of fear of the Sovereign’s forces.

There could only be one explanation…

“The heroes of the empire…have they discovered our tracks?”

“We are unsure, captain. That is why we captured the intruders and need you to verify the fact.”

“Very well, bring me to them.”

Rabugra and Naild left the grand hall without uttering another word, leaving the group of fiends to continue whatever debauchery that they were carrying out.

Descending from the main hall traversed to five floors below, where the dungeons of this fort were. Rabugra’s face was solemn while Naild lead him to the group of intruders.

At their brisk pace, it took only minutes for Rabugra to arrive at the cell where the Dezarithians were kept.

“Oh…” the captain let out a voice.

Rabugra’s attention was on Naild’s patrolling team instead of the empire scum that his lieutenant wanted him to deal with.

Out of five of Naild’s team, three were missing a limb. One had his body beaten into a partial bloody pulp, another had his eyes gouged.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Though Nalid’s team comprised lowly vampires,--unlike Rabugra and Naild, who were higher classed vampires—who lacked instantaneous cellular regeneration and high magic prowess.Compared to the average Dezarithians, empire denizens, the patrolling team were still vampires who had undergone Rabugra’s rigorous training program and were a menacing force to be reckoned with.

He was not taken aback, but the fact that such damage had been done to his vampires was concerning, to say the least.

Rabugra can’t help but wonder if these Dezarithians had been the empire’s reconnaissance team, sent on a mission to scout the land of Meastes to expand the Empire’s influence.

Now with the five intruders each tied and blindfolded before him, along with his men.

“I assume you were the one who took care of them?” Rabugra said to Naild as he approached the human male who with brown hair.

“Yes, Captain Rabugra. I subdued them before they had the chance to finish my men.”

Naild then nudged to the human male at the very center, he had pale skin, dark orange hair.

“That one…in particular, almost wiped my troops with his magic alone.”

Taking Naild’s words in earnest, Rabugra walked towards the human male’s blindfold to meet the man in his eyes.

Bran’s blindfold became undone.

A pair of blood scarlet eyes greeted him, irises so red that the color itself did more than enough to convey the rage behind it.

Given what Bran did to the five vampires who tried to take down his team, he, as the leader of Team Rectiser, understood the vampire captain’s emotions.

After using his avatar magic, Bran was drained of all strength in him. He had defeated the five assaulters that came for his team, but he never expected that there was a vampire lieutenant behind the actions of those five.

Before he had the chance to end the vampires that attacked Team Rectiser and bring his teammates to safety, a sixth vampire known as Naild appeared, delivered a powerful attack on his physical body, almost killing Bran had he not ceased his avatar magic.

Naild then took down all of Team Rectiser down at the snap of his fingers, imprinting a horrible realization to Bran that he was as powerless as a gnat without his avatar magic.

Bran cursed himself for not thinking ahead.

He blamed himself as all of Team Rectiser were captured by the vampires. But the fact of the matter was, he was too weak to even stand on his two feet after having used his avatar magic earlier, without John there to use [Heal] on him, Bran’s organs felt as though they were on the verge of splitting into two.

What’s worse, everyone else was as equally spent and beaten as he was. Without healing support, it was impossible for them to retaliate against these monsters that captured them.

This is a terrible situation I’ve gotten us into…

If only he had waited to investigate the spot where the tuning fork, waited for when the sun was still high in the sky, his team would have never gotten into this mess.

After their encounter with the eternal decays, Bran had overestimated his endurance on his avatar magic. The fact that John was not with them completely slipped his mind.

Had he been wearier that nighttime was when monsters in Meastes became active, they would have avoided all of this.

It was his fault.

Hence, it was only correct that he was to take responsibility for his actions.

“[Brazen Aegis], [Nullification of—”

Tsk!

Not even allowing time for Bran’s last ditch effort to save his team, Rabugra clicked his tongue as a heavy punch landed on Bran’s stomach.

“Aug….hhh…” Bran moan as he writhed on the floor with uncontrollable tears flowing to his eyes.

“Listen here, you shit!” Rabugra grabbed Bran by his hair and pulled him to eye level. “Who do you work for? Why are you here? How do empire scum like you find your way into Meastes?”

“…”

Despite his body in immense pain, Bran kept his mouth shut and stared back at the vampire furiously. If he answered the vampire as he was asked to, there was no guarantee for his team’s safety.

“Playing deaf, huh? Very well. Let me interrogate your comrades one by one. We’ll start off with the taller girl first…”

Matilda!!!

Bran clenched his jaw when Rabugra indicated towards Mathilda, with Lieutenant Naild forcing her onto her knees.

Bran cracked.

“I-I… We are not working f-for anyone,” Bran’s voice croaked as he desperately answered Rabugra’s question before the vampire even took a step closer to Matilda. “W-we are simply students from the a-academy, here...t-to undergo an aptitude test.”

“And what is this academy you speak of?”

“Moxnet…” Bran said in a small voice. An uncomfortable sting filled his heart the moment he divulged the name of the empire’s elite school.

“Moxnet Academy. Ah, ah, ah… Where have we heard that name Naild? Was it from the Marcedoni traitor that Lord Hangrabo bribed or Vulshker?”

“It’s actually Domernig, sir,” Naild replied.

“Oh right! I almost forgot Lord Hangrabo also got the Domernig and Trifellar family to spill their nasty secrets to us. And the Termezts… Lord Hangrabo will need to do something about them. They are the most… infuriating.”

Realizing that he derailed from what Bran said to him, Rabugra returned his attention towards the pale face Bran with a wintry smile.

“This Moxnet you speak off, could it be the place where the hero of the empire was stationed to? Is that why you can take five of my men down? Was it because the legendary hero was there to teach all of you how to fight?”

The legendary hero? Scywell?

Bran raised a brow in his weakened state.

The vampire before him must have meant Scywell Shatterstep. Bran was not informed on the details of Scywell’s feats but from what he understood, Scywell was the reason John lost his family in a massacre.

“Someone like him? You must be m-mistaken…that hero is nothing more than an i-immature prick.”

Rabugra placed his hand under his chin, then looked to Naild, “Send someone to inform Lord Hangrabo. The rumors were wrong. The Unholy Tyrant is still in hiding.”

“T-there is only one acting hero in the Dezarith Empire. What are you t-talking about?” Bran spat. “How can someone like that be an ‘Unholy Tyrant’? Scywell Shatterstep d-does nothing for his own people.”

Tsk, tsk, tsk…

Rabugra shook his head as he clicked his tongue repeatedly, “You Moxnet Academy runts. Did they not tell you that there were multiple heroes that existed in history?”

“Y-yeah, but they are all dead.”

Rabugra grimaced, “I pity your generation. They have been fed with nothing but lies from their all-respected Immortal Emperor and the bitch that has a leash on him.”

Bran tried to retort the vampire’s besmirch upon his nation, but he could not find the strength to.

I need to save my strength and get everyone out when the vampires lower their guard. Arguing with them will just waste my breath.

“Naild, take the two girls away. They should go for higher prices when we sell them in Pardlorn. Prepare a cell for the other two males.”

“As for their leader?” Naild cast a suspicious gaze at Bran, who had suddenly calmed down.

“I have additional questions for him, regarding the other hero in Moxnet academy, and about the empire,” a smile sprawled across Rabugra’s square face. “I was thinking of practicing my blood arts on him. He seems to be a knowledgeable one.”