[Location: Dungeon—Vampire King's Castle]

"Not us, though~"

A feminine voice chimed—light, lilting, deceptively sweet.

"Mana, does this particular subject seem to see himself as His Majesty? I wonder where he came from."

This time, a heavy masculine voice followed—deep, resonant, dragging through the hall like a chain dipped in tar.

"—And why," it rumbled, "I didn't come to know of such… exceptional vampire before? One who can kill a fellow Elder, like how we used to slaughter mortals before being sealed?"

The hall froze once more.

Not in fear this time.

But in recognition.

Those voices did not belong to any common nobles.

Even Vaelion straightened, posture shifting with razor-fast alertness.

"…You two," he murmured, eyes narrowing. "You dare descend?"

Before I could even turn—

Two presences materialized at the far end of the hall.

Not arrivals—manifestations.

As if the castle itself bled them out from the stone beneath.

A wave of mana rolled across the floor—dark, regal, ancient—and the nobles threw themselves aside like insects scattered from torchlight.

One figure was a woman—if the word could be used so simply. Her long hair drifted as if underwater, shimmering in shifting shades of rose gold and pale wine. Her dress clung to her like liquid dusk, and her eyes—dual-colored, one sapphire and the other molten honey—gleamed mischievously.

"Ufufu~" She cupped her cheek. "So stiff, all of you. I only came because the mana in this hall suddenly tasted sooo exciting."

The second figure dwarfed her—a towering man carved from shadowed granite and blood-red armour. His mane of charcoal hair fell to his waist, braided loosely with obsidian rings. His eyes were the colour of dying embers—half-lidded, amused… dangerous.

He cracked his knuckles, and the sound boomed like a collapsing mine shaft.

"I smelled fear," he said simply, "and thought an Elder was throwing a tantrum."

A hush swept the room.

Whispers trembled from quivering noble lips.

"H-Head of Elder Council, Azmuth Sanguine, and... his sister Mana Sanguine."

The hall did not breathe.

Not a single throat dared swallow. Not a single fang dared click. Even the dust drifting through the air seemed to stop, as if the two presences had overwritten the rules of motion itself.

Azmuth Sanguine.

Mana Sanguine.

Heads of the Elder Council.

The real monsters of this castle.

Not the low-born.

Not the nobles.

Not even Alexios.

These were the ones who ruled the vampires when the King didn't… and long before the Helel caged them all inside this dungeon city.

Their eyes swept the room lazily.

Judging.

Bored.

Predatory.

Vaelion bowed instantly—deep and sharp—his composure cracking just enough to reveal tension coiling beneath flawless etiquette.

"…Lord Azmuth. Lady Mana. Your descent was not announced."

Mana giggled behind painted nails.

"Announcements are for boring people, Vaelion~"

Azmuth's rumbling voice cut across the air like falling stone.

"And I do not answer to any vampire beneath the King."

His ember gaze slid past nobles, past kneeling figures, past quivering bloodlines—and fixed directly on me.

A ripple of tension went through the hall.

Not because of Azmuth's scrutiny.

But because I didn't flinch.

Not even a twitch.

Mana floated closer—not walked, floated—her bare feet not quite touching the marble. She circled me with the lazy curiosity of someone examining a particularly interesting piece of contraband.

"Mmm…" She inhaled deeply. "So strange. You're not a vampire…"

Her face lit up with a childish, delighted gasp.

"Not even mana-born! And yet your existence is soooo deliciously wrong~"

Azmuth stopped in front of me, his shadow swallowing the floor like ink.

His aura pressed down—

—like a collapsing mountain.

Several nobles fainted instantly. One's knee snapped with an audible crack from the force alone.

I merely blinked.

Azmuth's brows rose a millimetre.

"You," he said, voice thunder softened into a curious growl, "have the scent of something different than vampirekind."

Mana chimed, "Not of this realm~"

Azmuth leaned down slightly, inspecting me the way a seasoned predator examines an unfamiliar rival.

"Tell me, boy…"

His ember eyes flared.

"…what are you?"

The hall trembled.

Mana clasped her hands excitedly.

Vaelion held his breath.

The nobles dared not look up.

And I—

—I simply tilted my head.

Hands still in pockets.

Expression unchanged.

"Who I am," I said quietly, "is irrelevant."

Azmuth's pupils narrowed to slits.

Mana squealed.

"Oh, he's bold! I like this one!"

I continued, voice calm, almost bored.

"The only thing that matters is simple."

A faint grin tugged the corner of my lips.

"You can't touch me."

Silence.

Total, absolute silence.

Even the blood in the nobles' veins seemed to freeze.

Azmuth… laughed.

A single, cracking exhale—the kind of laugh ancient beings give when reminded of something long forgotten.

Mana clapped like a child at a festival.

"Azmuth! Did you hear him? He told you—you!—that you can't touch him!"

Azmuth straightened to his full terrifying height.

His aura surged—

—a tidal wave of killing intent so thick the chandeliers burst into showers of crystal.

Nobles screamed silently, their throats crushed by pressure.

Vaelion staggered, fangs bared involuntarily.

Mana swayed like a dancer, smiling at the spectacle.

Azmuth raised one finger.

Just one.

The air around it warped, bending like it wanted to kneel.

"Let us test your conviction, little anomaly."

The tip of his finger lowered toward my forehead.

The hall watched—

—breathless—

—certain—

—that I would be erased in a single touch.

I didn't move.

I didn't summon a skill.

I didn't release aura.

I simply spoke.

Softly.

Calmly.

But the words hit the room like divine thunder.

"I killed Alexios."

Azmuth's finger froze an inch from my skin.

Mana's eyes widened, then sparkled.

Vaelion's breath stopped.

Nobles collapsed.

And the entire hall—

—felt the castle itself shudder as the weight of that truth settled.

Azmuth slowly withdrew his hand.

Then—

For the first time in centuries…

He smiled.

A thin, sharpened curve of a smile that did not belong on something ancient enough to have forgotten what amusement felt like.

Azmuth Sanguine straightened, shoulders rolling once—stone grinding against stone—before his crimson eyes gleamed with something far worse than anger.

Interest.

A low hum rumbled in his chest, vibrating the marble beneath us.

"So that's why King was awakened, his most trusted right hand—Alexios Payne, FELLED BY THIS."

"Mm~ This explains that King was angry earlier," she chimed, twirling a strand of shimmering rose-gold hair around her finger, "and ordered us Elders to descend and bring this curiosity before him~"

Azmuth's eyelids lowered, ember eyes honing on me with surgical precision.

"So that is your purpose here," he murmured. "You killed Alexios… and in doing so, awakened His Majesty from dormancy."

His Majesty.

The Vampire King.

Alucard Dracul Tepes.

Even Helel the Angel, who later became Lucifer, couldn't kill and had to resort to sealing the entire dungeon city around him like a cage of worlds layered atop one another.

Azmuth's smile widened by a fraction—just enough to be wrong.

"Interesting," he rumbled. "Very… interesting. The King has not stirred in centuries. Even our Council's calls echo unheard in His throne hall. Yet you—made Him open an eye."

Mana leaned in, her dual-colored eyes glowing with theatrical wonder.

"Ne~ Azmuth," she whispered, "do you think His Majesty will like him? Or eat him? Or keep him? Or break him?"

She giggled. "Or maybe all four~?"

Azmuth ignored her sudden suggestions with the practiced patience of an older brother used to impossible whims.

Instead, he addressed me again.

"Fight me, I want to see to what end Alexios fell to you—"

ZAP!

BOOOM!

Before my body caught up to the flare of Observation Grid, I was flung to the far end of the hall, directly embedded into the wall, which gave up and collapsed into a heap of shattered stone and crystal. Dust swirled in the air, mingling with the faint coppery scent of dried blood from the fallen nobles. I pushed myself up, brushing marble fragments from my coat, every movement deliberate—slow, controlled, almost teasing.

Azmuth's gaze followed me, unblinking, assessing, his ember eyes flaring intermittently like dying coals reigniting. Mana floated closer again, giggling, spinning in a half-circle as if the chaos around her were a game.

"Ufufu~!" she chirped, eyes sparkling. "He actually stood! I didn't think anyone would dare—oh, this is so delightful! Azmuth, he's fun!"

Azmuth's lips twitched—not quite a smile, more like the prelude to a storm. "Fun," he muttered, voice a low rumble. "I have not found the term applicable for centuries. Yet… here it is."

"Fist fight, it is~" Armament's blackish membrane ran along my arms and enveloped them entirely.

My figure blurred, and suddenly I was standing in the same place as before, with my left hand cocked back to limit.

BOOOM!

Azmuth was the flying projectile. His massive form shot forward like a crimson comet, shadow and ember trailing behind him. The ground shivered beneath each step he hadn't taken yet, and the nobles, still kneeling or frozen, could only watch as centuries of predatory power condensed into a single strike aimed at me.

I didn't flinch. Not a muscle twitched.

Armament's black membrane tightened, stretching over my arm like living armour. The observation grid flared automatically, mapping his trajectory, his pressure, and the minute shifts in muscle and bone. Every potential attack vector was highlighted, every intention exposed.

BOOM!

Azmuth slammed into the hall's far wall, shattering columns, tossing chandeliers, sending a spray of blood-red dust into the air. But I hadn't even moved from my spot.

"My~ My~ Brother, it seems you are quite rusty in your reflexes," Mana chirped, twirling in place as if applauding a private performance. "I expected more theatrics, dear Azmuth~"

Azmuth rose slowly from the wreckage, crimson eyes narrowing, but his lips curled into that thin, deliberate smile again. "Rusty… perhaps. But I've never doubted my senses. You… are extraordinary."

I tilted my head, faintly amused, as Armament's membrane tightened and pulsed, ready to react at the slightest provocation. "Extraordinary enough to be dangerous," I said quietly, voice calm, carrying that undercurrent of sovereignty that froze the few nobles who dared peek.

Mana floated closer, circling me, her gown swirling like a ribbon of starlight. "Dangerous~ Dangerous~ Oh, what about if you defeat my brother, I marry you?"

My entire being recoiled as I heard 'marry.'

'Oh hell no, I already've enough of seven fiancées plus Grayfia... plus an asleep Mother.'

I narrowed my eyes, tilting my head slightly—not at Mana, but at the implication behind her words. My lips curved faintly, a shadow of amusement masking the tightening knot of irritation in my mind. Seven fiancées. Grayfia. And now—this. I wasn't about to add another thread to the already tangled web of obsessions and devotions I had painstakingly managed to keep at bay.

Mana's giggle rang again, teasing, curious, entirely oblivious to the storm coiling within me. "Oh~ come now, don't be shy. It's just a game~"

"Paimon, Erebus. Smash this bitch into the ground." My shadow stretched as Paimon, in his midnight black, shadowy, full-body armour, and Erebus, in his own flowing darkness, moved instantly. Silent. Lethal. Perfectly synchronized.

BOOM!

Paimon struck first, his longsword a blur of strength, slamming into the marble floor beneath Mana. The force created a fissure that zigzagged toward the nearest column, sending shards of stone like missiles. Erebus followed, his shadow spear forming midair with a hiss of darkness, striking with surgical precision at the gaps between her floating form and the floor.

Mana squealed—delighted, not afraid. She somersaulted midair, flipping effortlessly, leaving a trail of sparkling rose-gold light. "Ufufu~! That's the fun I like! No hesitation, no fear, just power~"

Azmuth didn't move yet. He watched, eyes narrowed, letting the spectacle unfold. Then, his figure snapped forward, trying to anticipate Erebus's spear stab from Mana's blind spot. But all he got was my Armament Core-clad fist slammed into his sternum.

BOOM!

The impact echoed like a mountain collapsing into a valley. Azmuth's chest compressed, ribs groaning under the unyielding weight of Sovereign Haki. The air around him shimmered, warping with Conqueror's Will, yet he did not fall. Not fully. Not yet. Instead, he staggered, ember eyes flashing, the tiniest flicker of exhilaration crossing his otherwise implacable expression.

"Hmm…" he rumbled, voice low and deliberate. "I see… your strength is not… trivial, I have to use my weapon."

With that, he turned to Mana. "Give me my mace."

Mana giggled, spinning lightly in the air as a ribbon of rose-gold hair whipped around her face. "Oh~ you're going to use it? Finally showing some flair~" She reached behind her back and produced a massive weapon, impossibly ornate, its surface etched with runes that shimmered like blood under moonlight. The handle seemed almost alive, writhing faintly as if eager to taste battle.

Azmuth caught it effortlessly, his massive hands encasing the hilt like it weighed nothing. He swung it once experimentally; the ground beneath him cracked from the energy radiating off the blow. "Let's see if your tricks hold against a weapon that has seen centuries of war," he murmured, voice a low growl that reverberated through the hall.

I, too, pushed my hand inside the system inventory space and took Muramasa out.

Its long hilt with a circular guard, single-edged with dark steel that drank light, and a blade black as spilt ink, pulsed faintly in my hand. The system label shimmered only for me:

[Item: Muramasa – Venomfang Replica]

– Rank: ??? (Bound)

– Effect: Increases physical damage output by 45%.

– Lifesteal: Converts 10% of inflicted damage into HP.

– Malice: The longer combat continues, the sharper the blade becomes (+3% damage per minute of continuous battle).

– Venomfang: Attacks carry a stacking venom effect (applies poison that weakens enemy vitality and regeneration).

– Bound to User. Cannot be dropped, stolen, or sold.

– Limitation: Being a replica, its growth potential is capped unless ???.

I tightened my grip around Muramasa's hilt, feeling the familiar hum of latent power thrumming through my fingers. Observation Grid flared lightly in the corner of my vision, tracing Azmuth's stance, Mana's fluid movements, the nobles' frozen postures, and even the subtle shifts of marble dust suspended in the air. Every vector. Every intention. Every thread of potential action mapped out in crystalline precision.

Azmuth raised his mace deliberately, each motion measured, centuries of battle encoded into muscle memory. The floor beneath him groaned as if the hall itself was anticipating the impact. "Come," he rumbled. "Show me what makes a mortal's kill surpass centuries of discipline."

I smirked faintly. A single tilt of my head, and Paimon and Erebus tensed behind me, shadows coiling like living blades. The system hummed faintly in my mind:

[Name: Advanced Weapon Mastery]

— Rarity: A

— Type: Passive Skill

— Grants exceptional proficiency with all weapons, boosting accuracy, damage, and handling. Even unfamiliar weapons are mastered almost instantly.

BOOM!

The first clash rang out like a cathedral collapsing. Muramasa met the runed mace with a deafening, resonant clang, sparks scattering across shattered marble like tiny stars dying mid-flight. The sheer force of the impact buckled the floor beneath us, but I didn't stagger. My feet, planted like iron pillars, absorbed the vibration, converting it into a counterstrike.

Azmuth's eyes flared—half surprise, half… admiration. The weight of centuries pressed into his swings, yet each strike was predicted, mapped, and countered before it fully formed in space. My Observation Grid sliced through his intent like a scalpel through silk, highlighting the faintest micro-muscle twitches, the tiniest shifts of his center of gravity.

Mana floated overhead, twirling, watching like a hawk at a circus. "Oooh~! Look at him go! So calm, so precise, it's… deliciously dulling my senses!"

Paimon and Erebus mirrored my stance, coiling shadows ready to erupt at any opening. Their presence alone kept the rest of the hall frozen, including Vaelion, who was now leaning slightly forward, pupils narrowed, utterly captivated.

Azmuth swung again, this time spinning the mace in a brutal arc aimed at my head. Muramasa caught the runes mid-spin with a sharp ting that echoed like lightning cracking glass. The black steel bit into the enchanted metal, sparks and faint smoke curling up, but I held my grip steady. Every atom of Conqueror's Will, every pulse of sovereign aura, coiled into my stance.

"Hmm…" Azmuth muttered, voice low and reverent, "Such control… mortals should not possess this."

I tilted my head, smirk sharpening. "Control is irrelevant," I said quietly. "Dominance is everything."

Mana squealed again, landing lightly on a shattered column. "Ooooh~! Dominance, yes! I like dominance~! Show me more~!"

Annoyed, I glanced at Paimon and Erebus, "Shut her up already!"

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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