Chapter 70

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Humans were not the only beings in the world. Much less were they its masters. A single dragon could burn down a city, and when a vast orc invasion swept in, humanity could only wait for it to subside on its own, like a typhoon.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—these calamities that human strength could do nothing against belonged to the distant past.

People seldom gave much thought to things that were not right before their eyes. If something had happened long ago, well before they were born, they sometimes refused to believe it had ever existed at all.

And so humanity lived on, obliviously occupying a corner of the world and believing itself safe. Yet disbelief did not make something cease to exist, any more than belief guaranteed its existence.

"... What I'm saying is, why go out of your way to lift the lid off a pot full of vipers?"

Volka poked at the flames burning inside a discarded pot with a stick. Late at night, three people sat around a fire in a secluded vacant lot in Ehrenberg: Ricard, Ice, and Volka.

"It's just a commission, Volka."

"It's not just a commission, Riki."

Volka clearly opposed the Special-Grade Commission. As he was their Clan Leader, Ricard had to respect his wishes. And as a friend, too. Knowing full well why Volka was trying to stop him, he could hardly insist on having his own way.

"Couldn't it turn out to be less of a problem than we think? All we have are secondhand stories. Maybe the guild didn't know much either, so they just made it special grade."

"You don't have to taste shit to know it's shit. A friend of someone I know is a vampire hunter. Before the guild war, when Delphi and I were doing all sorts of little jobs, I happened to meet him. According to him, an ordinary vampire is one thing, but a High Vampire is practically a demigod. Strength and speed far beyond a human's, blood magic, and limitless knowledge accumulated over a long life. Though the scariest thing is probably the bloodsucking. What am I supposed to do if you get infected and turn into a vampire, Riki?"

"Kill me. No, I'll kill myself."

"Ha... Oh, come on."

"Who is he? This vampire hunter?"

Ice, who had seemed lost in thought, spoke up. He was here because he had vehemently insisted on joining the commission. But the commission had been assigned to Ricard, after all, so Ice could not simply act on his own.

Volka gazed at Ice. He remembered something Dunkel had once said: the boy was obsessed with reaching special grade. Volka had been uneasy about letting him join, too, but Ricard had urged him to accept Ice, and they had been in the same clan ever since.

Still, once Volka accepted someone, he trusted them wholeheartedly, so he did not dredge up the past. Ice had gotten along well with everyone, and his help running the branch had certainly been invaluable. Even so, Volka said what needed saying.

"I know you have a goal that matters to you, Ice. But as your Clan Leader and your friend, I'm responsible for your safety, and I'm worried about you both. First, let me ask you something. Riki, why do you want this commission?"

"It's not that I want it. It's that I agreed to do it. Besides, it's my 'first commission' after graduation. I don't want to run away."

He had chosen that card himself, despite Sally's warning. To make a choice, then take it back because it no longer seemed right, would be shameful to Ricard. There was no honor in that, and he did not want to live that way.

Others might ask why he would take a risk when he did not need to, but perhaps that was precisely what separated the extraordinary from the ordinary.

Whatever others said, he always followed through on his own decisions. Conversely, whatever others said, there were things he absolutely would not do. It was something different from mere stubbornness. It was part of his nature, and there was little to be done about that.

Volka looked from Ricard to Ice, then spoke.

"All right. Let's do this. I'll try to invite that vampire hunter here. Let's hear him out, then weigh our chances. If it looks doable, I'll support you too. But if it's utterly absurd, I'm against it. What do you say?"

They were no longer students. They needed to approach their work as professionals. Volka understood that, and so did Ricard and Ice. They nodded in unison.

Two weeks had passed since Volka had drawn on his various connections and the guild's resources to track down the vampire hunter.

Rain fell outside, so many people stayed indoors to rest instead of venturing out. Those with contractual deadlines to meet pulled on their cloaks and hoods and went out anyway, while the others relaxed by the fire.

Three or four adventurers occupied a table, playing cards to pass the time. They did not look particularly entertained, merely laying down and turning over cards mechanically. Delphi was near the bar, teaching the children their duties, while Volka snored before the fireplace to the sound of rain.

It was a peaceful, drowsy afternoon. The rain must have been an ordeal for anyone working outside, but for those at rest, its patter was the finest remedy for an overheated mind.

Then the door suddenly rattled open, letting in the clearer sound of the rain. A man in a sodden hat and black cloak entered with heavy footsteps. He carried a large leather-wrapped bundle over his shoulder.

THUD. THUD. THUD...

His hat brim hid his eyes, preventing a full view of his face, but there was no mistaking the unsettling air about him. He was certainly no ordinary passerby, and he did not look like a lower-grade adventurer either.

Delphi signaled the card-playing adventurers to wake Volka, then addressed the man.

"What brings you here?"

"I'm Reckard, a hunter. I heard the branch head here was looking for me."

He took off his hat, revealing a rugged face with an unkempt beard. His eyes, however, were surprisingly intelligent.

"Volka was? Oh, are you the vampire hunter, by any chance?"

"Shh!"

"?"

"Do not speak carelessly of those abominations. You never know when or where they might be listening. I'd appreciate it if you simply called me Reckard."

What on earth...? Delphi found this ridiculous, but nodded her agreement for the moment. Volka finally woke, wiped the drool from his mouth, and stood.

"Ah, you're here. You're the vampire hunter, correct?"

"... Please call me Reckard. Might I warm myself by your fire?"

"Of course. Follow me. There's a fireplace upstairs as well."

Volka led Reckard to the third floor, a cozy, attic-like space. There was no need to stoop; the ceiling was just high enough for someone of average height. But with the roof directly overhead, the rain sounded especially loud.

Volka lit a small stove connected to the chimney and said, "I'll fetch the boys. Please wait a moment."

He went back downstairs to wake Ricard, who was napping after checking his equipment, then returned with him and Ice, who had been sorting documents with Boribori.

"Hello. I'm Riki."

"Ice."

Dressed in everyday clothes, Ricard and Ice introduced themselves first. Reckard had hung his cloak on a rack near the stove and was carefully inspecting his unstrung crossbow. Several stakes and a wooden mallet lay around him.

"Reckard."

Volka, Ricard, and Ice sat facing him across the stove.

"What business do you adventurers have with me?"

"We'd like to ask you a few questions about High Vampires," Ricard said.

Reckard's expression immediately grew somber.

"High Vampires... May I ask why?"

"We want to kill one. If possible. We invited an expert so we could learn more about our quarry first."

"Hmm... I've heard plenty about the Red Cloak and the violets on my way here, but this is not a conversation to approach lightly."

"We're not taking it lightly. We make our living by the sword. That's not a life we can be entirely casual about."

That was true enough, yet the Ricard who said it was unmistakably youthful. Reckard studied him quietly. Perhaps it was the disparity between his appearance and his tremendous reputation, but there was something mysterious about him. Though this was their first meeting, Reckard could readily sense that he was extraordinary.

"I don't mean to belittle you. But have you ever seen tiger hunters? The men who hunt great tigers capable of tearing even knights apart are surprisingly ordinary. They're not particularly good fighters, either. Yet just three men climb a mountain with a pole apiece and kill a tiger. Vampire hunting is much the same. Your swordsmanship probably won't be of much help."

"Understood."

Ricard accepted this with surprising composure. Someone overflowing with pride in his swordsmanship might have taken offense, but he showed no sign of it. He was here to listen. Reckard found that rather surprising.

"Good. Then let's do this. I'll explain how to find and kill vampires. Afterward, I'll show you how I kill one myself. We can discuss High Vampires after that. If you can't even manage this, hunting a High Vampire is out of the question."

Ricard glanced at Volka and Ice, then nodded. Seeing how unexpectedly cooperative the adventurers were, Reckard nodded as well and continued.

"Broadly speaking, there are two ways to kill a vampire. The first is to attack its sleeping place after sunrise. You needn't open the coffin. Just set a stake against the lid and hammer it through. That settles it. The other is to burn the whole thing. But that method isn't very good. They take surprisingly long to die. Still, unless they get into water, they'll keep burning, so if you weaken them with a silver weapon, they'll burn until they die."

"That's simpler than I expected. But how do you find the vampire's coffin?"

"That's the key. Any proper vampire keeps slaves. You capture and torture them to learn where its lair is. There's no need to feel guilty. They've betrayed humanity. They're the ones who supply humans to the vampires."

"Don't you need garlic or holy water?" Ice asked.

Apparently, he believed in such things. That was unexpected.

"Garlic is misinformation. That rubbish doesn't work. Holy water can cause minor burns, but it isn't lethal. Just remember this: always attack after sunrise. A stake is enough to kill one. Everything else is an auxiliary tool. And lastly, never engage a vampire head-on."

Since the expert said so, Ricard simply nodded his understanding. Neither he nor Ice nor Volka had ever seen a vampire. It seemed sensible to see one with his own eyes before making a judgment.

"Vampires mostly live in big cities. They seldom stay in smaller cities like this or in farming villages, where they're discovered too quickly. But recently, I received word that one is hiding in the nearby city of Gates. Once we're ready, let's go destroy the abomination. You'll be safe as long as you stay behind me."

"Understood. We're always ready, so we'll leave whenever you are, Mr. Reckard."

"Very well."

Ricard ended the conversation there, keeping it strictly business. There was no personal chatter to get to know one another. It was not indifference or coldness; they were all professionals in their respective fields. They had not invited him here to make friends, after all.

Reckard set out three days later. Ricard and Ice gathered their equipment and followed him. They crossed the Main by ferry, then traveled west.

Gates was a full day's journey away. Far or near, depending on how one looked at it, but the thought of a vampire living so close was unsettling enough to raise goose bumps.

After meeting a man who might have been his partner or simply another in the same line of work and obtaining information from him, Reckard settled into an inn.

At daybreak, he led the two into an alley. About two minutes' walk brought them to a neighborhood that was not quite a slum, but mostly housed people living hand to mouth. A faint stench of sewage drifted past their noses.

Unexpectedly, the vampire's lair was hidden in plain sight among ordinary people. Reckard entered a dilapidated building fit for vagrants and lifted a trapdoor leading underground. A familiar smell wafted up to Ricard. The smell of death.

Reckard descended first, holding a torch before him. Ricard and Ice followed. Soon they reached the cellar and saw a coffin standing against the wall.

But its lid was open. Goose bumps instantly prickled all over Reckard's body. His colleague had betrayed him.

"It's a trap."

CLUNK.

The trapdoor slammed shut overhead. Reckard reflexively thrust his torch toward it, but the reply came from the ceiling.

"You filthy rat."

Ricard looked up as something leaped down and landed on the floor. A pitch-black cloak billowed like wings. The figure that landed had skin as pale as a consumptive's, and its blood-red eyes gleamed in the torchlight.

"Leave a trail long enough, and someone will catch you. That applies to you too, Reckard."

It seemed the vampires had been hunting Reckard just as he hunted them. And of all times, they had caught him when Ricard and Ice were with him. Worse, though the sun had risen outside, not a ray of sunlight penetrated the cellar.

Instead of answering, Reckard swiftly flung holy water into the air and shouted, "Run! Don't look back!"

He drew a silver dagger as the vampire shielded itself from the holy water with its cloak and immediately reached out to seize him.

Before it could, however, a light like a pure white snowflake flashed through the dark cellar. It was Ice's sword.

THWACK!

The vampire's arm was severed. Reckard had squeezed his eyes shut for an instant and did not know what had happened. For a split second, the vampire could only wonder what was going on.

With monstrous reflexes, it swiftly pulled back. But the room was cramped. Ricard drew his sword like lightning and charged.

The vampire bared its fangs and kicked off the wall to sink them into Ricard. Its explosive power and speed were almost impossible for a human to react to.

"Kyaaaah!"

But Ricard's ability to judge distance and track movement was inhuman as well. Though the torch was the room's only light, his unflinching gaze followed the vampire precisely, as if he could pierce the darkness.

Above all, he already saw almost everything his opponent would do, as though he could see the future. It was the result of instantly combining every piece of information his senses provided: its gaze, its stance, the angles of its joints, its agitation, its state of mind.

The exact moment, the exact force, the exact angle. One perfectly clean stroke, with no need for another.

WHOOSH!

THWACK!

The sword hissed through the air, followed by a light sound like a radish being sliced through in one cut. The head flew off. The headless body, however, lost none of its momentum and crashed into the opposite wall.

THUD! CRASH!

By the flickering torchlight, Ricard gazed down at the vampire's severed head. Its facial muscles twitched violently and erratically before slowly stiffening. Then, in an instant, it shriveled into something like a mummy. The sight was truly hideous, but Ricard remained unperturbed. How curious.

Once he had confirmed it was dead, he turned to Reckard.

"It looks like cutting its head off kills it too. No stake needed."

Reckard could not answer. He stared blankly at Ricard for a long while, as if his brain had stopped working, before finally managing a reply.

"... What?"