Chapter 152: Lance Welcomes You

Atop a cliff overlooking the river that marked the border of the Honing Empire, Lichten's Castle appeared all the more eerie and inscrutable in the dead of night. It was shrouded in mist, with only scattered lights visible, and the moon was frequently veiled by passing clouds.

A few hours had passed since Lance had questioned the princess, and it was nearing midnight. A figure streaked across the night sky, generating a powerful gust of wind and a whistling sound that sent leaves scattering. It brought a biting chill to the air.

He moved with incredible speed. To his eyes, the stars above seemed to blur into streaks of light. Lowering his gaze slightly, he watched as the sheer cliffs, the broken bridge, and the castle rapidly drew closer. He then began to decelerate, as if nearing his destination.

Bathed in moonlight, the figure became clearly visible. He was a handsome man with a physique like a sculpted statue. His near-perfect body lines embodied the ideal fusion of elegance and power. Even among the vampires, he was clearly the type built for combat.

His deep, ruby-like eyes held a piercing gaze that seemed to see through everything, and were as cold and unyielding as chains.

Count Palokas's voice emerged like a whisper from the abyss, heavy with an irresistible authority. "So, this is where my exceptional vampire thrall met her end?"

As he swooped past the cliff's edge, the mist parted to reveal Lichten's Castle in full view. The killers had no way to escape this cliffside. There were no signs of life in the surrounding woods, yet the castle lights were still burning, suggesting the culprits were hiding inside.

The castle was a formidable fortress, protected by a barrier so powerful that even Palokas found it imposing. A long-range magical assault would likely fail to breach the defenses and might only serve to scare the occupants away.

In a flash, the vampire descended like a meteorite, landing on the ground some distance from the castle. Moonlight bathed his fine black attire, draping him in a sheer silver mantle that lent him an air of noble mystery amid the night.

Count Palokas stared at the castle from afar, his expression stern and cold. Lights still glowed on the castle's lower level. Through curtains that were bathed in a soft, pale-yellow halo, the faint, flickering silhouettes of figures could be discerned.

It looked for all the world like a merry banquet, as if they were blissfully unaware of the consequences their actions had invited and were utterly unconcerned by the wrath a true vampire count might unleash upon them.

A moment later, a look of realization flashed in Palokas's eyes. He let out a soft, low chuckle. His voice, laced with mockery and cold indifference, carried clearly through the silent night. "Nothing but cheap tricks."

The answer was simple. These self-styled clever fools had laid a trap within the castle. They were feigning a carefree atmosphere to lull him into a false sense of security, intending to swarm him in a desperate, all-out assault the moment he stepped inside.

Humans were such weak, lowly creatures, but they occasionally produced a few who, in their foolishness, dared to defy the vampires. The outcome was always the same: shattered dreams and certain death.

Of note, Palokas quite enjoyed the humans who dared to resist him. The more he crushed them, the more he savored a timeless, enduring pleasure. Such was the distinction between a superior race and those akin to mere worms.

He advanced slowly through the night, his shadow stretching long behind him. His innate power, Blood Frenzy, allowed him to instantly double his attributes for a short duration, while granting him immense resistance to crowd-control effects. It was the source of his pride and his utter fearlessness.

Countless powerful demons and werewolves had already perished at his hands. As for the humans he slaughtered, the mountains of corpses and rivers of blood they formed were beyond counting. Unless an enemy possessed power vastly superior to his own, they would simply be crushed by him like insects. Intellect, stratagems, or exotic binding spells—none of them mattered!

Soon, Palokas arrived at the main gate of the castle. He raised his hand and pushed the doors open without a second thought. He was excited to toy with these fools who insisted on struggling. The tougher the insect, the more satisfyingly brittle it was when crushed underfoot.

The doors swung open with a boom, revealing a flood of bright light and warmth. He strode straight inside. The terrifying magical aura and oppressive presence radiating from him seemed to make the entire castle tremble.

Where have those poor wretches hidden themselves?

The gates closed slowly behind him, shutting out the biting wind and the silence of the night. He stood in the castle's great sanctuary hall, his deep-set eyes sweeping across the space. He was ready to witness the spectacle of these weak, foolish humans rushing toward him in a panic, one after another.

However, what actually greeted him brought him to a sudden halt. The look of confident amusement in his eyes gave way to a hint of bewilderment.

Everything, absolutely everything, was different from what he had imagined. He was drawn to the radiance above. Crystal chandeliers inlaid with golden patterns glittered like a cluster of stars, casting a warm glow into every corner of the great hall. This magnificent light illuminated the dark stone carvings on the walls and traced bright, luminous streaks across the polished white stone floor.

Dominating the center of the hall was a grand, spacious table. Silver candelabras gleamed in the candlelight, casting dancing shadows through the air. High-backed chairs, meticulously carved from dark oak, were arranged neatly along both sides of the table.

In this opulent banquet hall, a symbol of power and status, several men and women were sharing a meal around the central table. They raised their glasses to one another, their laughter and conversation echoing through the room.

The scene before him was one of sheer extravagance and splendor, instantly evoking memories of nights filled with golden light, joyous songs, and revelry. Yet, the atmosphere of the banquet held an eerie sense of harmony. It was reminiscent of the gluttonous feasts held by notorious villains throughout history, the ones who wore a veneer of respectability yet whose wickedness never truly vanished.

After he burst in, their laughter gradually died away, and every eye turned toward him. He was utterly perplexed. Could it be that these people were actually holding a banquet?

***

Late at night at Ikerite University, Gela Memorial Plaza was bathed in a soft, shimmering white glow. The hour hand on the clock tower was nearing twelve. Yet, at such a late hour, the plaza had become unusually restless.

Unlike the lively, expectant atmosphere of the afternoon, the mood now was heavy and oppressive, even though many students had gathered once more before the steps facing the giant outdoor screen.

After Frey defeated the Saintess of Destruction at dusk, Lance had merely briefed the clergy and the trio from the merchant company about hosting the vampire count that evening, then switched off his Shadow Realm Recording Program.

It wasn't until eleven o'clock that Lance turned the live feed back on. Aware that the final hour was approaching and knowing full well it was a hopeless situation, some students still couldn't resist staying up late to watch from the plaza. What they saw, however, was the group of challengers actually hosting a dinner party in the literal sense!

"What exactly is Lance thinking?"

"Is he really not going to make any attempt at all?"

Many students questioned his actions, utterly dumbfounded. In truth, right up until Count Palokas actually arrived, some had believed Lance would take action and make crucial preparations.

If this group of challengers could survive five full days of the Shadow Realm's rampage state while trapped like animals in a cage and return alive, it would be no exaggeration to call this Shadow Realm run a miracle.

Their only remaining hope lay in surviving the night, then, before nightfall the next day, working together to fell trees and build a bridge. They would need to scatter and evade capture during the second night. Finally, they would need to engage in a three-day, three-night game of cat-and-mouse with the vampire counts across the Honing Empire.

This slim chance of survival was only possible because they had identified the Traitors ahead of schedule and suffered no casualties. Had the threat of the Traitors remained, they likely wouldn't have even managed to build the bridge or coordinate their escape through the Honing Empire!

Regardless of the details, the fundamental prerequisite for everything was surviving tonight. Beyond that, four more nightmarish days lay ahead. Perhaps losing to the vampire count tonight would actually be a form of release.

As it turned out, however, Lance apparently had no heart left for the fight. He was hosting a final banquet, calmly awaiting his death.

On the road at the edge of the plaza, Mordan Gasigus watched the massive outdoor screen with a calm expression, until, unable to hold it back any longer, he let out a derisive snort. As the son of a marquess, he had once had a prime opportunity to claim Hyperion for himself, only for Lance to interfere, even going so far as to threaten him with legal action.

He still remembered the words Lance had once thrown at him. "You admitted it yourself."[1] It was a taunt that had humiliated him and caused him to lose all face. Unlike the vast majority of students, he felt nothing but sheer delight at this moment!

"Pathetic wretch... finally reached the end of the line, haven't you?"

Mordan hummed softly. It would be good if Lance died, but it would be even better if that jinx of a slut, Hyperion, died right along with him.

Overweening arrogance inevitably invited destruction. When faced with a vampire count, which was an irresistible force of nature that utterly eclipsed humanity in terms of racial superiority, any attempt at cleverness appeared as ridiculous as the antics of a buffoon. Soon, some poor wretch would be reduced to a tearful, panicked mess, brutally tormented until stripped of all dignity, and finally disemboweled in a truly gruesome end!

Mordan could already picture the scene to come. The only thing he was curious about now was just how much longer Lance could keep up this charade of defiance before the vampire count.

However, on the giant outdoor screen, Lance was seated at the head of the long table as he gently swirled the pale rose-colored liquid in his tall glass. The wine's distinctive aroma, a complex blend of richness, fruitiness, and delicate freshness, seemed to waft right out, captivating the senses.

Despite that, he made no move to drink it. Even as Palokas arrived, Lance's expression remained unchanged. He leaned back in his chair with the air of someone who had seen it all, someone weary from the passage of time and the weight of experience.

Turning his head slightly, he cast a sidelong glance at Palokas. "Little Palo, so you've arrived."

1. This happened in Chapter 40. ☜