#077. Dad’s Too Nice (1)

#077. Dad’s Too Nice (1)

Ronove had lost all expectations.

“Expectations are always betrayed.”

Many vampires had sent offerings, sacrifices to the ritual of undead resurrection with corrupted clay.

Thanks to them, he had managed to obtain quite a few warriors worth fighting, even within the tragedy collection of vampires.

But that was it.

The true prize was missing.

Teresa, the vessel of Ian’s memories who would absolutely obey Ronove’s orders, was nowhere to be found.

“I genuinely had expected the woman who had been robbed of her talent and swordsmanship would be great, but instead, she had been robbed of her most precious heart by such a trivial alleyway woman.”

Even Gretel, a powerhouse ranked amongst the very top, had her signal severed, suggesting annihilation alongside Marbas.

“Can you afford such leisure? Marbas is a vampire who has lived for seven centuries. He is a formidable foe, even for me. The humans who vanquished him are no ordinary beings.”

Count Dracula, a high-ranking vampire.

Boss of the Royal Aristocratic Faction’s financial wing.

The undisputed leader of the vampires, whose territory and title are recognized even by the human King, expressed his concern. A ‘Grand Lord,’ distinct in caliber from the Beastman Alliance or the Beastman Revival Society.

If Ronowe’s secret to holding the position of Second Division Commander in the Hero Party lay in the power and resources he offered the Hero, then Dracula’s lay in his ability to exploit the beastmen as test subjects.

His apprehensions were not to be taken lightly.

“Do not be agitated, Count Dracula. You and I are symbiotic through contract. You provide data on various beastmen through the blood collected by your vampires, and I assist in the collection of powerful blood bags through my experiments. This time, that task simply involved Negative Clay and Doppelgangers; nothing has changed in our arrangement.”

“Never before have we been so disturbed by such troublesome enemies. Never before have we been attacked by humans strong enough to kill Marbas. Just what have you been doing out there? Is this human, Teresa, truly just an ordinary swordswoman? Even if she’s from the Starsephia family of noble lineage, this goes too far.”

Ronowe understood Dracula’s unease.

Logically, it was hard to swallow that a human who became pregnant in her mid-teens and lived for less than thirty years could defeat a 700-year-old vampire noble.

Just how dazzling a talent would one need to possess to wield such inhuman strength?

“Teresa possessed a glimmer of such talent. But that talent can never be resurrected. What happened this time was a one-time miracle. As proof…”

Ronowe recounted the untold story of Teresa to Dracula.

A chilling smile touched Count Dracula’s face.

“Magnificent. The fact that a man like you was born a human and not a vampire is an utter misfortune for humanity. You are a master scenarist. Your knack for creating tragedy is truly unparalleled.”

“Are you reassured?”

“Of course.”

“Then hold them back. You and I have much left to accomplish. Crush and trample the losers who impede our great work here, so they never rise again.”

“Ah. Have you already arrived, Teresa?”

*Bang!*

Beyond the splintered door, ripped in two and falling to the sides.

A vampire’s corpse, drained of every drop of blood by Hansel, scattered into ash.

Stepping over the vanishing remains was Teresa, a Rank 5 Adventurer.

And her son, Ian, and the vampire Hansel.

“That strength that defeated Marbas. It’s no wonder even the vampires in the inner keep couldn’t stop you. But you must have exhausted a great deal of power. At some point, a body not in its ‘prime’ reaches its limits, does it not?”

“…Ronowe. That b*stard must have given them a clue. Where is he? If you tell me willingly, I might leave you one of your limbs.”

“Hahahaha! You are too lenient. Truly too lenient. Leave them one of their limbs? At a time like this, you say you’ll kill them without pain. Just like I will!”

Count Dracula’s bloodlust engulfed the entirety of the Grand Manor’s upper levels.

One could feel the immense amount of blood that had been devoured by one who reigned at the apex of the vampire ecosystem.

The scale of the apex predator was indeed staggering.

[Constant Brainwashing Activated]

[Command – Drinking the blood of the strong grants their skills.]

Strength Enhancement, Level 13.

Agility Enhancement, Level 11.

Leaping Enhancement, Level 19.

Movement Enhancement, Level 14.

Mana Enhancement, Level 15.

The near-omnipotent surge of power achieved the astonishing feat of containing the combat prowess of a large species within the body of a smaller one.

Even for Teresa, receiving that power head-on would shatter her sword in a single blow, break her arm, and steal her life.

＜Deflection＞

＜Rapid Counter＞

＜Parrying＞

If not for the ceaseless eruption of advanced swordsmanship techniques.

“What?! Impossible. Ronove assured me that you possessed no further ‘swordsmanship’ talent!”

“So, he did tell you. That blasted thief.”

Fury blazed in Teresa’s eyes.

The noblewoman esteemed as a prodigy of the sword.

Her swordsmanship had, at one point, departed from her very being.

Yet, the memories of forging the path of swordsmanship remained.

A harrowing pilgrimage to reclaim what was lost.

A succession of cruel adventures.

And finally, the decisive battle against Marbas to adorn the grand finale.

All these experiences guided Teresa.

Towards her once-lost heights.

“This violates the agreement, Ronove!!”

No matter how outstanding her physical prowess, the existence of swordsmanship that overcame the difference in strength reversed the advantage.

The control of distance and shifting of weight, the application of breath and the apex of power – all forbidden to a predator who had merely conveniently collected the blood of the strong and increased their size.

Teresa was perfected by the logic of swordsmanship, and even the integration of her combat experience against vampires.

Once again, to the point where she could aim for the pinnacle of her prime.

“I said that swordsmanship, that talent, had already been ‘stolen’!!”

Ian was taken aback.

He had sensed, in the past, that Teresa possessed an unusual inner strength.

He knew that she had lost that power, or perhaps her will, through some incident.

But ‘stolen’…

Was it truly possible to steal swordsmanship, a formless thing?

“Swordsmanship reclaimed by one’s own power is beyond my control. This is an achievement Teresa wrought for herself. There is no breach of contract.”

The highest floor of the Lord’s castle.

The peak of the central spire.

From Ronove’s consciousness workshop, the Count Dracula revealed his displeasure.

“Employ the ‘dolls’ gathered through ritual! If I fall, you are next!”

“My, my. Have you forgotten the contract? Refresh your memory of the conditions. I made it clear, did I not? If *you* defeat ‘Teresa’, I will surrender their power. Has Teresa fallen?”

“Ronoveeeee!!”

Ronove, who hid in the blood forest and secluded himself in the Grand Lord’s castle, even betraying the Grand Lord himself.

Betraying his mother, betraying Pinky, the second-string fighter of the hero party, and now even betraying Count Dracula.

Beyond revulsion, one could even feel a pitiable sympathy toward his endless cycle of betrayal.

Trust was nonexistent in Ronove’s life.

He was the type of man who could trust no one.

A being destined to be utterly alone.

“Ian. Hansel. Ascend first.”

“But…”

“You would only impede me here.”

In this clash where pure mass was overwhelmed by swordsmanship, where he ignored injury to charge at us, Theresa would push herself too hard, suffering greater harm.

Ian, recognizing the situation differed from the Marbas subjugation, led Hansel upwards, toward the central spire.

“You have arrived.”

Within the laboratory, dozens of dolls, seemingly crafted from ‘Clay of Negation,’ stood lined up.

Stripped of emotion, of will, they moved at the command of Ronove, having absorbed the injected blood and obtained rights of command.

Hansel flinched, feeling a palpable pressure from their unnerving power, but they did not rush forward.

“Ian. My failed creation. This will be our last meeting. Today, in this place, one of us will surely die. So, shall we take a moment to resolve our mutual curiosities?”

Ronove, seated in his chair, remained motionless, awaiting a reply.

Ian, without hesitation, seated himself as well, answering his almost arrogant demeanor. “If it buys Mother time to ascend, then certainly.”

“You inherited the blood of both Theresa and myself. Yet Theresa’s blood, her strength, has failed to manifest within you.”

“And what of it?”

“Thus, I held some hope. The possibility that you might have inherited the strength of ‘my side’ of the equation.”

Ronove summoned one of the dolls to stand before him.

He forced the doll to bow its head, then placed his hand upon it, declaring, “The transaction is complete.”

The next instant, the doll collapsed.

And within Ronove’s hand, a sapphire-blue sphere of energy coalesced.

The Energy Bolt, a mage’s infamous killing technique.

Cast without any incantation, a magic of instantaneous execution.

An impossible feat for a human mage within a single lifetime.

Unless one devoted oneself entirely to Energy Bolt alone.

“Next.”

“Next.”

“Next.”

Ronove summoned several more dolls in this manner, each time conjuring a new spell above his palm.

Without any incantation.

Instantaneously.

Several No-chant Specialised magics that demanded decades, a lifetime, of training were cast simultaneously.

The correlation between Ronove’s ‘transaction’ and ‘instantaneous magic’ was now impossible to ignore, however unwillingly.

“That is… an exchange?”

“Indeed. Life is granted through the Rite of Resurrection, but the power may be revoked at any time. It is a transaction of that nature.”

“Did you use that power on Mother as well?”

“It is a different method, but yes. The formal name is ‘Equivalent Exchange.’ The apex reached by an alchemist denied his ability to become a mage, having dedicated his entire life. The power to forcibly extract a price whenever one provides what the other desires most.”

It was a power that felt utterly ominous.

As if forcing one to beg for life would allow the extraction of any price for survival.

Powers that, depending on the user, could easily lean toward the wicked.

“Now it’s my turn to ask. What is your ability? Something among the countless powers I have absorbed, the latent abilities within the blood I’ve stolen, has bloomed within you. Otherwise, there’s no way Theresa, once broken, could have risen again. Reveal the truth. What is your power?”

“My power is…”

Ian felt it.

*If* ‘Exchange’ truly existed as a power, then concealing the truth would be considered ‘insufficient payment,’ granting the opportunity for forced extraction.

It was strikingly similar to the ability of Lonoewe, the Third Division Boss Ian knew.

“My ability is ＜Mind Control＞. A wicked power that twists and distorts the hearts of people.”

“Indeed. Now all the mysteries are solved. So that’s the secret to how Theresa, once fallen, could rise again. Heh heh heh. Good. Truly good. You weren’t a failure after all. You bloomed an unpredictable mutation and were born as my finest masterpiece.”

Eyes more cruel than a vampire’s, more greedy than any human’s, fixed on Ian.

“You must know just how tremendous my power is. The extent of my strength built upon that power. I dare say, I surpass even Count Dracula himself.”

“…”

“I intended to use that power to seize the strength Theresa has built up once more, and to crush her definitively this time. But, depending on what you do, there is another opportunity.”

“What opportunity?”

“Relinquish your ability. Then I will spare you and Theresa.”

Hansel hesitated.

But then, clenching his fist tightly, he spoke. “Ian. I won’t stop you even if you agree to the deal. I owe you a debt.”

“Heh heh. How convenient. Is that also the power of mind control? But you must know. A vampire who only stole the blood of losers isn’t enough to stand in my way.”

“If we are safe… what happens to Hansel?”

“He dies. Marbas’s power is a clear threat. I cannot allow a vampire who has even a fragment of that power to live.”

“What about the clan members who were attacked by the demonic beasts?”

“No exceptions.”

There wasn’t even a reason to hesitate.

In truth, the answer had been decided from the very beginning.

“Then this deal cannot be made. The evil deeds I have piled up by twisting and distorting people’s hearts, by closing off their potential. Those are things I have built with my own hands. I will never relinquish this power until I have paid a price befitting them. I cannot allow those whose potential I stole to simply be killed.”

“I see. A pity. If you had joined hands with me, there were so many futures we could have created together. We could have journeyed far beyond even Dracula.”

Lonoewe felt genuine regret.

It had been since Theresa’s genius that an ability had tempted him this much.

“Then I have no choice but to solve this with ‘dirty methods.’ I will capture you here and ‘Exchange’ your ‘life’ for Theresa’s ‘power’.”

The conversation and stalling were over.

Ahead, only the clash of powers awaited.