Chapter 31

Chapter 31

This was a deathly silent alley. The icy night wind swept up dust, forming small whirlwinds shaped like inverted triangles on the ground.

The whirlwind brushed past the werewolf's coarse, thick mane, carrying grit across the vampire's pale, bloodless fingers.

Behind Lyle, the two carts had long since stopped. Another tall werewolf set foot on the same tiled roof as hers, one heavy footfall after another.

The werewolf was simply too heavy. The long-neglected tiles and bricks emitted ominous tremors.

"It's unbelievable that a vampire is actually hiding in Central City." The werewolf named Gluck stared at Lyle's back, his golden vertical pupils alight with bloodthirsty excitement. "When I caught the scent in the olive grove, I thought my nose was playing tricks. I never imagined it was real."

"Tell me, you bloodsucking insect, how exactly did you evade the Holy Court's vampire purge plan?"

"Oh, Gluck," the werewolf on the ground snorted a puff of white breath in displeasure. "My brother, what's wrong with your claws? Why waste words with her? Why not just cripple her limbs and take her back? Can't you smell that I'm bleeding?"

"Don't rush, Jones. What's the difference between you and a mindless brute?" Gluck was only a pounce away from the vampire. He could even feel that flowing long hair brushing past his large muzzle.

It had to be said, vampires were indeed all good-looking.

The blue-green veins snaking up both cheeks were enticing under the moonlight, and the bewitching crimson eyes were more gorgeous than a witch's.

A werewolf long accustomed to the stench of filth found, for once, that he wished to gaze a little longer at this pale, beautiful face before him.

This face reminded him of that famously beautiful vampire clan—the Toreador.

Gluck had secretly watched during the Holy Court's campaign against the Toreador and accidentally caught a glimpse of one Toreador's face.

That face had left him stunned for the rest of his days.

Since then, he had held a shred of pity for the entire vampire race, allowing them a few more words before death.

Yes, pity.

While vampires were fast and hard to resist for humans, to werewolves, they were like skinny little children.

Posing no threat or combat power whatsoever.

Especially low-level ones like this.

"Why aren't you speaking?" Gluck took a step forward, his spine arched like a hill, swaying slightly with his forward movement.

These creatures were more agile than imagined.

Lyle loosely gripped the knife hilt. As Gluck took his second step, she exploded into motion. The tiles beneath her feet instantly shattered into fragments. Her dark figure shot toward the other werewolf at a speed impossible for the naked eye to follow!

Gluck was stunned and instinctively gave chase!

His agile body possessed immense explosive power, easily slicing through the wind!

"We haven't finished talking. Why are you going for the wounded clumsy oaf?"

The werewolf impatiently extended its claws mid-air, wanting to grab the vampire's ankle and slam her into the ground.

However, just as it was about to touch the black long boots, Lyle abruptly exerted force from her waist. Using terrifying core strength, she spun her body, deviating from her original diving trajectory!

Her evasion was at the absolute limit. The werewolf behind grabbed at empty air, and in the next second, collided with the wide-eyed Jones!

They tumbled like high-speed spinning tops, shoving against each other as they crashed into an empty house beside them. The already precarious wall instantly shattered, and countless heavy stones rained down on their bodies.

Jones let out an "ow!" of pain and slapped the idiot off him.

"My foot!"

Gluck was too heavy, and the momentum from his charge completely severed Jones's foot, which was already only half-attached.

Watching his foot roll away from his leg, Jones completely lost it. "Gluck! You stupid fool! Damned trash! Hurry up, go deal with that damned insect! I need to go back and treat my—"

Before he could finish his last word, the cold short blade was already close again.

Lyle didn't even wait for the stirred-up dust to settle. Clenching the hilt in a backhand grip, she materialized like a ghost beside Jones and, with her fastest speed, drove the blade hard toward Jones's neck!

But the werewolf's reaction speed was equally fast. A frantic sense of danger screamed at Jones.

At the critical moment, the werewolf rolled to the side. The blade edge grazed the skin of its neck and stabbed down!

Lyle immediately withdrew her hand, but it was too late.

Another pitch-black claw instantly shot out, grabbing her arm and yanking hard! With a *rip* sound, the vampire's knife-wielding arm was torn from the shoulder.

Her corrosive blood immediately began eating into the rubble on the ground.

But before Gluck could rejoice at catching his prey, eyes glowing crimson were already pressed close to his face!

The vampire had actually advanced instead of retreating! The short blade was almost lightning-fast in her hand. Before the werewolf could react, several fingers tipped with black nails were sent flying.

"Aow!!"

That damned vampire, taking advantage of the moment he was holding her severed arm, had actually seized the chance to slice off three of his fingers!

Freed from its grip, the vampire retreated again. She stood under the moonlight, her intact hand frantically pulling something from her waist.

Gluck's pupils contracted. It was a Crystal Bottle filled with blood!

This vampire... what was wrong with this vampire?!

She was completely different from any he'd faced before!

From start to finish, she hadn't even used any vampiric abilities. She was simply a low-level one who hadn't awakened any special powers!

Yet even so, she had taken Jones mostly out of the fight in their first encounter. Maintaining absolute calm despite the pain of losing an arm, she had seized the chance to take three of his fingers!

And here Gluck had been on guard all along, expecting her to flee! Because vampires' individual combat power wasn't inherently strong. Faced with two adult werewolves, any vampire's first instinct would be to run.

But she was here replenishing blood, without showing a hint of fear!

The werewolf was breathing heavily, its vertical pupils instantly turning dangerous and sharp.

It couldn't afford to underestimate the enemy any longer. The killing intent in its mind surged violently! Its black-gray figure shot toward Lyle like an iron ball breaking through the air.

"Why aren't you running? Even with a vial of blood for recovery, you can't possibly win! You clearly know this!"

Lyle swiftly discarded the empty Crystal Bottle. Her arm was slowly regenerating, but it wasn't enough.

The werewolf had arrived. She had no time to wipe the cold sweat dripping into her eyes. Extending the short blade to block, she was sent flying by a massive force.

The now-chipped blade fell into the depths of the dark alley, while the vampire smashed through several walls in succession.

At least three of her ribs were broken, one of them piercing her lung.

Lyle couldn't suppress a cough, spewing several mouthfuls of blood, but she had no time to care about the corrosive blood dripping down.

Before her tumble had even fully stopped, she desperately braced her hands against the ground, shoving herself backward with all her strength.

In the next instant, the werewolf, as frenzied as Death itself, had already snapped its jaws at the spot she'd just occupied!

Too fast!

Lyle heard the *swish* of sharp claws aimed at her vulnerable neck. She could only wrench her body in another direction, the dark claw tips barely grazing her as she charged toward another way.

Her muscles screamed in protest, pushed far beyond their limits. Her black collar sizzled and smoked where her corrosive blood ate through it.

She ran for all she was worth, yet the *whoosh* of the werewolf's pursuit stayed relentlessly on her heels.

Her nearly-severed arm had partially knit itself back together. Lyle flexed her fingers and reached for the pouch at her waist again.

"Still thirsty for blood?!" Gluck's eyes narrowed to slits. His powerful haunches drove against the ground, propelling him in a mighty leap, cutting off the fleeing vampire and landing square in her path!

The massive figure slowly rising before her was more terrifying than any demon. Gluck bared his teeth in a sinister grin at the vampire now only two steps away.

"Even if you carried the blood of two corpses, you wouldn't be able to run today— AHH!!"

Lyle paid his taunt no mind. She flung her hand out, scattering a clear liquid into the werewolf's face.

Instantly, a searing agony erupted across his entire face and spread through his body.

The werewolf lost all control and let loose a piercing, agonized shriek!

The pain was worse than having his fingers lopped off—unstoppable, unbearable, like... like... the holy water used by the Clergy?!

"Holy water?!"

Gluck, now one-eyed, froze. Then, an even sharper, purer pain smashed into his chest!

It was a pain more ferocious than being hit by a three-story villa. The werewolf even heard his own bones cracking throughout his frame. His blood vessels ruptured, blood spurting from his eyes, nose, and ears. He was flung backward, crashing hard to the earth.

He tried to bat away whatever was on his chest, but the vampire's foot came down hard on it.

A fresh, stronger shockwave shot from her foot through the werewolf. The agony of being whipped by dozens of Bibles spread through his body in an instant.

Blinded, Gluck retched up a great gout of blood. "What... what did you... use..."

Lyle rose, keeping her foot planted on his chest. On the sole of her shoe, hidden from the werewolf's sight, an insignia engraved with four pairs of angel's wings blazed with a piercing light.

The insignia held the purest, most absolute power of Light—the foundational power of the Holy Court itself, a force bestowed by the sacred Paladin Commander!

Lyle raised the vial of holy water with her good hand and dumped the rest onto the werewolf's face.

The werewolf's eyes and nose were instantly seared into several horrific pits. The agony was even more unbearable to the beast than a lash from a whip.

Gluck howled insanely, arms flailing, his crocodilian maw snapping ferociously at the vampire!

Blind, perhaps due to some unparalleled instinct erupting at death's door, he relied on hearing alone. And it worked—he kept pace with Lyle and accurately snagged her other arm!

Death's scythe was at her throat. The vampire's irises flooded with red, darkening nearly to black in that instant! In a flash, she grabbed the werewolf's dark-furred wrist with her free hand. Her already mangled hand darted to her pouch, snatched a crystal vial, and clamped it in her teeth. Then she snarled around the vial. "In the name of—"

A violent burning instantly pierced her tongue. A sacred consciousness *saw* her attempt, and countless tiny, completely transparent threads tightened around the vampire's neck.

Yet Lyle saw nothing, cared for nothing. At this moment, the raging flames burning in her eyes reflected only Gluck's single figure.

She had to kill this werewolf here! No matter the cost, no matter what she had to abandon, she had to survive! The one standing here alive could only be her! Nothing could stop her!

Not even a god!

"In the name of light and the Holy Father—"

The werewolf was stunned, a brief moment of blankness flashing across his previously ferocious face.

Before him, the vampire's face was rapidly melting as she chanted in a low voice.

"—you are here forbidden, bound, nullified! Darkness!"

"Pfft!"

A series of transparent, slender pillars of light descended from the sky, piercing through the limbs and chests of the two Dark Creatures with overwhelming force!

Especially the vampire chanting the Holy Prayer. From the moment she uttered the first word, it felt as if surge after surge of magma welled up in her throat.

The Holy Words were rejecting her chant! That magma burned through her abdomen and windpipe, blood spurting out from her belly and mouth.

The bitter taste of corrosion was everywhere, yet none of it could stop her chant!

Her eyes, fixed on the werewolf, were filled with a terrifying, chilling smile.

She was calm. She was doing this with absolute calm!

Realizing this, Gluck nearly went mad!

"You... aren't you a vampire?! You... you can actually chant the binding Holy Prayer?! You actually chanted it... Are you insane?! Are you insane?!"

That was the purest binding prayer! The dark creature was firmly immobilized! Even a vampire should be—

But in the next moment, the werewolf understood what this mad bloodsucker was planning.

Because she tilted her head back and drank the blood from the crystal vial she held in her mouth to the last drop.

That was definitely not ordinary human blood, for her recovery speed was utterly terrifying.

In less than two breaths, the vampire's melted-off arm began sprouting thin threads of flesh. Blood vessels and bones rapidly intertwined and grew, like purplish-green vines blooming in early spring.

Borrowing this power of "rebirth and recovery," she struggled forward, desperately pushing ahead.

The pillars of light tore her body apart, while the blood she drank simultaneously reshaped everything.

She personally invoked the power of a god, then personally destroyed that divine power.

When she stood again before the still firmly bound werewolf, she was almost a staggering figure of blood.

Gluck realized what she intended to do. His golden vertical pupils were instantly filled with utter terror. His long snout wriggled desperately. "Wai... wait..."

But the vampire didn't hesitate. Her five finger bones directly gripped the werewolf's throat and yanked hard!

Most of the throat was ripped from the body. The werewolf's trachea hemorrhaged massively, spraying a crimson fountain of blood under the moonlight, exactly like Diana's in the small chapel.

A few seconds later, Gluck's massive body finally fell still.

The black hem of her skirt lay in layers over the werewolf's head, soaked by the blood he had sprayed into another color—like a flower of the other shore blooming in a devil's corridor, or a vividly blooming rose in a graveyard.

Lyle gasped for breath, utterly exhausted. Her trembling hand, now with only three fingers, grabbed the remaining bottles of blood and gulped them all down.

She had specifically brought Arthur's blood with her; the blood of the Clergy possessed powerful restorative properties.

But it wasn't enough, far from enough.

The vampire's crimson eyes coolly settled on the werewolf's twitching body. With precision, she yanked out the still-spurting artery and stuffed it into her mouth.

It was the taste of the forest, mixed with a gritty feel of soil and sand—rough, heavy, damp.

The blood from her torn right arm had already corroded the tightly wrapped lace cuffs completely. The skin, muscle, and blood vessels slowly knitted back together over her pale shoulder.

The crimson alert on her personal panel vanished, and her HP bar climbed back to a safe 60.

This was the vampire race. This was their nature.

Even at a low level, as long as they weren't killed outright, their racial traits could save them in any crisis.

"How could I possibly run?" Lyle tore off the hindering skirt hem, hooked the silver chain of the Angel Emblem—already embedded in the werewolf's chest—with her toes, lifted it high, then caught it, using a handkerchief to grip the emblem.

The werewolves already knew her identity, had seen her face. She absolutely could not allow anything to expose her, so all the werewolves had to die here for her peace of mind.

Of course, she could wait, wait to extract information about the Ashfield before killing the wolf.

But that would leave Lyle deeply unsettled.

From the very beginning, she had misjudged these creatures' keen senses.

She had originally thought the noisy town center would impair their judgment, but reality proved her wrong, brutally.

The scent of humans could not mask a vampire's aura.

She subjected her actions and thoughts to deep scrutiny, ensuring she would never make the same mistake again.

Her life, everything about herself, was far more important than any secret or mission.

Survival came first.

But now.

The vampire wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, her red eyes gazing in another direction.

It wasn't over yet. Time to deal with the other one.

-

Jones was using a rope he found in the collapsed house to tightly bind his own left ankle.

His broken left foot had bled too much. Although a werewolf's physical constitution rivaled that of a war god, he was still a living creature with a beating heart. Losing too much blood would still mean death.

To make it easier to operate, Jones had even reverted from his wolf form, clumsily tying knots while completely naked.

He heard the distant, cut-off scream, but he didn't believe his brother would lose.

The gap between a werewolf and a low-level vampire was even greater than that between a human and a vampire.

Unless Gluck's brain was filled with vomit spewed by a sow, there was simply no way he could lose.

"Huh? Finally over there?" Hearing the distant alley fall silent, the werewolf, grimacing in pain, gave a huge eye-roll. "Took so long, just for a low-level vampire, and he managed to make such a mess of it. God knows what Mr. Dalton will say when we get back..."

Suddenly, Jones's muttering stopped.

Because a silver chain had snaked around his neck from behind.

It was a divinely-blessed silver chain. The moment it touched the werewolf's skin—even in human form—it immediately seared a wound deep enough to reveal bone.

"Don't move, or your head will part from your body instantly, just like that poor left foot of yours."

Jones's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

"You... using the Holy Court's silver chain? Aren't you a vampire?! Wait, Gluck..."

The silver chain instantly tightened further. Jones instinctively tried to raise his hands to pull at it, but a black-furred wolf's claw was faster.

It was a claw Jones was familiar with—sharp and pointed. The one it belonged to had more than once left bloody marks on him during fights with that very claw.

But now, that single claw was pressed tightly against his right eyeball, like a sharp blade.

"Your brother is right here. Say hello?" The vampire gave a low chuckle, cradling the werewolf's head in a mockingly gentle gesture. "It put up a bit of a fight, but it's sleeping peacefully now. It's your turn, my friend. But you're lucky; you have a choice."

Werewolf blood was different from vampire blood; it was warm, and the rhythm of their heart was more akin to humans'.

They shared a similar fear of death, too.

A drop of cold sweat trickled down Jones's forehead. Being threatened by a low-level vampire filled him with shame and fury. But he couldn't resist.

Gritting his teeth, he stared at his brother's finger, which loomed large in his vision, and asked, "...What choice? What, you'll *kindly* let me go? Get real, you blood-sucking bug! Ha, are you even a vampire? A vampire who can use a sacred silver chain? In this world? Why are you following us? Could it be to capture us for a bounty from the Holy Court?!"

"You're a bit smarter than your brother, at least you know how to probe for information."

Lyle kept her head lowered, watching the man beneath her. Her long hair covered half her face, revealing only one red eye that was glacially cold. "Too bad I'm not a fool, either."

"Your value is far greater than any bounty. After all, being able to establish a potion smuggling route right under the Holy Court's nose—I doubt any other race could manage that, could they?"

Jones froze, then was struck with terror. "...How do you know? No, you followed us because of this?!"

The werewolf was completely dumbfounded. He thought the vampire was tailing them just to figure out what they were doing.

But he never imagined the vampire already knew everything!

How did she know?

In the werewolf's mind, the potion smuggling operation was their most closely guarded secret!

This was the wolf pack's top priority! To successfully establish this route, and to free themselves from being trapped in the forest where they could only eat raw meat, drink raw blood, and live alongside all the true beasts, Mr. Dalton had invested untold effort, and how many brothers had died on the path out of the forest!

This was their—this was the wolf pack's key to gaining a foothold in the human world, the foundation that would free all werewolves from returning to a beast's life!

They were sick of the cold, muddy ground and the indignity of having to run on all fours.

They weren't animals; they were a nobler race!

They were clearly stronger and more robust than humans, so why were they forced to huddle in backward, degenerate forests while humans could decently enjoy all sorts of extravagant lives?!

Jones couldn't control the layers of cold sweat breaking out, not because of a bizarre vampire, but because of the fear and panic of potentially losing the potion smuggling operation.

They had been so careful, so covert.

On Barbavin's side, no more than two people knew. As for the werewolf clan, the clan's interests were greater than anything! There was absolutely no way they'd collude with a low-level vampire!

So how did the one behind him know?

Yet, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of Lyle's lips.

She hadn't known anything before, but now she did.

Because with just one sentence, she'd flushed out the key intel.

Sure enough, their business was potion smuggling.

It wasn't tools or vessels made from Cursed Objects—it was Holy Potion smuggling.

The werewolf's instinctive reaction directly confirmed this.

But a new question arose—if it was *potion* smuggling, why had Barbavin given the werewolves Cursed Objects? Apart from that, there was nothing else on the papyrus in the secret room.

Why? Could Cursed Objects truly be related to Holy Potions? Were the materials for the divinely bestowed potions actually transformed from Dark Creatures?

Was this the blessing of the Holy Father, or... misappropriated gifts from the Bloodline?

"Yes, I know. Not only do I know about this, but I also know that the barrels in your cart contain Banshees, Lizardmen, and Mourners." The vampire slowly forced the werewolf's black claw deeper, its sharp tip puncturing Jones's iris. "I also know that your final destination is the Ashfield..."

"Wait!" Jones roared suddenly, a trickle of blood running from the corner of its eye. "You said I get a choice! I'm choosing!"