Chapter 83: This is Compensation for My Commotion (3)

It was a small bat covered in fluffy, white fur, which seemed incredibly soft just from a glance. Its innocent red eyes sparkled like rubies. There wasn’t a single soul unfamiliar with this creature.

𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

“T-the Red Comet?”

Cork was the first to break the silence. Though it looked adorable, its appearance was identical to the Red Comet seen on countless wanted posters.

Could it just look like the infamous creature, or was it a completely different one? Are all vampires this cute?

“Kyuuu!”

As the white bat spread its wings energetically, Cork and his mercenaries flinched.

Flap, flap.

The bat flew and landed on Keter’s shoulder and affectionately rubbed its head against his cheek.

Seeing that, Cork made an unintelligible noise.

“Oh? Ohhh? Ooohhhhhh?!”

The demon sealed within this place was none other than a vampire, a transcendent being that once treated hundreds of thousands of humans as mere livestock. Not just any vampire, but Elise, the First Vampire!

“Why... why are you being affectionate with Keter?! I’m the one who woke you up!” Cork screamed in despair.

But Keter calmly scratched Elise under her chin and answered, “Because she’s my pet. Right, Slurpie?”

Elise let out a soft squeak as if it understood Keter.

While Cork and his subordinates appeared bewildered, Keter already had a rough idea of what had happened.

There’s a subtle crack in the ceiling above the altar.

Elise’s seal had been broken long ago through the tiny crack in the ceiling, where it eventually emerged to the surface. It had then encountered Keter and been raised by him. It was a simple yet ironic twist of fate.

“So, you have a name, Elise. Still, doesn’t Slurpie suit you better?”

“Kyuu!”

Elise nodded as if it couldn’t care less.

Watching Keter and Elise share a bond, Cork began trembling violently, as if he might explode.

His final hope shattered, Cork pointed a shaking finger at Keter.

“Who the hell are you, Keter?! What gives you the right to take everything from me?! All over some petty incident from our childhood? Why are you doing this to me?!” Cork screamed in desperation.

“And who gave you the right to belittle someone else’s dream as petty? The moment you trampled on another’s dream, you should’ve prepared yourself to have yours crushed in return. Why are you acting like the victim now?”

“Were you going to die just because you couldn’t be a mercenary?! My dream was so much bigger than your pathetic one!”

“That’s your belief. But if you want to impose your ideals on others, you better have the strength and brains to back it up. Seems like you lack both.”

“You... you’re nothing but garbage. How can someone like you...”

“Garbage? Looks like it’s your time, Cork. Around here, being called trash is a compliment.”

In this world, power was everything, especially here in Liqueur.

“Survival of the fittest, Cork. The ones who survive move forward, while the ones who die are left behind. And the one moving forward here isn’t you. It’s me.”

Keter summoned Amaranth, declaring Cork’s death sentence.

To Cork, Amaranth, the jet-black bow, seemed to be the form of death itself.

In a final, desperate plea, he glanced toward Elise, his last hope.

“Demon Elise! I’m the one who broke your seal! Make a contract with me! Kill Keter! My body, my soul—I’ll give it all to you! Just kill him already!”

His voice echoing through the labyrinth was filled with raw desperation. Sensitive to sound, Elise folded her ears with her wings and turned her gaze toward Cork.

Swoosh.

Elise’s wings spread and folded again.

Cork tried once more to urge Elise, but to his shock, no sound came out.

What’s happening? Why can’t I speak? And... Why am I falling backward?

Thud.

Ah...

Watching his own body collapse forward, Cork finally realized his head had been severed from his body. The slash was so swift and clean that he hadn’t even registered it happening.

Fuck.

That was his final thought.

Cork, the Diamond-class mercenary who had ventured into Liqueur to become the Mercenary King, the one who sacrificed thousands of lives as offerings in pursuit of an artifact, had ultimately become an offering himself. With even his soul stripped away, his body withered into a mummy the moment he died.

Keter crouched in front of Cork’s severed head and wedged a gold coin between his teeth.

“This is compensation for my commotion.”

Keter stood up and stretched his arms above his head.

“Ah, that feels good. Nothing is as refreshing as perfect revenge.”

Though he was physically tired, Keter’s spirit felt rejuvenated, and a bright smile spread across his face.

Slurpie, meanwhile, let out a massive yawn, signaling its drowsiness. Keter gently tucked it into his chest pocket.

“Get some sleep.”

At that moment, two mercenaries dropped to their knees and shouted, “We surrender! I have no intention of opposing you. Please, spare my life!”

“Same for me. Do whatever you wish if you’re angry, but please, just don’t kill me!”

These were the same two who had previously surrendered to Keter. But now, they were in full submission.

Keter, who now commanded the ancient demon Elise, no longer seemed human to them.

It was said that happiness made people merciful. With a benevolent smile, Keter placed his hands on their shoulders.

“I’ll only spare the one who tells me what Cork was doing here.”

Revenge was revenge, but Keter couldn’t resist the allure of treasure.

* * *

The mercenaries led Keter to the door that absorbed blood. They eagerly explained how Cork discovered it and sacrificed the blood of thousands to open it, spitting in their enthusiasm.

Ordinary people would have retched upon hearing such a tale. A door that drank the blood of thousands was revolting beyond mere disgust—it was utterly nauseating.

However, Keter gazed at the half-filled orb with a face of intrigue rather than repulsion.

“So, if you sprinkle blood on this door, the orb fills up, and once it’s full, the door opens?”

“That’s correct.”

“It looks like it’s almost full. How many more people’s worth of blood would it take to fill the rest?”

“We’re not entirely sure, but at least three hundred more.”

“Hm. It’s really close, then.”

Keter stroked his chin.

What kind of treasure could lie beyond a door fed with the blood of thousands?

“It’s probably not a Holy Sword, right?”

It was bound to be a cursed weapon, like Apophis, Obelisk, or Amaranth.

The only reason Keter had subdued Amaranth and was comfortably wielding it was due to unique circumstances. Most artifacts, including cursed weapons, used the power of Ein, and they consumed the wielder’s mind or drove them insane. Yet Keter, being adept at handling Ein, remained unaffected.

Even Gyro, who wielded Obelisk, had to continually drink a poison-like alcohol to maintain his sanity, and that was considered exceptionally lucky.

Most wielders of cursed weapons either succumbed to madness and became killers, became puppets after losing control of themselves, or entered a destructive coexistence until their downfall. Cursed weapons seldom brought good fortune to their owners.

“Still, there’s no shortage of fools willing to pay for one.”

As Keter sounded interested in obtaining the artifact, a mercenary cautiously suggested, “Shall we... capture lone wanderers in Liqueur like Cork did? We could fill it within a week.”

Smack!

Keter struck the back of the mercenary’s head and clicked his tongue.

“Like master, like lackey.”

“B-but aren’t you planning to claim the artifact? Destroying the door or breaking the wall is impossible. Even using aura left it unscathed. Believe me, we’ve already tried.”

“You just said blood was all it needed. So why the hell are you offering lives, you idiots?”

“Ah.”

If Cork hadn’t been so greedy about monopolizing the artifact, this seal would’ve been ridiculously simple to unlock. The offering required blood, not life. Cork was the leader of hundreds of mercenaries; he could have simply had them donate blood as the offering. No one died from a little blood loss since it regenerated within a day.

If Cork had promised to sell the cursed artifact and use the profit to improve their welfare, who wouldn’t have gladly volunteered their blood?

“But here’s the thing. Not all blood holds the same value, right?”

“Yes. For example, if the blood of a normal human is worth one unit, an aura user’s blood is worth ten.”

“What about non-human blood? Like elves or beastfolk—have you ever tested that?”

“When a half-elf was offered as a sacrifice, their blood was valued at one hundred units.”

“Hm...”

A half-elf, a human hybrid, was worth one hundred times more than a normal person?

Keter’s curiosity was piqued by the variability in blood’s value depending on its source.

“I wonder how much my blood is worth.”

Unable to contain his curiosity, Keter drew a dagger and sliced his palm. Blood beaded up on his hand, and the little white bat in his pocket smacked its lips at the sight.

“Not now, Slurpie. I’ll give you some later.”

Calming the bat, Keter approached the door.

The mercenaries awkwardly laughed and said, “Kete... Uh, sir, that small amount of blood won’t even make a dent. You’d need to fill a basin to get any reaction.”

“Well, wasting my blood like that is something this little guy wouldn’t tolerate.”

Ignoring their protests, Keter sprinkled his blood onto the door. The door absorbed the blood. And then... Silence.

“See? I told you that small amount wouldn’t...”

Rumble!

The entire labyrinth trembled violently as if struck by an earthquake. The mercenaries lost their balance and fell over one by one, while Keter steadied himself against the wall.

“T-the labyrinth is collapsing!”

“The demon must be enraged! Sir, get down and beg for forgiveness!”

The mercenaries screamed as rubble and debris rained from the ceiling. Laying flat on the floor, none of them saw that the orb embedded in the door had turned a perfect red after Keter’s blood was offered. A handful of Keter’s blood had exceeded the value of three hundred people.

“Hm...”

Keter had somewhat expected it. How could his blood be considered ordinary? His father was the pinnacle of humanity, and his mother was presumed to be a god.

However, Keter suddenly felt a twinge of doubt.

Tsk, if I’ve got such an extraordinary lineage, shouldn’t I at least have some kind of special ability?

Of course, Keter had always been different from others since childhood. He was born with a strong body and exceptional regenerative abilities. But that alone wasn’t enough to call his lineage extraordinary.

The healing art and medical art Keter had learned were far superior, and his body, honed through countless life-or-death struggles, was even stronger. Having grown powerful more through acquired skills than inherited abilities, Keter had never once thought of his bloodline as particularly remarkable.

Well, if I don’t have it, I’ll just live without it.

Not everyone with an impressive lineage possessed special abilities. Only a chosen few received such gifts, like Luke, for instance.

Unconcerned with unattainable things, Keter set aside his thoughts and focused on the opening door. The tremors that had seemed like they would bring down the labyrinth had finally subsided.

Beyond the door was a massive chamber, and there was an altar made of skulls at the center. At the peak of the altar, radiating a commanding presence, was a blood-red sword. The cross-shaped Blood Sword pulsed with an aura of majesty, cutting through the darkness with its formidable presence.

—Come to me.

A strange voice echoed in Keter’s mind. It was an irresistible temptation.

—Claim the flame of life.

As if entranced, Keter began walking toward the altar. The voice’s whispers grew more frequent.

—

Receive the blessing of Dracula, the Father of Life.

—Swear loyalty to me as a Knight of Blood.

—I will grant you immortality.

—The glory of the Age of Legends shall be reborn.

The whispers were relentless. Before he realized it, Keter had climbed to the top of the altar and now stood face-to-face with the Blood Sword.

—Draw me. Grasp me. You are worthy.

Whoosh.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Keter reached out toward the sword’s hilt. And then...

Smack!

He slapped the hilt with the palm of his hand.

“Ugh, you’re so noisy. Shut up.”