Paladin of the Dead God

‘What are you talking about?’

‘No, seriously…’

Isaac projected his thoughts with a sense of indignation. He was genuinely confused.

Leonora didn’t show any signs of being tied up or tortured, and there was no trace of the thread that had been around her neck. Instead, she seemed to be engaging Hastel in conversation, trying to extract answers from her.

On the contrary, it was Hastel who looked flustered, yet she was still entertaining the conversation.

‘Is this a trap?’

Isaac’s first instinct was to suspect a trap. After all, the two were in a client-employee relationship. It was plausible enough to warrant caution, so he decided to tread carefully.

‘Can you snipe her?’

In a hostage situation, the safest approach was negotiation, but the next best option was sniping. However, Hesabel expressed reluctance.

Isaac had thought that might be the case. He had hoped that Hesabel’s enhanced abilities might give them an edge. But seeing that even she was hesitant, it was clear that Hastel was indeed formidable.

Just then, Hastel’s gaze shifted towards the window. Isaac quickly moved the rat back, but his action only served to arouse Hastel’s suspicion.

With a swift motion, a crimson thread lashed out, slicing the rat in half.

“What is this?”

Luckily, Hastel didn’t seem to suspect that the rat was one of Isaac’s minions. Instead, she thought of someone else.

“Hesabel? Hesabel! You’re here, aren’t you?”

The Red Chalice also had miracles that allowed them to control animals, similar to how Isaac implanted parasites. Instead of implanting parasites, they used a form of hypnosis. Hastel was convinced that the rat was one of Hesabel’s minions and sharply expanded her senses. A thick cloud of blood-red mist spread from her body.

In an instant, the lighthouse was shrouded in a red mist. Hesabel was in the midst of it.

Hastel’s eyes glowed with an eerie light as they scanned the mist.

“There you are!”

With a crash, massive blood-red spears erupted from the old lighthouse. When a surprise attack fails, the best move is a safe retreat. But Hesabel did the exact opposite. She leapt through the hole in the lighthouse as if she had been waiting for this moment. Ṟ𝐚𐌽ÖᛒΕș

“Damn it.”

Isaac clicked his tongue and dashed towards the lighthouse. A smooth rescue mission was out of the question now. While Hesabel kept Hastel occupied, he would have to quickly move in and extract the hostage. As he sprinted forward, countless arrows rained down on him. The human hunters who had been on watch were attacking.

Isaac deftly evaded the arrows, parrying some with Kaldwin.

It wasn’t a particularly threatening volley, but it seemed to be intentional.

Isaac quickly realized that their attack was not meant to subdue but to hinder him.

‘Their master is fighting inside, and they’re only focused on me?’

Perhaps they saw him as the greater threat. But their complete disregard for what was happening inside the tower and their singular focus on Isaac reminded him of Wallachia’s deep-rooted tradition of betrayal.

Shalok, who had followed behind, looked puzzled as he noticed Isaac had stopped.

“W-what’s happening? Why are the human hunters not trying to kill us?”

“Succession.”

“Pardon?”

The human hunters seemed reluctant to engage in combat with Isaac. It was clear that they weren’t motivated by any religious zeal or sense of duty but were merely obeying Hastel out of fear. Hastel could reduce them to a puddle of blood in an instant if they disobeyed.

But what if Hesabel, Isaac’s subordinate, were to defeat their master?

There would be no need for unnecessary conflict.

“The title of Duke Gulmar is being contested.”

***

In truth, Isaac’s statement wasn’t entirely accurate.

No one knew who would emerge victorious in the end.

But as Hastel watched Hesabel leap into the tower without hesitation, she realized that Hesabel had already achieved the minimum condition for succession—winning over the inner circle. Despite being away from the ducal house for so long, she had managed to sway the personal guards within a single day. Hastel felt both rage and a sense of admiration at the feat.

“How dare you!”

With a crash, Hastel unleashed her specialty—crimson threads—aiming to shred Hesabel to pieces. While this wasn’t effective against well-armored opponents, Wallachian nobles typically didn’t wear armor. Hesabel was no exception.

“You dare plot rebellion? After I picked you up from the gutter, you ungrateful wretch!”

“Gratitude?! You just raised me enough to consume me, just like my siblings!”

Though she was breathless with tension, Hesabel’s voice was icy.

The relationship between the master and the successor in the Red Chalice Club was complicated. Just as the Dancer valued vitality and procreation, it was an essential doctrine to always have a successor prepared.

Thus, the nobles of Wallachia would raise a talented child as their successor. Rarely would they choose their own children. The relationship between a master and a successor in the Kingdom of Wallachia was different from what was perceived in other countries.

Vampires didn’t die unless they lost a significant amount of blood. In other words, a successor couldn’t simply wait for the master to die of old age. Without taking active steps, they would remain a successor forever—or end up being devoured.

The master, after all, had also devoured their predecessor to gain their position. They knew that their successors harbored discontent. So, it was common for a successor to disappear once they had “ripened” enough. The longer a master lived, the more often their successors would change.

And Hastel Gulmar was the oldest living vampire among the three dukes of the Red Chalice Club.

“You’re still too young to bare your fangs at me, Hesabel!”

Hastel sent threads flying, causing cuts to appear on Hesabel’s skin. Her wings blocked most of them, but wounds still formed all over her body, only to heal rapidly. Hastel’s power, imbued with the blood of a god, was immense.

Hesabel had inherited a fraction of that power, but only a very small part of it.

However, she had the experience and newfound strength gained from her time with Isaac.

Swish! Hesabel blocked the threads trying to bind her with her wings. Feathers scattered and shot towards Hastel. The crimson threads couldn’t block all the feathers. Several feathers embedded themselves in Hastel’s shoulder and arm. The blood at the tips of Hesabel’s feathers tried to solidify Hastel’s blood and take control, but they dissolved instantly, disappearing into Hastel’s body.

A mocking smile spread across Hastel’s face.

“You think you can defeat me with a few drops of blood from me?”

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