I killed a vampire.
It’s true that I killed it, but I hadn’t been given permission to do so.
I worried I might be scolded for acting rashly, but instead, the priest smiled with satisfaction, as if he was pleased with my actions.
“Well done, Aiden. You caught a vampire hiding among the villagers. Excellent work. But let me ask you just one thing. Did that vampire die in pain?”
“…In pain, you ask?”
“Yes.”
I tried to recall whether the villager—the vampire—had died in pain, just as the priest said.
But I couldn’t be sure.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I tried to kill it quietly. I started from the head with a saw blade. It didn’t have a mouth to scream or a face to show pain. The wounds kept regenerating, so I had to keep cutting.”
“…Oh?”
“Ah, but it kept flailing its limbs, so I think it must’ve been in pain.”
Camilla, who had been listening silently, looked horrified.
But the priest’s eyes showed nothing but deep satisfaction.
“…Good. That’s enough.”
“Was what I did wrong?”
“Whether it was wrong or not doesn’t matter, Aiden. You killed the vampire right in front of you. In the long run, that will always be to our benefit. Remember this: a hunter must always rule over the fear of vampires.”
Unlike Camilla, who looked at me with doubt, the priest seemed to be an optimist.
He took off his fedora and tucked it under his arm, gazing out over the village.
The village was eerily quiet.
Just moments ago, I had killed a villager.
Yet, even with a bloodstained outsider wandering the village center, there was no real reaction.
“It seems this village has already fallen into the hands of the vampires.”
“…Are you saying a vampire did something as bold as taking over an entire village?”
Camilla asked, and the priest nodded as he gently ran his fingers over the cross-shaped sword in his hand.
“Yes. It’s possible a powerful vampire is behind this.”
As I quietly listened to their conversation, I noticed a boy at the village entrance.
He was the one who had been there when the villager led me to the barn—he had fled from the scene.
He was now hiding behind a large tree, watching us.
Even in the night, my vision was as clear as day for some reason.
I approached him.
The moment he saw me, covered in blood, his eyes widened.
“Hey, kid, you’re…”
“I-I’m sorry!”
Just as I began to speak, the boy dropped to his knees and begged for his life in panic.
He moved like someone who had done it many times before.
As his voice rang out, I began to sense countless gazes from behind the village’s windows.
With my sight, I could make out the faces beyond the glass.
They were all children—none of them even in their early teens.
“…Kid, I don’t plan on killing you.”
“R-Really?”
“Yes. I’m just curious. Why are there no adults in this village?”
“That’s…”
The boy looked toward the barn I had entered earlier with the villager.
He looked like he feared something—like death—might walk out of there.
Sensing his fear, I added,
“If you’re afraid of that man from earlier—he’s dead.”
“…What?”
“I killed him. He’s gone now. It’s just you kids left in this village.”
Upon hearing that, the boy didn’t show despair or horror.
He smiled.
“R-Really?”
“Yes.”
Camilla frowned.
Children—boys and girls—began cautiously stepping out of their houses upon hearing our conversation.
Eventually, the boy at the front grabbed my pants and started to cry.
“Please, I’m begging you. Something’s wrong with everyone.”
The boy burst into tears and snot as he began to explain.
His story went like this:
One day, a fortune-teller came to the village and settled in.
He generously offered advice to the villagers, and when they followed his words, their orchards flourished and their hunting yields increased.
In less than a few weeks, the farmers and hunters of the village began to depend on the fortune-teller.
Then one day, the fortune-teller approached the village chief and claimed that if they performed a certain ritual, they could reap an extraordinary apple harvest that year.
Due to the recent war in the territory, taxes had skyrocketed, and the village chief was desperate.
He eagerly took the fortune-teller’s bait.
Thus, all the adults of the village followed the fortune-teller into a cave he had prepared.
The only one to return was a single villager, reeking of blood.
That person, wielding a club made from an apple tree branch, began to oppress the children who were left behind.
He threatened to kill anyone who stepped outside their homes—and to prove he meant it, he killed a boy as an example.
“Blood Frenzy. Blood Magic.”
The priest, listening silently, suddenly spoke.
Camilla nodded.
“Yes. It looks like he turned all the village’s adults into thralls.”
“A vampire that uses blood magic… we’ve caught a big one,” the priest said, now sounding deadly serious.
Camilla’s expression had hardened as well.
As a rookie, I couldn’t quite follow what they were talking about.
“Um, what’s blood magic?”
“It’s a kind of magic used by vampires. Unlike regular magic, it’s closer to the realm of sorcery,” the priest explained.
Magic.
To be honest, I’d always doubted its existence. I tilted my head in confusion.
Camilla sighed and added,
“You might not know, but the world is full of mysteries. Witches and mages do exist. They’re just not as hostile as vampires. Even in our own hunter guild, there are hunters who use magic.”
“I… I didn’t know.”
“It’s understandable. In any case, vampires who use blood magic are extremely powerful. Basic users can only control thralls, but those with mastery can shoot blood like spears or even stop someone’s blood flow with a single touch—killing them instantly.”
“Camilla-senpai, isn’t that… really dangerous?”
“It’s very dangerous. Rookie hunters like us shouldn’t be facing someone like that.”
The priest finished her sentence.
He was already staring toward the northwest of the village with his remaining eye.
I too could smell the heavy scent of blood coming from that direction.
“Camilla, Aiden. Stay here and protect the children. I’ll go to the vampire’s den alone. This enemy is far too powerful for you to handle.”
He truly seemed intent on storming the vampire’s lair alone.
I hesitantly tugged on Camilla’s sleeve.
“Camilla-senpai… will the priest be okay?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Huh?”
Camilla frowned, as if she couldn’t believe I’d asked such a stupid question.
“That man right in front of you is one of the founding members of the Hunter’s Guild. He’s killed over a thousand vampires.”
“…Oh.”
I had guessed he was an exceptional hunter, but he was far more of a legend than I imagined.
Still, Camilla didn’t seem willing to let the priest go alone.
She drew her saw-blade sword and followed him.
“I’ll go with you.”
“Camilla, this isn’t something you can handle,” the priest said with a shake of his head.
But Camilla jerked her chin in my direction, signaling for me to speak.
Half-pushed forward, I stepped up and said,
“I-I’ll come too. Please, let me join you.”
“…Haa.”
Seeing two people plead, the priest sighed and shook his head as if he had no choice.
“…Fine. But do not leave my side.”
Meanwhile, in the vampire’s lair…
The vampire sorcerer Zursach finally realized that his plan had gone a little—no, very—off course.
He had successfully infiltrated the village and turned all able-bodied adults into his thralls.
With those dozens of thralls and the remaining young children in the village as sacrifices, he intended to elevate his status among the blood kin.
And the ritual to do so was only a few nights away.
However, the blood energy that Jursach had spread throughout the village informed him that one of the thralls he had stationed there had perished.
“Tsk.”
A thrall had died.
That could only mean the hunters had caught the scent.
Not that it was a big problem.
Jursach was a skilled vampire blood mage.
To him, hunters were merely slightly troublesome humans.
Or so he thought.
Until he saw who the hunters were that had arrived at his hideout.
“…Wh-What the hell…?”
Using blood magic to peer outside the cave, Jursach recoiled in horror.
Three hunters were walking straight toward the cave he was hiding in.
His gaze locked on the old man leading the group—white hair, a single eye, and a greatsword shaped like a cross gripped in hand.
A firm posture and strong build, completely at odds with his age.
All of this pointed to the worst possible conclusion.
“The Priest…”
Also known simply as “The Priest.”
Impossible not to know.
Among vampires, he was half-legend, half-death incarnate.
The very first hunter, feared even by the Purebloods, and the most terrifying of them all.
Known as the most ruthless and meticulous of all hunters, Jursach now found himself in the worst predicament of his life.
Even after nearly a hundred years of living, he knew—there was no way he could win against that Priest.
“I have to escape.”
Rituals or whatever—it meant nothing if he died.
Even if he succeeded in becoming a higher-level blood noble, he still only had one life.
And Jursach was not a vampire foolish enough to throw that life away.
“All of you, rush out and fight the Priest. You can die. No—die for me. Die and blind the Priest.”
He gave the order, and the mindless thralls obeyed without question.
Jursach cast his blood magic and transformed himself into a gaseous form.
If he used the pitch-black darkness devoid of moonlight, there was still a chance he could escape the Priest’s sharp senses.
The hunters stormed into the cave.
They cut down the thralls that filled the path.
Flesh and blood splattered in a gruesome battle.
With a single swing of his blade, the Priest decapitated several thralls at once.
Those struck by the sanctified blade couldn’t even regenerate, disintegrating into ash.
In a flash, the cave passage became a slaughterhouse.
A true monster.
Even a powerful Pureblood would have a hard time staying alive against that one.
But the Priest, preoccupied with cutting down the thralls before him, didn’t notice the vampire in gaseous form gliding past his head.
‘Fool… You’ll regret this.’
Jursach cheered inwardly and made his escape.
…Or at least, he tried to.
‘What… is that kid?’
As a misty, translucent form, Jursach should have been invisible in this darkness.
Any normal human wouldn’t have been able to see him.
But the white-haired hunter was staring right at him.
Coincidence? Jursach moved slightly—and the boy’s gaze followed.
Then, the boy turned his head as if to call out to the Priest.
That’s when Jursach realized—he had been spotted.
“Damn it!”
Jursach dispelled his gaseous form and grabbed the boy’s wrist before he could speak.
“You! You ruined my plan!”
Enraged that a rookie dared to spot him and furious that his plans were crumbling, Jursach cast blood magic.
When physical contact is made, a blood mage can manipulate the victim’s bloodstream.
Jursach intended to freeze all of the boy’s blood and kill him instantly.
But…
“Are you… a vampire?”
“…What?”
The boy didn’t die.
His blood didn’t stop.
In fact, as if mocking Jursach’s interference, the blood inside him flowed nobly, untouchable.
Jursach was bewildered.
Why wasn’t his blood magic working?
What kind of blood was this? It was almost… awe-inspiring.
No way…
“A Pureblood…”
Jursach muttered with a stunned expression—
“An opening!”
—and the boy, not missing the moment, drove his serrated blade forward.