"My lord, they have breached the blood barrier."
"I know. I can see that." Stryker gave his kneeling subordinate a dry stare. "And dispense with the pointless formalities. We are in a war. You ain't got time to kneel. Get back on your horse."
"Yes, my lord."
The subordinate looked a little sheepish. He whistled and then jumped atop his approaching nightmare, his chrome armor gleaming in the sun. Stryker turned back toward the direction of Claude's castle and watched the battle taking place there.
"Oh, they are sustaining quite the heavy losses. Seems like the upstart isn't so bad at strategizing. Though, I suspect that it probably isn't his plan. He must be relying on the experience of the Witch of Winter or Claude. I remember Claude isn't a bad strategist himself."
The subordinate said nothing.
"Then again, if such competent strategists are willing to subordinate themselves to him, then they must have a reason for doing so. Nonetheless, the fact remains that he's a threat to me." Stryker continued to muse to himself. Then he grinned and made his decision. "All troops, charge forward!"
"My lord?" The subordinate was taken aback, and had to kick his nightmare to keep pace with Stryker. The vampire archduke had already surged to the front, Maine grunting excitedly underneath him. The Berserk King raised his sword and pointed toward the front.
"Hurry! This is our chance!" He couldn't help but chuckle. "We'll catch Virginia's forces between the upstart and our own, and crush her once and for all during the confusion. Then we'll move onward and annihilate the upstart's faction! We'll seize Claude's castle!"
"Shouldn't we wait for them to wear each other down first?" the subordinate asked, confused. Stryker chortled.
"They have already worn each other down enough. Look at the losses Virginia's Crimson Tide has sustained!"
"But the defenders…"
Stryker snorted. "The defenders," he sneered. "Consist of orcs, kobolds and elves. The elves may be a dangerous enemy, yes, but they are vulnerable in close combat. As for the orcs and kobolds, they are nothing compared to us vampires."
He glared at the distant scene of battle.
"And if we wait too long, Virginia and her Crimson Tide will destroy the upstart, take control of the castle and seize all the glory for herself. There will be nothing more legitimizing of her claim to the throne than defeating the bearer of the Demonic Emperor's crest. We cannot allow Virginia to claim the credit for that. I have to be the one who slays the bearer of the Demonic Emperor's crest."
"You are right as always, my lord." his subordinate bowed his head.
Neither of them questioned why Stryker was so confident that Virginia and her Crimson Tide would win. They just assumed that she would lead her red army to victory because they were vampires and therefore inherently superior to whatever forces that the upstart had arrayed against them. Of course Virginia would win. There was no other possible outcome.
Or perhaps there was, but it was so unlikely that it didn't bear any thought. Furthermore, even in the off chance that Virginia lost, Stryker's plan remained the same. His goal was to crush both Virginia and the upstart in this decisive battle and emerge as the overall victor.
Then he could turn his eyes on becoming the next Demonic Emperor.
"My lord, there are undead warriors emerging from the ground," his subordinate warned.
"Oh? I see them."
Stryker couldn't help but be both amused and impressed when he saw how the Crimson Tide was being mired in a furious melee with the sudden appearance of so many undead. Ghouls, zombies and skeletons were erupting from the blood ramp that the red armored vampires had congealed to the ramparts and were bogging the attackers down.
"Seems like the young upstart has tricks of his own." Stryker paused to consider the implications. "I did hear that he has command over two demonic legions. But now that I witness it for myself, I can't help but be amazed. To think that that emotionless and extremely pragmatic Lindley would side with the upstart, of all people…"
As he thought, they must have seen something in that young upstart. Stryker frowned, wondering if he had made a mistake. At first, he had dismissed the youngster, believing that he possessed nothing more than luck. He had been impressed when he heard that the upstart eliminated a conclave of anti-Demonic Emperor vampire nobles by himself, but given how low ranked those nobles were, he wasn't that surprised.
Silvia Winters had always been too soft-hearted for her own good. And Stryker hadn't given the human Heroes much thought. Yeah, Vincent Lucard – the former vampire king – had succumbed to this new upstart, but surely that was more down to misfortune than anything?
However, Stryker couldn't ignore the multiple fortunes that the upstart had experienced. There was beginning to be far too many of them to simply dismiss them as the whims of the gods.
"You make your own luck," he whispered under his breath.
"What was that, my lord?" his subordinate asked, mistaking his mumble for an order.
"No, nothing." Stryker tightened his grip in Maine's reins. "We should hurry. I'm looking forward to facing this young man in combat."
An excited smile curled over his lips, his lengthened fangs just barely visible.
"Perhaps he might prove to be a worthy opponent."
*
Within a long subterranean tunnel, a large group moved stealthily. Despite the total darkness, the figures strode across the damp, rocky terrain with utmost confidence. Clearly they could see in the pitch blackness.
Bats fluttered about, but many of them settled down on the humanoid figures, bowing their heads and folding their wings in subservience. They couldn't actually see the figures, of course, clad in midnight black armor as they were, but bats never relied on their eyes to begin with. Rather, they used echolocation or ultrasound to feel their way around.
Not only that, they could sense a kinship with the people moving through the tunnel.
"I'm so glad you found this path, Larson."
Gregory was guffawing, his laughter echoing across the confines of the tunnel. Despite the deceptively narrow space, the underground cavern was still vast enough to accommodate the thousand-strong regiment of the duke's Dark Night. Despite Gregory's boisterous laughter, the vampires were otherwise moving silently, their armored boots not making a single sound despite pounding upon solid rock.
"Not at all, my lord." Despite his humble words, Larson couldn't keep the pride out of his voice. "I just thought it prudent to seek an alternative route to Claude's castle. With both Virginia's and Stryker's forces assaulting the upstart's fortress, it will be difficult for us to break in. it is also highly likely that we will sustain massive losses if we attempt to do so."
"Of course." Gregory's lip curled. "Both Virginia and Stryker are as much our enemies as that young upstart. They will no sooner fall upon our forces after routing his pathetic army."
"Then why are we seeking a way into the castle?" another of the Dark Night knights asked, puzzled. "Should we not let the three major forces decimate each other before swooping in once they are all weakened?"
"Because achieving a symbolic victory is just as important as attaining a military one," Gregory explained. "We cannot allow Virginia or Stryker to kill the upstart. I must be the one who slays the bearer of the Demonic Emperor crest."
"Oh."
The knight didn't ask further. The elite vampire knights of the Dark Night were intelligent enough to recognize that assassinating the bearer of the Demonic Crest will grant the slayer legitimacy over who sat on the throne of Demonic Emperor. After all, the demons followed the general consensus of respecting the strong. For the Demonic Emperor to command all twelve Divine Generals and their respective demonic legions, he must possess awe-inspiring strength and remarkable wits.
And anyone able to best such an existence in a duel was tantamount to the victor's strength. Even if the young upstart himself wasn't actually strong, it didn't matter. What mattered was that most demons believed that the new Demonic Emperor was a mythical and powerful figure. Therefore the person who could defeat the chosen of the gods would be deemed as someone even more amazing, to be able to defy the will of the gods and go against the flow of fate itself.
Gregory intended to be such a person.
"There's one problem, though."
"Huh?" Gregory spun to confront the knight who spoke up. Being an elite knight, the vampire warrior showed no fear despite bearing the full brunt of his lord's glare. Meeting the gaze of the Knight of the Night evenly, he boldly offered his opinion.
"The successor to the Demonic Emperor seems to be leading from the front. From what we have seen earlier, he was personally manning one of the ramparts. Most likely we will only locate him in the thickest of the fighting, commanding the defense against the Berserk King and the Blood Queen."
He then turned to sweep a glance across the interior of the dark cavern they were currently traversing.
"Forgive me for being blunt, my lord, but I do not think this tunnel leads us to the frontlines."
"No, they do not," Larson admitted. Gregory snorted.
"What of it? If the young upstart is bold enough to personally lead the defenses against Stryker and Virginia and fight on the frontlines, then I will revise my opinion of him. His courage is admirable, if misguided. However, do not forget, he has the Witch of Winter, the Blood Sword Demon and the Lich Lord by his side. They will ensure that he doesn't fall into danger even if he does something reckless and foolish. He won't die so quickly, even against the Berserk King and the Blood Queen."
"That is true. Warriors of their pedigree cannot be underestimated." Larson nodded in agreement. "If anything, there is a chance that the successor might actually win against those two warlords. But even if he does prevail, he will exhaust his fighting strength in doing so, perhaps sustain heavy wounds. We can capitalize on that."
It might sound dishonorable to someone with the reputation of the Knight of Night, but Gregory was aware that the victor could always rewrite history to his liking. He wasn't above taking advantage of his foe's weaknesses to launch a decisive and decapitating strike.
"Not only that," Gregory added. "This tunnel will lead us past the walls and right into the heart of their fortress…to where their headquarters is located. Even if the upstart is recklessly and courageously fighting on the frontlines, he will be forced to retreat if his command center is under threat. There, we will strike. He will be isolated from the bulk of his forces, which makes things a lot easier for us."
There were a few murmurs among the black knights when they realized the wisdom of their lord's strategy.
"How much further, Larson?" Gregory asked, turning back to his second-in-command. The knight consulted a spell and squinted further, his vampire eyes easily picking out details even in the gloom.
"Another five hundred meters and we'll reach the exit. It should lead to an opening in the courtyard inside the castle itself."
"Excellent. Pick up the pace."
They were about a hundred meters away from the exit – from this distance, they could see light streaming through the grilles that framed the aperture – when Gregory raised a hand and signaled for the entire regiment to stop.
"My lord? What's the matter?" Larson asked, bewildered. Gregory scowled.
"They posted defenders here. Seems like Claude isn't unaware of this subterranean tunnel, after all."
"Actually, it wasn't Claude who spotted this tunnel." A solitary figure stepped out, interposing himself between the Dark Night regiment and the grilles that sealed the exit of the tunnel. His silhouette was the only thing they could see for a moment, with the blinding sun shining from behind him. "It was our young liege who found this tunnel, having communicated with the bats in here. Turns out that he was right. The enemy would try to exploit this gap in our defenses and come through here."
At his words, the bats flapped their wings and flew away, all of them perching around the solitary figure before bowing their heads in compliance.
"You…" Gregory's jaw dropped when he recognized the aged handsome features, white hair and grizzled expression of the figure. "Baron Valencia…the Blood Sword Demon!"
"Ah, I see that you still remember that amusing title." Valencia tilted his head to the side. "Then you must know that I cannot allow you to pass through here. Would all of you kindly do this old man a favor and turn back?"
"Hah!" Gregory barked out in harsh laughter. "You know as well as I do that there is no turning back. We are here to take the head of your so-called young liege."
"Then you leave me no choice." Raising a gloved hand, Valencia snapped his fingers.
From the shadows, a large group of vampires emerged and formed ranks. A hundred strong legion of vampire swordsmen and swordswomen, each clad in pristine white armor and carrying an exquisitely crafted blade. Their trousers and greaves were midnight black and each of them bore the signature crest of Baron Valencia – a shield-shaped logo with a black bat perched atop the white top half, and the bottom half of the oblong was striped red and yellow. A single blue strip stretched horizontally between the colored halves, displaying Valencia's name.
For a moment, Gregory was astonished. Then he laughed again, his voice filled with utter disbelief.
"Have you truly gone senile, old man?" he scoffed. "At first, I thought you were mad for siding with a young upstart whose only claim to the throne is some stupid crest. Someone of your caliber shouldn't waste your talents serving a foolish youngster who doesn't know his place."
"I have grown too old and tired of politics," Valencia responded mildly. "I do not wish to participate in this pointless warfare between you warlords. Besides, the young man has been chosen by the gods. Who am I to defy their will?"
"That's your excuse? It was the decision of the gods?"
"Hmm…you have a point." Valencia smiled. "I did initially share your opinion, you know? But having met the young man in question, I was impressed with his abilities. I honestly believe he has what it takes to claim the throne."
"You really have gone senile." Gregory shook his head.
"Have you met him?" Valencia countered. "Perhaps you should withhold judgment until you actually see him. Not that you will have the chance. My duty is to eliminate any enemy who attempts to trespass onto our castle through this route, and if you do not turn back now, I'm afraid I will have to destroy you."
Gregory burst out laughing. "Destroy us? There's only a hundred of you against my thousand-strong Dark Night regiment! Have you lost your mind, you old fogey?"
"So what?" Valencia smiled calmly and adopted a sword stance, raising his blade in front of his face. His eyes flashed coldly and amusedly. "Against the likes of your so-called elite regiment, a hundred of us will be more than enough."