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Loshutar Castle.
The decadent aristocratic air was thick with the scent of blood, and Lyle's eyes were hidden within Beatrice's hair, his blood-red pupils fixed on the Bloodstone Chalice resting in the hands of a statue in the center of the hall.
The revelry with the Loshutar Blood Clan had been going on for about seven days, and through Nia's disguise and Beatrice's assistance, Lyle had been accepted as one of their own. Just like now, as they were feeding, embracing each other, sinking their fangs into each other's necks. Lyle even suspected that vampires' regenerative abilities had been self-developed from the minimum three feedings a day, using their sharp teeth to cut each other's skin. The blood addicts would even crush each other's spine in such embraces, causing more damage amidst screams and cheers that echoed through the festivities. Whether one kind of sound or the other, both further whetted their appetites for feeding.
