Later that evening, as both groups gathered around the fire, the officers were absorbed in discussing logistics and plans.
Meanwhile, the lower-ranked soldiers seized the chance to feast, knowing it might be their last proper meal before days of surviving on dry, hard rations.
"Tell me, pretty boy," Lugh teased, biting into a chicken wing and eyeing Ivan, who was quietly enjoying a small bowl of salad. "Is that your secret to looking so… delicate?"
Ivan didn't even flinch at the jab. "No. But eating too much meat makes me gassy," he replied with a deadpan expression, earning a snicker from the nearby soldiers.
"Can't you just eat without talking?" Anabelle snapped, glaring at Lugh. His sloppy eating habits were already spilling bits of chicken onto her side of the blanket. Disgusted, she shifted farther away from him.
"Sergeant, your soup is getting cold," Campbell said, nudging Cedar, who seemed lost in thought. Cedar snapped back to reality and noticed his untouched bowl of chicken soup.
"Where's Len when I need him?" he mumbled under his breath.
Since leaving the capital, Len had stopped appearing in his dreams, and Cedar hadn't heard from him. Len had mentioned needing some time away, likely staying behind in the capital to deal with matters related to Orcus, the other vampire emperor.
Meanwhile, back in the capital, inside a luxurious yet intimate night bar, a pale man with piercing crimson eyes sat at the bar.
Len swirled the last remnants of his cocktail in the glass before downing it with a satisfied sigh. The room was small but elegant, with a long bar counter and several tables positioned to give patrons a view of the moonlit city.
But the calm ambiance abruptly changed.
Mist began to rise from the floor, swirling eerily as the temperature dropped. The bartender and guests froze in place, their bodies lifeless as though they were mere puppets.
"Well, Len," a sultry voice called out, breaking the silence. "Still indulging in your addiction to booze, even after all these centuries?"
A striking woman emerged from the mist. Her curves were accentuated by her dress, which, though modestly sealed, hinted at a dangerous allure.
"And you, Irina, still pretending to be a young woman?" Len shot back, his crimson eyes unwavering as they met hers.
Irina's eyebrows twitched at the jab but quickly regained her composure. Behind her, six figures materialized from the mist.
Among them, three stood out: a muscular blonde man, a sharp-looking individual with a scar running across his left eye, and a beautiful woman with blue scales adorning her elongated ears.
"Orcus. Erik," Len greeted the two men with a nod of respect. These were no ordinary vampires—they were emperors like him, among the most powerful of their kind. It was rare for so many vampire emperors to gather in one place.
Len's gaze then shifted to the blue-scaled woman. His eyes narrowed, brimming with murderous intent. "And you, Charlotte. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't behead you right here."
Charlotte opened her mouth to speak, but Erik raised a hand, silencing her. "Allow me," he said.
"You already know, Len. You've seen Asterius's descendant, haven't you?"
Len's expression darkened. "Asterius… joined you?"
"He's dead," Erik stated bluntly.
Len's fist slammed down on the bar, shattering it into splinters. "Impossible!" he roared, his voice echoing in the frozen bar.
Erik remained calm, meeting Len's furious gaze. "After the Dusk War, when you went into slumber to recover from your injuries, Asterius remained unscathed. But he was… lost. He wandered the world like a ghost, a shell of his former self."
He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "Then… love struck."
Len scoffed, his fury barely contained. "Love? What does that have to do with his death? Emperor-level creatures don't die of old age."
"No, but his lover was a merely mortal. A noblewoman—neither a mage nor a fighter. She couldn't bear his child. So he gave her half of his power."
Len's face twisted in disbelief. "You're telling me he betrayed the Circus? That he chose some mortal woman over 'L' and died like a pathetic human, leaving behind a mixed-blood lineage?"
"It wasn't betrayal," Orcus interjected, producing two objects: a rapier and a small pot containing a delicate white lily. "He left these for you—his weapon and the remainder of his power. As part of our agreement, we've safeguarded them until now."
The silver rapier, though tarnished and worn with age, was streaked with a peculiar, unchanging blood that seemed to defy the passage of time. The lily, glowing faintly, exuded a soothing, ethereal aura that seemed to calm the surrounding atmosphere.
Len snatched the items without hesitation, his grip firm as his crimson eyes glinted with unresolved anger. Yet, his fury simmered as his focus shifted back to Charlotte.
"And what about you?" he demanded sharply.
"She's a contracted spirit," Erik explained, stepping in before Charlotte could speak. "She served Asterius's descendants for generations, fulfilling her contract faithfully. But she was never a slave. Now that her obligations have ended, she's free."
"However, if a mage proved powerful enough, they might still form a new contract with her. Unfortunately for Asterius's bloodline, they've squandered their strength. They don't even have a Demigod-level mage left among them—they have no right to claim her anymore."
Len's gaze lingered on Charlotte for a moment, cold and analytical, before he turned back to Erik with a slight huff. "Hmph. Fair enough."
Irina stepped forward then, her casual smile belying the sharp intent in her eyes. "We didn't come here just for this, Len. There's more. We have an offer for you—join us, just as Asterius once did."
Len's eyes narrowed. His voice was low and sharp. "And what exactly would I gain from this arrangement?"
"Knowledge," Irina said smoothly, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Intelligence accumulated over millennia—especially about the remaining members of the Circus. Rest assured, we won't demand much from you. But it's time you returned to where you truly belong—with the blood society."
Len leaned back, his expression unreadable. "If you're serious, start by telling me about the Circus."
Irina's smile widened slightly, though her eyes remained cold. "Antares and Nat vanished during the Mage War. Queen? She died, but not because of old age. And Lydia…" She paused, savoring the moment. "Lydia betrayed the Circus. She orchestrated Queen's death."
Len's crimson eyes flared with fury. "What?! Lydia?"
Irina nodded, clearly relishing his reaction. "She pledged her loyalty to the Demon Kingdom. And to solidify her devotion, she killed Queen and offered her corpse as a tribute."
The room trembled as Len's rage surged. Power radiated from him like a tangible force. The once-calm air grew heavy, oppressive. "How dare she!"
Irina's tone turned mocking, her words fanning the flames of his anger. "Oh, mighty Len, shouldn't you rush to avenge your comrades? Especially 'L'? Surely this betrayal demands swift retribution."
"STOP PROVOKING HIM!" Erik shouted, stepping between them. "We're not here to fight."
Orcus cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the tension. "Len, Lydia is in the Western Continent. But know this: if you enter their territory unaligned, you'll find no mercy. Demons and their abominations will tear you apart, reanimate your corpse as a mindless undead, and forge your soul into a demonic weapon."
He paused, his tone softening, almost persuasive. "You know well they have the greatest number of Overlord-level entities left after the Dusk War. Even one of them is enough to crush you like an insect. However…"
Len's cold gaze locked onto Orcus. "What is it?"
"If you agree to join the Council, we can arrange a safe opportunity for you to confront Lydia. Whether you wish to question her or fight her, the choice will be yours," Orcus explained. "It's time, Len. Time to come under the holy protection of the great master Wilhelm and reclaim your place among us."
Len stood, his demeanor icy and resolute. "Fine. Take me to the Bloody Heart."
The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension palpable. Then, as quickly as the mist had emerged, it disappeared. The bar returned to its former state, as if nothing had occurred.
The bartender, cleaning a glass cup, noticed a finished cocktail on the counter. The ice inside hadn't even melted.
"Strange," he mumbled, inspecting the drink. "Why is this here? Wasn't this seat empty?"