“The Altar of Blood Spirits? Does that really exist?”
“It does.”
Dallon nodded in response to the dwarf’s astonished voice.
The Altar of Blood Spirits.
A sacred place coveted by all necromancers, a cursed land where smoke from burning human hearts never ceases to rise.
Rumor had it that the evil god Temomron had been sacrificing humans on the altar every day for the past four hundred years to summon his avatar.
Dallon knew it wasn’t just a rumor. He had seen the Altar of Blood Spirits with his own eyes, even if only through a monitor.
He had not only witnessed it but had also used the altar himself.
“If you say it exists, then it must. I always thought it was just a tall tale. How could something so horrific exist in this world…?”
“It’s not surprising it was dismissed as a rumor. The Altar of Blood Spirits was all talk, no one ever found it.”
In the four hundred years since the Vampire War, many had ventured into the vampire count’s territory.
Black magicians and necromancers, fleeing from all over the continent, sought refuge there, followed by paladins and bounty hunters pursuing them.
Even the empire, which had suffered greatly from the Vampire War, sent reconnaissance missions like the Dawn Knights to scout the land regularly.
Yet, the Altar of Blood Spirits remained a legendary myth, with no concrete evidence or credible sightings.
“There was a time when the paladins were so determined to find it that they were ready for armed conflict…”
“You can’t find it through ordinary means. The altar is constantly moving.”
“Moving… as if it has legs?”
“Something like that.”
Dallon tossed a few twigs into the campfire. The half-burnt sausages crackled, sending sparks flying.
“Even if you know where it is, getting in is another matter.”
This was why he didn’t use the unique skill, Dream Pursuit, derived from Ackerman’s drafting method.
Knowing the location didn’t mean you could enter, and just as the avatar of Suum had sensed his pursuit, the Blood Spirit would likely notice Dallon’s gaze.
“So, what’s your plan?”
“We’ll use a local guide.”
“A local?”
Felber tilted his head, while Sienna clapped her hands, understanding immediately.
“Even the Altar of Blood Spirits needs sacrifices. But they won’t accept just any offering.”
“Exactly.”
“Human hunting. So that’s why vampires have that culture.”
Sienna’s eyes sparkled as she pieced together the information, and Dallon smiled back.
“We plan to turn their human hunting culture against them. We’ll disguise ourselves as the most tempting offerings.”
In the dim forest near the border, Luca was running.
His breath was ragged, and his throat burned with acid, but he couldn’t stop.
Grrr…
The sound of hunting dogs seemed to echo behind him.
The dogs, with their rotting flesh and exposed bones, were undead.
Even the vampires’ hunting dogs were undead. The blood they drained from humans became a spell to raise the dead from their graves.
These risen corpses then controlled humans, extracting fresh blood and labor.
It was a horrific cycle that had persisted in the land of vampires for centuries.
A few days ago, Luca and his friends decided to escape that cycle.
“Luca! Over here!”
A whisper came from ahead. The boy, nearly losing his mind, looked up sharply.
Another boy, one of the friends who had fled the village with him, peeked out from the bushes.
Grabbing his trembling legs, Luca stumbled into the bushes, where his friend was hiding in a shallow pit.
He leaned against the slope of the pit, his dry lips parting to speak.
“Water… do you have any water?”
“Here. Drink sparingly. It’s the last of it.”
The leather pouch was light. Sipping the water in small gulps, he felt a bit more alive.
With the burning thirst quenched, memories of the past few days flashed through his mind.
Their hometown was a small village within the vampire count’s territory.
A lifeless land. The soil was so barren that more than half of the seeds planted would wither and die.
Every year, vampires from the city demanded one or two humans, and the village would draw lots to decide who to sacrifice.
His parents said they had no choice, as it had been that way for generations. His grandfather, nearing seventy, took it a step further.
He argued that other countries took grain as taxes, but at least the vampires didn’t demand that.
”…That’s nonsense. Shavir said so.”
She was the smartest person in the village.
Unlike the adults who only knew farming and haymaking, she could read the words on paper.
She was knowledgeable about other countries and cultures and occasionally shared those stories with Luca.
“She said there’s a place called the City Union. A country where people aren’t sacrificed. If you have the skills, you can not only survive but become wealthy.”
Resisting the vampires’ undead army with their frail bodies was impossible. Shavir said escaping was the only answer.
Escaping to the City Union would be ideal, but the Northern Three Kingdoms or the Western Empire weren’t bad options either.
She had talked about escaping together, but soon after, she left the village.
It wasn’t the escape she had hoped for. She was taken to the city after being chosen in the annual lottery.
Rustle.
”…!”
The bushes rustled. Faint footsteps were mixed in.
There was no time for reminiscing. If the hunting dogs were close, hiding was pointless.
”…Let’s go.”
Moving before being discovered was the only option. Luca tapped his friend’s shoulder.
”…Huh?”
Or at least, he tried to.
Before he could touch his friend’s shoulder, he felt the bony scapula of a skeleton instead.
“Where do you think you’re going in such a hurry?”
A figure emerged from the bushes ahead.
Pale skin, red eyes, and bloodless lips.
The man bared his sharp fangs in a grin. A vampire.
“An illusion spell…”
“Oh, you know about magic? From what I overheard, you seem quite smart, unlike the other ignorant folks…”
The vampire chuckled. This hunt had been more successful than expected.
“This one’s a rare find. I could present you to the baron.”
The boy looked down at the leather pouch he was holding.
What he thought was a water pouch given by his friend was filled with a red liquid.
“Eek! Blood, it’s blood…!”
“Don’t worry. I won’t kill you here.”
The anesthetic mixed in the blood quickly clouded the boy’s consciousness. The vampire chuckled, ordering the skeletal soldier to bind the boy.
This hunt was indeed successful. They had captured several young humans with fresh blood, and even a particularly clever one.
Offering a valuable human sacrifice would surely earn a fitting reward. The vampire dreamed of being granted a new blood power, smiling slyly.
“With the Blood Spirit gathering an army, I might even secure a position there…”
“Ah, finally found you.”
Rustle.
At that moment, the bushes parted, revealing a group. The vampire frowned, quickly scanning them.
A warrior from the north, a dwarf, a boy, two mages, and a woman.
More prey? But they didn’t seem to be from around here.
Moreover, the fact that he hadn’t sensed them until they were this close suggested they were quite formidable. Where had such people come from, especially when they were at peace with the empire?
“Look at him rolling his eyes.”
The warrior grinned. The vampire involuntarily stepped back.
Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t sense any of the undead minions he had spread out to catch the boys.
All that remained was the skeletal soldier carrying the boy…
Screeeech―!
As the last one fell with its skull split in half, the vampire finally understood his situation.
Silently, he clasped his hands together. The warrior nodded, speaking.
“Now you’re seeing things clearly. You’re going to be our guide.”
Even in the land of the vampire count, humans lived.
Given their need for life force derived from blood, it was only natural for human villages to exist.
Since the Vampire War, the vampire count had established a system to ensure a stable supply of blood for his vampires.
They cut off information at the source and isolated the villages from the outside world.
The essence of this system was to make the subjugated believe they were living not too badly.
“Damn, it’s like a fantasy version of North Korea.”
“North Korea? Where is that?”
”…Never mind.”
Of course, even in a medieval land with limited communication and technology, perfect control was impossible.
It was inevitable that some would try to escape or resist.
The vampire hunts on the count’s land were a cultural practice of hunting humans.
“They say every city and village is under a spell. If someone steps outside the designated area, the vampires are alerted.”
”…Yes, that’s correct.”
“And hunters like you capture those who stray.”
“Regular taxes alone aren’t enough to sustain the bloodline. For necromancy research, we need fresh, high-quality offerings.”
If Lucia were here, she would have decapitated this guy in an instant.
In any case, without any torture or threats, the kneeling vampire answered the questions willingly.
Perhaps it was because he had already sensed the vast difference in power when the undead around him were swiftly dealt with.
He seemed to instinctively know that the axe, which had split the skull of a skeleton soldier in a single blow, could just as easily split his own head.
“Hmm…”
Dalen listened to the vampire’s testimony with half an ear, then glanced at the unconscious boys and girls on the ground and his companions.
There were six children who had escaped from the village, coincidentally matching the number of his group.
“The spell can’t distinguish gender or age, can it?”
“Ah, no. The spell’s range is too broad for that level of precision.”
“Good enough.”
Dalen stood up. He pulled a few silver coins from his pocket dimension and slipped them into the children’s clothes, then nodded at the vampire who was staring blankly.
“Take those six to the border, and instead, take us.”
”…What?”
The vampire looked confused. Dalen tapped the head of the axe at his waist and spoke again.
“We’re quite valuable offerings, aren’t we? Present us to the baron you serve.”