#Episode 103
[Pursuit of the Puppet] was an advanced spell that cast red threads upon nearby living humans, allowing the caster to track their presence.
Using [Pursuit of the Puppet] not just on a few but on hundreds of people at once—this was something even a high-ranking vampire could not normally accomplish.
The first Menorah of the Vampire Lord.
A name known as “The Magician.”
Only Strigon van Vassenar could reach such a level.
The golden-haired vampire, Strigon, snapped his fingers, and the dangling threads absorbed his magical energy, illuminating with a radiant glow.
Those unaware of the crimson threads tightening around their throats struggled desperately, trying to flee or hide from the vampires.
Beyond the collapsed ceiling, the moon had crept overhead. The mist, bathed in moonlight, shimmered in silvery hues.
Midnight had passed, and the night had grown longer than the day.
It was the time when the power of darkness strengthened.
And so, the slaughter began.
***
From the moment Bernardo devoted himself to the Church of Lamphas, people whispered that he was destined to become a future cardinal. His divine power was immense.
However, mastering such overwhelming divine energy required rigorous discipline.
At present, the amount of divine energy Bernardo could control was significant—but only to the extent expected of a holy knight.
Even so, if brute force was all that was needed, he was more than capable.
Breaking free from the seal that had been restraining him, Bernardo unleashed a surge of energy that instantly crushed the vampires around him. He gasped for breath, his body wracked with pain.
It felt as if his bones had shattered, his muscles torn apart. His blurred vision wavered as he struggled to focus.
Through his hazy sight, he saw Vasha collapsed on the ground, looking like a fish dragged out of water.
Swept away by the torrent of divine energy, Vasha’s condition was nothing short of disastrous.
Yet, even as agony clouded her mind, Vasha believed there could not have been a better outcome.
She clawed at the ground, gasping, her body trembling from the pain. But at least she was still alive.
‘Just barely… I’m still breathing.’
Had the full force of Bernardo’s divine power struck her, she would have disintegrated into ashes, as if thrown into the sun.
Fortunately, Bernardo’s inexperience in controlling his power had caused most of the energy to scatter.
But there was no time to relax.
Bernardo, though nearly exhausted from expending too much energy, still had enough strength left to wield a blade.
Whoever recovered first would decide the battle’s outcome.
Bernardo knew this all too well.
Staggering, he steadied himself and reached for the dagger lying on the ground.
He wished he could cast his binding spell once more, but he had exhausted all his divine energy just breaking the seal that had been restraining him. There was no strength left for another spell.
‘Still, if I pierce her heart with this dagger, no matter how powerful she is, she won’t survive.’
High-ranking vampires, having consumed many lives, could heal wounds inflicted by silver weapons almost instantly—just as they could resist sunlight. However, this only held true when their magic remained intact. If their energy was depleted or they had sustained severe damage, recovering from a silver-inflicted wound became much more difficult.
Even so, Bernardo couldn’t afford to lower his guard.
‘Most of my attack earlier scattered across the area—it wasn’t strong enough to deal a fatal blow to a high-ranking vampire.’
And yet, Vasha was in excruciating pain, unable to move a single finger.
‘Is she pretending to be weak to lower my guard?’
If he stood idly by and let the vampire recover, it would be a disaster.
He had no other choice.
Dragging his weary body forward, Bernardo took slow, deliberate steps toward Vasha.
She struggled to lift herself, but he reached her first. Pressing his foot down on her arm, he raised his trembling hand, gripping the dagger tightly.
‘Damn it… at this rate, I really am going to die…!’
Vasha thrashed in desperation, but Bernardo remained unmoved.
Her beautiful face twisted in pain, as pitiful as a trampled rose. For a brief moment, an unfamiliar emotion stirred within him—an urge to hold and comfort her.
No, this is nothing but the vampire’s wicked trick!
Forcing himself to focus, Bernardo took a deep breath and, like driving a stake into a vampire’s heart, plunged the dagger down without hesitation.
At that moment—
“No!”
Someone crashed into him with force. The unexpected impact sent him staggering.
“Ugh!”
Clang!
The dagger slipped from his grasp and clattered onto the floor.
The attacker swiftly swung a weapon toward his neck.
“Not so fast!”
However, the attack was clumsy and unrefined. Bernardo easily caught the assailant’s arm—it was thinner and lighter than expected.
The attacker was—
A mere maid, holding nothing more than a steak knife.
She dangled in the air, her feet barely touching the ground, yet she remained defiant. Her sharp gaze met his as she shouted,
“Let go of my lady, you brute!”
“Melina?!”
Vasha’s voice trembled in shock.
Why was Melina here? She had seen her leave the mansion after sending the servants away.
‘I suppose I should be grateful for being alive because of her, but…!’
Melina’s reckless interference had unintentionally saved her life, but this was hardly the time to celebrate.
Vasha had explicitly commanded Melina to leave the mansion. According to the Master-Servant Contract, she could not disobey orders.
Yet, she had returned.
‘The spell must have broken.’
Perhaps because it was only a simplified version, or maybe she had been too caught up in battle to sense the shift in magical energy.
“Wait… Melina? Melina, as in…?”
It wasn’t just Vasha who was stunned. Bernardo furrowed his brow at the familiar name, muttering under his breath.
At that moment, Melina, too, finally got a clear look at the man attacking her lady. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
“…Young Master?”
The one threatening her lady was someone Melina knew all too well.
She had once seen him in exaggerated portraits, his flawless, pearl-like skin and golden curls spun like fine silk. Those portraits had shattered her naïve illusions about the so-called beauty of nobility.
More than ten years had passed since they had last seen each other. Bernardo had changed. So had Melina.
And yet, they recognized each other instantly.
Bernardo’s mouth fell open in shock.
Why was Melina—the daughter of his old nanny, practically a younger sister to him—here of all places?
He had heard from his nanny long ago that Melina had run away shortly after he left the family to become a Holy Knight.
Given his nomadic life, he had always known there was a chance they might cross paths.
But deep down, he had hoped they never would.
Because wherever a Holy Knight went, trouble always followed.
And, as fate would have it, that wish had been denied.
‘Of all places, why did it have to be a vampire’s lair?!’
The only relief was that Melina was not a thrall.
Thralls obeyed only the commands of their vampire masters.
Vampires could manipulate a thrall’s surface memories, allowing them to act completely normal around familiar people.
But their deeper memories were beyond reach. If questioned about the past, they would struggle to recall anything clearly.
A memory from ten years ago should have been impossible for a thrall to retain.
The fact that Melina recognized him proved she was not under a vampire’s control.
That meant she was defending Vasha simply because she didn’t know what she really was.
And that was something Bernardo could fix.
“Step aside, Melina. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I won’t.”
Melina shook her head firmly.
Then, she spread her arms wide, shielding Vasha as though she were a noble lady being harassed by a villain.
