Chapter Nineteen: Under Heavy Rewards

The banquet was hosted at the Grand Theater of the Elders. It resembled a perched eagle, wings tucked for the moment but coiled, ready to take flight. The structure was imposing, filled with a sense of oppression, yet strikingly avant-garde.

Stepping into the theater, the space had been transformed into a reception hall. The brilliant chandeliers were dizzying. Guests in glamorous, kaleidoscopic formal wear and bizarre, inscrutable masks mingled while waiters wove through the crowd carrying trays.

On the trays lay raw meat and red wine.

It was like a farce where civilized people gathered to tour a slaughterhouse. Was I the fish on the chopping block?

I called out, "Excuse me, I'm going to the restroom."

Bella grabbed me and said, "The restrooms are that way, not outside."

I replied, "I yearn to return my fluids to nature in the embrace of the wild."

Bella countered, "You’re inside the Black Coffin. Where do you expect to find nature?"

Michael called out from across the room, "Look! My human friend, the legendary hero of the Black Coffin Rangers!"

There was no escaping now. They had all spotted me and swarmed, vying to shake my hand. Because of their ornate masks, I could only identify them by their physiques.

As far as I knew, Typhon and Nana were as flat as airport runways. If they weren't, why were they always dressed so modestly? Unlike Bella, who was always eager to show off her fine figure.

There were many people—far more than thirty, perhaps even more than sixty.

Dazzling lights, familiar faces, strange vampires, solitary outsiders, beautiful costumes, exquisite jewelry, greedy gazes, shifting undercurrents of politics, and a vanity fair of deceit.

The elder vampires were incredibly dangerous; they inadvertently emanated an aura that could manipulate the mind. I felt suffocated and forced my Mind-Blade to activate, ensuring I wouldn't be turned into a puppet or driven to madness.

Michael said, "Bella, you and Fishbone are so intimate. Aren't you afraid of causing a minor dispute in their household?"

Bella laughed, "We are merely business partners. I wouldn't let him drag me into a restroom and do anything untoward."

I said, "I certainly wouldn't, and you shouldn't try to reverse that, either."

They laughed. Michael ordered a waiter to prepare a special bottle of wine for me, free of blood, and I clinked glasses with them. Amidst the chaotic and radiant glow, people I knew and didn't know chatted behind their masks, trying not to be boring, trying to become famous.

Legan appeared beside me. I recognized him instantly; he was tall and as straight as a javelin.

He said, "Don't be nervous. This basically has nothing to do with you."

I replied, "How could I be nervous? 'Not Nervous' is my middle name; the word 'composure' was invented for me."

Legan said, "Many candidates have come today. The nobles will vote to decide who becomes the next noble, earning a title and a fiefdom."

No wonder there were so many people, but did they all drink blood?

Legan answered, "No, only a small portion are accustomed to a diet of blood. The others are still mortals, but they yearn to be one of us, so they force themselves to drink it."

Ah, so you are all watching a comedy.

Legan made a "shush" gesture, telling me to keep the secret.

Michael said, "Fishbone, I’ve always said that if you cannot become a noble of our Black Coffin, it would be a great pity. Do you not desire immortality?"

I replied, "My family life is blissful and happy, and my marriage is harmonious. To me, the rewards of immortality cannot compare to that. Please forgive me for politely declining."

As far as I knew, after becoming a vampire, one was little different from a corpse in that department. If I were forced to lose my desire for Lamia’s body, they might as well kill me.

Michael sighed, "I shouldn't use our friendship to force a decision upon you. You don't need anyone's forgiveness."

Bella whispered in my ear, "The pleasure of drinking blood is far greater than the vulgar interactions between humans. You could allow Lamia to taste even greater ecstasy."

I looked around and asked, "Where is the restroom?"

Bella laughed, "Want to escape? No way! You are going to accompany me for the whole day!"

A gaunt old man walked toward us. It had to be Tanchy. Bella saw him, though I couldn't discern the expression on her face.

Tanchy said, "Belfegor, I can sense that you are still inside her."

Bella said, "Forsagum, stop trying to alarm people. I can already control the fallen angel." She grabbed me and walked away, distancing us from Tanchy.

I had heard that the Elder Council had tried Bella and found her innocent, but she had to undergo "treatment." It was like the psychiatric criminals of the last century—in a way, it was just a disguised way of absolving her.

As for those poor girls who died, well, the dead cannot come back to life.

Michael stepped onto the podium, tapped his glass, and began the stand-up routine he was best at. Although he was an Archon, he had the talent of a comedian, making people roar with laughter in just a few words, with one punchline after another.

Of course, given his noble status, everyone naturally had to applaud his jokes.

Michael said, "The previous Archon left a will, allowing us to discover some of our kin hidden within the Black Coffin—their magic is faint, but they are still our brothers and sisters. I deeply sympathize with their unfortunate circumstances and have invited them here to enjoy equal rights."

I realized immediately: "Missouri hid the weak-blooded in the Black Coffin as a snack reserve. Michael rescued them? No wonder there are so many people today, nearly a hundred."

A hundred vampires living among fewer than forty thousand humans was extreme and dangerous. I didn't know how big a vampire's appetite was, but the Black Coffin's population likely couldn't sustain it.

The vampire's thirst for blood was no less than a human's pursuit of anything else, comparable to those addicted to drugs. When they fed, they easily lost control, draining their prey to the brink of death or even killing them. Therefore, according to the secret laws of the Black Coffin, every vampire who became a noble had to undergo strict training and rigorous examination before being ennobled.

And these weak-blooded ones had barely received any education; if not strictly restrained, they would become feral beasts.

I heard Typhon’s voice: "These children are truly a headache-inducing burden."

Chris said, "They are pitiful, but the Archon is too soft-hearted. They are products manufactured in violation of the rules. According to tradition, most of them should be executed."

The two were silent for a moment, then Chris asked, "Sister, I heard you're researching synthetic blood?"

Typhon said, "Yes, that blood could free us from our need for humans. However, it tastes extremely foul."

Chris laughed, "That would be hard to sell, then."

Typhon said, "Only those with no other choice would buy it, so I’m just growing it for fun."

I thought to myself, "There's such a good thing? If it's true, it would be a perfect solution to the problem."

Michael said, "We are gathered here to bestow the honor and rights of nobility upon the next worthy citizen."

Borchi walked to Michael’s side and said, "The election will still be conducted through one-on-one duels. However, during the bouts, one must fully display chivalry and win the approval of the six elders and the guests of honor. If any unethical behavior occurs, after our deliberation, it will at least result in a loss, and possibly further punishment."

A high-pitched, young voice rang out: "May I ask, Duke, what constitutes unethical behavior?"

Borchi said, "There is currently only one rule: you are not allowed to decapitate your opponent or pierce their heart. Everything else is at the discretion of the referee on site."

The young voice asked, "Who is the referee?"

Borchi said, "The world-renowned swordswoman, Duchess Nana Christian of the Sword and Shield Society."

It was a pity; I had expected to be the referee, given that I was also an authority on swordsmanship.

Bella squeezed my hand and shook it gently, saying, "Are you going to enter? Are you going to enter? Are you going to enter? You must want to enter..."

Her repetitive, broken-record nature was tiresome. I said, "But I already refused Michael."

Borchi added, "Of course, we respect the right of choice. If the winner of the duel does not wish to become one of us and misses the chance for immortality, they can still receive a title, a bounty of six million gold coins, and a mansion on the seventy-third floor. Those who wish to compete, please register with Duchess Christina as soon as possible."

My body trembled with excitement. I stood tall and proud, chin up, wearing a cold, mocking smirk, my gaze like a torch. I pulled Mjölnir from my trousers, exuding an invincible and fearless aura. Since the referee was participating herself, the result of this tournament was already decided.

Bella laughed, "Ah, so you really are going to enter?"

I chuckled, "It is time to let the world see true swordsmanship."

I walked to Chris and registered. Chris performed her duty like a grade-school class monitor, dutifully pulling out paper and pen to record my name.

It took her about twenty minutes to finish the count. She walked onto the podium, her beauty stunning the room. Only I sighed secretly, for her chest was as flat as a board—a slight flaw in perfection.

Chris said, "There are sixteen participants in total: Sossa, the adopted son of Archon Michael; Nalrey, the adopted son of Legan..."

I hadn't realized Michael and Legan had adopted sons. I wondered what they looked like. Would they be idol-tier and strength-tier like me?

Maizong’s side had submitted the most participants. Could they be new soldiers from his laboratory? What kind of monsters would be born from demonic modification and vampire blood?

A few names drew cheers, but I didn't commit them to memory. There was no point; the winner of the match was already pre-determined—it would certainly be me. With my good relationship with Michael and Chris, even if I were to suffer a tiny, minuscule defeat, wouldn't they just rule my opponent to have lost for me?

Yes, I had seen through the truth of this tournament. The strength of the participants was important, but what really mattered were connections, fame, and power. Just like those talent shows of the last century, most of those chosen had powerful backers behind the scenes.

I snuck over to Michael, winked at him, and said, "Help me out later, you know what I mean."

Michael said, "I am an incorruptible Archon. Are you trying to get yourself arrested by saying that?"

The cold-hearted bastard, not caring about our friendship at all?

I felt humiliated and slunk away.