The autumn wind brushed through the withered leaves, setting them whispering. Golden leaves spun in the breeze before drifting gently down into the yellow grass. White mist hung over the silent forest. It was early morning, and the trees cast long shadows across the ground, stretching all the way to the ruins of a castle. The crumbling ruins stood in silence. Ivy covered the broken stone walls; the once-glorious buildings had long since become rubble, and lush green moss grew in the shaded corners. Two scouts in leather armor and iron helmets entered through the leaning gate. Sword Saint Ward followed close behind, carrying a sacred sword. The three quickly spread out across the weed-choked courtyard and crouched for cover in the yellow grass.

“Clear.”

Ward gave the signal, and the knights filed in at once, taking up battle positions just beyond the gate. Escorted by the paladins, Count Galaton and Catherine entered the weed-choked courtyard, with Rayne, the armed priest carrying a mace, following behind them. The ruins of the buildings before them still bore the scars of fire. Even after twenty years, the devastation of that day remained vivid, as if it had happened only yesterday.

“My lord.” Rayne cast a holy spell. “By the Light, I sense no evil nearby. I believe the area is safe.”

“Good.” Galaton nodded. “Let’s go in. Proceed with caution.”

The knights began their advance, quickly securing advantageous positions nearby and preparing for battle. The count and his party entered the ruins, following the crumbling corridor toward what had once been the great hall. As he gazed at the magnificent hall, half of which had collapsed, Count Galaton was overcome with emotion. He reached out with his iron-gloved right hand and gently touched a broken marble pillar, as if lost in memories of the past. At last, he let out a sigh.

“Vampires destroyed this castle. They slaughtered everyone in a single night,” the count said. “I was only a squire back then. All I could do was watch as the duke’s family was massacred. I thought I’d never set foot in this place again. Funny how fate works.”

“General, don’t dwell on it,” Ward said with a shrug. “You did everything you could.”

“No, I didn’t.” Count Galaton stared at the ruins, and in his mind, flames roared before his eyes. “If I’d done my duty, I would’ve died here alongside the rest of the knights.”

He clenched his fists, his face full of grief, as if mourning the dead.

Just then, one of the scouts noticed something unusual.

“My lord, look here.”

Ward ran over first. The scout was kneeling on one knee, pointing at the ashes on the ground, his expression grave. Ward examined them at once, then frowned as well.

“Uncle Rayne, come take a look!” He waved him over. “This is your area of expertise.”

The armed priest hurried over, hiding his mace beneath his robes as he carefully examined the ashes on the ground.

“That’s right. These are vampire ashes,” Rayne said. “A vampire was holed up here, but someone’s already taken it out.”

“Could it have been those two E-rank mercenaries?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Catherine cut Ward off. “How could two E-rank mercenaries kill a vampire without holy water or the Light’s blessing? Even the lowest-ranked vampire would slaughter ordinary people. If they’d really managed it, they wouldn’t have turned into ghouls and gone around wreaking havoc on others—and nearly gotten my Elsa hurt, too.”

“Hey, hey. Since when did little Elsa become your property?”

Catherine ignored Ward’s jab. She took out some holy water and poured it over the ashes, purifying them completely.

“Guys,” Ward said, clapping his hands. “The vampire’s dead. Can we go home now? Let’s grab something to eat, find somewhere to have a good time, and then head back to the count’s lands in high spirits. How’s that sound?”

As obnoxious as the suggestion was, there really wasn’t much point in staying here any longer.

“Hold on.” Galaton’s voice cut through the easygoing mood. “What do you make of this?”

They followed his gaze. At the far end of the weed-choked hall sat an ancient stone coffin, carved entirely from marble. It was so old that the stone had begun to weather, leaving it in such a sorry state that it blended perfectly into the ruins. But the coffin’s lid lay shattered, and the broken edges looked fresh, as if it had happened only recently.

“This coffin wasn’t here the last time I came,” Galaton said. “Rayne, examine it.”

“As you command, my lord.”

Rayne formed a seal with both hands. A flash of holy light appeared between his palms. He shone it over the coffin, then gently shook his head.

“Count Galaton,” he said, “by the Light, there’s no trace of evil inside the coffin.”

“Ward.”

“Sure thing. Leave it to me.”

Ward, quick on his feet, immediately went over and crouched beside the coffin, feeling around inside. Like its exterior, the inside had long since rotted away. All that remained of the original red velvet lining were weathered scraps of fabric. Perhaps it had rained recently, because there was even a little water pooled at the bottom.

“General, there’s nothing in here.” Ward shook the water from his hand. “Except for this gold coin.”

He wiped the coin on his clothes and handed it to Galaton.

“This gold coin...” Galaton studied the emblem on it. “It doesn’t seem to belong to any country I know. I’ve never seen this emblem before. Catherine, have you?”

Catherine glanced at it and shook her head. “I’ve traveled across many countries, but I’ve never seen a coin like this.”

“We should look into it.” Galaton slipped the coin into his pocket. “The vampire’s dead, so let’s pull out.”

At his command, the knights quickly withdrew from the castle.

Evening soon fell.

Night had fallen deep, and moonlight shone over the ruins of Silvermoon City. A group of hideous vampires silently entered the ruins. Their leader was a particularly massive high-ranking vampire. A golden crown rested on his head, and every finger bore an ornate ring. He was unmistakably a Night aristocrat bearing the title of Grand Duke.

“Samiras!” the Vampire Grand Duke roared. “Get out here!”

But the ruins gave no answer. The Grand Duke stared at the ashes on the floor, sprinkled with holy water, and frowned. One of his underlings had clearly met with disaster. He strode over to the stone coffin in the center of the hall, only to find its lid shattered into pieces and nothing inside.

“Lilith, get out here!”

“I’m terribly sorry, Your Grace!”

A female vampire in a robe emerged from the shadows. She prostrated herself on the ground, pressing her forehead firmly against the floor.

“Why has the Holy Coffin I stole from the top of the world ended up like this?!”

“I’m terribly sorry,” the vampire named Lilith said, trembling all over. “It seems someone is using humans to interfere with us. I created a lesser vampire and used it to draw their attention away. You needn’t worry, Your Grace.”

“Damn it, you useless thing!” The Vampire Grand Duke kicked her aside. “Once I get the Blood Demon Armament, the Queen’s Scepter, I, Dunglar, will be able to return to the Blood Council! Enough. The Holy Coffin has already been destroyed, so change of plans. Prepare the blood sacrifice.”

“Yes, Your Grace!”

The vampires all bowed their heads.