Chapter 58 :

Bloodstained Ball (5)

–Drip, drip.

"It’s raining."

Delia Catherine Duplein was completely exhausted.

After spending two days circling the area near the Imperial Palace and completing the debutante procedures, she had barely slept and had only eaten hastily.

There had been several banquet events in between, but when dressed beautifully and acting the part of a graceful young lady, there were far more occasions where she had to leave food untouched.

Maintaining a beautiful appearance amid hunger and exhaustion was mentally draining.

Still, she had somehow managed to get through the Imperial Capital schedule, and most of the important engagements were finally nearing their end.

Even so, it was not completely over yet.

Now she had to return to the main house estate, attend the ball, and display a dazzling appearance as the central figure of the occasion.

Only after exchanging pleasantries with the many famous figures attending the ball and making her presence known would she finally be acknowledged as a proper young lady of the Duplein Ducal House.

Sitting quietly in the carriage and gazing out the window, Delia let out a deep sigh.

The servant pouring her tea beside her was someone who had accompanied her for a long time, ever since the annex.

This was a capable person who had followed her after she was granted an estate in Ebelstein.

"The ball will be indoors, so the rain shouldn’t matter, right? I just hope my dress doesn’t get wet while moving …."

"Please don’t worry too much, Young Lady Delia. The main house must have prepared for everything."

Watching the raindrops gradually grow heavier, Delia took another deep breath and clenched her fist tightly.

This arduous process was almost over.

She wanted to arrive at the estate quickly, see her beloved family, and at least tell them thank you for all their help.

For Delia, who rarely expressed her emotions, even making such a resolve was unusual.

"Aiselin elder sister, Valerian Orabeoni, and Raig Orabeoni all suffered a lot because of me …."

"…"

"If not now, I’d probably never be able to thank my family properly, right? So, this time I have to seize the chance …."

Aiselin aside, it was common knowledge how hard Valerian and Raig had worked, almost desperately, to grow closer to Delia.

The sight of robust men discussing girlish preferences just to win over a teenage girl was truly a spectacle.

Even while feeling burdened and pushing them away, Delia understood their earnest efforts, and that was why she couldn’t help but think about opening her heart to her family, even just a little.

Inside the carriage advancing through the rain, Delia thought to herself.

She hoped that this debutante would become a turning point in her cruel life.

*

–Bang!

As they entered the main entrance of the estate, countless servants were carrying food through the dim interior.

"Huh …"

Servants carrying trays and plates, or hauling fabrics and blankets, all turned their heads sharply toward Derrick and Denise at once.

From the outer edge of the corridor entrance, to the main staircase, to the antiques lined along the walls, all the way to the entrance of the basement stairs … countless servants turned their heads toward Derrick simultaneously, as if they were one body.

The sight was inexplicably spine-chilling, and Denise swallowed her dry saliva.

They had just witnessed head butler Delron twisting grotesquely.

There was no way the other servants of the estate were in a normal condition either.

At the height of that tension, just as Derrick was about to draw his sword—

"Excuse us."

The servants all bowed their heads at once, then soon returned to their tasks.

Maids preparing the banquet in the ballroom, butlers cleaning the marble floor, servants carrying ropes and cloth … they all busied themselves as if Derrick and Denise charging in were of no consequence.

It looked like machines executing pre-programmed commands.

Even with countless corpses rushing in from outside, their unfocused eyes showed no sign of panic, staring only straight ahead at their designated paths.

Denise felt an inexplicable sense of terror.

Even among Necromantic-type magic, there were many spells that toyed with people, similar to Illusion-type magic.

Derrick knew this well.

The servants had likely fallen victim to such magic.

For now, as long as they didn’t attack, it wouldn’t be a major problem.

Thinking that, Derrick blocked the estate’s front door and kicked over a display case beside it, toppling it toward the door.

–Crash! Bang!

The blocked front door shook violently as the corpses beyond began to struggle to break through.

Derrick grabbed Denise’s arm firmly and sprinted up the main entrance staircase.

Along the way, they ran into numerous servants and maids, brushing past their shoulders.

Yet, without even a hint of curiosity toward Derrick’s frantic movements, they simply stood back up and returned to their duties.

When Derrick had first arrived and received guidance, it hadn’t been this unnatural.

The necromantic energy was clearly growing stronger.

"D-Derrick … it looks like all the servants have already been devoured."

"If we stay still, even the guests will be done for. Let’s take everyone we can out. Before that, there’s somewhere we need to stop by."

Outside was filled with hordes of corpses, but if those capable of fighting banded together, they might carve a path through.

Just as Derrick turned toward the room where the guests were gathered—

"Huh…!"

Denise clamped both hands over her mouth in shock.

By the time they reached the corridor, servants were dragging unconscious guests across the floor.

Most of them were mages with considerable combat potential.

‘Poison? Or an ambush? They subdued the mages first before anything even began.’

Derrick calmly assessed the situation.

The servants dragging them away had no focus in their eyes either.

The Duplein estate was one of the safest places imaginable, with no external threats.

It was hard to imagine something like this happening here.

That was why the guests had likely let their guard down, planning to enjoy the ball peacefully.

Moreover, the servants of the Duplein estate were among the most professional and reliable retainers of any noble family.

Precisely because of that, it was inevitable to be careless.

At the safest place, supported by the most seasoned personnel.

Whether by offering drugged cold water, pretending to follow and using chemicals to knock them out, or even openly striking first with a blunt weapon to subdue them in one blow … opportunities were endless.

Servants could approach guests without raising suspicion.

"We’re temporarily moving some luggage. May we pass?"

A maid dragging the body of Baron Olden, Family Head of the Roderail Family, spoke to Derrick.

Foam spilled from his mouth as he lay unconscious.

Though the scene was grotesque, the maid requesting passage showed no change in expression.

That too was so eerie that Denise swallowed repeatedly.

"P-Please, the guests …"

"Please proceed."

Derrick raised his arm to stop Denise and stepped back toward the wall.

The maid politely expressed her thanks, then dragged the old noble toward the main entrance staircase.

As long as they didn’t interfere, the servants didn’t attack.

They were simply executing the orders they had been given.

Derrick pressed Denise against the wall and quietly waited for all the servants to pass.

A procession of servants streamed by, dragging away countless guests.

Watching it unfold right beside them was an utterly bizarre experience.

‘Derrick …!’

Denise clamped her mouth shut and trembled like a leaf.

She clutched Derrick’s collar with her other hand, pressing her body against him.

Her entire body shook violently, making it hard to even breathe.

All kinds of guests were dragged past them.

People foaming at the mouth, people with arms bent at unnatural angles, people bleeding, people with eyes rolled back … all of them were individuals who would normally puff out their chests as high-ranking figures.

Once a wave of servants passed and a brief opening appeared, Derrick moved further inside.

As he crossed the corridor, most of the room doors were open.

No one had expected an ambush from the servants of the Duplein Ducal House.

‘Still, there might be those who sensed danger early and hid well. I need to find as many as possible.’

Derrick grabbed Denise’s arm and pulled her into a room labeled ‘Baron Olden.’

He pushed Denise straight into the wardrobe.

"D-Derrick … kyah!"

"This is Baron Olden’s room. You saw him get dragged out by the servants. Since it belongs to someone already subdued, the servants won’t come back here. Stay hidden until the situation changes."

Identifying a safe place was crucial.

At this point, places like this were about as safe as it got.

"Derrick … what about you?"

"I’ll search for survivors. Outside, there are people toyed with by necromantic magic and corpses everywhere. If you move recklessly and become a target, it’ll be dangerous. Please stay here, Young Lady Denise."

"I’ll go too. I can use at least basic Search-type magic."

"It’s better for you to prioritize safety here."

"No. Derrick. You’re saying you’ll go alone into that den of the dead? Do you think I’d allow that?"

Even while trembling, Denise grit her teeth and looked up at Derrick.

"I can’t let that happen."

"Young Lady Denise, your hands are shaking."

"Eek!"

Just as Derrick said, Denise was still trembling all over.

She had seen too many grotesque scenes of corpses twisting and snapping.

She was already exhausted just from trying to control her ragged breathing.

Even so, Denise couldn’t send Derrick off alone.

She knew exactly what kind of rhetoric Derrick would use.

‘I can’t leave Young Lady Denise alone.’ ‘You are precious, please protect your body.’ ‘If you get hurt, it’ll be a big problem.’

She was ready to snap back, asking if status mattered in a situation like this.

However, Derrick was a pragmatist.

"Even if Young Lady Denise follows me, you’ll only be a hindrance."

His words were harsh, but undeniably true.

In such a dire situation, there was no room for flowery speech.

Denise’s breath caught in her throat.

After witnessing the grotesque results of necromantic magic, she could barely move at all.

If she followed Derrick out of worry, she’d be lucky not to end up as a hostage.

"This is just a conjecture, but there’s a high chance that Young Master Valerian is involved in this situation."

"V-Valerian? You mean the eldest son of the Duplein family? I heard he’s kind and upright … and he orchestrated this massacre?"

"I can’t explain the full circumstances yet, but …"

–“If he ever lays hands on necromantic magic, you kill him.”

Derrick’s magic master, Drest Wolftail, had once said that.

If things went wrong, Valerian might turn to Necromantic-type magic.

Was it really possible that he had nothing to do with the necromantic magic engulfing the Duplein estate?

The coincidence was too perfect.

One way or another, Valerian was likely involved in this catastrophe centered on the estate.

"Once the situation becomes clearer, we’ll learn the truth. For now, make survival your top priority."

"Promise me one thing, Derrick."

Even while shaking, Denise looked up at him with determination.

"Don’t die. No matter what happens, don’t ever die."

"Don’t worry. That’s my specialty."

–Creak

After firmly closing the wardrobe door, Derrick checked the condition of the Longsword at his waist and the dagger strapped to his thigh.

Both were clean and well-maintained, their blades finely polished.

After taking a deep breath and wiping his face once, Derrick stepped out into the corridor.

Countless servants moving busily twisted their heads toward him all at once.

“....”

Derrick remained still, not letting his guard down.

Basically, the servants moved only to fulfill their duties.

As long as he didn’t interfere, they wouldn’t pay attention to their surroundings.

Just like the servants at the main entrance, these corridor servants should be the same.

That thought had barely crossed his mind when—

A high-ranking maid at the front asked him,

"May I ask your name?"

She had a youthful face, but her voice was grotesquely twisted.

As if blood phlegm were boiling in her throat, crimson blood flowed from her mouth.

Without panicking, Derrick asked back,

"Why do you ask?"

"We were ordered to kill all visitors except designated mages."

Chilling words flowed casually from the maid’s mouth.

"May I confirm whether you are a designated mage, or a target for execution?"

"… Derrick."

"Ah, so you are Mr. Derrick. A visitor dispatched from the Beltus family, correct? I apologize for not recognizing you. We were ordered to treat you as a noble of equivalent status, but I failed to do so."

"It’s fine. So, is your business concluded?"

"Yes. However, Mr. Derrick, you are a target for execution."

Before her words even finished, a decaying arm sprouted from the maid’s left shoulder.

–Crack! Fshuuuk!

As the claws flew toward him, Derrick had already lowered his stance.

He had hoped, perhaps foolishly, to avoid combat.

The moment that hope was betrayed, Derrick moved his blade without a moment’s hesitation, cleaving off the maid’s head.

–Crack! Fshuuuuuk!

A fountain of blood erupted, splattering Derrick’s face with crimson gore.

The metallic stench stabbed at his nose, but Derrick merely shook his head.

–Thud!

The headless body collapsed onto the floor.

At that moment, other servants nearby glared at Derrick with chilling eyes.

Before grotesque sounds could spill from their mouths, Derrick’s Mana Arrow pierced their throats.

–Thump! Thump! Thump!

As he fired mana and advanced down the corridor, the body of the maid he had slain suddenly moved and grabbed his ankle.

Derrick drew the dagger from his thigh in a reverse grip and instantly severed her arm.

Then, as servants in butler uniforms rushed him, he drew out his mana once more.

–Whoooosh!

A 2-star spell, ‘Fireball,’ erupted from Derrick’s hand, aimed straight at the floor.

The corridor was too narrow on both sides to serve as an escape route.

To create a new path, Derrick drove the Fireball into the ground.

–KABOOOOOM!

A violent explosion rang out, sending tremors through the estate.

Directly beneath this guest corridor lay the floor housing the private chambers of the Duplein family members.

Derrick intended to jump down and head for Valerian’s private room.

If Valerian truly was orchestrating this, subduing him could end everything.

–Whiiik!

–Crackle!

Dust filled the corridor as the shattered floor came into view.

Preparing for impact, Derrick readied his landing technique.

First, he needed to draw the servants far away from the room where Denise was hiding.

–Crack!

Cloak fluttering, he leapt down, rolled across the floor once, then stood and brushed the dust from his body.

Looking around, he realized this wasn’t a lower corridor.

Assuming the corridor lay directly below had been too simplistic.

This was a massive private chamber.

Only someone of the Duplein Duke’s direct line would occupy a room of this size.

Armor and training equipment lined the walls, along with a study desk and a sofa for receiving guests.

One side of the room held a massive map spanning the continent and stacks of books filled with military terminology.

It was clearly the room of someone extraordinary.

As Derrick stood, he saw a figure sitting calmly at a personal table in the center of the room.

Remaining seated in the midst of this chaos was itself unnatural.

"… What are you doing here?"

The man seated among the equipment was familiar.

Short-cropped hair, a powerful build, sharp eyebrows, and noble attire adorned with numerous insignias.

Yet his vacant eyes showed no trace of consciousness.

Even seeing Derrick crash through the ceiling didn’t startle him.

Derrick instinctively knew something was wrong.

He tightened his grip on the sword and gathered mana in his other hand.

–Clink

Metal clashed as the man rose from a lightweight armor worn beneath noble attire.

He was a powerfully built man.

"… Derrick."

It was Raig, Valerian’s younger brother.

The second son of the Duplein family, and one of its pillars who, despite his demeanor, dearly cherished Delia and Aiselin.

The muscular man looked down at Derrick with icy eyes.

When he spoke, his words barely resembled language.

"Death … is coming … death … sweet, distant, gloriously … the embrace of death is coming …"

–Drip.

Dark red blood poured from his mouth.

A reddish necromantic energy swirled in his eyes.

Derrick knew at once.

Raig was no longer someone he could reason with.

"Derrick, yes … Derrick, agh … aghhh… kuh, khrrrk …"

“.....”

"Heh, kkgghk agh … still not dead yet?"

After writhing and making grotesque noises, he suddenly spoke in an eerily calm tone.

At some point, his eyes had clearly locked onto Derrick.

The dissonance alone was enough to raise goosebumps.

Raig’s massive body rose amid the dark red mana.

–Bang!

At the same time, a Mana Arrow flew toward Derrick.

Dust erupted, but Derrick had already rolled aside.

His reaction speed far surpassed what simple spell casting could track.

Studying Raig through the settling dust, Derrick ran a hand through his hair and let out a heavy sigh.

"Hoo …."

No matter how he looked at it, Raig was already beyond reason.

—It was time to make a decision.