The Blackwell Manor was located up a hill, surrounded by the entire lush verdant trees of Hollow Woods. Compared to other headquarters belonging to various Vampire Houses, it was something quite miniscule.

“We finally found it after much time, Paladin Ophelia.” a young man garbed in a healer’s robes shuffled towards a woman that led the expedition. “The last of the Vampire Houses… it’s not as exceedingly impressive as I thought it would be.”

“Don’t underestimate it just because it’s not a sprawling palace or a dark castle.” The golden haired woman that led the expedition frowned, a grim expression on her face. “After what happened with the Rune House, we should err on the side of caution.”

“Of course… apologies.” The Healer tried not to shudder. “Luckily, the Silver Killer got him.”

“You don’t truly know that.”

“We confirmed it–”

“But the Hero is making protests isn’t he?” Ophelia stared hard at the woods. “While we may have vanquished one, it seems like we simply unleashed a monster into somewhere else.”

“Huh, were you familiar with Tadashi’s Spell–er, the fiend’s, I mean!”

“Enough with this, just scurry along and do something useful. Just because everyone here is uninjured doesn’t mean that you can stand around doing nothing.”

“But you’re doing the same exact thing!”

“Touche.” Ophelia ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m just…a bit unsettled. Things shouldn’t have been this easy. There’s something going on and–”

“It’s not our job to figure that though, best leave that for our Scholars and Historians, Paladin Ophelia.”

Paladin Ophelia laughed and shook her head. Ever since she miraculously learned how to walk again when she was young, picked up a sword and took on a vow? She really hadn't spent much time on contemplating. Life was not meant for endless musing, pondering and meditation–it was better to live and act without hesitation. Because it was akin to being given a second chance for life.

Or so she thought.

—

Blood drenched the hallways of the Blackwell Manor and filled it with a thick aroma of iron, enticing to those who belonged to the Vampires, yet there was no resident that came out to devour them… and despite that all, he might have not even needed to.

“I think we’ve overstayed our welcome here, we should head back.” a man groaned as he clutched one of his eyes, dark ichor spilling despite his attempts to stop the bleeding. “Healer boy, you have any more–no, nevermind you look deathly pale. Nothing wrong with an eyepatch.”

“Please don’t force yourself to speak up anymore, Sir–I can still take this mana potion and I’ll…”

“Try not to vomit your guts out? Go ahead. You’ve drunk too many. Drats, we should have brought more of you.” He weakly laughed. “Clerics aren’t just as good as you guys.”

“Sir…”

“You know this is the last one. I thought it meant that we could finally relax, especially because most of its spawns were fewer–but I guess a holed up one is quite frantic isn’t it?”

“Stop acting like you’ll die, you don’t need to move anymore so go shape yourself or I’ll toss you out of the window.” Ophelia snapped and narrowed her eyes, scorch marks all over her face and armor.

“Haha, harsh as always. Why the Father thinks you’re such a sweet soul always surprised me.”

She ignored him and only looked ahead at the remaining room.

Paladin Ophelia originally came into the Hollow Woods with fifty elite members underneath her command to take down the final Vampire Lord and yet only thirty came out with her from the forest to enter the manor.

And even the manor itself had nearly decimated them all with an [Absolute Void Husk] greeting them at its entrance which attempted to drag them into a nether realm.

More than that, the entire area was filled with traps, wards and other illusions that made them feel as if they returned to the Morganne House.

One step and then another, it gave many of the remaining Mages a headache because while the spellcasting was not as refined as its predecessor, even a bit rudimentary, the owner of the House had made it up through sheer number of Spells.

There weren’t a lot of Mages in their group, but they proved that if you set out to release another, or if you dispeled one, you became susceptible to being ended by a great number of artifacts that were placed in various seemingly ordinary house furniture and items.

The first floor finished off another five, a painting suddenly tipping over according to the trapped art from within–a painter’s gift.

The grand staircase swallowed and separated ten more of their companions during their search and a final five remained on the second floor after losing their companions to a group of Enchanted Suits in Armor taking them down by surprise.

“I’ll enter this room by myself,” Ophelia said. “Focus on healing our companions… or let me do this instead, [Ward of the Lightning Guard].”

Sudden chains of lightning bursted out from the ground and covered her remaining two companions.

“Wait, you can’t do this–”

“She just trapped us here didn’t she?”

“If she dies… then I think this Spell will end but–”

The two watched Ophelia step through the door, but she was soon consumed by the darkness.

Or so they believed.

Ophelia gasped and stepped through the portal, nearly staggering into the floor as she barely caught herself and she looked up with a haunted look–something was stripped and stolen from her, whether it was her life force, or she was drained of something else, it didn’t matter.

It was as if something had clawed its way through her chest, past the impenetrable armor, past it all that it reached her chest.

Nonetheless, she only grimaced and then sought to act.

The Paladin brandished her sword, prepared to meet her foe and finally end him for good. Ever since the two of them met, life twisted it that Ophelia often encountered him for some reason.

As if it was fate.

As if it was their affinity.

As if the two of them had met before.

Lord Cassius Blackwell was nowhere to be seen, her self-wards and automatic shield spells weren’t being destroyed at all, and soon Ophelia’s gaze landed on the dark coffin in the center of the room.

“Don’t tell me…” Ophelia cursed underneath her breath as her grip tightened on her sword. She sauntered towards him, resolution in her blood and veins that she would be the one to end him.

–Because how dare he simply stay in that coffin when many had bled for this?! When greater Paladin Orders, Churches and Hunting Guilds were driven into the darkness for what his people did?

Too many lives lost and yet Vampires like him couldn’t even comprehend the wild and erratic beating in her chest as she reached out to throw the coffin door open–but received the blast of shadows, blood and a necrotic energy that threw her backwards.

“A breath attack–show yourself.”

It finally revealed its true form.

Something came out from the coffin.

Dark scales rippled and coursed throughout its sinuous body. A juvenile wyrm transformed from the most unholiest of creations, it wasn’t even alive anymore, but its power and aura was the fiercest thing she had ever seen–it lunged towards her, fangs bared.

She was going to die–her armor melted and scorched down her skin, but she had received a mark, imprinted into her hand like a tattoo, now visible to see.

“This isn’t the time to die!”

Pure blue light traced around the sigils inscribed on her palm.

“[Holy Smite of the Divine Solis]”

A direct blast of light bursted out and consumed the wyrm, the creature shrieking and hissing as it slowly but surely ended up dying from the pure light she had received from the Sun God himself.

It was a move that exhausted her beyond relief.

When the Sun God showed himself to her in her dreams and visions, it almost seemed too good to be true, but true to his words–his emblem would protect and shield her from the shadows.

Without any more interruptions, Ophelia shoved the coffin’s heavy door open to find Lord Cassius Blackwell. He truly was asleep, proceeding to go to Eternal Sleep?

Ophelia didn’t know, but as she stared at his visage and took in his form…? A look of sudden hesitation crossed through her face and she looked down at her hand, the melted armor and then back to the Vampire in front of her.

She was supposed to kill him, end his life after a duel that would end in her victory–the divine favor of an actual god upon her.

And yet she ended up backing away, staring down at her hands and armor again, as if she couldn’t fathom what had just happened–couldn’t believe that this was her in the flesh.

Paladin Ophelia ended up shutting the coffin and then taking out golden chains from her Inventory, and wrapped it around the dark wood and then she fled.

She lied to her comrades and spared his life.

For they were the same.