The millions of ice cubes collapsed inward, snapping shut with the finality of a steel trap. Exactly as Fina-blood Svelten had calculated.
But a fraction of a second before the freezing matrix closed…
Squelch.
The blood-cursed blade punched cleanly through Rimuru's chest, destroying his heart in a single, brutal thrust.
Agony, white-hot and absolute, spiked through Rimuru's brain. His consciousness flickered, threatening to plunge into a permanent, dark abyss.
And yet, as he hung there, impaled on a vampire's blade… he smiled.
Because Svelten had put all of his focus, all of his supernatural speed, into threading the needle of that massive ice array. He had tunneled his vision entirely on the grand, flashy spell.
Which meant he had left himself completely, utterly wide open.
Svelten saw that bloody, mocking smile. A sudden, icy knot of dread twisted in the vampire's gut.
The next instant, the murky, ambient fog surrounding them flared with terrifying killing intent.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Svelten's pupils shrank to pinpricks. He stared in absolute disbelief as the very air turned against him. The thin, unassuming mist, the atmospheric background noise he had completely ignored inside his own Reality Marble, suddenly solidified.
Hundreds of needle-thin projectiles, fine as human hair, materialized out of the vapor. They glowed with blinding holy light, inscribed with hunting spells specifically engineered to eradicate the undead.
Before Svelten could even twitch his wings, the needles skewered him. They punched through every joint, every tendon, and every vital organ in his body, locking him in a cage of holy light.
"How… is this possible…?" Svelten choked out, blood spilling past his elongated fangs.
Rimuru gritted his teeth, suppressing a violent cough as the curse burned in his ruined chest. "Like I said… you're ignorant."
Svelten collapsed. The holy magic ignited, and pure, white flames began to sear the vampire's flesh.
Rimuru endured the excruciating pain of his own impalement, leaning heavily on the stolen demon sword as he looked down into Svelten's shocked, unwilling eyes.
"I am Lord Tempest," Rimuru whispered over the crackle of the flames. "The Fairy Tale Lord. And I earned that title because my combat style mimics the Witches of old lore… I am exceptionally fond of the fog."
Jack the Ripper. The Murderer of the Misty City.
"Yet you ignored the mist around us. You naively assumed it was just background noise from your own Reality Marble." Rimuru sneered.
"Throwing all my mana into that massive ice array? That was just a light show. A diversion to keep your eyes off the real trap."
Rimuru painfully hoisted the black greatsword. He aimed the tip squarely at Svelten's skull, right where the glowing communication sigil linked him to Altrouge.
Svelten was already dying, but leaving a live microphone open for the Black Princess was a rookie mistake.
"Your service to your Princess ends here, Fina-blood!"
"I… admit… you won."
Svelten's dulling eyes suddenly darted up. A flash of terminal lucidity. Despite the holy fire melting his face, his lips twisted into a grotesque, bloody grin.
"But… I curse…"
Rimuru's eyes widened. He brought the greatsword down in a vicious arc, his left hand blazing with holy light to accelerate the execution.
But he was a microsecond too late.
Slicing through a vampire's brain didn't instantly stop their vocal cords, not when they were fueled by centuries of spite.
"I curse you! With my eternal life, I curse you!" The severed head hissed, the voice echoing unnaturally in the air. "You shall become… a Dead Apostle. Tangled in an endless thirst… for blood. In the end… you will…"
The dying vampire's smile stretched impossibly wide.
"I look forward… to seeing you… become just like me…"
The infernal fire in Svelten's eyes finally extinguished. He gasped out his last breath, his aura of Mystery dissolving completely.
"…"
The raging ocean began to recede, turning back into solid concrete and asphalt.
The ghost ships dissolved into nothingness.
The sky cracked, and the Reality Marble shattered like a broken mirror, dumping Rimuru back into the ruined Berlin shopping mall.
Rimuru stood there, staring blankly at Svelten's corpse.
Even in death, your final curse was just another way to carry out the Black Princess's orders? What exactly is it about her that inspires that level of psychotic loyalty?
[Notice: The curse is insufficient to overwrite your fundamental Phantasmal bloodline. However…]
However what?
[He has successfully affixed a 'Vampiric Impulse' to your soul.]
"Damn it!" Rimuru hissed, clutching his chest.
In the Fate universe, the classification of a "Bloodsucker" didn't care about your original species.
If you had an uncontrollable urge to drink human blood, you were on the list. Theoretically, even a mosquito could count. But practically speaking?
A magus with a thirst for blood would be instantly, unequivocally labeled a Dead Apostle by both the Association and the Church.
[Suggestion: This is not the time to ponder taxonomy. You just assassinated one of the Black Princess's personal knights. Evacuation is required.]
"I know!" Rimuru nodded. He tried to take a step, but his legs turned to jelly. He stumbled, barely catching himself against a broken pillar. "The anti-healing curse on his claw marks didn't dissipate with his death. I have to… manually purge it before I can regenerate."
[Proposal: Consume the corpse. Predation may yield the necessary resistance to nullify the curse. Immediate departure is mandatory.]
But… he's a Dead Apostle. That's gross.
[You already possess a Vampiric Impulse, Rimuru. Sunk cost fallacy. We might as well extract the maximum return on investment, correct?]
"…"
Rimuru took a ragged breath. "Fine."
A vortex of black mist surged from his body, expanding into a massive maw that swallowed Svelten's remains whole.
Rimuru forced his morphing abilities to generate a clean trench coat over his blood-soaked clothes.
He shifted his face into a new, unremarkable disguise, gritting his teeth against the searing pain in his chest.
Where are we going?
[Heading South. Exit Germany. Proceed toward Italy and the Vatican. It is the absolute stronghold of the Holy Church. The Black Princess will not dare pursue us deeply into their territory.]
[We survive this encounter, heal the physical vessel, and formulate a new plan.]
Agreed!
…
A few kilometers away.
Almost ten minutes had passed since the initial clash at the mall. Altrouge stood silently on a rooftop, gently stroking the white fur of Primate Murder in her arms. Her gaze was fixed on the distant horizon.
"Fina-blood still hasn't returned? If we wait any longer, the Church hierarchy and the White Wing Lord will definitely sniff us out." Strout paced behind her, his armor clanking with thinly veiled impatience.
"…"
Altrouge's crimson eyes narrowed slightly. The subtle, magical tether in her soul had just snapped.
"We're leaving," she said softly.
"Hm?" Strout paused.
"Fina-blood." Altrouge turned around, her face completely unreadable. "He isn't coming back."
…
… London. The Clock Tower.
"That concludes today's lecture. You are all dismissed to rest."
Rimuru quietly closed his textbook. He glanced at the front row, where little Erol was fast asleep, drooling slightly on her desk. He walked over and exasperatedly tapped the top of her silver head.
"Teacher!!" Erol jolted awake. She beamed, hopped out of her chair, and launched herself into his arms like a missile, nuzzling against his chest. "Is class over?!"
"Yeah, let's go." Rimuru set the kid down with a tired sigh.
He took her small hand and turned to the gaggle of students who were usually eager to follow him back to his office for extra tutoring. "My apologies, everyone. Something urgent has come up today. If you have questions, please consult the other professors for now. I'll do a review session tomorrow."
"Eh?!" A chorus of disappointment echoed through the lecture hall.
Rimuru offered them an apologetic nod. But the moment he turned away, a dark shadow fell over his eyes.
The telepathic feedback from his main body in Germany was slamming into his consciousness.
He practically speed-walked back to his private lounge.
The moment they were inside, Rimuru slammed the door shut.
He immediately braced himself against a mahogany desk, gasping for air as phantom pain from a cursed stab wound tore through his chest.
Erol looked up at him, her usual chaotic energy replaced by wide-eyed panic.
"Erol," Rimuru wheezed, forcing a strained, trembling smile. "Be a good girl… go fetch your big sister Riddell for me, okay?"
"Mn… but… Teacher, you look…"
….
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