"Cut the crap, Altrouge."
Rimuru wasn't in the mood to debate philosophy. Yes, the human heart was unpredictable, and the Association was a viper's nest. But becoming a paranoid sociopath who trusted no one was just as foolish. He trusted Riddell. He trusted his friends.
"I need you to break Svelten's curse."
"Tch. You really overestimate my abilities." Altrouge let out a delicate, mocking laugh. "A curse planted by a Dead Apostle sacrificing his own concept of 'Immortality'? Let's not mince words. That 'Vampiric Impulse' has been burned directly into your Origin. It's a conceptual mandate that will haunt you for the rest of your life. It's practically on the level of True Magic. Forget me, even the Crimson Moon himself might not be able to undo it."
"Not even if I forced another one of the Twenty-Seven Ancestors to sacrifice themselves in the exact same way to cancel it out?" Rimuru frowned, his voice dropping into a dangerous register.
"Do you think a vampire's dying curse is a vending machine?" Altrouge burst into genuine laughter at his naive logic. "But hey, you're welcome to try! I honestly don't know if that would work. Though you certainly can't expect me to sacrifice myself for you, right?"
She tapped her chin, adopting the tone of a spoiled, mischievous brat making up rules to a game.
"That being said, since it is a curse, there must theoretically be a way to purify it. A method definitely exists. It's just that I don't know it… or rather, I do know it, but I just don't want to help you?"
"We don't need to play these little games, Rimuru."
Her smile faded, replaced by absolute, regal certainty.
"You know I would never undo that curse. It is the final restriction placed on you by my most loyal knight, bought with his very life. Furthermore, I know you will absolutely refuse to sign a formal Blood Contract with me and become my True Dead Apostle. Therefore, that curse is the only leash I have on you. It is the only proof that you belong to our side."
Negotiation is just the art of demanding the sky so you can settle for the ceiling. Altrouge knew exactly why Rimuru had opened with an impossible demand. So, she cut straight to the counteroffer.
"I can help you suppress the impulse. Though, I don't recommend it. The most efficient method is simply to satisfy the Blood Thirst. The higher the quality and magical density of the blood you consume, the longer the satiation lasts."
She tilted her head. "Besides… the Vampiric Impulse is merely a side effect of the Blood Thirst. And you've already experienced the benefits of that thirst, haven't you?"
The Blood Thirst allowed a Dead Apostle to track the mana signatures of prey across vast distances. More importantly, it was the engine of their immortality. By drinking blood, a Dead Apostle could instantaneously regenerate life force, restore mana, and permanently strengthen their physical vessel.
As long as a vampire had blood to drink, conventional weapons couldn't kill them.
Executors, of course, didn't use conventional weapons. They used Purification.
"I can arrange for regular shipments of high-quality, fallen Dead Apostles for you to…"
"I want your blood."
"What?"
Altrouge blinked, genuinely stunned. She stared at him, unable to process the sheer audacity of the demand.
Behind her, the Black Knight silently drew his demon sword.
"I said, I want your blood as my suppression method." Rimuru shrugged, leaning back with a provocative, completely unapologetic smirk. "If I have to drink, I'm only drinking top shelf."
"…You are incredibly bold… Are you not afraid I'll kill you for that?" Altrouge stared deeply into Rimuru's eyes, a sudden realization dawning on her. "You think you can steal my power through my blood, don't you?"
Rimuru gave a noncommittal shrug. "Can I?"
Altrouge was sharper than he anticipated. But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It meant she was difficult to fool, but it also meant she wouldn't be a dead-weight liability if they actually teamed up.
"Logically speaking, I should refuse you on principle…"
Altrouge floated forward until she was inches away from him. Suddenly realizing she had to crane her neck to look up at his adult, German disguise, she scowled.
"First of all, change back to your original form."
"…Is that really relevant right now?" Rimuru asked, baffled by the sudden aesthetic demand. Still, he relented, dropping the disguise and reverting to his true form, the delicate, pale boy with flowing, light-blue hair.
Altrouge looked him up and down, her scowl vanishing. She nodded in profound satisfaction.
"Based purely on your face, I accept!"
"…?"
Rimuru stared at her. His brain completely flatlined.
In this tense, life-or-death atmosphere... are you seriously pulling this right now?
"However, if you want my blood, you have to trade it for yours." Altrouge leaned in, her crimson eyes locking onto Rimuru's golden ones. "Do you know why I first noticed you in Germany?"
"Because I was loudly asking around about Dead Apostles?"
"Of course not. Plenty of foolish magi ask about Dead Apostles. But you were different."
The Black Princess floated closer until her lips were practically brushing Rimuru's ear. Her soft, warm breath tickled his neck.
"Because you... smell incredibly delicious."
...
Rimuru went rigid.
It's not my 'scent' you're interested in, he thought dryly. You just want my Phantasmal blood.
"Fine. We trade. But I will extract the blood myself. You are not allowed to bite me." Rimuru agreed, taking a very deliberate step backward to maintain a safe distance.
If he remembered his Type-Moon lore correctly, the primary method a Dead Apostle used to convert a human was to suck their blood while simultaneously injecting their own vampiric blood into the victim's veins.
Rimuru had absolutely no intention of accidentally signing a Blood Contract and becoming Altrouge's thrall.
"Do I look like some feral beast that just bites people at random?" Altrouge huffed, genuinely offended by the accusation.
As the Queen of the Dead Apostles, she couldn't even remember the last time she had formally Embraced someone. She only ever bit someone when initiating a true contract. Otherwise, she drank blood from offered chalices, or... extracted it from the corpses of her enemies.
"Furthermore," Altrouge continued, waving her hand dismissively. "As my subordinate, I prefer you in this form. Don't go transforming into ugly disguises anymore. From now on, you will operate under me using the name and title of the White Knight, Fina-blood Svelten."
"Operate under you... I have my own objectives. I need to keep my real identity hidden from the human world."
"You certainly have a lot of demands."
Now that the overarching alliance was secured, Altrouge's regal, terrifying demeanor vanished. She scrunched up her nose, glaring at Rimuru like a spoiled, petulant teenager.
"I will give you a grace period to handle your personal affairs. As for your identity, I will lend you a Noble Phantasm that conceals your face and magical signature. With that, no normal magus will ever connect the White Knight to that pompous Professor at the Clock Tower."
Rimuru fell silent, considering the offer. He opened his mouth to negotiate further, but Altrouge simply placed her hands on her hips and pointedly looked over at the nun, who was still kneeling in prayer on the porch.
"...Fine," Rimuru gritted out, forced to concede.
Didn't you literally just say you wouldn't use the nun to threaten me? Heh. Women.
"One last thing," Rimuru added, his tone hardening. "If I'm joining your faction, I want the authority to command your subordinate Dead Apostles. I need them to handle certain... tasks for me."
"But of course." Altrouge's lips curved upward into a generous, predatory smile. "You are not just my subordinate now. If you ever need anything, you have only to ask."
"I, Altrouge Brunestud, have always treated my loyal knights..."
"...with the utmost care and affection."
….
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