"Lucien Valtoras," Jack said softly, his expression serious, his eyes no longer wavering.
"Take that name. Valtoras is an ancient noble lineage in the Vampire world. If we carry this name, it might give us a significant advantage when entering Hollowrest."
John and Mira looked at each other, then nodded together. Neither of them said anything more. The name… came from Jack so naturally, as if he had never borne any other.
"Now, here's the plan," John began, gesturing towards Jack. "Lord Lucien Valtoras will lead two human slaves into town to buy supplies, preparing to return to the capital, Noxvalen. A perfect reason. A perfect disguise."
Mira sighed, her eyes half resigned, half helpless.
"I suppose so… But… wait. What about you, Mr. John? Aren't you going to disguise yourself?"
John didn't answer. He bent down, scooped up a handful of damp earth from the ground, and without hesitation—smeared it across his face.
"This is all I need. Hahaha!"
"What the heck!? That's disgusting! I'm definitely not doing that!" Mira recoiled, her face contorted.
"You brat! Hurry up and do it! Or do you want to be turned into a Vampire!?" John roared, still brandishing the handful of dirt, chasing Mira around a tree trunk.
Jack watched it all, only smiling quietly.
⸻
A moment later.
All three were ready.
Lord Vampire Lucien Valtoras, a noble in a golden-haired black vest, led two human slaves who looked pitifully filthy—an old man with a mud-caked face, his expression unreadable, and a girl with messy hair, a dirty face, and an expression that couldn't hide her annoyance.
John chanted an incantation, and the enormous backpack immediately shrunk down, neatly resting behind Jack. This time, it was no longer a combat backpack but had been disguised as a luxurious leather satchel, befitting nobility.
"Here, take this." John said, pulling four Bloodcores from his coat pocket. They shimmered with a faint red light, emitting a subtle aura that made the air feel heavy.
"These can be very useful inside the city. Best not to use them unless absolutely necessary."
Mira saw them and her eyes immediately widened.
"Where did you get those!? They're truly… incredibly valuable. And to humans too, do you know that??" she asked, her eyes not only curious but also a bit worried.
Jack, standing beside her, suddenly paused.
Wind rustled past. His eyes clouded over for a moment.
He realized—it had been more than a day since he had eaten.
A shiver ran down his spine. Not from the cold. But because… the bloodlust was smoldering, about to erupt from deep within.
He was afraid.
Afraid that if he didn't control it… the one standing here wouldn't be Lucien Valtoras, nor Jack—but the one the world once trembled to call by two words: Jack the Ripper.
He took a deep breath, then turned to John, his voice hoarse:
"John… I need a Bloodcore."
He clenched his hand, his eyes serious.
"A day has passed… I haven't eaten yet."
John said nothing. He just looked at Jack for a few seconds… then nodded slightly. No further words were needed. He understood. And he empathized.
Even though he knew the value of a Bloodcore was immense—to humans, and even to Vampires—he understood: it was necessary now.
He gently handed the Core to Jack, without the slightest hesitation.
Jack took it, his eyes still holding clarity but unable to hide the internal conflict that was tearing him apart.
"Bloodcore… isn't just currency," he said, his voice low and even.
"The blood inside… is incredibly pure. Just one… is enough to keep me full for a few days."
He raised the Bloodcore closer to his face. His eyes looked at it like someone who was very familiar with this substance—a true Vampire.
John and Mira stood silently.
They looked at Jack—the image before them was of a cold noble, but in that moment… there was no denying it: he had once lived as a Vampire, understood blood, and needed it to survive.
The Core was round, its interior as clear as high-quality glass, but upon closer inspection, it wasn't glass. It was a shell made of a combination of sealing magic and special materials, very hard, very durable, impossible to break with bare hands.
Inside, the liquid blood was glowing. A purplish-red color, occasionally emitting faint pulses—the blood was still "alive."
At both ends of the Core were two gold caps engraved with royal patterns, intricate, bearing the mark of Vampire nobility.
Jack twisted the two ends slightly, then opened the cap.
Click.
Immediately—a thin mist of blood escaped, ethereal as cold smoke, spreading gently in the air.
He didn't hesitate.
Bowing his head slightly, he inhaled the mist directly.
In an instant, his entire body froze.
His eyes closed tightly, the blood vessels on his neck, face, and forehead… glowed bright red. Small veins bulged beneath his disguised skin, clear and vivid as if bleeding from within.
Jack groaned softly, a growl rumbling in his throat.
Not from pain.
But from… pleasure.
Bloodcore was super-purified blood. Something that couldn't be artificially created, couldn't be diluted. It was the essence extracted from dozens of living beings, processed with ancient magic formations and condensed into energy form.
For any Vampire, this was a divine meal.
And for Jack—it was both medicine… and a reminder:
He was still a creature that needed blood to survive.
A few minutes later…
Jack slowly opened his eyes. He took a deep breath, holding it in his chest for a few seconds as if trying to stabilize himself. Then he sighed—slowly, heavily, but decisively.
Before him, John and Mira were observing his every slightest expression.
Mira squinted, tilted her head slightly, her voice still carrying a hint of wariness:
"…Hey… that's still you, right, Jack?"
John said nothing, but his eyes were clearly wary. His hand muscles had slightly tensed, ready to intervene if necessary.
Jack looked directly at Mira, the fake red eyes beneath his contact lenses still holding a real light—steadfast.
"Rest assured," he said, his voice deep but steady. "I won't become that person again."
A moment of silence.
Then Jack turned, tightened the straps of his backpack, adjusted his vest collar, and smoothed out a few imperfect creases in his coat.
"And now… I'm ready," he said, raising his head, his eyes looking towards the mist-shrouded road leading down to Hollowrest. "Let's go."
John nodded first. Mira looked for a few more seconds, then also pursed her lips and nodded.
No one said anything more.
Everything… was ready.
The Last Light Blade—the forbidden weapon carrying the light of an old era—was wrapped tightly in thick cloth, rolled up like just a normal piece of luggage. The remaining weapons of all three were also carefully hidden in John's shrunken bag—now looking no different from a luxurious noble's leather satchel after being disguised.
Ahead, Hollowrest appeared. Tall black stone walls covered in moss, a few heavy steel guard gates, and scattered Vampire guards in front of the main entrance.
A Vampire noble with a calm demeanor and a perfect appearance, leading two human slaves—faces lowered, backs carrying luggage, looking disheveled—slowly approached the gate.
Jack… or rather, Lucien Valtoras, slightly narrowed his eyes as he looked ahead, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Mira and John… also said nothing. Each of them began to play their roles.
They had come very close.
…
But in a place where no one paid attention—on a high tree branch far away, a strange creature was motionless.
A black crow, small but cold as the night, with four glowing red eyes flickering on its face. Its jet-black feathers ruffled slightly in the wind. It didn't move. Didn't blink.
It was watching.
And the direction it was looking—was towards Jack's group, approaching the gate to Hollowrest step by step.
It didn't caw.
Didn't fly.
Just… observed.
What will happen next ???