June brought restless monsters, uncontrolled magic, and an ominous crimson moon. These elements combined to strike fear into ordinary souls. While the great lords, mages, and officials called this month the Scarlet Moon or the Magic Moon, common folk more commonly referred to it as the Month of Calamity.
On this day, Valed prepared to take action, embarking on an adventure. It served both to strengthen his own power and to spice up his somewhat monotonous life. Though not a Grand Mage, truth be told, this young master—born with an innate affinity for magic and possessing an already considerable reserve of magical energy—possessed raw power that surpassed even that of ordinary **mages, regardless of technique.
Through years of observation, he had gained a preliminary understanding of this month and the mysteries of that crimson moon. As an exceptional psionicist—or, by this world's terminology, an exceptional battle mage—Vared understood the art of harnessing this storm. It was akin to the finest sailors comprehending the ocean's tides, monsoons, and currents.
Though he lived within a vampire aristocracy—a society characterized by internal unity and familial affection—this did not mean Valed could relax and become a useless parasite.
For he was a vampire noble. And the heir to a noble house. This identity dictated that at sixteen, he would join the military and become a warrior. He would fight to expand territories and defend his domain.
On the battlefield, blades have no eyes; enemies care not for one's status. Valed's biological father—the previous Count of the Kastanin family—had fallen in battle just two months before Valed's birth, six years prior. The young Count was ultimately cleaved in two by the axe of a greenskinned Orc warchief.
At the time, the Count was fully focused on commanding his forces. Undead armies could only move under the direction of a Necromancer. His intense concentration left him utterly defenseless against the sudden appearance of the green-skinned chieftain. The Vampire Warriors and High Lich Guardians by his side were no match for the War Chief either.
Thus, the previous Count Castanien fell in battle. His entire army of fifteen thousand undead soldiers, deprived of their commander, became a motionless pile of skeletal remains. The campaign ended in a crushing defeat for Sylvania.
That battle, known as the War of the Southern Wastes, was utterly lost due to the failure of the previous Count Castanien. Ultimately, the realm lost one-tenth of its military strength and saw one-twentieth of its territory fall. Vast, defenseless plains were laid bare, exposed to the ravages of the greenskins. The losses were devastating. Varad, meanwhile, was born two months premature due to his birth mother's profound grief—perhaps the very reason he retained memories of his past life.
Though destined to become a vampire noble—the head of House Kastanien and its Count—this did not mean Valed wished to acknowledge his parents. Technically, he owed his existence to them, yet the Count's death brought him a strange sense of relief.
When addressing Isabella, his sister, he used her given name directly, rarely referring to her as "sister." Similarly, when speaking to his biological mother, Countess Windsor, he addressed her only as "Madam." This slightly cold manner of address naturally displeased both his sister and mother.
The Countess felt her son seemed to dislike her somewhat. Perhaps it stemmed from her own aloofness toward him. But she had no choice. After the Count's death, the vast estate fell entirely to her management. Though relatives and other families offered assistance, matters concerning the family's core affairs remained inseparable from her presence.
Beyond that, there was another reason: Valed had fully inherited his biological father's striking good looks. As he grew older, combined with the Countess's own subjective perceptions, seeing her son often reminded her of her deceased husband. Consequently, she deliberately avoided contact with Valed, hoping to spare herself further sorrow. Naturally, this arrangement suited Valed just fine.
Isabella, however, resented this state of affairs, feeling her dignity as the elder sister was being trampled upon. She constantly devised ways to torment Valed, forcing him to address her as "sister."
Naturally, these twelve-year-old pranks were mere child's play to Valed. He could spot the traps, baits, and lies without even trying. Valed even suspected his IQ might decline if he continued playing along with his step-sister's schemes.
For Valed, the real challenge wasn't outmaneuvering his sister. It was pretending to be oblivious or feigning deep thought while painstakingly dismantling her so-called schemes. He had to act like a clever child—but not too clever. This constant balancing act was driving Valed mad.
Fortunately, after some reflection, Valed devised a simple yet effective countermeasure against Isabella. He'd play along, feigning severe injury from her traps. If necessary, he'd even add a few cries for effect. Isabella would then rush to his aid, genuinely concerned. What followed was payback and demands.
Truth be told, teasing the little girl like this was rather amusing. To outsiders, it appeared perfectly normal—just children playing. Adults who witnessed it would likely conclude: "Ah, ah. These siblings really do have a close bond." Such ambiguous judgments meant Valed didn't need to hold back.
At this thought, Valed—who appeared as an innocent, adorable child—flashed an equally innocent, adorable smile. The moment the soft chuckle reached the ears of the servants outside the door, a faint ache struck their necks, sending them into a deeper slumber. This was Valed's usual method when venturing out—a gentle reminder to the attendants stationed at the entrance.
It wasn't that Valed doubted they'd dare disobey his orders. Rather, he wished to prevent them from revealing his outings, thus avoiding unnecessary complications.
Among this group of maids, one exception existed: Maya. This wasn't because Valed held her in special regard. Rather, after serving his dinner, she required deep sleep to replenish her strength. To ensure quality rest, she took a specific sleeping potion. Thus, no special attention was needed.
Within the entire Dekenhove Castle, aside from these few servants, only Valed and Isabella remained. The Countess was, as always, absent—likely occupied with matters concerning the family estates or working for the Citizens' Assembly. Other members of the Castanin family either resided in their own castles, lived in the city, or held positions within the Citizens' Assembly system. None were here.
Of course, this did not mean the vast castle lacked manpower or defensive strength. In fact, compared to the sparse number of sentient beings, the number of undead within the castle far exceeded them.
Unlike ordinary, haphazardly assembled skeletons that couldn't even defeat the most common human foot soldiers, the undead warriors guarding the castle were all elite among the elite.
In life, they were all military elites, renowned warriors, or knights forged through rigorous training. After death, their remains were claimed by vampire nobles, who used special rebirth methods to transform them into formidable undead beings.
Though reduced to mere skeletons, empowered by the dark forces of necromancy, these undead wielded strength surpassing even their prime in life.
Faster speed, greater attack power. Green phosphorescent fire flickered in their eye sockets. Clad in black iron plate armor adorned with magical runes, they wielded black iron halberds gleaming with ominous light, or dual swords, or sword and shield. They were the elite, the main force of the vampire realm, the vampire clan's personal guard. They were the outstanding warriors known as the Tomb Guardians.
These terrifyingly numerous Tomb Guardians roamed tirelessly within the ancient Dekkenhof Castle, patrolling to defend their lord's fortress and repel enemies. Or they awaited their lord's summons, forming ranks to enter the battlefield...
Their purpose was clear, their equipment formidable, their endurance unyielding. They dealt crushing blows to any foe daring to challenge the House of Castanien. Yet now, as Valed walked past them, they maintained their patrols. As if they hadn't seen him.
Because Valed was not an enemy.
Or rather, quite the opposite. Valed was also a member of the Dekenhove Castle, the future Count of the Castanin family. He was the very one they were sworn to protect. The mechanical rigidity of the undead soldiers was evident here. They wouldn't act like living men, stopping Valed to ask, "My young master, so late at night, why have you come here instead of sleeping? What exactly are you trying to do?" Then escort him back to his quarters.
The undead soldiers were indeed extremely obedient. Yet at times, their obedience bordered on excessive. If some deranged necromancer were to conduct an experiment, commanding his undead warriors with the order: "Kill me," then the undead soldiers would absolutely swing their weapons without hesitation and attack him. They would continue until he was slain. Or until the necromancer altered the command, or until the necromancer himself was killed.