I'm the Crazy One in the Family-Chapter 84: This is Compensation for My Commotion (4)

The Age of Legends: it was the era that was first brought up when discussing the origins of the world—a time when everything was imbued with god.

Among them was Dracula, the God of Blood, who took pleasure in toying with humans. Humans were beings who looked like gods but were not gods themselves. Dracula found it entertaining to watch these creatures live modestly with their meager abilities and slowly evolve over time.

Occasionally, when the continent grew saturated with humans, Dracula would manifest and commit massacres. Those moments were the highlight for him. Killing humans, who behaved as though they were grand beings, with just a glance was Dracula’s favorite game.

—The very source of your vitality is mine. No matter how much you transcend, as long as you remain human, you cannot stand against me.

All beings with flesh were subject to Dracula’s whims; if he willed them to die, they had no choice but to perish. For centuries, Dracula repeated the cycle of slaughtering humans, allowing them to recover, and then destroying their civilizations time and time over.

Then, one day, he encountered an amusing human woman who pleaded with him, offering herself as his sacrifice so that he would spare her village. It was unprecedented; it was the first time a human demonstrated the spirit of sacrifice.

Intrigued by this unfamiliar behavior, Dracula granted her request. He made her his first servant and gave her the name, vampire. Thus was born the First Vampire, Elise. Elise descended into the human world and began spreading her lineage. To protect humans from Dracula, she instilled in them the ideals of submission, sacrifice, and subservience. She sought to save the many by sacrificing the few.

Dracula approved of the system Elise had created. Thanks to her efforts, humanity could avoid Dracula’s wrath with minimal sacrifices... Until a thousand years later.

By then, countless vampires had arisen, descendants of Elise. However, Elise’s ideals of protecting humanity had been corrupted, and vampires began to dominate humans instead, treating them as livestock. Dracula no longer needed to intervene; the vampires themselves controlled and oppressed humanity. This tyranny was not unique to Dracula. Other gods committed similar, if not worse, atrocities.

Eventually, a war that changed history broke out: Ragnarok. The gods who cherished humanity declared war against those who oppressed them. Though the war seemed reckless, humanity emerged victorious. Countless gods were either destroyed or sealed away, branded as evil beings.

Dracula was no exception. To his disgrace, he was defeated not by a divine being but by a human: Titan, a transcendent who had replaced their hot blood and human body with cold coolant and a war machine. Thus, Dracula was shattered into six fragments and sealed. One of those fragments now lay before Keter, sealed in the form of the Blood Sword.

—You dare defile my sacred body with your mortal flesh? You shall repay that sin with death.

If Keter had been alone, Dracula would have held off on killing him. But there were other humans outside. Dracula was not merciful enough to spare an insolent human.

Blood droplets formed on the sword and evaporated, creating a thick mist. This was blood magic: the Vampiric Mist. Even the slightest contact with the mist would drain a person of their blood. Keter, who was standing at the center, would turn into a dried-up corpse in mere moments.

Or at least, he should have.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Clang!

Keter kicked the Blood Sword. The sword, which was embedded in the altar, was knocked loose, clattering noisily down the steps of the altar.

—What... How can you remain unharmed within the Vampiric Mist?

“You think no one in Liqueur ever used blood magic?”

Blood magic was infamous for being nearly unavoidable, but Keter had learned how to counter it—directly from a Grandmaster of blood magic.

The trick is not to coat your exterior but your interior with mana. If done perfectly, you’ll be absolutely immune to blood magic’s effects.

It was easy to say, but coating the interior of one’s body with mana was something that was only theoretically possible. Even the slightest lapse in concentration in focus while coating one’s bones, blood vessels, and organs with mana would cause the mana coating to shatter into sharp fragments. That would result in self-destruction before the blood magic could even take effect.

And that wasn’t all. Even after the coating was applied, it had to be maintained for an extended period. In a real battle, using this technique was tantamount to gambling. Yet Keter had pulled it off effortlessly.

Woah, that was surprising. I have to admit, this one’s a bit different from Apophis or Amaranth.

Of course, he was a little surprised deep down. Both Apophis and Amaranth required a host to manifest their power. Dracula, however, was able to exert its strength even without one.

In other words, this thing’s even more of a hassle to deal with.

Keter felt annoyed, not concerned. After all, this wouldn’t lower the resale value.

“I thought this was worth a million gold, but turns out it’s only a five hundred thousand gold item.”

Frustrated at his five hundred thousand gold loss, Keter kicked Dracula again. Apparently incapable of moving on its own, the blood sword sailed through the air and tumbled to the ground.

For the first time, Dracula began to understand this human named Keter slightly.

—What do you take me for, mortal? I am the master of life itself. Become my loyal servant, and I shall grant you immortality and the supreme power of blood.

“Not interested.”

—There’s no need to lie. No human rejects power and authority.

“Who said I was rejecting it? I just don’t need your power.”

—...

Dracula, known for his relatively composed demeanor, fell silent. He would have dismissed it as nonsense if any other human had said such things. But Dracula could sense it—the power flowing from Keter’s left arm—a power similar to his own.

Dracula realized something.

—You’ve already made a contract. Now I understand.

That explained how Keter had resisted his temptation and how he had remained unharmed by the Vampiric Mist. It explained why he showed no particular interest in Dracula; it was because he had already contracted with another god.

Of course, Dracula misunderstood completely. But he didn’t give up. There was still one thing only he could offer.

—Mortal, tell me your name.

“Keter.”

—Mortal Keter, don’t you wish to leave this place, Liqueur?

Dracula was well aware of the peculiar nature of Liqueur, his prison. It was a place one could enter but never leave. And what would humans living in such a place desire most?

“Oh?”

Keter tilted his head, pretending to be interested. Smug, Dracula chuckled and continued.

—Heh heh heh. Only I can make it possible. For I have made a contract with Liqueur itself. Only I can freely leave this place.

Keter only knew of Liqueur as a city, but Dracula’s attitude, as if he were addressing a living entity, genuinely piqued Keter’s curiosity this time.

* * *

Liqueur had a lot of secrets: why did the gray mist allow people to enter but never leave? Who founded the city, and why did Queen Lillian turn a blind eye to its existence? What lay beneath, tens of meters underground?

Keter was also curious at first and had actively investigated these mysteries. His conclusion was that Liqueur was like an onion—peeling back one layer only revealed more secrets beneath. And at the center of it all, every thread seemed to lead back to one person: the ruler of Liqueur, the Godfather.

Not wanting to get involved with him, Keter abandoned his investigations into Liqueur’s mysteries. Besides, he had already received an artifact from Besil, one that allowed him to freely enter and leave Liqueur. It could even mark others, enabling them to leave as well. He had felt the importance of this artifact just through hearing the description of it.

But now, watching Dracula confidently claim that only he could leave Liqueur, Keter found himself even more curious about the identity of his mother who had left him this artifact.

Not something I need to dig into right now.

Events would unfold as they were meant to. It wasn’t about ignoring them, just recognizing them. That alone was sufficient preparation.

Secrets like his mother’s or Liqueur’s had nothing to do with the revival of Sefira or the impending battle with Lillian.

Though it does sound fun... Haha.

Keter glanced down at the pitiful sight of Dracula, the Blood Sword, lying on the floor. Regardless, this thing was loot that was useless to him personally but worth selling. And to sell it, he first had to coax it out of here.

“So, your claim about leaving Liqueur—is that true?”

—Rejoice, mortal. Lies are a privilege of your kind. Unlike you, we are not deceitful beings.

“And what would you want in return?”

—Swear your loyalty. Act for my resurrection. It is not just for my sake but for yours as well.

“That’s a tough one. I can’t decide immediately. Give me some time.”

—Take all the time you need. But remember this: to leave Liqueur, you will need my power.]

Splatter!

With a wet sound, the Blood Sword dissolved into blood and coiled around Keter’s neck. Moments later, the liquid solidified into the shape of a blood-red cross necklace.

Krrrroom!

The labyrinth trembled again, this time with a different resonance.

—This place will soon collapse. Escape now.

The labyrinth had been designed to seal Dracula. With the seal broken, the power sustaining the labyrinth was dissipating.

Keter escaped without hesitation. The mercenaries who had accompanied him had already fled long ago.

Boom! Thud!

As soon as Keter emerged to the surface, the ground beneath the labyrinth collapsed, swallowing the path that had connected it to the Mercenary Vault. And just like that, Cork and his labyrinth vanished without a trace.

“Nice and clean,” Keter said with satisfaction.

Having avenged an old grudge and gained Dracula’s Blood Sword as a reward, Keter strode confidently back to the mercenary guild. It was packed with people awaiting his return. Joyray hadn’t even gone home, and Luke, now recovered, was there as well.

Hansen, who had shown concern for Keter, and the mercenaries Keter hired were present, along with the others who knew of the grudge between Keter and Cork.

The mercenary guild was so crowded it felt stifling.

“Keter’s here!”

“As expected, Keter made it back!”

“Haha! I told you Keter would win! Now pay up that ten gold you bet!”

“Sir, we're counting on you!”

Everyone already knew that Keter had gone after Cork. The fact that Keter returned meant that Cork was dead. No one mourned; it wasn’t because Cork deserved to die, but because in Liqueur, life and death didn’t hold much distinction.

While the mercenaries fawned over their new branch chief, Joyray was the only one who approached him with a serious expression.

“So that’s Cork’s legacy.”

Joyray was referring to the red cross necklace on

Sensing Dracula’s presence, Joyray felt a deep, instinctive disgust.

“Are you interested?” Keter asked.

“It’s hard not to be. You’re the branch chief of the Liqueur Mercenary Guild now, after all.”

Though Joyray had already acknowledged it, he once again publicly declared Keter’s new status before everyone.

“Hahaha! You did it, Keter! You’re the branch chief now!”

Luke was the only one who congratulated him sincerely.

For the other mercenaries, Keter’s promotion wasn’t exactly good news. Cork hadn’t done anything exceptional, but he had never abused his power.

Keter, on the other hand, was one of Liqueur’s Five Lunatics. No one could predict what he might do, which brought unease.

“Alright, you all can leave now,” Joyray ordered.

Joyray ordered the crowd of mercenaries to leave, and no one would dare defy the orders of a council member. Without complaint, the mercenaries filed out of the guild.

Keter crossed his arms.

“You must have business with me, I take it?”

“Not me,” Joyray said, gesturing toward the second floor with his hand. “Head to the lounge. Someone’s waiting for you.”

Keter raised his eyebrow.

Joyray, a council member of the Mercenary Association, respectfully addressing someone?

That alone revealed who was waiting for him upstairs. There was only one person in Liqueur who deserved such respect.

“You’re staying here with me,” Joyray said, stopping Luke, who was about to follow Keter.

“I’m not a mercenary. I don’t have to follow your orders,” Luke retorted.

“It’s not an order—it’s advice. I would hate to see someone with such a promising future go mad and ruin themselves.”

“...!”

Luke turned to look at Keter, who simply shrugged.

“Kid, it’s too early for you to deal with this. Listen to the Captain,” Keter said.

“I’m not a kid!”

Despite his frustration, Luke obediently stayed behind.

Leaving them both, Keter went to the second-floor lounge. As he neared the room, an unsettling feeling crept over him, as though the hallway were the gaping maw of some monstrous creature.

Creak...

The door opened on its own as Keter approached.

Inside, an old man sat waiting. He had the appearance of a humble teacher from a rural village, the type who taught children their letters.

“It’s been a while,” Keter said, bowing deeply to the old man. “Godfather.”

The man before him was none other than the ruler of Liqueur—Godfather Alkione.