NOVEL WEB Chapter 64: The Light That Serves the Dark
One of the paladins, a younger one with a fresh face and wide, hopeful eyes, approached Corven first. Without hesitation, he clapped him on the back, full of enthusiasm.
"You did great!"
It was meant as praise—for saving their lady, for surviving the massacre—but in his excitement, he forgot one small, painful detail: his gauntlets were silver.
The moment it made contact, Corven hissed, his skin sizzling under the touch.
"Ah—shit—!"
"Oh… I'm sorry!" the young paladin stammered, pulling his hand back in horror. The smell of burnt flesh lingered briefly in the air. The poor kid had no clue his well-meaning gesture had just added another layer of agony to an already broken man.
"Enough of that, Howard," the captain said sharply. His voice was calm, but carried a distinct tone of command that shut the younger one up immediately. "Go bring him some blood. And move quickly."
As the captain approached Corven—who was still on his knees, clutching his throbbing head—he muttered a short, guttural prayer under his breath. Not one of light or holy intent, but something darker, closer to a pact than a blessing.
Then he removed his silver gauntlet, fingers bare as he gently placed his hand on Corven's head.
A surge of grotesque energy pulsed from his palm, unnerving in nature but soothing all the same. The magic crawled across Corven's body like tendrils of smoke, draining the pain from his nerves and replacing it with an eerie calm.
It wasn't a holy spell. No divine scripture could pull this off. But it was effective—a standard among the Baroness' elite guard. When you serve a half-vampire noble, morality tends to become flexible. You borrow power from wherever it works—even if it comes from the other side of the veil.
"H-huh…?" Corven blinked, confused as the pounding in his head vanished in an instant.
He looked up. The captain stood over him, stern-eyed but not unkind. There was respect in his expression—earned, not offered lightly.
"Stand up," the man said. "You have an audience later."
Behind them, the other paladin—silent and efficient—was already at work. He gathered the mangled corpses into one pile for cleanup and whispered prayers over each body, whether friend or foe.
Then Howard returned, carrying a polished glass filled with thick, deep red liquid. It glowed faintly, humming with heat and life.
"What's that?" Corven asked, eyeing it suspiciously. The energy was wild, different from any blood he'd tasted before.
Howard grinned, clearly proud of the delivery. "Dragon blood. Costs a fortune."
Corven raised his brow, genuinely surprised. "You serious?"
"I do apologize again," Howard added quickly, clearly still dwelling on his earlier mistake. "I didn't mean—"
SMACK.
The captain smacked him across the back of the head. A loud thunk echoed as metal met skull.
"Don't get stuck in the past," he said flatly.
Corven couldn't help it. He chuckled, amused by their dynamic, before bringing the glass to his lips.
– Blood (310 Units)
"Pffttt—!"
He nearly spat it out. "What the hell—310?!"
The sheer potency of the blood shocked him. No blood he'd ever consumed had ever come close to that.
The captain arched a brow. "Is something wrong? Is it not satisfactory?"
"No, no," Corven said, laughing as he set the glass down on a broken table beside him. "I'm just surprised at how potent it is. Didn't think I'd ever drink something this refined."
"I see…" The captain relaxed a little, relieved he hadn't accidentally offended the man who'd just saved their lady's life. "Anyway, I'll escort you to her chambers. Her orders."
"Not wasting any time, I see." Corven stood up with a slight stretch. Between the spell and the blood, the wounds on his body were already sealing shut. Even the lingering burn on his back had faded to a mild ache.
If that weird demonic prayer hadn't done the job, the blood certainly finished it.
"Call me Alexander," the captain said, offering his bare hand.
Corven took it and shook it firmly, then followed him toward the exit.
But before they left the room, Alexander turned to Howard with another command. "Search the rest of the mansion for survivors. I'll regroup with you after this."
Howard gave a short nod, then vanished deeper into the halls.
As they walked through the corridors, Corven's mind wandered to something that had been bugging him. His eyes lingered on the captain's cape, the lantern symbol embroidered in golden thread.
It tugged at something familiar—the same one he saw on another paladin back at the forest when he and Rose rested before.
"What does your symbol mean?" he asked as they moved through the upper levels of the ruined mansion. T@his$ ch-apt.e@r was m$a^de p$os!si&b&l%e by the [email protected]#ty at M#V|.LE!M|P!Y#R.^
"Hm?" Alexander glanced back. "Oh, this?" He looked over his shoulder at the cape. "It's nothing important. Purely formal."
Corven frowned at the answer. "Care to elaborate?"
Alexander chuckled and scratched the back of his head, clearly amused. "It used to mean something. The lantern symbol—back then it stood for being a light in the dark. That's why we wear silver, why we fought the undead."
Corven arched a brow. "But now you serve a dhampir."
"Exactly why it's only for formalities' sake," Alexander replied with a wry grin. "The message didn't age well."
Corven smirked. For an elite unit, they were oddly grounded… and surprisingly casual.
It didn't take long before they reached their destination. A few more floors up, with several corpses still lying around, half-burned or shredded. A handful of paladins were already in the process of cleaning up, dragging survivors out from the rubble.
Finally, Alexander stopped before a towering, double-door entrance easily tall enough to fit a giant.
"Here we are." He motioned toward it.
Corven blinked. "How inconspicuous…"
Alexander laughed under his breath. "Helps us navigate during chaos. You'd be surprised how easy it is to get turned around when someone's trying to kill your boss."
Then, with a final clap on Corven's back—silver gauntlet back on this time—he left.
Corven flinched from the brief sting, watching Alexander disappear down the corridor.
He couldn't help but think how the man reminded him of a typical "righteous knight" trope—like one of those lawful good types who dies heroically three chapters into a novel.
"Nice to know people like that exist outside of fiction," he muttered to himself.
Then, with no more time to waste, he stepped through the door.
Inside, the Baroness' chambers were… wrecked.
Drawers were yanked open, their contents spilled across the marble floor. Books lay in scattered piles, parchment tossed carelessly, and even the wallpaper bore scratches and slashes like someone had clawed through it.
It didn't take a genius to realize what happened. Leywin must've sent his vampires to tear through the room in search of something. Probably while no one was around.
But in the center of the chaos, perched cross-legged on a luxurious velvet bed, sat the Baroness.
She wore a richly embroidered crimson Hanfu, delicate but sharp-looking, the silk fabric glistening under the faint light. The color matched her hair perfectly. She'd gotten ready quickly.
Of course she did. For someone like her, appearances were everything.
"You cleaned up fast," Corven said bluntly.
"Perks of supernatural speed," she replied without missing a beat, shifting her legs in a slow, deliberate motion—uncrossing and recrossing them with casual grace.
"You're doing that on purpose, aren't you? The whole elegant look thing."
The Baroness raised a brow at the forwardness but didn't seem offended. If anything, she looked… entertained.
"You're quite unique," she said, voice dry but intrigued. "And here I was trying to look like a proper lady of high status."
"I'm not one to get intimidated by titles," Corven replied coolly. "I've pissed off enough bureaucrats trying to keep me away from historical ruins."
Not like she would get what Corven meant by that.
Her lips twitched in amusement.
"Well then," she said, rising from the bed. With a soft whisper of magic, a black, shadow-woven fan materialized in her hand. She lifted it to her face, hiding her smirk behind the delicate curves.
This wasn't blood magic—it was shadow. A different flavor entirely. A different source.
Corven narrowed his eyes slightly. Yeah, she was different.
Very different.
"Tell me, Vampire… what exactly are you?"