In the kingdom of the dwarves, just a few hundred kilometers away from the hidden headquarters of M.A.L.I.C.E., Esdeath, Lortell, Abaddon, Krona, and the others moved quietly on foot. None of them wanted to draw unnecessary attention.
The dwarven army had already lost half of its people. They couldn't afford to lose any more lives.
The streets around them were eerily silent. Modern-looking houses stood in neat rows, but not a single person could be seen walking outside. Some windows were shattered, some walls bore scorch marks from explosions, and a few cars had been left abandoned in the middle of the road. The whole place looked like a town frozen in fear.
Abaddon suddenly stopped in front of a bright red car parked by the roadside. It had an open roof, polished silver details, and a vintage design, looking like something straight out of the early 1900s but with an upgraded finish that made it almost royal in appearance.
"What vehicle is this? It looks different from the cars I saw in the newspapers," Abaddon asked, circling around it with childlike curiosity.
Krona puffed her chest with pride and quickly explained, "Ahem… it's actually one of our old models. We've got much newer designs now! Especially the superbike—we built one that looks like something from the future. Sleek, fast, and far ahead of other kingdoms!"
Abaddon raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Still, her eyes lingered on the car with faint interest.
As they walked further, more of the dwarves' technology came into view—street lamps that glowed with oil instead of magical cores, mechanical carts used to transport goods, and even strange towers that looked like communication devices. Compared to other kingdoms, the dwarves were decades ahead. Even Lortell, who rarely allowed herself to show admiration, silently thought how useful it would be if these kinds of things existed back in her kingdom.
After some time, they reached the edge of the restricted zone. Tall metal fences surrounded the area, warning signs posted all over, the kind that screamed danger to any normal citizen.
Krona's expression tightened. "We're here… but… huh? Why does the security look so low? Don't tell me… he killed all the specimens out of anger?" Her voice trembled slightly.
"Don't think too much." Esdeath placed a hand on her shoulder, her calm tone strangely reassuring. "It could also mean the opposite—that they're still alive and he isn't interested in them."
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BANG!
BAM!
BOOM!
Gunshots echoed. Magic flared. A group of combat drones rushed forward, but the team reacted instantly. Spells burned through metal. Bullets ricocheted off barriers. With coordinated attacks, the machines were reduced to smoking piles of scrap within seconds. The clash ended as quickly as it began.
"Good. Before reinforcements arrive, we should head inside and rescue them!" Krona said firmly, pointing toward a massive white warehouse that loomed in front of them like a sleeping beast.
They rushed forward, smashed through the outer doors, and found themselves in what looked like a storage hall. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with crates of medicine, canned food, and emergency supplies. But Krona didn't stop there—her steps were quick, urgent.
"The real place isn't here," she explained. "It's underground. Follow me."
A reinforced metal hatch in the center of the warehouse led to the bunker below. Krona tried to open it, but the lights above flickered weakly—the power was unstable. Sparks crackled at the edges of the hatch as the mechanism struggled but refused to unlock.
Lortell stepped forward, cracking her knuckles with a smirk. "Should I use force? One good punch and this thing is history."
"No! Absolutely not!" Krona snapped, spinning to face her. Her eyes were wide with fear. "If you punch it, the whole bunker might collapse. Everyone inside will be buried alive!"
Lortell frowned, but her hand slowly lowered.
"Let me do it myself!" Krona shouted as she raised her heavy hammer high above her head and slammed it down onto the sealed bunker door.
The metal rang out with a deafening clang, small cracks spreading across the surface. She struck again, and again, each impact shaking the ground beneath their feet. At first, it looked like a waste of energy, but with every blow, the cracks grew wider.
Finally—
BANG!
A sharp explosion burst out, sending fragments of rock flying into the room. Dust clouded the air as the sealed entrance gave way, opening the path into the underground bunker.
"Let's hope no one was hurt by that… please let everyone still be alive," Krona whispered, almost like a prayer, before rushing inside with the others close behind her.
The underground air was damp, heavy, and smelled faintly of blood. As their eyes adjusted to the dim light, the first thing they saw was a figure lying on the ground, groaning in pain. It was a girl, a dwarf who looked very human-like.
Her body was in a terrible state—one sharp rock had pierced through her stomach, and another had crushed her leg. Blood pooled beneath her, her breathing shallow and broken, as if she was on the edge of life and death.
Krona's heart skipped a beat. For a moment, pure panic flashed across her face, but relief quickly followed when she noticed a group of dwarves huddled together in the corner of the room, trembling but alive.
"Are you all alright?" Krona asked, her voice trembling as she rushed toward them.
A young male dwarf, his face pale with fear, stepped forward. "T-thank God you came! When we heard the banging… we thought the robots had broken through. Visra… she gathered the courage to face them, but then the explosion came, and this happened!" His eyes shifted to the injured girl, filled with guilt.
Krona's chest tightened. The sight of Visra bleeding because of her reckless hammer strike made her heart ache with guilt. "This… this is my fault," she muttered under her breath. Without wasting another second, she dropped to her knees beside the girl and pulled out a scanner.
Her hands moved quickly as she checked the injuries. "Her leg is badly crushed but treatable. The real problem is her kidney—it's badly damaged. She'll die without a new one. I can only stop the bleeding for now," she whispered to herself, applying emergency treatment to stabilize the girl.
Then her sharp eyes turned toward Abaddon and Ceres. "Can either of you use blessings or white magic? Anything that can regenerate her kidney? Please—save her life!"
The moment the words left her mouth, both Abaddon and Ceres froze. Their faces went pale, cold sweat forming on their foreheads.
Inside, panic tore through them. They weren't nuns. They weren't healers. They were succubi in disguise. Using light magic was impossible—worse, if they even tried, it would betray what they really were.
"Fuck… my dark element can only heal me," Ceres thought in a rush of fear. "If I use it on her, it'll backfire. On dwarves, elves, and humans… it'll only cause pain. I'll end up killing her instead of saving her!"
Abaddon forced a strained smile, her voice trembling with nervous laughter. "Haha… actually, we'd love to help, but… we're war bishops. We handle force and discipline, not healing. We… we can't heal her."
Krona frowned, confused, but didn't question it right away.
Ceres let out a tiny breath of relief in her mind. "Good save, Abaddon. Thank God Lady Igret stayed behind. If Krona had asked her instead and she failed… our whole cover would've been blown. How can a pope not use blessings?"
In their supposed ranks, popes were equal to saintesses, women directly blessed by the gods themselves. If they failed in such a basic act, suspicion would be inevitable.
Meanwhile, Lortell's red eyes flickered in thought as she looked at the dying girl. "I can save her… but only if I turn her into a vampire. Doing that would expose me. My identity would be ruined." She clenched her fists, keeping the thought to herself.
Esdeath simply leaned against the wall, her gaze cold and detached. "All this fuss over one life," she thought, uninterested. "Just let her die. Why waste time on drama?"
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Krona's team quickly gathered all the specimens into a circle, making sure no one was left behind. The frightened human dwarves had been trapped underground for so long that their skin was pale and weak. Now that war had broken out, they had no way to leave, and their food stores had been nearly empty. Luckily, the rescue came just in time.
"Leader, what about Visra?" one of the soldiers asked, carrying the unconscious girl in his arms. Her breathing was shallow, her face pale from blood loss.
Krona's eyes softened as she looked at Visra, then slowly shifted her gaze to the thirteen other rescued specimens standing close together. A long sigh escaped her lips, heavy with helplessness.
"What can we do?" she said, her voice quiet but firm. "The war has already drained too many supplies. Each day we lose more men, more money, more resources. Organ donors are at their lowest… There's nothing else we can do. Let's take her back and admit her into the hospital. If she's lucky enough to find a donor, she will live… and if not…"
Her voice trailed off as her eyes lingered on the rescued group.
"We have more than enough specimens," she finished coldly.
The words stung like ice. But no one argued. They all knew she was right. In war, one life could not outweigh the needs of many.
With that decision, the group set out on their journey back. Their mission was already a success—new land was secured, and the specimens were rescued. That was all that mattered.
Esdeath stretched her arms and yawned lightly, hugging Lortell from the side. "How long has it been now? One month and three days, if I'm right? Let's get back quickly. I'm sick of this place."
Lortell gently patted her head, her silver-white hair glowing faintly under the sun. "Yes, but before we leave, there's somewhere we should go. The Great Temple of Seraphine in church kingdom. They say if you pray there, your wish comes true. I don't really believe it, but since we're here, why not go there?"
Esdeath smiled softly, her eyes warm, but inside her mind curses boiled. "A wish? What kind of wish?", She said but inside her mind,"Tch… that bitch Seraphine keeps wasting my time even after death. I need to get back soon. Who knows what kind of foolish trouble predictor has caused by now."
"It's about—" Lortell began, but her words suddenly stopped. Her red eyes turned sharp, her hand lifting up in warning. "Everyone, stop."
The group froze, their instincts reacting to the heavy shift in the air.
"A Dracula is here," Lortell said, her voice low and serious.
Esdeath's eyes widened slightly. "A Dracula? How… where did that come from?"
Everyone knew the hierarchy of vampire nobility. At the very top stood the Progenitors—the origin of their kind. Below them were the Draculas, a fierce and proud bloodline, and after them came the Transylvanias.
Draculas were second only to the Progenitors.
And right now, a Progenitor was standing among them—Lortell herself.
That could only mean one thing: a large-scale bloodshed was about to begin.
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[author]
I had to remind two things, First is that even though there are scenes changing between Maruti and Esdeath, They are not same timeline, Esdeath's is clear in future (And now it's present) ...
And second that all my college assignments and projects are pending, I'm literally at 0% work progress, So I need to lock in a little, So the publishing schedule can be rigid, I hope you understand.....Your pitiful college student..
[/author]