"How much did you lose? How strong are these puppets?" Vlad asked carefully.
In response, Cruz didn't hide anything—after all, the casualties were right there for anyone to see.
"We lost over a dozen brothers, and at least thirty more were injured to varying degrees." He paused briefly, then continued, "As for their strength, it's within the range of normal humans.
But their fighting style—trading injury for injury—completely caught us off guard. That's why we suffered such heavy losses."
Vlad nodded, saying nothing.
He knew well that after more than a century of growth, the Centaur tribe's population still numbered fewer than 1,200.
Excluding the elderly and the children, regardless of gender, there were only about 500 capable fighters.
While Vlad believed even the older Centaurs had combat ability, that didn't change the fact that their numbers were dangerously low.
"Wait for my return. We'll talk then."
With those words, Vlad dashed out of the secret realm.
Cruz watched his retreating figure, a thoughtful look in his eyes.
Night.
County of Golog, Wiener Castle.
Before him was a stunning woman—cold, fierce, and beautiful, her sharp eyes like a wildcat's. Yet now, her face was flushed and dazed with confusion. The contrast stirred something dark in Vlad, an urge to torment her thoroughly.
But for now, he wasn't in a hurry.
Instead, he gently brushed her neat hair, silently encouraging her.
Feeling the warmth of Vlad's palm, Amelia grew even more emotional. Her eyes glowed wildly, and she swayed like an eager pup basking in its master's affection.
Moments passed—followed by soft sobs.
Vlad let go of her hair, lifted Amelia's chin, and asked:
"What's the story behind the puppet army today?"
Amelia blinked up at him, muttering incoherently:
"Gure... gulp cough, cough..."
"Hu~ Master, I know something about those puppets."
Vlad raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? Then tell me."
Amelia sat up in his lap and whispered softly:
"In the northern kingdoms, there's a witch—very powerful. She controls an army of puppets that serve her. I believe what happened today was her doing."
"No one knows her name, what she looks like, or where she came from... but I saw her today."
"Master, you'll never guess who she is."
Amused by Amelia's eagerness to impress him, Vlad smiled. "Come on, then. If you impress me, I'll reward you generously~"
His last words were laced with deliberate suggestion, and Amelia blushed.
She leaned in close and whispered a few words into Vlad's ear.
Vlad's expression shifted to one of wicked satisfaction. "Very good. I'll make sure your reward is... unforgettable."
As his voice faded, strange sounds—half-crying, half-ecstatic—began to echo through the castle chambers.
A trial against a female vampire had begun.
By dawn, Amelia, exhausted and weak, helped Vlad get dressed. While doing so, she whispered softly in his ear:
"Master, I've prepared a gift for you. But you'll only see it next time you visit."
Vlad nodded indifferently, not thinking much of it.
He turned and gently caressed her flushed cheek. "Go rest. You've had a long day."
Though his tone was casual and his touch gentle, it still warmed Amelia's heart. She gazed at him with even more affection than before.
Vlad, ready to leave, suddenly paused as if remembering something:
"There must be a traitor among the demon hunters you recruited. Otherwise, the witch wouldn't have gotten such accurate intel. You know what to do."
He glanced back at her one last time before flying off into the night.
In the northern kingdoms, witches, demon hunters, and other supernatural beings were commonplace.
As a result, the Church's power was extremely limited in these regions.
Vlad passed through the Kingdom of Lyle and finally arrived at Arendelle.
Along the way, he encountered countless demon hunters—Arendelle was practically their stronghold.
Most were low-level hunters, just barely above ordinary humans, but their numbers were staggering.
This was due to the sheer volume of supernatural races and evil beings in the North. Locals, especially merchants, often hired demon hunters as protection when traveling between kingdoms. It created the perfect environment for demon hunters to thrive.
In contrast, the southern kingdoms—where the Church held power—were much more hostile to supernatural beings. Most lived in hiding.
When Vlad pushed open the tavern door, a wave of noise hit him.
The tavern was small and dimly lit, even during the day. Torches and oil lamps flickered along the walls. Scantily dressed waitresses wove between the patrons, dodging or teasing the occasional wandering hand.
As Vlad removed his hood, revealing his aristocratic features, he immediately attracted several curious stares.
"Boss, one beer and a few dishes," he said, tossing a few silver coins onto the bar.
He also noticed the faintly glowing badge on the owner's chest—a demon hunter's insignia imbued with magic.
It wasn't a badge just anyone could wear.
"Right away, sir."
The barkeep didn't flinch under Vlad's intense gaze. Instead, he responded loudly enough for the whole tavern to hear—drawing everyone's attention.
Though it sounded polite, his words were really a warning to the other demon hunters not to cause trouble.
"Old fox," Vlad muttered, smiling faintly as he acknowledged the gesture.
When his food and drink arrived, Vlad didn't touch them right away. Instead, he turned to the group of demon hunters at the next table and extended a hand:
"Friends, if you don't mind, why don't we share a table?"
The three hunters were momentarily surprised, but the leader glanced at the untouched food and immediately understood.
"It would be our honor, sir."
He led the way and sat down.
Vlad ordered three more beers, then asked, "What's your name?"
He looked across the table at the bearded middle-aged man wearing black leather armor. A short blade and dagger hung at his waist. The other two men dressed similarly, though their weapons differed.
"Everyone calls me Viper Hank, sir. Just Hank will do."
"Alright, Hank." Vlad raised his glass in greeting. "Tell me—anything major happen in Arendelle recently?"
"Well, if we're talking big events, the King of Arendelle suddenly died of illness," Hank said, lowering his voice.
"But we don't think it was that simple."
Vlad caught the unspoken meaning and quietly slid a few silver coins across the table.
Only then did Hank continue.