In the empty Vatican meeting hall, Pope Thomas sat alone at the head of the chamber.
The flickering candlelight swayed around him, casting shifting shadows across his face, making his expression appear troubled and uncertain.
Eyes closed in deep meditation, Pope Thomas suddenly opened them and looked toward Bishop Leisen, the returning astrologer.
"Bishop Leisen, is there something else you wish to say?" the Pope asked, his voice calm but heavy.
The old man in ascetic robes stepped forward with slow, trembling steps. His eyes were serious, unwavering. "Your Holiness… are you keeping something from the rest of us?"
Thomas narrowed his eyes.
"I have a feeling," Bishop Leisen continued solemnly. "Something's not right. It's my intuition as an astrologer."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then the Pope sighed and reached into his robes. "I suppose I cannot hide it from you. Take a look. This just arrived from the north."
He handed Leisen a worn and creased piece of paper, clearly read many times already.
The bishop unfolded the message—and his eyes widened. "The giant Artes… the one who slept beneath the Dark Forest… he's awakened?!"
"Yes," the Pope said faintly. "After nearly a thousand years, he's awakened again."
Bishop Leisen fell into stunned silence, then let out a long, weary sigh. "Troubled times are upon us."
As the firelight danced across the stone walls, Pope Thomas watched the old man leave, brow furrowed in thought.
When Vlad emerged from the Dark Forest, the first thing he saw was a broken, forgotten village at its edge.
The buildings were dilapidated and crumbling, as if the place had been abandoned for decades. Gray mist clung to the ground, and dark clouds loomed low overhead, casting the area in perpetual gloom.
A cold wind howled through the streets, making half-hinged doors creak eerily. The entire village was drenched in an eerie, haunting atmosphere.
Weak from his journey, Vlad glanced around, suppressing his discomfort, and ignored the unsettling surroundings.
He quickly found a tattered cloak in one of the ruined houses and threw it over himself—better than wandering around naked.
Then he started exploring the village more carefully.
There were beds that had been made recently, food that hadn't fully rotted, and only the thinnest layer of dust on the floor. Despite the abandoned look, it hadn't been long since people had lived here.
Then Vlad noticed them—ghosts, drifting silently through the streets and alleys. Pale, wandering spirits hovered in corners, behind windows, and in shadows.
He understood then.
In just a few days, this village had become a haven for the dead.
He passed through several more villages, all showing the same eerie pattern.
It wasn't until he reached a larger town that he finally saw signs of life again.
By now, it had been three days since Vlad left the Dark Forest.
As he wandered through the unfamiliar town, he noticed the tension in the faces of the townspeople. They hurried from place to place, whispering in anxious tones.
"Has something happened here too?" Vlad wondered.
But honestly, he didn't care. Let the demon hunters and Church exorcists deal with these kinds of problems.
Right now, all Vlad wanted was a proper meal.
He had been fighting nonstop for days. His use of the burst ability had consumed massive amounts of blood, leaving him weak and starving.
After visiting several homes and managing to curb his hunger somewhat, Vlad reached another house—and sensed something strange.
As he approached a large, luxurious manor, faint whispers began echoing in his mind. They were fragmented and soft, like wind blowing through a crack in the wall.
When he turned away, the whispers vanished instantly.
Confused, he turned back toward the manor—and they returned. Every time he focused on the building or drew near, the ghostly murmurings resurfaced.
His curiosity piqued, Vlad quietly slipped into the manor, cloaked in stealth.
This was the estate of the noble Dimistreku family.
He'd heard rumors in town about the Count's daughter—a girl so stunningly beautiful she was said to outshine flowers in bloom.
Because of her beauty, the Count had kept her locked away in the castle, refusing to let her step outside for fear she might come to harm.
Vlad hadn't believed it, of course. People always exaggerated.
Still, the idea of such a rare "dessert" had intrigued him.
But now, inside this ancient manor and drawn by the strange whispers, his attention shifted entirely.
The whispers grew louder and more coherent as he moved deeper inside.
Guided by the mysterious voice, Vlad transformed into a bat and flew to a window on the third floor.
What he saw through the glass made his eyes widen.
The room was old but beautifully maintained. Its furniture was antique and luxurious, radiating aristocratic elegance.
It was unmistakably a girl's room—pink curtains, a teddy bear pillow, a sense of warmth and care in every detail. Everything was clean and tidy, with a subtle touch of feminine gentleness.
But none of that was what caught Vlad's full attention.
Kneeling before the fireplace was a girl—tall, graceful, and curvaceous, her figure both commanding and alluring.
Vlad's first thought was: She's enormous~!!
So incredibly tall and shapely that he couldn't help but feel a little awkward just looking at her.
She reminded him of the legendary "eight-foot lady."
She wore a flowing white silk dress adorned with elegant embroidery. Her long black hair spilled over her shoulders in gentle waves, giving her an air of mature beauty.
Her skin was ghostly pale—clearly someone who hadn't seen sunlight in years.
Her face was full of youth, round and smooth. Her features were exquisitely proportioned—perfectly balanced and hauntingly beautiful.
There was a fragility to her—yet also a deeply seductive charm.
But more than anything, it was her overwhelming presence that stunned Vlad.
Even kneeling, she radiated a kind of pressure—a physical, unyielding presence that dominated the room.
This was the tallest woman Vlad had ever seen.
She had to be at least 2.12 meters tall, with a full, voluptuous figure that made everything about her feel larger than life.
And her chest… Vlad couldn't help but stare. It was almost surreal in size and shape—exaggerated by her height and curves.
She was kneeling in silence, hands folded, praying earnestly before the fire.
When Vlad finally shifted his gaze away from her and looked at what she was praying to—he froze.
His mind went blank for a second.
Only one thought remained:
Wait a minute… she's praying to ME?!