Vampires hated many things: glaring sunlight, noisy crows that loved to screech, worms that gnawed on coffins... and Swamp was undoubtedly one of them.
The swamp was not only filled with all manner of savage, filthy Demonic Beasts, but also sticky mud pits that could soil their magnificent formalwear and exquisite leather boots at any moment.
For vampires, who cared deeply about their bearing, it was absolutely unbearable.
Yet this was already Sir Casimir's third time setting foot here.
Even he had not noticed that, before he knew it, he had grown accustomed to this filthy swamp he had once avoided like the plague, and had even begun to faintly appreciate its beauty.
Whether it was the brilliant sunlight piercing through the dense canopy in the afternoon and spilling across the swamp, or the Slimes crowded beneath warm patches of light, lazily basking in their "sunbath," everything seemed filled with the beauty of nature in his eyes.
His companion, Sir Zoran, was another matter. From the moment he stepped onto the edge of the swamp, his complaints had never ceased.
"This damned mud."
Zoran carefully lifted his trouser leg, speckled with mud, waved away a buzzing swamp vampire mosquito, and muttered in a low voice:
"I'm finding it stranger and stranger, Casimir. What on earth could possibly fascinate you so much that you insist on coming to this hellhole to suffer?"
He smacked his lips unconsciously, feeling as though the smoking addiction he had suppressed for ten years was beginning to flare up again.
But they had come in such a rush this time that they had not even brought a single treasured cigarette, which undoubtedly dragged his mood down to rock bottom.
"You'd better not be lying to me."
"If you only dragged me out here to enjoy the