Danylis's Blood Curse

"Oh... master, my master is so great..."

"Is this why Father fears him? What should I do? Will he kill me..."

"God, what have I done? Will I die here? My mansion, my beautiful wife, I'm only three hundred years old..."

"Damn it, his power definitely hasn't recovered, but he's sharper now. The combination of magic, Holy Water, and silver firearms reminds me of those witch-hunting Wizards from the Middle Ages. Protect Blood Ni, but more importantly, Little Shuraik..."

The thoughts of three Vampires and one soul flooded into Voldemort's mind in an instant.

His cold gaze swept across the three figures, calculating how to destroy everything he could see.

Yes.

Beneath the Darkest Hour, only annihilation.

In this state, Voldemort only wanted to destroy everything.

At this moment, he was no longer himself.

"Dark Lord, we can talk. I haven't—"

Count Nosferatu noticed something wrong with Voldemort—that look of contempt for life in his eyes. Having weathered countless ages, how could he fail to understand it?

But Voldemort had no intention of wasting words on him. The silver bullet fired mercilessly at Blood Ni.

"Crack."

A single gunshot startled Count Nosferatu into turning back into a bat, dragging Blood Ni out of the way.

This little bat, belonging to the Monte Cristo Faction, was utterly terrified.

But Voldemort didn't fire a second shot at him—because his target was Little Shuraik.

"Crack, crack, crack..."

"Ah, ah, ah..."

Little Shuraik, equally stunned, didn't make Voldemort waste a single bullet—he caught every one of them, frugal in a way unbefitting a Vampire of endless wealth.

"Damn it, stop, Dark Lord, stop..."

"Avada—" "Kedavra—"

The moment Count Nosferatu dropped Blood Ni and rushed toward Little Shuraik, Voldemort didn't hesitate to use the Killing Curse again, and the target—

Was the speeding Count Nosferatu himself.

The Count's eyes were filled with terror—he had been too hasty, leaving himself no reserve strength.

"Shiiing~"

Claws tore open his own chest, spraying a torrent of hot blood before him.

This was the Vampire's life-saving magic. The blood mist blocked the Killing Curse, but the Count himself collapsed to the ground in agony.

And Voldemort...

Expressionlessly used magic to reload, his gaze drifting across the three bats.

"I agree, Dark Lord. I agree to all your demands. Stop, stop now."

The fallen Count stared into Voldemort's eyes and roared in despair.

He had underestimated his enemy and paid a brutal price for it. If he had another chance...

But there are no ifs in battle.

Voldemort's movements didn't pause for a moment. He continued reloading swiftly, and the instant it was done, he aimed the gun at the Count—this was an enemy that had to be killed. The threat he posed was too great.

Beneath the Darkest Hour, no room for error.

"Stop, Voldemort, stop."

A roar came from not far away, and countless large bats flew in—reinforcements from Mount Auricino had arrived.

Voldemort turned without a word and left.

"The Primal Bloodline must pay the price for this."

As he moved, Voldemort's voice rang out.

There was no hatred in that voice, no coldness, no emotion.

Only a statement of fact.

"Wait, Voldemort. I am willing to offer a blood oath."

The first bat to fly over shouted in a panicked voice.

Voldemort stopped. He wanted to agree—a desire from deep within—but the Darkest Hour held him back.

Beneath the Darkest Hour, destruction endures.

At this moment, Voldemort was already suppressed by his own skill. His pause came only because his true self was struggling against the skill.

It was a difficult process, but he had some experience with it:

If he could push one desire—a non-killing desire—to its extreme, breaking through the craving for slaughter, he could force himself out of the Darkest Hour.

"...Wah... I want Danylis!"

Finally, a roar allowed Voldemort to break free cleanly.

The desire for victory stemmed from the Remnant Soul's craving for power and influence.

Danylis was the Count's youngest daughter, and the Count had once intended to pass the throne of Mount Auricino to her.

To obtain Danylis's Blood Curse was to bind the blood clan of Mount Auricino to oneself.

And in the memories of his past life, the version of himself in the books had never gained the support of the blood clan.

"This..."

The great bat had already transformed into human form—it was Great Shuraik, who had been avoiding Voldemort. His gaze first turned to his father, then to Danylis not far away.

She was a beautiful vampire, and in her hand, she held a wand:

Danylis, the child of the Count and a Witch, a hybrid of Vampire and Wizard.

"Danylis, what is your opinion?"

The Count had already risen, but his face was terrifyingly pale. The massive loss of blood had left his body exceptionally weak.

Yet he still had to ask immediately, because he did not want to incur the Dark Lord's enmity—especially after witnessing the Dark Lord's strength. This was the Dark Lord in a wandering soul state; if he were to revive...

"I..."

Danylis hesitated. Having inherited half of the Primal Bloodline, she naturally admired the strong like the rest of her clan. But Voldemort was ultimately still a wandering soul, leaving her uncertain.

"I will revive, within four years."

The Darkest Hour was still on cooldown, but the enhanced Legilimency remained active. Peering into Danylis's thoughts, Voldemort spoke without hesitation.

"Then... I am willing."

The blonde-haired Danylis said shyly.

"Good. After the Blood Feast..."

"No. Now."

Voldemort cut off the Count without hesitation. "I need Danylis's Blood Curse right now."

The Count fell silent. He had not yet fully made up his mind—on one side was his most beloved daughter, on the other was the future of the entire Primal Bloodline faction.

"I can promise: I will not use Danylis as leverage to force you into joining my camp."

Voldemort's words immediately put the Count on alert.

He shook his head, and black mist enveloped his forehead. From then on, Voldemort could no longer peer into his thoughts.

"Your Legilimency has grown stronger." The Count looked at Voldemort with displeasure.

Voldemort said nothing. He would not voluntarily explain that this was the work of the Darkest Hour—

To infinitely amplify the power of a single spell and attach to it the desire to destroy everything—that was the power of this Golden Finger.

"You must swear by the name of the Dark Lord before I can agree immediately."

The old Count spoke again, laying out his terms.

"Fine."

Voldemort agreed and prepared to swear by his most honored title at once.

If he ever betrayed his oath, the name Dark Lord would curse him in return. The more people feared and believed in the Dark Lord, the greater the backlash he would suffer—

It was almost a certain death.

"Wait."

Danylis suddenly spoke, stopping Voldemort. Everyone turned to look at her in surprise.

"I hope that in your oath, you do not include me..."

"I am willing to accept everything, once the Blood Curse is confirmed."

Danylis's face grew even more bashful.

This made Voldemort suspect that this female blood clan member had already been involved with "himself" long ago.

"Fine."

Voldemort agreed without hesitation and immediately swore the oath.

As the oath was completed, Danylis walked over under everyone's gaze.

"I have two souls within me. The weaker one is me. Do not choose the wrong one."

Voldemort instructed softly, and his words sent a chill through the gathered vampires.

The weaker soul... yet it could display such immense power?

"Understood."

Danylis nodded, then bit the tip of her tongue. She lightly dipped her finger in the blood and pressed a single drop onto Voldemort's forehead.

The blood bead seeped through his skin into his mind, quickly found Voldemort's soul, and swiftly wrapped itself around it.

The thick, bloody hue made Voldemort's soul let out a long, pleasurable groan...

Old Bee, this time, let's see how you find my soul.

The moment the blood curse was born, Voldemort was cursed by Danylis. There were two ways to break it:

Danylis kills Voldemort...

Or Voldemort wins Danylis's love and binds them in marriage...

Until then, this curse, while granting the ability to locate Voldemort, also locked his soul within the curse, shielding it from prying eyes.

A lovely curse—exactly what Voldemort needed.