Danylis's Blood Curse

"Oh... Master, my great, great master..."

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

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

Damn it, his strength definitely hasn't recovered, but he's become more alert. Magic, holy water, and silver firearms... He reminds me of those witch hunters from the Middle Ages. Protect Blood Ni, but more importantly, Little Shuraik...

The thoughts of three vampires and a soul flashed through Voldemort's mind.

His cold gaze swept over the three figures as he calculated how to kill everything in sight.

Yes.

Beneath the Darkest Hour, only destruction remained.

In this state, Voldemort wanted only to destroy everything.

At this moment, he was no longer himself.

"Dark Lord, we can talk. I didn't..."

Count Nosferatu noticed that something was wrong with Voldemort. How could someone as seasoned as he fail to understand the contempt for life in that gaze?

But Voldemort had no intention of wasting words with him. He fired a silver bullet at Blood Ni without hesitation.

"Bang."

The gunshot startled Count Nosferatu into turning into a bat once more. He dragged Blood Ni along as he dodged.

The little bat belonging to the Monte Cristo Faction was completely petrified.

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

"Bang, bang, bang..."

"Ah! Ah! Ah..."

Little Shuraik was just as dumbstruck, but he didn't make Voldemort waste a single bullet—he caught every last one, frugal as could be for a vampire with wealth beyond measure.

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

"Avada—Kedavra!"

The instant Count Nosferatu abandoned Blood Ni and rushed toward Little Shuraik, Voldemort cast the Killing Curse once more without hesitation. His target—

Was Count Nosferatu, speeding toward him.

Terror filled the Earl's eyes—he'd been too hasty, leaving himself no strength in reserve.

"Whoosh!"

He ripped open his own chest with his claws, spraying the hot blood before him.

It was a life-saving spell of the Bloodline. The blood mist blocked the Killing Curse, but the Earl himself fell painfully to the ground.

And Voldemort...

Was expressionlessly using magic to reload, his gaze roaming over the three bats.

"I'll agree, Dark Lord! I'll agree to anything you ask! Stop! Please, stop!"

The Earl had fallen to the ground. He stared at Voldemort and roared in despair.

He'd underestimated his opponent and paid a terrible price. If only he had another chance...

But there were no "ifs" in battle.

Voldemort didn't pause for even a moment. He continued reloading quickly, and the instant he finished, he aimed his gun at the Earl. This was an enemy who had to die; he posed too great a threat.

Beneath the Darkest Hour, there could be no mistakes.

"Stop, Voldemort! Stop!"

A shout came from nearby, and countless giant bats flew in—the reinforcements from Mount Auricino had arrived.

Without a word, Voldemort turned and left.

"The Primal Bloodline will pay for this."

Voldemort's voice carried back as he ran.

There was no anger in it, no coldness, no emotion.

It was simply a statement of fact.

"Wait, Voldemort! I'm willing to offer the Blood Curse!"

The first bat to fly over shouted in terror.

Voldemort stopped. He wanted to agree, a desire rising from deep within him, but the Darkest Hour was holding him back.

Beneath the Darkest Hour, destruction endured.

Voldemort was now being suppressed by his own skill. He had stopped only because his true self was struggling against it.

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

As long as he pushed one desire—a desire other than killing—to its utmost limit, breaking through his craving for slaughter, he could force himself out of the Darkest Hour.

"...Waaah... I want Danylis!"

At last, a roar let Voldemort break free.

The desire to win came from Voldemort's Soul Fragment and its thirst for power.

Danylis, the Earl's youngest daughter, was someone he had once considered making the heir to Mount Auricino.

Obtaining Danylis's Blood Curse would bind the vampires of Mount Auricino to him.

And in his memories of his previous life, the version of himself in the book had never won the support of the vampires.

"This..."

The giant bat transformed into a human. It was Great Shuraik, who had avoided Voldemort. His gaze first turned to his father, then to Danylis in the distance.

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

Danylis, the child of the Earl and a witch, a hybrid of vampire and wizard.

"Danylis, what do you think?"

The Earl had gotten back to his feet, but his face was ghastly pale. The loss of so much blood had left him exceptionally weak.

But he still had to ask her at once. He didn't want to incur the Dark Lord's enmity, especially after witnessing the Dark Lord's power—and this was the Dark Lord in a spectral state. What if he were resurrected...

"I..."

Danylis hesitated. With half her blood from the Primal Bloodline, she naturally revered the strong, as her kin did. But Voldemort was still in a spectral state, and she couldn't decide right away.

"I'll be resurrected within four years."

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

"Then... I'm willing."

Danylis, her golden hair falling to her shoulders, spoke shyly.

"Good. After the Blood Feast..."

"No. Now."

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

The Earl fell silent. He still hadn't fully made up his mind. On one side was his most beloved daughter; on the other, the future of the entire Primal Bloodline faction.

"I can promise not to use Danylis to threaten you or force you to join my faction."

Voldemort's words immediately put the Earl on alert.

He shook his head, and black mist wrapped around his forehead. Voldemort could no longer glimpse his thoughts.

"Your Legilimency has grown even stronger," the Earl said, looking at Voldemort in displeasure.

Voldemort said nothing. He certainly wasn't going to explain that it was the work of the Darkest Hour—

Its power lay in infinitely amplifying a spell's strength while adding an urge to destroy everything.

"You must swear by the name of the Dark Lord. Then I can agree at once."

The old Earl spoke again, setting out his condition.

"Fine."

Voldemort agreed, ready to swear at once by his most revered title.

If he broke his promise, the name Dark Lord would turn against him and curse him. The more people who believed in and feared the Dark Lord, the greater the backlash he would suffer—

It would almost certainly mean death.

"Wait."

Danylis suddenly spoke, stopping Voldemort and making everyone turn to her in surprise.

"I hope you won't include me in your oath..."

"I'm willing to accept anything, once the Blood Curse has been confirmed."

Danylis's face grew even more bashful.

Voldemort couldn't help wondering if this vampire woman had been involved with his other self for a long time.

"Fine."

Voldemort agreed without hesitation and swore his oath at once.

Once he had finished, Danylis walked over under everyone's gaze.

"There are two souls inside me. The weaker one is mine, so don't choose the wrong one."

Voldemort quietly reminded her. His words left the vampires deeply shaken.

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

"Okay."

Danylis nodded, then bit the tip of her tongue. She dipped a finger in the blood and touched a drop to Voldemort's forehead.

The drop slipped through his skin and into his mind. It soon found Voldemort's soul and quickly wrapped around it.

The rich crimson made Voldemort's soul let out a long, satisfied cry...

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

The moment the Blood Curse took shape, Danylis cursed Voldemort. There were two ways to break it:

Danylis had to kill Voldemort...

Voldemort had to win Danylis's love and marry her...

Until then, the curse not only allowed her to track Voldemort, but also sealed his soul against any prying eyes.

What a lovely curse. It was exactly what Voldemort needed.