A year later, Norton jumped off a cliff again.
The good news was that building a home on a cliff really did make it easy to escape, just like that cave with two entrances.
The bad news was that the new home Norton had spent so long building had been destroyed again, and he could no longer live in the area either. Worse, because of the Werewolves' mobility and formidable tracking abilities, Norton would have to make a long-distance escape to keep them from following him and continuing to harass him.
That was the only drawback to being a vampire: his growth was just far too slow. Lately, he had tried drinking more blood to see if a greater quantity would speed up his growth, but it had done nothing.
His growth was still extremely slow, possibly because of a vampire's extraordinarily slow metabolism.
But did something like him even have a metabolism?
While every vampire that lived long enough might become an exceptionally monstrous old monster, the prerequisite was surviving that long.
Norton had originally thought a vampire could easily survive in the wilderness, where there were no cameras or satellites, but both the earlier monster attack and this Werewolf attack had completely shattered that naive notion.
"So why did they suddenly start hunting me?" The wounds where branches had pierced Norton's body healed rapidly. The flesh the Wolf King had bitten from his arm had even healed completely during his fall down the cliff.
He had felt no pain at any point during the battle. The Werewolves' attacks still couldn't inflict fatal injuries on him. They were unlike sunlight and the radiance of God's statue, which caused a real, needle-like pain.
But whether it hurt was beside the point. The main thing was, why the fuck were those bastard Werewolves hunting him?
"Am I really such a bastard?"
Norton felt terribly wronged.
He had been minding his own business as a vampire. When he drank blood, he usually tried not to kill the animals, taking only a little from each and drinking from several in batches to keep his food supply sustainable instead of draining the pond to catch all the fish.
He was such a law-abiding vampire, and even then he was being targeted?
He, Norton, was really going to get angry!
Norton made a harsh mental note of this pack of Werewolves.
"Fuck, they nearly beat me to tears..."
In the darkness, Norton's two scarlet eyes looked up at the cliff overhead.
Just then, the howls of the Werewolf pack rang out from the cliff.
After howling, the Werewolves at the top quickly turned and left.
Only one Werewolf remained at the edge, staring at Norton, who had fallen down the cliff, and letting out an occasional howl that sounded like a form of communication.
This Werewolf seemed to be reporting his position to its companions!
Norton's back tightened. He hurriedly stripped off his steel armor, which had been somewhat deformed by the impact, then ran into the dark forest without looking back.
These Werewolves were a little too clever, and they didn't seem to have stopped pursuing him.
That made Norton's heart tighten.
Compared with a pack of Werewolves like this, he would rather face a group of the steam-engine knights he had encountered before.
At least those knights had no brains. These Werewolves, on the other hand, were not only organized and disciplined but also extremely cunning. They were top-tier hunters.
Being pursued by a pack of damn top-tier hunters like that really made him feel an intense sense of pressure.
And most importantly, whether Werewolves or Holy Knights, they all ran faster than Norton!
That was the fucking deadly problem right now!
"Squeak, squeak, squeak..."
Norton, a shriveled vampire who looked like a ghost, darted swiftly through the dark forest, running madly toward Holy Lord City.
There was no helping it; he really had no other choice. If he fled through the wilderness, he couldn't outrun the Werewolves, and they would soon catch up despite his current head start. Only by running into Holy Lord City and setting the city's Church knights against the Werewolves might he be able to shake off his pursuers and flee elsewhere.
The bat that had kept him company for two years flew over again from somewhere and landed on him, hanging upside down by its claws from his wrinkled skin. As Norton ran, it swung back and forth, bumping against his body.
Norton's expression turned bitter.
All kinds of monsters in the wilderness wanted to hunt him, as though he were some must-try Chengdu delicacy.
He had originally felt that as long as he lived long enough, he would someday learn all the secrets. But now, it seemed that if he couldn't figure himself out, he might not even live very long.
So it had to be a city, and it had to be the Church!
After all, only a city guarded by Church knights could truly keep all these monsters and their hunting at bay!
Although they hunted him too, the number and kinds of enemies were entirely different.
In the city there was only the Church, while in the wilderness there were all sorts of predators, some of which he had never even seen.
"I never thought that I, Norton, persecuted to death by the Church, would now have to seek its protection..."
The forest was still and quiet. A figure like a vengeful ghost from Hell swept swiftly between the trees, leaving behind only a voice full of resentment.
The cotton wick in the white wax was lit. Father Andrew set the flint he held on the altar, then picked up the white candle and used it to light the white candles on the church altar one by one.
In this age, candles were expensive and could only serve as decorations in churches at night, used to accentuate God's holiness.
The dim yellow flames illuminated the silver cross he wore on his chest. Its polished, gleaming surface even reflected the flickering candlelight.
It was unclear what the Holy Lord Church had been thinking when it made the weapon used to suppress God's revival a sacred symbol. In any case, the idea was rather mad.
Outside the church, the night was pitch-black. Inside, despite the many candles, it was still dim and gloomy.
The Holy Lord Cathedral had never been particularly lively, but there had always been plenty of missionaries inside. Today, however, it was unusually deserted. Only a few missionaries sat in the choir stalls used for confession, waiting for the recitation to begin.
Father Andrew finished lighting all the candles, then arranged his old face, a little younger than Father Mia's, into a compassionate expression.
"May God forgive our sins and grant us..."
Father Andrew made the Church's gesture of prayer with both hands, mumbling a prayer under his breath.
As his voice rang out, the few missionaries sitting in the choir stalls below lowered their heads one by one and began mumbling their prayers.
This was a nightly obligation at the Holy Lord Cathedral, though there were clearly far fewer people today than usual.
After a year of judgment by the Holy Judgment Order, fewer than one in ten of Holy Lord City's people remained.
What followed was a drastic reduction in the food supply, along with the outbreak of a plague.
This left the people of Holy Lord City even more impoverished.
But thanks to the sharp decline in population, the plague did not spread too wildly. It only had some impact in the Holy Lord Cathedral, where people were still relatively concentrated.
Perhaps nothing seemed amiss in the words above.
The sharp decline in the Holy Lord Cathedral's population needed to be examined in the context of the overall situation.
The reduction in the food supply did not mean that fewer people were farming and raising livestock, resulting in less food. In fact, fewer people meant less food, because the Holy Lord Cathedral ate human flesh in soup!
To provide the Church's upper ranks with better meat, the clergy who were temporarily unable to leave and had been raised in captivity since childhood became the best source of food.
Thus, the number of clergy had been gradually declining during this period.
And with the arrival of the plague, the number of missionaries out and about had also been gradually dwindling.
That was why the Holy Lord Cathedral was so deserted now.