The Nature Elf Envoy’s pupils constricted, her body tensing as a wave of fear washed over her. “It’s him?!”
Her composure, usually unshakeable, crumbled before this mysterious figure. Her hands trembled slightly, her grip on the bow tightening.
The wilderness wolf growled, its eyes glowing crimson as if it, too, recognized the swordsman.
“No, it’s not him!”
The wilderness wolf, possessing greater strength and sharper senses, quickly discerned the enemy’s true identity.
“His weapon is a hammer, not a sword!”
“Fire another arrow,” it urged.
Even without the wolf’s prompting, the Nature Elf Envoy was already preparing to do just that.
She grabbed a handful of arrows from her quiver, her aura surging as she channeled more mana into her bow.
“Nine consecutive shots!”
*Thwang!*
Nine arrows, imbued with terrifying power, shot through the air, traversing miles in the blink of an eye, hurtling towards the white-clad man.
Any one of these arrows, if it connected, could easily obliterate a ninth-tier Lord!
But then… something strange happened.
The arrows stopped mid-flight, hovering inches from the man’s chest, as if frozen in time.
A dark red wall materialized before him.
A river of blood, murky, turbulent, and riddled with shadowy figures, shielded the man from the deadly barrage.
The Nature Elf Envoy’s eyes widened in shock.
What was this?!
Since when did the blood clan possess such power?
Was she facing the Blood Ancestor himself?
“He’s a mage! Charge!”
The wilderness wolf roared, its battle cry echoing through the valley.
The Nature Elf Envoy leaped onto the wolf’s back, nocking another arrow as they surged forward.
She fired arrow after arrow, but they were all met with the same impenetrable barrier. “Damn it!”
The repeated use of her bow was taking its toll. She crushed a vial in her hand, consuming the precious liquid within. It was water from the Moonwell, a potent elven healing artifact.
“I remember a legend…” she muttered, her voice barely audible above the wind.
She wasn’t concerned about the white-clad man. He was just a mage, barely over level 300.
Once they closed the distance, he wouldn’t stand a chance against her and the wilderness wolf!
The true threat was the White Wolf King. However, he was currently occupied with devouring the sun, unable to intervene lest he be consumed by the very flames he sought to consume.
Their real enemy was the master of that river of blood!
“When the Blood Ancestor invaded our lands,” the Nature Elf Envoy said, her voice urgent, “my ancestor fired ninety thousand arrows from the Tree of Life. And a single blood clan Prince blocked them all, using this very same power!”
“Enough talk!” The wilderness wolf charged forward, its speed unmatched, its senses alert for any counterattack. “What was his name?”
Unlike other beings, the wilderness wolf’s memories remain intact.
Even if their enemy was an ancient foe, as long as she could provide a name, the wilderness wolf would know how to deal with them.
The Nature Elf Envoy spat out one word, her voice laced with venom: “Dracula!”
A mere Prince, a vampire who had humiliated the Elf Ancestor.
To the elves, Dracula’s continued existence was an insult to their fallen leader!
“Dracula?!”
The wilderness wolf laughed, a chilling sound that echoed through the valley.
“If it’s Dracula… I can turn him against his master with a single sentence!”
“Are you certain?”
The Nature Elf Envoy was stunned.
The wilderness wolf knew Dracula?
If they could turn their enemy into an ally, the balance of power would shift dramatically in
their favor.
They would have a Vampire Prince, the strongest Elf Envoy, and the most powerful wilderness wolf in history on their side…
Against a measly level 300 mage!
How could they possibly lose?!
“I know Dracula better than anyone,” the wilderness wolf said confidently. “He’s a treacherous cur, always looking out for himself. He was responsible for the Blood Ancestor’s failure to reach level 1000. He would sell his own son for the right price!”
The wilderness wolf’s assurance calmed the Nature Elf Envoy’s nerves.
“Turn Dracula first,” she instructed. “Then kill the White Wolf King. Spare the mage. We’ll interrogate him later.”
“Understood.”
The wilderness wolf skidded to a halt, its powerful legs digging into the earth. It raised its head and let out a series of howls.
“AWOOO! AWOOO!”
It was speaking in the language of the werewolves, a language only they could understand.
A coded message, meant for Dracula’s ears only.
…
Brookfield Town.
The townsfolk had gathered in the town square.
The human participants had been summoned to protect them.
Vladimir, the strongest among them, seemed completely at ease, even taking the time to
casually pick his nose.
He wasn’t surprised to see the wilderness wolf and the Nature Elf Envoy appear on the
horizon.
However, when the Nature Elf Envoy’s deadly arrow was blocked, Vladimir’s composure
faltered.
That old fool Dracula was trying to steal his thunder!
He had to find a way to prove his worth to Master!
Just as Vladimir’s anxiety reached its peak, a series of howls echoed through the sky.
He listened to the wilderness wolf’s message, his expression shifting from panic to
amusement.
He settled back into his chair, a wide grin spreading across his face.
Dracula, you’re so screwed!
…
Standing before the setting sun, Mike yawned, feeling a twinge of boredom.
Come on, fire another arrow!
What are you waiting for?
Instead of another arrow, he was greeted by a series of howls.
[Translating werewolf language…]
[Dracula, I can help you become the next Blood Ancestor. If you agree, make the river of blood
flash six times at a specific frequency…]
Mike: ??? They were trying to poach his minion before the fight even started?
The atmosphere grew tense. Dracula was speechless.
“Aren’t you going to flash your river?” Mike asked, turning to face Dracula.
Dracula’s expression remained impassive, even feigning a look of confusion. “What are you
talking about?”
He cupped his hand to his ear. “I don’t speak werewolf.”
“Oh, right.” Mike helpfully translated the message.
“How dare they?!” Dracula gasped, his face a mask of outrage. “Such treachery! To think they
would resort to such underhanded tactics! I…”
He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.
Pledging his loyalty to Thor… it didn’t feel right.
He was a Vampire Prince! He couldn’t stoop to such a level!
But if he didn’t, Thor wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily.
After a moment of contemplation, Dracula snorted, his voice firm and resolute. “There is only
one Blood Ancestor in my heart!”
This statement allowed both sides to save face.
Dracula had rejected the offer while simultaneously reaffirming his loyalty to the Blood
Ancestor. It wasn’t a direct pledge of allegiance to Thor!
“How about you pretend to accept their offer?” Mike suggested, a mischievous glint in his
eye.
Dracula: …
Please, stop messing with me!
We have the upper hand here!
And you want me to pretend to defect…
But Dracula didn’t dare defy Thor’s orders. He took a deep breath and made the river of blood
flash.
Once, twice…
On the fifth flash, he abruptly stopped.
The smiles on the wilderness wolf and the Nature Elf Envoy’s faces vanished.
A familiar figure stood before them.
Dracula raised his head proudly, his gaze filled with disdain as he recited his impressive list of
titles.
“I am the creator of the ancient River of Blood, the leader of the Twelve Clans, the uncrowned
king of the blood clan, the manipulator of deities, the forbidden among the forbidden, the Prince among Princes…”
His aura, his demeanor, his accomplishments…
Even his enemies couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect.
Then, Dracula pointed at the wilderness wolf and roared, “He slandered me! Thor is my greatest master. I will never forgive the wilderness wolf!”