CHAPTER 52: PERHAPS THIS WORLD ISN’T THE ONLY ONE?

Since I couldn’t practice martial arts with this frail body, most items from the shop would’ve been useless to me—likely resold, which could’ve landed me in hot water.

If that weren’t the case, I wouldn’t have this cloak.

A cloak that concealed my face and build, insulated against heat, repelled water, resisted cold, and stayed breathable—where else in this martial world could I find something so versatile? In the early days of my transmigration, before meeting my master, when I was trapped in this broken body, I survived by buying the cheapest potions with the points I scraped together. All things considered, the shop had been a lifeline more than a liability.

So, I’d brushed off its oddities with a vague thought: It must be connected to another world. Then I moved on.

"Why aren’t you answering?" the woman snapped, pulling me from my thoughts.

What’s going on?

Her question about the "Hermit" had stirred something. It really felt like the shop was tied to another world.

Then it hit me—something else strange. A vampire resurrected from a corpse? That didn’t exist in the martial world I knew. Vampires were the stuff of fantasy tales, not the Central Plains.

"Maybe we’ll have to resort to torture..." she said, her voice edged with impatience.

"No, wait!" I blurted. "I know about the original owner of this cloak!"

I’d nearly gotten myself in deep trouble, lost in my thoughts.

"How do you know who the original owner was?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"The Heavenly Spirits told me," I said.

"...Sigh." She scratched her head, exasperation clear. "Everything’s ’Heavenly Spirits’ with you. Convenient excuse."

"It’s the truth—what else can I say?"

"You do seem honest," she admitted, studying me. "The part about fearing pain rings true, too."

"I’m a man who’s upfront about his desires," I replied with a shrug.

Every time something like this happened, I was reminded how inconvenient it was that I couldn’t see my own future. It’s why I lived so impulsively, chasing what I wanted in the moment. Who knew when my time might run out? I could drop dead from a heart attack in my sleep, for all I knew.

That’s why I seized every chance to indulge. If I hadn’t downed that liquor last night, despite the late hour, I’d be kicking myself right now.

"...You’re awfully calm for a kidnap victim," she said, tilting her head. "I expected some fight."

"Will fighting set me free?" I asked.

"No."

"Then why bother? Struggling’s pointless if it changes nothing."

My logic left her speechless, and she stood there, momentarily at a loss.

Seizing the pause, my mind drifted back to her earlier question. Vampires. The shop window had mentioned them, too—a holy sword that pierced a Vampire Lord’s heart, items costing thousands of points I never even considered. The descriptions spoke of "The Undying" and a war against them, where humans triumphed by slaying their lord.

Vampires were classic undead, so it could be related. But how did that help me now?

The woman before me, with her pale skin and red eyes, certainly fit the vampire image, but I couldn’t be sure. And knowing about some ancient war didn’t seem like it’d get me out of these chains.

Sigh...

I cursed my rotten luck. If I escaped this alive, I might just retreat to the mountains for good.

Heaven, you cruel bastard...

I sent a silent prayer for a miracle. If Lady Shin hadn’t been caught, she was likely searching for me right now.

...Hopefully.

+

Mardyn’s POV

Crash.

"Damn it. I barely got away," Mardyn muttered, brushing dust from his cloak as he stormed into his lab.

His plan had crumbled due to a ridiculous mistake—mixing up the family and given names. He’d only escaped because the Sword Masters of this world knew nothing of vampires. If she’d understood even a fraction more, slipping away would’ve been impossible. Transforming into a bat or mist was so far beyond the Central Plains’ understanding.

"Hey, bring me some blood!" he barked.

He’d lost one kin in this fiasco, but one remained, so it was no great loss. To Mardyn, his own survival was all that mattered—his kin’s lives were inconsequential.

At his command, a woman hurried over with a pre-stored vial of blood. Mardyn slouched in a chair, drinking deeply as he replayed the day’s events.

"A mere human... forcing me to flee..." he growled.

It didn’t matter that he was weaker and she was strong. The insult stung.

"What about the human we took hostage? Did he talk?" he asked.

"Yes," the woman replied. "He didn’t know his companion was the Sword Empress, but he answered your other questions."

"Good. How much torture did it take? How much blood did you draw? He’s still alive, right?"

Mardyn had assumed the man would resist, requiring pain to loosen his tongue.

"No torture," she said. "He spilled everything willingly."

"...What?" Mardyn blinked, confused.

"I didn’t brainwash him either," she added quickly. "He just... doesn’t like pain and told me everything."

Mardyn, who’d only ever extracted answers through brainwashing or torture, was dumbfounded. "A weakling, then? So, where’d he say he got that cloak?"

"He said the Heavenly Spirits gave it to him."

"...What’s that supposed to mean?"

Sighing, the woman explained what "Heavenly Spirits" meant in this context.

"So, some kind of god in this world," Mardyn mused.

To vampires, who defied death itself, gods were nothing but enemies.

"Then we can treat that man like a priest," he concluded. A being who followed and spread the will of this world’s god—that was a priest in his eyes.

But why would a priest of this world’s god wear the cloak of a hero who slaughtered our kind in another world?

The question gnawed at him.

Mistaking his silence for displeasure, the woman spoke up hastily. "Master, I think it’s too early to kill him. He’s still valuable as a hostage, especially since he’s tied to the Sword Empress."