CHAPTER 61: AROUSAL OF THE VAMPIRES [3]

"There is one more thing I wanted to ask.", Dorian asked with a casual tone, after the discussion between him and Monica over the Joint Combat Meet was over.

"...What is it?", she replied, her mind racing, as if she is expecting something.

"What do you think of that vampire, we fought in the dungeon?", Dorian subtly shifting the topic of conversation, as if it was intentional.

"Which one?", Monica asked, feeling a bit disappointed from the unexpected question.

"Both of them, to be precise."

".....They both were strong, but if I had to say, the male vampire was much stronger. Cedric defeated him so easily, but I think he was far stronger than the most skilled knights. Even if I were in my prime condition, and at the level of my past life, I am sure that I would have been crushed in a second.....", Monica gave him a detailed analysis of their fight with the vampires.

The adventurer’s guild was getting noisy with more and more adventurers entering and leaving it.

Dorian took a look around, as if checking if anyone’s listening on them or not.

Monica found it unsettling, and asked further.

"What’s the matter? Is there anything wrong with those vampires?", she asked.

Dorian leaned forward and told her in a low voice, indicative of whispering.

"You said, you had never heard of that vampire in your regressions, didn’t you? Then, isn’t it strange that another regressor appears in front of us, along with that male vampire?", he paused a second before continuing.

"Well, I find it very hard to believe that the vampire incident was resolved with just that."

Dorian’s voice was form, as if leading Monica to find out what exactly he was hinting at.

He already knew the answer, but this time he wanted Monica to find out the answer herself.

And just then, as if clicking something in her mind, Monica leaned forward too, and told him in a low voice.

"There was one incident at a different place, almost at the border of the Sylvanna Kingdom, near to the Elven Kingdom.", Monica narrated, what she thought of.

"The entire village turned into thralls, almost like undeads, and attacked the nearby villages turning other people into one of them. This incident was quite a shocker for all of us, as the vampire species itself was considered extinct."

"Well, was the issue resolved?", Dorian asked, leading on to the final answer, as to how to change control the situation.

"I didn’t see it myself, but I have heard that a Saintess from the Church neutralized the vampire blood, turning everyone alive to normal beings."

Dorian looked at her, hinting that her answer was with her, and whatever she wanted to do, would be much easier now.

He didn’t say anything else, and continued enjoying the black tea he had ordered.

Monica was a bit confused as to what was Dorian was trying to say.

Yet, she was disappointed because of some other reason.

A reason, very deep in her heart, that started growing little by little, as she got to know him better.

Still, there is a part of her thinking that the Dorian she knows now is far more than what she knows.

***

Monica moved through the city like a shadow—swift, focused, and relentless. The outbreak had spread faster than she expected. Entire blocks had already fallen.

She wasn’t looking for survivors.

She was searching for Dorian.

He had to be alive.

That was the only thought anchoring her.

She told herself it was logical—if he died, she might regress again.

Another loop. Another reset.

That was the reason. That’s all.

...At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

Her eyes scanned the streets, alleyways, rooftops. She tried sensing his mana, looking for any signs—anything.

Nothing.

She remembered his tone from before.

The way he had led her to the answer about the Tears of the Saintess.

He didn’t remember the past—yet somehow, he knew too much.

That worried her more than anything else.

Not because she feared him.

But because he wasn’t telling her everything.

And yet... she still wanted to find him. Not just for the regression. Not just to stop it.

But because losing him now would hurt.

She shook her head. Focus. You’re being irrational.

"It’s about the mission," she whispered under her breath. "If he dies, the whole timeline breaks again. That’s all."

But she didn’t believe it anymore.

Not fully.

She kept running.

***

The fire crackled softly in the hearth of my isolated hut, its light casting flickering shadows across half-finished tools, blueprints, and the open system window that hovered before me.

Outside, the wind carried the faintest trace of ash and panic.

But here—here, I worked in silence.

The vampire outbreak had begun, just as it was supposed to. And yet, no one knew the answer.

No one except Monica... if she could put the pieces together.

The Tears of the Saintess.

The one divine material capable of neutralizing corrupted vampire blood—not through violence, but purity. A drop could cleanse the soul. A breath could hold off the change. But the supply, assuming Monica succeeded in finding it, would be laughably small.

It would never be enough.

Unless... I changed how it worked.

That’s what I was building.

On the bench before me lay a cylindrical metal device, wrapped in soft coils of silvery rune-thread, its base housing a mana-reactive Aerolite core—one of the only materials stable enough to conduct a live enchantment and compress the mana flow.

Using wind-aspect runes and a low-pressure mana circuit, I had designed the device to vaporize divine fluids without degrading them. The magic flow wouldn’t burn or boil—it would aerosolize. Gentle enough to preserve the structure. Efficient enough to spread.

I hadn’t tested it, of course.

Because I didn’t have the tears yet.

But I would.

Or rather—Monica would.

She would recall what she needed from her past life. She would chase the Saintess candidate, fight to protect her, and retrieve the miracle I required.

And when she did, I would be ready.

I glanced at the small mana relay crystal on the table—linked to several receivers I’d already hidden across key rooftops in the capital. Abandoned bell towers, cathedral spires, and an old chimney in the Craftsmen’s Quarter.

Once the device was activated, it would sync with those relays and create a divine mist, light and sacred, spreading like breath across the city.

A single vial of the Tears—distributed over several hours—could purge the infected zones. Not perfectly, but enough to stabilize the situation.

Enough to make the people whisper about a miracle.

Enough to make the Saintess candidate awaken, thinking it was fate.

Enough to bring Laurel Barriston back from the brink—and make her remember who saved her.

Not a hero.

Not a god.

Me.

The shadow beneath their salvation.

I leaned back, wiping grease off my hands, and whispered under my breath.

"The moment you return, Monica... we begin."

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