Sernata Abunesaya
1063 Words
Just as the Black Knights, the Headless Horsemen, and the Insectoid troops were stationed outside the Demon King’s Castle, the vampires and the young vampire girl who attended the morning court did not reside within the castle either.
Instead, they lived in a castle near the Demon King’s stronghold...
Compared to the Demon King’s Castle, it was much smaller—more fitting for a vassal. The castle wasn’t inhabited solely by vampires.
There were also werewolves.
Contrary to the common perception in Ira’s previous world, vampires and werewolves in this world actually got along quite well. After all, both were humanoid monsters, and perhaps they had much in common.
“Ira-sama, Lady Sernata invites you in.”
A male vampire pushed open the castle gates, extending the invitation. Ira gave a slight nod and followed his lead into the vampires' castle.
Sernata...
That was the name of the vampire leader who attended the Demon King’s morning meetings.
Inside the castle, numerous vampires and werewolves wandered about. It seemed they weren’t involved in the production efforts of the Demon King’s domain. Most likely, their tasks were akin to those of field agents—carrying out missions beyond the Demon King's territory, gathering intelligence, and reporting back to Sernata, their leader.
Compared to the Demon King’s Castle, this place had a stronger artistic atmosphere. Numerous oil paintings adorned the walls where windows might have otherwise been placed. Of course, this might not have been purely for aesthetic reasons.
For vampires and werewolves, exposure to the sun or moon was not desirable…
The sun would burn the former, while the latter would lose control under the moon’s influence.
The celestial bodies in the sky seemed rather unfriendly to monsters...
But it wasn’t just the celestial bodies that were hostile to them. Blaming everything on the heavens would be unfair to both the sun and the moon.
“This is Lady Sernata’s chamber.”
The male vampire guided Ira to a room with a coffin at its center. Bowing respectfully, he then left Ira alone inside.
The surroundings were furnished like an ordinary bedroom—clothing racks, cabinets, a writing desk, a fireplace, and wooden chests.
However…
It seemed Sernata had yet to emerge from the coffin. Was she out on business? Or was this meant as an intimidation tactic?
Ira gazed at the finely crafted wooden coffin, lost in thought, when suddenly—
Thud!
A muffled impact echoed from within.
Yes, a thud—
A heavy, dull thud, as if something had struck the wooden lid from inside.
Ira silently watched as the coffin lid was pushed aside from within. Then, the vampire girl he had seen during the morning court—Sernata—sat up, one hand pressing against her forehead, the other bracing herself against the satin lining of the coffin.
It seemed Ira had overthought things. She wasn’t busy or trying to intimidate him—she had simply fallen asleep.
“Apologies, Ira-sama. I was waiting for you, but I dozed off.”
The young vampire, dressed in a pure white gown, removed her hand from her reddened forehead and spoke apologetically. “My name is Sernata. Sernata Abunesaya.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Ira responded calmly as Sernata climbed out of her coffin. She tidied up her sleeping space somewhat awkwardly before seating herself across from Ira at a small table.
Soon, other vampires entered, serving them tea.
Ira took a small sip of the amber liquid, watching as Sernata, seemingly unsure of what to say, traced circles around the rim of her teacup.
“Sernata?” Ira prompted.
“Yes?!”
…That was quite a reaction.
Ira observed her—her breathing was slightly quickened, and her pupils had contracted to the size of pinpricks.
Realization dawned on him.
“I recall… during my first meeting with everyone, you were the one who swallowed nervously, weren’t you?”
Indeed, Ira hadn’t forgotten. The day he walked out of the prison, Sernata had not been among those trying to restrain him. Instead, she had stood rigid, almost paralyzed with tension.
And even now, she wasn’t much better.
It was a clear sign of Iraphobia.
“…Yes,” Sernata admitted with a forced smile. She lowered her gaze to the reflection in her tea and, after a brief silence, finally spoke.
“I know you’ve joined us… but I can’t help feeling afraid.”
“I saw you on the battlefield…”
Ira had already suspected as much. Though he had no strong recollection of it, that was only because he had fought countless monsters on the battlefield—he couldn’t possibly remember them all.
“I remember. It was a nighttime operation. My blood kin and I were carrying out an assassination attempt on the battlefield commander at the time—Ulrichra Jem Goodwin.”
Hearing the name, Ira’s memory stirred. He thought aloud, “An assassination attempt on Little Ulrich? That does ring a bell… Had you succeeded, the war might have turned out far more chaotic.”
Even Ira had to respect General Ulrichra’s talents. He was a once-in-a-century strategic genius, possessing an uncanny instinct for warfare. No doubt, he would later prove himself in the war against the Principality.
Yet, due to his family’s close ties with Ira’s faction, the Goodwin house would likely become a target for the Empire’s noble factions…
“Yes, we failed,” Sernata interrupted his thoughts. Her eyes wavered as though reliving that fateful night.
“In the dark of night, you soared over the battlefield on the crimson wings of a dragon.”
“The battlefield, once shrouded in darkness, was suddenly bathed in blinding light. Scorching heat engulfed us in an instant. My blood kin… vanished within the raging flames.”
“And then…”
Sernata’s throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. Holding her cup tightly, she continued, “From behind you, a pair of bloodborne wings unfurled—wings belonging to my kind.
“But the moment they shattered, a devastating blood magic explosion swept across the battlefield.
“Our forces… were reduced to a mere fraction of their numbers.”
Indeed—this was what it meant to be an Archon.
Or rather…
This was the terrifying reality of Ira, the First Archon.
No other Archon, no other First Archon, could match such power.
Only Ira.
Only Ira.
- Writer
