NOVPUB——Such an ugly and barbaric banquet.
The Philosopher observed everything with a cold detachment, even though she herself was to be a dish at the feast.
If her Blood Fiend had still been with her, she would have killed every Vampire that looked at her with those disgusting eyes. She was especially adept at extracting the blood of the living—perhaps these weak carnivorous beasts would have joyfully discovered that they, too, could bleed the same fluid.
But for now, she had to endure.
Unlike the average Transcendent, she had already attended many New Moon Rituals. It had been so since the time she was the Demon Scholar, and after accumulating sufficient experience and strength, it was only natural to participate in the New Moon Ritual on the Second Path as well.
Unlike the Full Moon Ritual, which was more like playing house, where one needed to conceal their identity and play a role, the New Moon Ritual had a straightforward solution—over ninety-five percent of the time, killing everyone who could be killed was enough to secure a significant advantage, and even outright victory was not impossible.
This time it was the rarer all-restricted type of ritual—where physical prowess, Mana Pool, casting resources, and movement space were all constrained. Whether it was Transcendents who excelled in close combat, Mages and Summoners, or Stealthers, Ritualists, and Hunters, none could fully display their strength.
Therefore, the greatest advantage naturally went to those professions that purely relied on external items. Such as Alchemists and Demons, or Authors and Songstresses.
——Luckily, their team included an Alchemist.
As for her, she had prepared casting tools in advance—considering the frequently restrictive or incapacitating conditions upon entry to the New Moon Ritual, it was easy for non-essential equipment to be confiscated and could even cause trouble.
Hence her casting tool was a pair of artificial collarbones implanted into her body by the Necromancer.
If someone had the ability to see through objects, they would notice her collarbones were dark gold in color and adorned with complex runes. These were actually her two staves—relying on these staves, she was able to cast spells at a much lower cost.
What did it matter if the Mana Pool was restricted?
If she was constrained, then so must everyone else be.
If everyone was restrained, then it became a matter of who had better equipment.
——And they were certainly not afraid of a competition of equipment, for their team had an Alchemist.
An Alchemist in such a ritual was inherently fully geared.
Though from the second to the third Energy Level during this stage, in front of these hundred-plus Sons of the Moon she might not be particularly strong... but at least there would be no issue in killing the other aspirants.
Not to mention, "Prohibition" himself had a tremendous home advantage...
...So, hold on a bit longer. Just a bit longer. 𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑝𝘶𝘣.𝑐𝘰𝘮
At that moment, Miss Number 7—her wavy silver hair cascading down, dressed in a princess-like pink and white gown—sat stiffly on the lap of an old man who looked to be in his sixties.
"What’s the matter, sweetheart? Feeling down today?"
Count Alonso asked with concern, greedily licking her slender and fair neck.
"My lord Count..."
Number 7 responded with a faintly trembling voice, "I just didn’t sleep well..."
Her heart swelled with a boundless urge to kill—she was used to drawing others’ blood, but today it was her turn to be bitten by mosquitoes!
Sooner or later I’ll kill you, you old geezer!
If I can’t kill you here, I’ll dig up your grave once I’m out!
I’ll even scatter your ashes!
But just then, the Philosopher suddenly felt a wave of absent-mindedness.
An odd sensation surged from the bottom of her heart.
She suddenly found Count Alonso to be affable and kind.
She wanted to do something for him—anything at all, as long as it made him happy. It seemed she could easily agree to anything he asked for.
"I love you, sweetheart,"
the Count whispered.
He reached out, pouring the blood-red wine from the glass bottle into the white ceramic bowl.
The blood was not that of the blood slaves, but rather, it was drained from humans reared like livestock.
The slaves procured or seized by the Sons of the Moon all possessed a special scent to their blood. However, among them were some who were not obedient enough—or simply not young and beautiful enough to become blood slaves.
They were confined and bled. Their blood was preserved with blood magic to stay fresh for some time. Just add a label, and it was like a bottle of fine wine. In an era where glass bottles typically used as alchemy tools were quite expensive, at times the price of a pretty bottle could exceed that of a person.
This was the "aperitif" of the Sons of the Moon.
He dipped his fingers into a porcelain bowl filled with fresh blood, tasted it with a sip, and commented, "According to reports, this is drawn from a child—It seems that even children are no longer pure these days. The Empire has truly decayed."
He dipped his fingers into the blood again and brought them to No. 7’s mouth. Watching her suck attentively on his finger like a lollipop, the blood trailing down at the corner of her mouth, Count Alonso finally smiled in satisfaction.
Holding her like a doll or a pet dog, he affectionately kissed the girl on her cheek and then bared his fangs, piercing her neck.
Aiwass witnessed all of this.
The place where she stood was only a dozen meters away.
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She had changed out of the simple white nightgown and now donned an expensive moon-white silk gown.
A young woman, appearing to be in her twenties or thirties, held her in an embrace, arms around her waist, the gown’s silhouette accentuated by an external force.
"What is my miss looking at?"
Her husky and magnetic voice unexpectedly reminded Aiwass of a Shadow Demon, "You have a share in it too."
Miss Beyard was a woman with black hair and blue eyes, with her long, straight hair of stiff texture spilling down to her waist.
There was a commanding presence about her; her hairstyle, hair color, and complexion were very similar to that of the little girl Aiwass was playing at the moment—although she couldn’t see her own appearance at the time, she intuitively felt... there might be a resemblance in their looks as well.
Aiwass suddenly felt a chilling iciness at her neck.
It was the metal eyeglass frame Miss Beyard wore that pressed against Aiwass’s neck.
She instinctively raised her head, wanting to avoid the glasses, but this motion of baring her neck made Miss Beyard’s breathing grow somewhat heavier.
She had almost bitten down—but at the last moment, she restrained herself.
She extended her tongue and licked Aiwass’s neck. A special secretion quickly flowed into the bloodstream through the skin, and Aiwass’s head began to feel dizzy.
—Aiwass knew, this was the Beguile Kiss of the Sons of the Moon. The vampires would anesthetize their prey before the hunt by biting, licking, kissing, or exchanging bodily fluids in other ways.
The anesthetized prey’s mind would become muddled and slow, reluctant to believe any lies told by the other party—not that they couldn’t see through the other’s intentions, but even if they logically understood, they would emotionally prefer to believe them. It could make even the most vigilant person lower their guard and bare their neck. They would willingly let vampires into their homes and remove objects that could harm the vampire or protect themselves.
Likewise, if these Sons of the Moon desired any money or jewels, they would receive generous consent in this era. It was as if one’s best friend was asking for a favor; one would feel happy giving things away—happy to finally be of help to them.
This was because the fangs of the Sons of the Moon were actually quite fragile.
As their organ for drawing blood, their fangs were hollow. Hence, struggling while being drained could easily harm the vampire... even an unconscious act of resistance could hurt them. Thus, they would always begin with the Beguile Kiss to eliminate any resistance from the victims.
Every time a victim was drained of blood, this state would ensue. And after the feeding, the "beguile" state would gradually transform into a "satisfied" state. That was the sense of elation Aiwass felt when she first woke up—And if one remained under the beguile state without being satisfied for too long, it would turn into a state of emptiness, where they would beg the vampires to make demands of them, to draw their blood.
Beguile is a curse, thus it can be dispelled. However, the cursed ones cannot dispel it themselves—because they wouldn’t want to resist their own master.
If subjected to such a state, it would be impossible to accomplish the task of "Regicide." That is why the mission offered so many points.
Similarly—with such a state, one could not possibly deceive their own master. This would also cause trouble for other aspirants’ missions.
Aiwass realized this as soon as she saw the mission requirements.
However, Aiwass knew how to dispel the beguilement curse without purification.
This was also knowledge taught in the classrooms of the Theological Seminary.
Family, elective courses are indeed useful.
As long as these Sons of the Moon attempted to put themselves or those close to them in life-threatening danger, or if they suffered unbearable loss of life and property—to the point where a command crossed the line, the one who was cursed would immediately awaken.
—In other words, if these aspirants wished to act freely... they needed to find a way to lift their beguiled state first.
