The Viscount’s Manor: Midnight Hunter

Past midnight, the viscount’s manor was plunged into profound silence.

The garden, barely maintaining its decorum during the day, shed its deliberate artistry under the moonlight, revealing a wild, untamed romance.

The gravel path gleamed with a cold white luminescence, winding its way into deeper shadows.

A dark figure silently scaled the wall, infiltrating the unguarded garden.

This was a Dust-bearer, a mere expendable at the lowest echelon of the Crimson Spiral Cult.

His former noble status had long been stripped away, leaving him with nothing but ingrained hatred and an insatiable hunger for power.

Tonight’s mission, the assassination of the infamous Allen de Laval, served as his initiation rite to become a Pseudo-Rune Knight.

‘Truly… utterly dilapidated.’

The Dust-bearer surveyed the empty courtyard, a cold sneer twisting his lips.

‘It seems the rumors of the Laval family’s impending bankruptcy are true.’

‘No money, naturally no guards.’

The Dust-bearer’s infiltration proceeded with surprising ease; he encountered not a single patrolling servant along the way.

Thanks to the reliable intelligence provided by the Cult’s informant, he swiftly located the target’s bedroom within the sprawling noble estate.

He gently pushed open the bedroom door, and by the faint light filtering through the window, the figure curled beneath the covers on the bed was clearly visible.

Allen de Laval remained deep in slumber, oblivious to the approach of death.

A flicker of pity even crossed the Dust-bearer’s heart for the dissolute young master; after all, he too had once been a victim of the cutthroat noble circles.

Besides him, other Cult members had also infiltrated the Laval manor that night, intending to orchestrate a bloody incident that would shock the entire Royal Capital.

The Dust-bearer cared nothing for the Cult’s ultimate purpose in staging such a massacre; his sole objective was to end the life of the debauched young master before him!

‘Die, you pathetic wretch!’

The sword gleamed like a viper’s flicking tongue, imbued with resolute killing intent, as it plunged mercilessly through the bedding!

Splat!

The anticipated sensation of the longsword piercing flesh did not materialize.

The Dust-bearer froze for a moment.

‘Quite strange, wouldn’t you say?’

A mocking voice abruptly echoed behind him, like a phantom.

The Dust-bearer’s pupils contracted sharply, a chill instantly racing from his tailbone to the crown of his head!

He attempted to withdraw the sword, which was now stuck in the bed frame, but cold metal had already pierced his heart an instant before.

Amidst the searing pain, the last thing he saw was a face obscured by a grotesque bird-beak mask, and behind it, a pair of eyes glinting with cold light in the shadows.

‘I had a feeling you’d come tonight.’

Allen deftly withdrew the protective dagger his father had given him, watching the Dust-bearer slump to the floor.

‘The very first event in this Cult storyline is the viscount’s manor being drenched in blood, with Marianne and me going missing. How could I not be prepared for such a classic opening?’

Innumerable experiences of being ‘sent off’ in his sleep had ingrained a bone-deep PTSD in Allen regarding ‘bedroom assassinations.’

Tonight, he was the hunter lurking in the shadows.

He pulled off the Dust-bearer’s mask, revealing a young face etched with resentment and astonishment.

His once well-maintained handsome face now bore the marks of the mundane world.

Allen had no interest in the assassin’s past or identity; he merely set about expertly collecting the spoils.

‘This mask is decent quality, I can keep it… Wait a minute, you look like a noble, but you only have this shoddy sword on you?’

He weighed the confiscated noble longsword, a look of disdain on his face.

‘The drop rate is truly abysmal!’

‘Is this all the Cult’s attack amounts to?’

Having easily dispatched the assassin, Allen’s suspicious radar began to blare wildly.

That bunch of lunatics in the Cult always had contingencies, especially for potential ‘accidents’ and ‘trai-tors.’

Allen tightened his grip on the longsword, his sharp gaze sweeping every corner of the room; the air seemed to congeal.

‘They are hidden, I am exposed. I must force out any enemies lurking in the shadows.’

‘You Cult lunatics, you’re like sewer rats, only knowing how to hide and scurry, afraid of the light.’

Allen deliberately raised his voice, his sarcastic tone echoing through the silent room.

‘Are the Cult idiots assigned to surveillance tonight even afraid of a good-for-nothing young master like me?’

‘I have no interest in bullying mere cannon fodder; at least send a proper Abyssal Walker to spar with me, won’t you?’

‘Livia slaughters Star-Listeners as easily as dogs, and I’m her equal…’

He paused, his tone abruptly turning arrogant.

‘In other words, I’m way more awesome than a Star-Listener; the Cult should really be asking me to be their boss!’

‘If you kneel and beg for mercy now, maybe I’ll even leave you a complete corpse!’

He roared, “Did you hear me? All of you, get out here!”

ROAR—!

Allen’s unique skill, Villainous Taunt, successfully activated!

From the shadows of the room came an uncontrollable, heavy breathing, like that of a wild beast!

A swifter dark figure, like a blade tearing through space, instantly appeared behind Allen, a cold glint aimed directly at his back!

‘There really was a Pseudo-Rune Knight shadowing me!’

Allen, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, executed a clumsy yet precise side-roll to evade the fatal blow.

The longsword he had confiscated deftly parried the pursuing blade, and the clash of metal erupted in jarring sparks.

He stared at the crimson eyes behind the opponent’s mask, a malicious grin spreading beneath his own.

‘Why the rush? Did my words impress you so much that you’re planning to make me your boss?’

‘You… how do you know… the Cult’s secrets?!’

The Pseudo-Rune Knight’s voice was hoarse and dry, filled with incredulous horror.

‘Hey, hey, don’t look down on people, alright?’

Allen scoffed, then clearly articulated a few syllables in a distorted, inhuman ancient language.

‘Burn the old world, establish the new throne!’

The Pseudo-Rune Knight’s pupils constricted sharply beneath his mask!

This was the core slogan of the Crimson Spiral Cult, a language only its inner circle members could master.

‘How could a debauched young master possibly know such forbidden knowledge?’

‘Tonight’s operation was supposed to be the simplest tier; infiltrating a noble house that couldn’t even afford guards should, in theory, be impossible to mess up!’

Harboring such thoughts, the Pseudo-Rune Knight had not bothered to scout the Laval estate beforehand.

He merely needed to hide in the shadows and grade the Dust-bearers undergoing their trials.

However, by the time the Pseudo-Rune Knight sensed something was amiss, Allen de Laval had already effortlessly killed the Dust-bearer and swiftly detected him, who had infiltrated the bedroom using his rune ability, lying in wait for an ambush!

‘Shouldn’t this dissolute young master be a useless nobody with no combat ability whatsoever?’

‘Killing so decisively, immediately using information to probe a lurking enemy upon sensing something was wrong…’

‘Such a cautious and ruthless psychological fortitude is simply not something an ordinary person should possess!’

‘Could he be a member of the Inquisition?’

‘Was tonight’s assassination merely a trap set by the Inquisition?!’

‘Now!’

Allen seized upon that fleeting moment of hesitation, instantly launching a fierce assault!

The confiscated longsword transformed into a blur of silver light in his hands, his movements cunning and ruthless, utterly unlike those of a pampered, useless young master.

Yet, the disparity in physical prowess was a harsh reality.

Allen’s debauched body, hollowed out by alcohol, possessed far less strength, speed, and endurance than his opponent, and was utterly inferior to the robust physique he had secretly cultivated in his previous playthrough.

Initially caught off guard, his opponent found himself at a disadvantage.

However, as a battle-hardened elite of the Cult, the Pseudo-Rune Knight, relying on years of combat experience and muscle memory, continuously attempted to counterattack, gradually turning the tide with his superior physical conditioning!

Allen shifted from offense to defense, each block jarring his arm numb, each dodge draining his precious stamina.

He could barely hold his own through experience and skill, but defeat seemed only a matter of time.

‘Isn’t it strange? Why do I possess such swordsmanship? Even though I’m just a robed noble, without any runes.’

As Allen desperately parried the increasingly swift sword strikes, he kept up a ceaseless barrage of taunts, attempting to unnerve his opponent.

The Pseudo-Rune Knight remained silent, but his offensive grew even more ferocious.

‘Curious, aren’t you? Why I know the Cult’s secrets, and how I knew you’d attack tonight? You’ve been betrayed, you know that, right?’

Allen narrowly dodged a cold flash aimed at his neck, his words spilling out rapidly.

‘…’

‘Your inside informant is my maid, Marianne, isn’t she?’

Allen dropped this bombshell, his voice laced with deliberate triumph.

‘That girl, she hasn’t been completely brainwashed by you yet. She fell for this young master’s charm and sold you out.’

The Pseudo-Rune Knight’s sword strike faltered for a barely perceptible instant! ‘Marianne? That woman who only recently joined?!’

‘Oh, right, I know what you’re thinking: ‘Why isn’t the Laval manor burning yet?’

Allen gasped for breath, his lungs feeling as though they were on fire, but his taunting couldn’t stop.

‘It’s simple: I had my dad hire a squad of mercenaries. Forget your useless Dust-bearers; even if a Flesh Priest showed up, they still couldn’t defeat a well-trained, prepared squad of mercenaries!’

‘Soon, you’ll be buried alongside their corpses! Happy now?’

‘…You… you’ll die!’

The Pseudo-Rune Knight finally snapped, roaring aloud, his sword strikes becoming even more furious!

‘Haha! Whether I die or not isn’t up to you.’

Allen felt his arm was about to give out, but his smile grew even more maniacal.

‘By the way, I already told the old butler to inform the Inquisition. Your nest in the Royal Capital… it’s beneath the slaughterhouse in the lower district, isn’t it?’

The words struck like a clap of thunder!

The Pseudo-Rune Knight’s movements abruptly froze, his crimson eyes filled with extreme shock and terror! ‘Beneath the slaughterhouse?’

‘That was the Cult’s most clandestine stronghold in the Royal Capital, one even the Inquisition hadn’t detected! How did he know?! Could it be… Marianne truly betrayed them?!’

‘That woman with a weakness? He had warned them not to recruit her!’

Allen caught that fleeting moment of distraction, a cold sneer forming in his heart.

These words, he had originally intended for the higher echelons to ‘hear’—through the brief sensory link between the Pseudo-Rune Knight and his ‘creator,’ the Flesh Priest.

‘To kill a man, one must also crush his spirit!’

He wanted the rat behind the scenes to know that he, Allen, was no soft persimmon to be easily squeezed; moreover, he intended to help Marianne completely sever ties with these lunatics!

‘If Livia were to visit tomorrow, only to find her cherished ‘white moonlight’ had fled with the cultists… he certainly didn’t want to experience the taste of a corrupted save file and a forced restart again!’

‘That wretched place was indeed well-chosen,’ Allen continued to press, his tone filled with malicious mockery.

‘Using the stench of blood to mask the reek of anti-humanity. But… you haven’t been mixing ‘Hope Meat’ with regular meat, have you? Ugh, just thinking about it makes me sick.’

Allen parried the Pseudo-Rune Knight’s attack once more, intensifying his taunts:

‘Ah, the Inquisition might not believe me now, but once they see the ‘spectacle’ beneath the slaughterhouse… tsk tsk, what do you think will happen?’

‘Will it be a barbecue party? So, why aren’t you fleeing? Unknown Flesh Priest, sir?’

The Pseudo-Rune Knight’s body jolted, the expression beneath his mask instantly turning to despair—his connection to the Flesh Priest had been unilaterally severed! Even the Priest had felt fear and abandoned him!

‘Why… what grudge do you have against us!’

The Pseudo-Rune Knight’s voice trembled with a hint of collapse, his offensive noticeably slowing and becoming disorganized due to the psychological shock and some unknown factors.

‘Happy? Surprised?’

Allen felt his own stamina reaching its limit, yet his eyes burned with a fervent battlelust.

‘To kill me, you’ll sacrifice your entire Royal Capital stronghold? As for why?’

He violently parried his opponent’s sword, his voice chilling to the bone.

‘Who told you to provoke this young master? Huh? A bunch of rats who can’t stand the light, daring to appear in our home? Tonight, all of you will die here!’

Allen’s plan had worked!

He had long ago set up a colorless, odorless, yet highly poisonous incense in his room. This was a notorious assassination tool in noble circles!

Unlike Flesh Priests, whose bodies and organs were twisted and mutated, Pseudo-Rune Knights still remained within the human spectrum, and thus were susceptible to volatile toxic substances.

Only a few runes offered poison resistance, and the Pseudo-Rune Knight before Allen, whose rune ability was clearly related to stealth, possessed no capacity to withstand the toxic gas.

Allen had continuously worn his bird-beak mask, which filtered out toxins.

In this battle, as long as Allen stalled for enough time, the ultimate victor would undoubtedly be him!

Not every assassin also moonlighted as a berserker; under the effects of the toxic gas, the Pseudo-Rune Knight’s offensive grew increasingly feeble.

Allen seized the opportunity, squeezing out the last vestiges of strength from his body, and roared as he launched a desperate counterattack!

‘Go to hell!’

The confiscated longsword arced with resolute finality, striking hard against the Pseudo-Rune Knight’s chest, where a momentary hesitation had created an opening!

‘Guh—!’

The Pseudo-Rune Knight cried out in agony, blood gushing as he staggered backward.

However, in those crimson eyes, despair was instantly replaced by madness!

‘If I can’t live, I’ll at least eliminate a nuisance like you for the Cult!’

He roared, pulling out a crimson pill and shoving it into his mouth!

‘Holy crap, how do you have a secret medicine? After phase one, there’s a phase two… How am I supposed to play this?!’

Allen’s face contorted, for in his previous playthrough, this very item had allowed him to withstand a few moves from Livia!

This substance could burn life force, briefly unleashing power in a Pseudo-Rune Knight that approached that of an Abyssal Walker!

‘It’s over!’ Allen’s heart turned cold.

In his current state, he couldn’t even withstand a single blow from his opponent!

The Pseudo-Rune Knight, having consumed the secret medicine, saw his aura suddenly surge, the blood gushing from his wounds seemingly fueling his newfound power.

He let out an inhuman roar, his figure vanishing like a phantom.

When he reappeared, a death-laden sword edge descended like lightning from above Allen’s head!

‘Damn it!’ Allen rolled clumsily with all his might, the sword edge grazing his shoulder and carving a deep gouge into the floor.

Gravel scattered!

His opponent’s frenzied attack, fueled by burning life, was enough to tear Allen apart before the poison could finish him!

Allen was forced into a corner, each block causing his hand to split, his longsword almost slipping from his grasp.

The scent of death had never been so potent.

But he could not retreat; leaving this bedroom, thick with deadly incense, would mean completely losing any chance of turning the tide!

‘Is this playthrough going to end too?’

The thought flashed through his mind, then was swallowed by a stronger will to survive!

He had already died nine hundred and ninety-nine times; one more death, and he would achieve the original work’s ‘1000 Deaths Collected’ achievement.

However, after truly dying a thousand times, would he ever wake up again?

Games always had an end, and his cycle of reincarnation would also conclude one day.

Perhaps, this reincarnation was his last chance.

Allen had always been one to infer the worst malice from this wretched game, ‘Starlight Love Song.’

He had anticipated, and fully believed, that this world could be so vile and cruel.

‘I cannot die! Absolutely cannot die!’

His very survival was the greatest mockery of this ugly world!

Adrenaline surged in his despair, and the shadow of death instead ignited the mad fighting spirit honed by countless deaths within Allen’s bones.

‘Come on, let’s see what else you’ve got!’

Allen, while desperately dodging the Pseudo-Rune Knight’s attacks, revealed a savage grin.

‘Mortals can’t defeat rune geniuses? Then how did I push this bastard to the brink earlier?’

‘I want to live! No matter what, I will struggle to survive! God, I’ve always thought you were an evil, colossal bastard for throwing me into this messed-up world! But if you can answer my prayer, I will offer everything I have to you!’ Allen finally abandoned his futile persistence, directing his most fervent desire to the deity he despised, to this messed-up world itself.

‘So… give me strength! Even if… it means paying a price more despairing than death!’

Allen was no longer the ordinary youth from a peaceful world.

He had once fallen, becoming an Abyssal Walker, stained with endless blood.

He was a villain struggling on the brink of death, searching every method for a sliver of hope.

He had never given up.

Even if the world was full of malice towards him, even if he had suffered unimaginable psychological trauma in these 999 reincarnations.

Yet, he chose to forget and move forward.

Not for ideals, not for loved ones, but for one simple goal—

To live.

A thousand words could not convey it better than these two simple ones.

That was enough.

As long as he lived, Allen could harbor a tiny bit of hope for this malicious world.

‘Look at me! You damn God! I will offer all my love to this dog-eat-dog world!!’

Allen let out his final roar in his heart, condensing all his will to survive, his resentment, his anger, and his resolve into this single moment!

Buzz!

As if responding to the cry of his soul, a strange, unprecedented sensation instantly flowed through his entire body.

It wasn’t the power of a rune, nor some sacred might.

It was more like… a cold, clear spring that saw through all things, gushing into his rapidly depleting consciousness.

In the depths of his dark pupils, a brilliant golden light, like the first star piercing an eternal night, suddenly flared.