Chapter 31 : Hunter Hunt – (3)

The vampire’s thrall had slipped into the city.

But the vampire who commanded that thrall was dead.

What exactly did that mean?

“First, we need to take a look at the dead vampire.”

As soon as the undertaker heard Branch Director Branwick’s words, he headed for the city cemetery.

Normally, a vampire’s corpse would be handed over to the Hunter’s Guild, but in the absence of available hunters, the branch was authorized to handle the matter on its own.

“We staked it and burned it. Not only that, we divided the ashes into three separate urns.”

As the bald man explained, the hunted vampire no longer retained any form.

Even the ashes had been mixed with mud.

The urns containing the remains were scheduled to be incinerated whole in a crucible.

The undertaker checked the contents of the carelessly placed urns and nodded.

“Yes. You followed protocol thoroughly.”

I, watching from nearby, cautiously asked,

“Why go to such lengths to dispose of the body?”

“Even in death, if the vampire’s blood remains within the body, it can still be misused.”

“Misused?”

“It could be used to artificially create the Scarlet Plague.”

“Ah.”

I recalled the recent tragedy in Barrington.

Baron Hoover, a vampire, had spread the Scarlet Plague using his own blood.

If so, there could very well be villains plotting to use the blood of a dead vampire for similar ends.

A vampire was a monster that left trouble behind, even in death.

After inspecting the vampire’s corpse, the undertaker rose to his feet.

“Aiden, get ready. We’re going after the hunter who became a thrall.”

“Undertaker, what do we do once we find the thrall?”

“We kill him.”

The undertaker spoke firmly. Yet I still hesitated.

It was because of what the bald man had told me earlier.

“That hunter may be a vampire’s thrall. But the vampire who would have controlled him no longer exists. He was reduced to ash in the fire long ago. If that’s the case…”

The undertaker turned his head at my words.

“Aiden, what exactly are you trying to say?”

“I’m just saying that hunter might still be—”

“He’s not a hunter. He’s a vampire.”

The undertaker cut me off, his expression stiff.

“Aiden, you’re defending a vampire’s thrall right now. According to the rules of the Hunter’s Guild, you could be thrown in a cell for that. So tell me: are you a hunter, or a vampire?”

“In your case, you might be both. But if you must choose, you’d better choose to be a hunter. Because if not, I’ll kill you myself.”

His warning was chilling.

“Whether he was once a hunter, a dear comrade, even family—it doesn’t matter. He’s a vampire’s thrall now. And just because the vampire who controlled him is dead doesn’t mean the vampire nature inside him can be suppressed.”

The undertaker’s words made sense.

I couldn’t find a single thing to argue with.

“How many hunters do you think I’ve had to kill so far? I’ve worked as an executioner for nearly ten years. I even killed the senior who gave me my name.”

But somehow…

“So don’t question how I do things. I brought you here only as a warning. I’m not giving you a choice.”

The undertaker’s fiery speech didn’t seem to be aimed at me—but rather at himself.

“Do you understand, Aiden?”

“…Yes.”

I quietly nodded.

“Then stop talking and follow orders. Uphold the Guild’s order.”

With eyes burning like embers, he said those words, leaving me no choice but to nod in silence.

*

Tracking the location of a thrall was no easy task.

For one, Branwick was a larger city than Barrington, meaning that a multitude of scents naturally overlapped.

“Can you really not distinguish it by scent?”

“No, it seems difficult.”

The truth was, even with my heightened sense of smell, it wasn’t easy to detect a vampire’s presence.

If that was the case for a full vampire, then the scent of a thrall—being even fainter—was that much harder to find.

“This is going to be troublesome.”

The undertaker frowned.

“Undertaker, how do normal hunters usually track vampires? Wouldn’t it be difficult to find them if they’ve hidden in a city like this?”

“They either track them with enhanced senses like yours, or use magic like that little brat Ruehlyn.”

“And what about hunters who have neither?”

The undertaker gave me a look like I’d just asked the dumbest question imaginable.

“Why are you asking something so obvious?”

“Sorry?”

“From now on, we hit the streets. We gather eyewitness accounts from passersby.”

It was a much more old-fashioned approach than I had expected.

But for hunters who lacked any special tracking ability, it was probably the most reliable method.

I now fully understood what the Hunter’s Guild manual meant when it said vampire hunting was a battle of patience.

The undertaker and I hit the streets, working alongside people hired by the bald branch director to gather witness reports.

“Get lost. I’m not giving you any money.”

Not everyone was cooperative.

But unlike the days when I begged on the streets of Stormgate, now I had a massive sword hanging from my waist.

People who tried to wave me off quickly changed their tone once they saw the weapon.

It wasn’t my intention to threaten them, but I didn’t particularly care, either.

The matter was urgent.

According to the undertaker, a thrall who had lost its master would revert to instinct.

And a vampire’s instinct, of course, was to feed.

“Apparently, a nearby ranch owner’s been quite worried lately.”

“Why is that?”

“Every night, a few of his livestock turn up dead. Pale as death, not a drop of blood left in them.”

Before long, we found a lead from one of the townsfolk.

“Please, tell us more.”

What we learned was this:

Branwick, a naturally gifted city, had several pastures on its outskirts.

The city was surrounded by fields and ranches.

Lately, the farm owners had been plagued by strange occurrences.

Almost daily, livestock were being found dead—completely pale, with no blood.

When they tried to stop it by tying up guard dogs, the dogs were found dead, too.

That was when they realized how serious the situation was.

Then came a shepherd’s terrifying testimony, which sparked even greater alarm:

“A person in a robe appeared and bit a sheep on the neck, sucking its blood!”

“…that’s what I heard.”

When I relayed this to the undertaker, he nodded in understanding.

“I heard a similar story. Seems it’s a well-known rumor spreading quietly around the city.”

“It must be the thrall we’re after, right?”

“Without a doubt. Only appearing at night is a behavior closely tied to vampire instinct. Feeding on blood goes without saying.”

“Should we pursue it?”

“Why are you asking something so obvious?”

Our next destination was the ranch beyond Branwick’s city walls.

Since we already had a pass issued by the Tribunal, getting the ranch owner to talk wasn’t difficult.

“Oh, are you investigators from the city? Good timing. Whether it’s a wild beast or some strange monster, it’s been stealing away my livestock—practically my own children!”

The ranch owner pounded his chest in frustration, clearly outraged.

“May we see the dead animals?”

“Of course. I figured someone from the city would come, so I stored them in an unused barn.”

He led us to a shabby shed.

The moment the doors opened, the stench of rot hit us.

Piled inside were the corpses of livestock—seven in total, decomposing.

“Aiden, we received this report exactly a week ago, right?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Then it’s clear. Our dear thrall has been diligently satisfying its bloodlust, one per night.”

The undertaker twisted his lips and pulled up a triangular cloth mask to cover his face.

I approached one of the goat corpses.

Two bite marks pierced the goat’s neck.

The size and spacing were familiar.

“…It matches.”

Slowly, I placed a hand on the back of my own neck.

Though I kept it hidden under a raised collar, the wound Lily had left on me matched exactly.

“It was a vampire.”

“Good. Then we know what comes next.”

Clearly displeased with the rotting stench, the undertaker nudged the corpse with his boot as he spoke.

“We stake out here tonight. That thing will surely come again.”

There were no objections.

The stakeout was simple.

Dressed like shepherds, we watched the pasture from a distant cabin, eyes sharp like hawks.

Normally, on a night without moonlight, one couldn’t see even a foot ahead.

But my eyes were different.

“Vampiric powers really are quite convenient.”

Even the undertaker was impressed by how well I could see in the dark.

I could make out the figure cloaked in robes emerging from the distant grass.

“There it is.”

The undertaker nodded.

Clad in dark clothes to blend into the night, we crossed the fence.

From the barn, we heard a goat wailing—then a dull, fleshy tearing sound.

I drew my greatsword, and the undertaker pulled out his sickle.

Exchanging a glance, we stepped into the barn.

“Don’t move, thrall.”

At those words, the figure burying its face into the goat’s neck slowly turned.

He looked like a perfectly ordinary man.

“Huh?”

His gaze landed on my serrated sword.

A moment of recognition lit his face—perhaps thinking I was a fellow hunter from the guild.

But then his expression twisted.

He had seen the sickle—the weapon that, even among the hunter guild, signified an executioner.

“You’re wrong! This is all a misunderstanding!”

The man shouted.

I glanced at the undertaker for confirmation.

“Aiden… don’t be swayed. That man is already a vampire.”

“But… he can still speak. He has free will.”

“I told you—talking with vampires is meaningless.”

With those words, the undertaker stepped forward first.

But I… I couldn’t believe that man was a vampire.