"Uwaaa—!"
Betelgeuse finally felt pain. Wrapped in flame, he clawed and rolled across the ground, shrieking as if his lungs would tear.
"This flame… are those lesser spirits?" Emilia sensed the life-like aura in the golden fire and asked, curious.
"No. Lesser spirits can't compare to my holy fire," Shichen said, shaking his head—though his eyes stayed on Betelgeuse writhing inside the blaze. He'd noticed something off.
"Holy fire? No wonder it's golden," Emilia murmured, nodding.
"Shichen, holy fire won't work on that one," Beatrice warned.
"I can see that…"
"The Authority of Sloth…"
Betelgeuse suddenly stopped rolling. Even as the flames scorched him, he slowly stood—the holy fire flicked aside.
It was a bizarre sight. Something—an unseen sheath—seemed to wrap him, batting the fire away. Nothing visible at all, like a ring of clear air.
"…Unseen Hands," Betelgeuse intoned.
"Holy fire doesn't touch Authorities, huh?" Shichen raised a brow. Holy fire was a bane to corruption and blight; this suggested an Authority wasn't either of those. Which meant brute force would have to do.
He had no shortage of ways to end Sloth. But judging from this world's rules, that ability roamed freely here. He couldn't counter an Authority yet—he'd have to rely on what he already had. He could still sweep the field with his current power, but without tools native to this world, it would be messier.
"Shichen—Emilia's blood," Beatrice said suddenly.
"What?" He glanced at her.
"Emilia's blood can awaken power that counters an Authority," she replied evenly.
"I see…"
"Huh? My blood? What do you mean?" Emilia blinked, startled.
"Exactly that. Let Shichen drink a little. You won't refuse, will you?" Beatrice looked to her.
"I won't refuse… but isn't this sudden? Why does Shichen need my blood? Is he a vampire?" Emilia's violet eyes slid to Shichen and fluttered.
"More or less," Shichen admitted with a wry smile.
"Eeh? You're a vampire? I never would've guessed," Emilia gasped.
"Shichen is a vampire? Then he's like me—a demon! How wonderful!" Rem beamed, hugging him tighter and mashing his back with her softness.
"I only possess a vampire's power," he corrected.
"No difference to me~," Rem sang, radiant.
"So that's why he's not like the vampires I've heard about… How do we do this?" Emilia asked.
"Are you sure?" Shichen met her eyes.
"Mhm. I want to help you. And—well—it's just blood," she said with a gentle smile.
"It's not just blood," Shichen warned lightly. "Though it isn't a bad thing."
"That's fine—"
"Heehee—heehee—so you are Pride, to ignore me so completely!"
Betelgeuse cut in. His body twisted, a feral smile splitting his face. His neck bent a full ninety degrees to the right.
"Ah—ah—this is so… so exciting, my brain is quivering~ hee-hee-hee~"
Though charred and blistered, his mushroom-green hair half-burned and robe in tatters, he seemed oblivious—giggling, ecstatic. Without hesitation, he shoved the fingers of his intact left hand into his mouth and bit them, one by one.
Bones split. Flesh tore. Blood fountained. He was a ghoul at his own hand.
"It hurts… it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts—! Ahh, the fullness of being alive!"
Betelgeuse splayed his ruined fingers and lifted his face toward the cavern roof, as if transfigured.
"He really is insane…" Emilia muttered, brow furrowing. Ram had already turned away—no reason to dirty her eyes.
"Ahhhh—this is a trial~ such a sweet trial! My diligent effort is the proof of love! The world is impermanent likewise! That's right! Trial! Trial! It's a trial! All things are a trial to repay our beloved! Shine! Guide us! Ahhhh—my head is trembling—!"
"…," Shichen exhaled, raising his left hand. Smoky violet energy gathered; space itself rippled.
A pale purple cube flickered into being around Betelgeuse, sealing him in. His lunatic chanting snuffed out. Silence fell.
Shichen had no interest in listening—none of it made sense. The man's mind had long since snapped. Pity was wasted here. There was something else more important.
"Emilia," Shichen said, turning to her with a steady, heated gaze.
"Yes," she answered, suddenly nervous under his eyes. He'd said earlier that drinking blood wasn't so simple. Was there… more?
"Rem." Shichen gently let her down.
Obediently she slid from his back and stared up at him, wide-eyed—curious to see how he would drink Emilia's blood. She had no intention of falling behind.
With Ram and Rem watching—Beatrice and Estelle too—Shichen stepped close, face to face with Emilia.
"Shichen…" Her heart fluttered.
"Don't be afraid," he murmured, hands settling on her shoulders.
"Mhm. I know you won't hurt me," she said, shaking her head.
"Drinking your blood is hurting you."
"I'm willing."
"In that case… don't be shy about what comes next~"
"Shy?" She tilted her head.
"You don't mind Rem and the others watching?"
"It's only blood, isn't—mmph!"
He caught her lips before she could finish. Emilia froze, eyes round. Her mind went blank.
Wasn't he supposed to be biting her? Why was he kissing? Was he going to bite her lip?
But the thing she imagined didn't happen. He simply deepened the kiss and touched her tongue with his own.
"Mmm…" Emilia's face burned crimson.
She hadn't closed her eyes—and noticed Rem and the others' fervent stares. Mortification washed over her. So that's why he'd asked about an audience.
Even so, she couldn't resist. Embarrassment didn't turn into refusal—she let Shichen lead. Though she'd kissed once already, the thrill still sent her heart surging. It was too much.
Then she saw it: Shichen's eyes, deepening to a bewitching crimson.
He broke the kiss, and under her hazy stare lowered his mouth to the pale line of her neck. Fangs slid out—and in.
"Eep~" Emilia flinched, a small sound slipping free.
So this is drinking blood.
Then why the kiss…?
No time to puzzle it out. Heat pooled inside, a sweet, nettling ache. She wanted to hold him, to cling and be held. That feeling—just like when he had "listened" to her heartbeat.
Vision misting, Emilia wrapped her arms around him and pecked his cheek. Rem and the others vanished from her world.
Ram's cheeks went scarlet at the sight; Rem nodded earnestly, as if taking notes.
Emilia's blood was delicious—cold and sweet, soft as a mountain spring. Shichen took only a sip, then fed a drop of his own back into the wound and lifted his head.
He felt it—something new stirring inside.
A century-pure half-elf indeed had the qualification to wake a fresh familiar.
White mana foamed over Shichen's skin, rippling outward. Cyan flame shot up with a dragon's roar.
"Rrroooar—!"
Light gathered above, and in the cavern plaza an elegant, standing white dragon took shape—rising from that froth of mana and fire to fill the stone vault with its long, proud silhouette.