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Bokue's words hit like a bombshell. It was as if he'd just walked into a martial arts dojo packed with students and loudly declared, "I'm here to take on ten at once!"
Almost instantly, every action within sight froze—inside the banquet hall, out by the pool deck, everywhere. Every eye turned simultaneously toward Bokue and the two girls. The elegant background music had stopped at some point, leaving only the distant murmur of ocean waves below the deck.
A heavy, oppressive silence flooded the grand room, quickly thickening into palpable tension.
Yukina tightened her grip anxiously on Schneewalzer, swallowing hard as nerves crept up her spine.
Nagisa's playful demeanor evaporated instantly, her small fists quietly clenching at her sides. If these vampires dared try anything, she'd summon her giant golden kitten and let it flatten them all like pancakes—hmph!
Just as the standoff seemed on the verge of erupting into outright chaos, the servant who'd come to invite them earlier stepped forward once more, offering another polite bow.
"Honored guests," he spoke calmly, "Lord Ardeal awaits you above on the observation deck. If there's nothing further, shall we go up together now?"
It was nearly identical to his earlier words, yet the shift in context gave them an entirely different implication. Before, the servant's polite invitation felt genuine, offered amidst relaxed dining and dancing.
But now—with every guest in the banquet hall staring silently, cold hostility radiating from dozens of crimson eyes—those same polite words felt distinctly coercive.
Bokue found it almost laughable.
His message had already been perfectly clear:
You invited me.
Since they had made the effort to accept the invitation, proper etiquette dictated the host should now approach them directly, rather than sending some lowly lackey to summon them. Did they mistake him for some subordinate?
Moreover, what arrogance did some random vampire noble have to think Bokue would yield to pressure after already brushing aside his polite invitation?
They were truly overestimating themselves.
So Bokue gave a response as simple and direct as it was brutally effective:
"Get lost."
Boom—!
Without even a fraction of a second's hesitation or a moment's preparation, a powerful wave of golden energy exploded from Bokue's position, expanding outward instantly like a Supernova.
Before anyone could react, the overwhelming force blasted outward, hurling everything and everyone around him outward violently—except for Yukina and Nagisa, who stood protected within the epicenter.
Tables, chairs, startled vampire guests—all were swept away as though they'd been struck by a tornado, slamming into walls, columns, and each other in a cacophony of pain and chaos.
One particularly unlucky vampire hit the wall back-first just as a flying ice bucket collided brutally with his face. Before he could react, an ice pick lodged itself directly through his eyeball, penetrating deep into his brain and killing him instantly.
Others weren't much luckier—broken arms, shattered legs, fractured spines, twisted necks—all were casualties strewn around the room, groaning in agony.
When the shockwave finally subsided, the luxurious banquet hall resembled the aftermath of a hurricane. All the furniture and scattered guests lay in mangled piles at the room's edges, leaving a ten-meter-radius zone of untouched space around Bokue.
"Cough, cough…" The injured vampire servant rose shakily to his feet, blood trickling down his forehead.
Compared to many of the others, he'd gotten off relatively lightly.
As Dimitrie Vatler's trusted aide, he possessed greater strength and resilience. He'd also conveniently shielded himself by throwing several less fortunate guests ahead of him, minimizing the brunt of the impact. Even without that precaution, the vampires' inherent regenerative abilities—especially those granted noble blood—meant these wounds would eventually heal.
Sure enough, the other injured vampires began to rise as well. Gone were their polite, human-like appearances; now their eyes shone crimson, fangs bared and hisses rising from deep in their throats.
When vampires' eyes turned blood-red, it meant only one thing: they were ready to fight.
Yet Bokue, completely unperturbed, simply pointed one finger straight down toward the floor.
"Kneel," he commanded quietly. "I didn't give you permission to stand."
Crash—!
Even greater than before, a surge of overwhelming pressure descended, instantly driving every vampire in the vicinity to their knees.
It sounded like synchronized military marching, dozens of knees slamming simultaneously onto the polished floor.
Inside the banquet hall and even outside on the deck, every vampire collapsed helplessly, as though suddenly trapped in a gravity chamber with twenty times Earth's gravity.
Hands pressed desperately against the floor, struggling in futility just to prevent themselves from being crushed flat.
Forced into humiliating postures of prostration, it was the only way they could stay alive under the terrifying pressure. Such an oppressive gravity spell would have exhausted even elite onmyōji after mere moments—yet Bokue stood casually, entirely unaffected, sleeves folded calmly across his chest.
"You know, you people remind me of some annoying distant relatives I have," Bokue drawled lazily, scratching at his ear in boredom.
"Weak, noisy, and always causing trouble. The only difference is I know my relatives will eventually end themselves, so I usually ignore them. But vampires like you… you're tougher to kill. Which means occasionally I have to thin you out a bit."
What the hell does 'thin out a bit' mean??
Every pinned vampire silently screamed, struggling uselessly and glaring furiously at the floor tiles beneath them.
Bokue yawned idly. "Guess your leader isn't planning on showing up after all, huh? Fine by me, let's wrap this up. Early bedtime sounds good to me. Goodnight, everyone—sweet dreams~."
"Goodnight" could mean a friendly farewell… or a very subtle death sentence.
Just as Bokue prepared to deliver a final blow and clear the room entirely, a smooth, cultured male voice rang out from the banquet hall entrance, accompanied by calm, rhythmic applause.
"It seems even Miss Kirasaka has moments of misjudgment. What truly incredible power you have, Bokue Keikain."
Bokue turned slowly toward the newcomer, one eyebrow raised.
"And you are…?"
Stepping gracefully into the hall was a tall, golden-haired young man with piercing ocean-blue eyes, refined yet imposing.
"I am Dimitrie Vatler, lord of the Ardeal Duchy under the domain of the First Progenitor, the Lost Warlord—" he said elegantly, bowing slightly with practiced courtesy.
"You may simply call me Lord Ardeal."
"Oh," Bokue nodded casually. "So you're the one who invited us."
He pointed calmly at the ground before him.
"In that case—come over here, and kneel properly."
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