"Well, Astolfo?! Tell me I don't look incredibly cool in this costume!"
"You've got a literal pumpkin on your head! No one can even tell who you are! Are you an idiot?"
"You're the idiot! Can't you feel it? This... this aura! It's like the tantalizing scent of grilled meat wafting through the air! It's—it's cool, right?!"
"Pushy and totally uncool! Oh! Look, a Saint! Hey! Jeanne! You wanna get in on the costume action too?!"
"Pumpkin Mapo... right straight... pumpkin-crushing... Hallelujah Saint Fist..."
"...Huh? Was Jeanne always that... violent?"
"Oh, hello! Would you like some Mapo Tofu?"
"Whoa, straight to the point! I love it. Serve it up!"
"Understood!"
"Wait—"
"IT'S TOO HOTT—GAH—MY TONGUE IS ON FIRRRRE!!"
Charlemagne, having ordered the 'Satanic Mapo' simply because he thought 'facing adversity' looked cool, was instantly annihilated.
"PFFFT—WAHAHA-GHA-!!"
Astolfo, who had stolen a bite from the side, was similarly vaporized.
"Munch, huff, huff, munch..."
Beside them, Jeanne was silently devouring the newly developed Pumpkin Mapo. (As it turned out, she had already finished the Satanic Mapo).
The Feast of the True Ancestor and the Vampire
"...Hmph. So, you have made it this far."
As the party stepped into the upper reaches of the tower, a man awaited them. Clad in pitch-black attire that seemed to swallow the light, he radiated a piercing pressure—a murderous intent so thick it was visceral. In his hand, the Servant gripped a spear.
"It seems you have had the patience to endure Carmilla's lamentations. Very well. I, Vlad III, the 'Lord of Impalement,' shall grant you the honor of battle."
The Lord of Wallachia—a ruler as pious as he was fierce. A hero whose very existence had been warped into that of a monster by the blades of ignorance. The Berserker Servant, Vlad III, stood before them as a living contradiction of two natures.
"My, what a handsome gentleman. Are you a Servant too?"
Arcueid asked the question with her usual breeziness. Vlad, surprisingly, took no offense.
"I am. O Avatar of the Stars, O Tactile Sense of the Planet... For your own sake, I advise you not to speak the 'Forbidden Name' that clings to my legend in my presence."
"Forbidden Name? You mean... Vam-p-mgh?!"
Before she could finish, Rikka lunged forward to cover Arcueid's mouth, whispering frantically about the 'landmine' she had almost stepped on.
("Uncle Vlad is the type who was turned into a vampire by posthumous rumors and pop culture! He's incredibly sensitive about anything related to vampires! Please, don't bring it up!")
("Oh, is that how it is? ...How tragic. To live your life with everything you have, only to be looked down upon as a bottom-tier bloodsucker. It's like people treating me as some kind of god, I suppose.")
Arcueid nodded silently at Rikka's explanation. She had no desire to be cruel or dig into someone else's insecurities.
"You seem quite spirited, Lord of Impalement. Or perhaps I should say you bear the proper countenance of a King. It is a recurring tragedy that your name was so slandered, O Great Sovereign."
Vlad responded to the Hero King's praise with a ferocious smile.
"You of all people should understand, King of Heroes. A reign and a human world cannot endure without entertainment. A King must understand the weight of a festival. Therefore—if I am to be the fool, I must play the part with all my soul, or it is of no consequence at all!"
That was the source of his misplaced intensity. He was throwing himself into this festival with everything he had. If the role required of him was that of a 'clown' or a 'boss,' he would perform it with absolute sincerity. He was being the ultimate 'straight-laced fool'—the man who gets too serious at a party.
(I understand! A King never compromises on his role! A King's satisfaction comes from nothing less than the total fulfillment of his duties! Right, Gil?!)
Ea, the personified concept of the sword, questioned her ideal King. Gilgamesh said nothing, merely nodding in affirmation.
(Vlad III... a wise ruler whose greatness is never diminished, even when slandered by rumors! To put it simply, he's a wonderful King!)
Having witnessed the Hero King's own gallantry, Ea had developed a soft spot for 'cool King moments.' She gazed at the dignified Vlad III with sparkling eyes.
«I do not appreciate you looking at others besides myself so fondly—no, I suppose it matters not. As long as I remain supreme in your eyes, I shall allow it.»
Gilgamesh amusedly patted Ea's head. He reasoned that her admiration for the concept of 'Kingship' was born from her attraction to him; therefore, her respect for other Kings was merely an extension of her devotion to him. He was magnanimous in his arrogance.
(It's moving to see how so many different styles of Kingship branched out from your unwavering form, Gil! Truly profound!)
(Yeah, yeah. And I wonder how many lives have been ruined by that 'Kingmaker' Merlin and his nonsense...)
Whether he heard their 'spirit talk' or not, Vlad braced himself further.
"Mata Hari provides the song of welcome. Carmilla, the poem of lament. By that logic, I should provide a scream of fresh blood, but... unfortunately, my specialty is not song."
"I know! It's knitting!"
"—Indeed. It seems there is a version of me in your company as well. He seems to be passing his time quite leisurely. A lifestyle that encourages hobbies, I see."
He took a breath, resetting his focus, and dropped into a combat stance.
"Then you shall find no fault in attempting to overcome me. The punishment of the Lord of Impalement, whose name is etched in history—prepare to taste it as part of this feast's hospitality!"
"Senpai, it's a Servant battle! It's a back-to-back fight—are you okay?!"
Mash quickly moved to cover Rikka. The Hero King remained as he was, arms crossed, standing by his policy of leaving the fighting to Rikka and the others.
"True Ancestor, the hour of amusement continues. He is a worthy opponent for that excess strength of yours. Show us your dance."
"Are you calling me a brute? Hmmm, I can't decide if I should be offended or just roll with it..."
"Ngh—!"
While Arcueid was lost in thought, a barrage of stakes imbued with Vlad's spirit surged toward her. A funeral procession of wood crawling along the ground—a manifestation of a sinister punishment, more than enough in number and power to skewer any foe.
"Arc-姉 (Big Sis Arc)!"
"Right, right!"
Responding to Rikka's voice, Arcueid sprang into action. She leaped across the vast throne room—a space spanning dozens of meters—utilizing sharp wall-kicks and triangular jumps to zip through the air with feline agility.
"Hmph—!"
Vlad manipulated the stakes at will, chasing her through the air. Arcueid ran along the walls and the ceiling, a blur of motion, as the stakes erupted after her, their speed and number accelerating with every passing second.
"I'm not really into being impaled! That's a fetish I'm skipping today!"
She landed on the floor mid-sprint and charged straight for Vlad. Stakes closed in from behind; ahead, the Lord of Impalement stood ready to intercept her.
"I do not listen to the requests or pleas of invaders. I listen only to the agony and screams of the victims beside them, and their despair for the future."
He leveled his spear at mid-height, thrusting with a killing blow. Arcueid met the strike with a fearless, predatory grin.
"I'll have to pass on that, Uncle—!"
As she ran, Arcueid dropped into a low slide. Caught off guard by the sudden change in levels, Vlad stiffened for a fraction of a second.
"Up we go!"
She slid directly between his legs, using only her arm strength to vault herself upright behind him. In a single, fluid motion, she regained her stance.
"ARCUEID SLASH!!"
She swung her glowing claws with monstrous strength, aiming to rend Vlad in two. The claws bit deep, the floor buckled, and a crater of pure destruction opened where the blow landed.
"Did I get him?"
"Ah! Arc-姉, that's the—!"
Before Rikka could finish the 'did you get him' jinx, Vlad had already responded.
"No. The feast has only just begun."
Vlad's body didn't fall; instead, it dissolved into a massive swarm of bats. By dispersing, he effectively phased through Arcueid's attack, taking zero damage.
"Whoa, how cliché! So this is what it's like to have everyone's stereotypes forced upon you!"
"Precisely. This foolish fantasy, piled up by the masses... savor it with your very flesh!"
The bats turned into a crimson mist, instantly surrounding Arcueid and stripping her of her freedom.
"—?!"
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