Reborn as a Vampire in a Dying World: Blood, Power, and Pleasure-Chapter 61: Requiem for a Traitor

The entirety of Corven’s vision was blurred. The air itself seemed thick, almost suffocating, filled with an overwhelming flood of words—symbols and characters swirling in every direction. None of them made immediate sense. Unknown, ancient, and unreadable to the average mind.

But understanding unknown languages was Corven’s strong point.

It came as naturally to him as breathing.

He forced his eyes open—those crimson irises now carrying a glowing gold streak through the middle. A sharp glint. Something had changed.

Something fundamental.

A presence pulsed from his gaze now—dense, undeniable. The kind of pressure that made air feel heavier.

[The Archivist Reads]

The vampire who had betrayed his own kind stood completely still, just a few feet away. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak.

He waited.

His posture was tense, shoulders locked, as if even the smallest mistake might cost him his life. Because it would. He’d seen enough to know the line between survival and death had vanished.

"Ughhh... even in death, the illusion’s still in effect," Corven muttered under his breath, staggering as he tried to steady himself. His body was still catching up to what had just happened—resurrection wasn’t exactly a clean process.

The traitorous vampire moved quickly, catching him before he fell again and offering himself as support without hesitation.

’Huh...? Why is he helping me now?’

Corven blinked, confused for a moment.

’Never mind. Gotta focus. Too much information flooding in.’

’Let’s just be glad he doesn’t try to kill me while I’m vulnerable.’

He narrowed his eyes, squinting through the layers of text cluttering his vision. Dozens—no, hundreds—of glowing glyphs floated around him, etched into the very air. He didn’t need to understand them all.

His gift—including the Archivist class insight—was doing most of the work.

Each glowing word wasn’t just a spell. They were threads, all tied to the same massive illusion that blanketed the entire compound. A system woven like a net across every hall, every wall, every doorway.

And now, Corven had found the control switch.

’Subjuga Mentem’

It wasn’t overly complex. The structure was similar to the defenses Leywin had used before—the same kind that powered the illusions at the compound where Lilian had been taken. A verbal spell.

Leywin’s signature apparently.

"Subjuga—"

As the word left Corven’s lips, the supporting vampire’s eyes widened in shock. His hands trembled.

"No... wait! It’ll reject me if you—!"

...

"Mentem."

The final syllable rang through the room like a bell. And then—every glyph in the air shifted.

In an instant, the foreign words reformed, now glowing in sync with Corven’s energy signature. The illusion’s ownership had changed hands.

It was his now.

BOOM.

A surge of raw, arcane energy burst outward from Corven like a shockwave. The entire chamber shook. Cracks split through the walls. The air burned.

The illusion—the very magic that had once ripped through his mind—was now under his command.

But the transfer wasn’t without consequences.

The vampire supporting him screamed for a split second. Blood gushed from his nose and eyes. His head ballooned, his skull unable to withstand the energy backlash of a spell he was no longer aligned with.

And then it popped.

His head exploded like an overripe fruit, splattering the ground in crimson. The rest of his body crumpled beside Corven, twitching once before falling still.

He had been too weak. Not part of Corven’s bloodline. Not strong enough to survive.

Above the floor from him, chaos bloomed.

A scream rang out.

"The hell!?"

"Aghhh!"

One by one, vampires stationed throughout the mansion began collapsing. Leywin’s illusion had protected them. Now, with the spell reversed, their minds were exposed—raw and vulnerable. Disoriented. Open to assault.

They were getting wiped out floor by floor.

And after Corven finished recuperating.

He rolled his neck, finally free of the endless mental spin the illusion had trapped him in. His muscles no longer screamed from disorientation.

He exhaled.

"What a bloody show..."

A crooked smile tugged at his lips as he wiped some blood from his chin.

"This is one hell of an upgrade."

He licked the residue off his lips—tasting the victory, tasting his strength. That lingering sense of death was gone. Replaced by something more... absolute.

He looked up. His smile grew.

"I’m coming for you. And I’m paying back every ounce of pain you put me through—a hundred fold."

SWOOSH.

In a blink, he vanished.

A blur of motion cut through the mansion, rushing toward his target like a blade through air.

The hallways were a graveyard.

Dozens of vampires lay lifeless, slumped against walls and sprawled across blood-soaked floors. Heads gone. Limbs limp. The path to his destination had already been paved with corpses.

Corven absorbed the sight silently. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Strangely... it gave him confidence.

He was more durable than he thought. More lethal than he ever expected to be.

And at last—he arrived at the source.

The mansion’s entryway was already painted in red. Two paladins—skilled, elite—lay butchered in cold blood. The front doors stood wide open, as if inviting him in.

What greeted him inside was a confrontation already in progress.

Leywin stood at one end of a grand dining hall. Facing him was a woman—beautiful, blood-streaked, and deadly.

The Baroness.

Her crimson hair clung to her cheeks, slicked with sweat and blood. Eyes gold like molten light, sharp and furious. She was breathtaking. Easily as beautiful as Lilian—elegant, composed, and even fiercer than Rose.

The room itself was carnage.

A huge wooden table sat in the center, surrounded by dozens of toppled chairs. The remains of vampire maids littered the floor—each one a spawn, each one dead. This had been a trap. An ambush set by Leywin, carefully timed to strike when the Baroness would be most vulnerable—during a meal.

She had been caught off guard. Her guards were likely relaxed. Her gown—ripped and bloodied—was the only armor she had.

"She’s... a dhampir?" Corven muttered under his breath.

He could feel it in her blood. That unique blend—part human, part vampire—but superior to both. Her power radiated even through the tension of battle. She was something more. A rare hybrid that tilted the balance in her favor.

Or at least... it had.

Now both her and Leywin were clutching their heads—each reeling from the feedback of Corven’s takeover. The illusion was his now, and neither of them were handling it well.

Leywin turned, pale and furious.

His lips trembled.

"So it was you..." he muttered, bile rising in his throat. He bit his lip to avoid vomiting from the sheer vertigo.

"So this is what my own spell feels like..."

He chuckled bitterly, voice ragged.

The Baroness’ eyes widened at the sight of Corven. Her expression was a mixture of rage and astonishment. Another outsider had breached her home.

But there was no time for questions.

"You!"

Her voice cracked like a whip.

"If you’ve any pride left in your blood, help me gut this treacherous dog."

She wasn’t bluffing. The only thing in her hand was a blood-stained dining knife. That was all she had left to defend herself. The headache from the spell hadn’t helped either.

Corven looked her up and down.

A half-smile curled on his lips.

This was his chance—to end a dangerous opponent and maybe gain a powerful ally in the process.

"Gladly, Your Highness."