Reborn as a Vampire in a Dying World: Blood, Power, and Pleasure-Chapter 62: The Cost of Scheming

"No matter! You two are still no match for me!" Leywin roared, raising both arms as dozens of bloody spears formed above him in the air.

They hung there for a breathless second—unnatural and unstable—before raining down in erratic patterns. The aim wasn’t clean, but the sheer volume made up for their lack of precision. It was a chaotic barrage of power and rage.

[The Archivist Reads]

’Even now... it works!’

Corven’s eyes tracked the spears. His vision shifted, the script laid bare. There it was—on each spear—lines of text, each one etched with glowing script only he could interpret.

Spells weren’t being woven with gestures or rituals. Leywin wasn’t even casting in the traditional sense.

He was writing them.

Corven’s eyes narrowed as realization dawned. These weren’t just visual spells—each one was a line of code, a sentence of power. Either that, or his class—the Archivist—was translating them into something he could instinctively read.

’Either way, it worked.’

He recited one line aloud, barely above a whisper.

CRACK.

Every single spear in the air shattered, as if slammed with invisible hammers mid-flight. They fragmented into a thousand jagged shards of energy, evaporating before they even touched the ground.

"What—!?" Leywin shouted, his grin faltering into a grimace. His eyes darted between the remains of his magic and the man responsible.

"Don’t let him rest, my uninvited champion!" the Baroness called out sharply from across the room.

Corven’s head turned slightly, eyebrows raised.

’What did she just call me...?’

But she was already on the move. The blood-stained dining knife in her hand shot through the air with unerring precision—spinning end over end before slamming directly into Leywin’s chest.

SLASH.

The blade dug deep into his flesh, embedding itself dangerously close to his heart. It wasn’t fatal, but it bought time.

"Think that’ll be—"

BOOM.

Corven didn’t let him finish. He moved like lightning, delivering a crushing punch straight to Leywin’s abdomen. The resulting shockwave rippled through the chamber, sending chairs tumbling and loose debris flying.

Leywin stumbled backward, barely blocking the strike with his forearms. The force still cracked his stance.

’What...!? Was he always this strong!?’

Leywin’s eyes narrowed, a twitch running through his jaw. He clicked his tongue. He couldn’t afford to be impressed. He refused to be impressed. No one stood above him. Everyone else was garbage.

"You’ve messed with the wrong person!"

Fangs bared, Leywin lunged, aiming to sink his teeth into Corven’s neck and drain him dry.

CRASH!

Before he could reach him, a chair came flying across the room—slamming directly into his face and launching him into the far wall. The impact left a spiderweb of cracks where he landed.

The Baroness lowered her arm, wobbling on her feet. She was still trying to fight despite the overwhelming vertigo that clouded her mind due to Corven’s illusion hijack.

"Can’t you disable that!?" she snapped, swaying slightly.

Corven gave a short chuckle, not answering.

He couldn’t.

"Don’t you dare chatter while fighting me!"

Leywin stormed back into the battle, a massive blood-forged halberd forming in his grip. It radiated killing intent, nearly humming with restrained power.

SWOOSH.

Corven leaned back, narrowly avoiding the blade’s edge. It grazed the tip of his nose—blood streamed down instantly.

Leywin’s movements were sharp, relentless. Somehow, he was managing to stay upright through the effects of the illusion. It barely slowed him down.

But that made sense.

He was a man cornered. And a cornered man fights with everything he has.

Still, Corven didn’t pity him.

Not even a little.

[Bloodbolt Activated]

– Blood Cost: 5 Units

SPLAT.

Corven hurled a concentrated bolt of blood at Leywin’s face. It struck clean—directly into his eye.

Pain exploded instantly.

It wasn’t just damaging—it inhibited regeneration, made worse by the illusion slowing everything. The result: temporary but total blindness in one eye for the rest of the fight.

"Dirty rat!"

Corven didn’t flinch. He laughed, wiped some blood off his cheek, grabbed a ceramic plate off the table and smashed it over Leywin’s face.

CRACK.

Shards dug into Leywin’s skin, blood flowing freely as the wound refused to fully seal.

"Says the one who trapped an entire mansion in illusions just to win!"

He turned to glance at the Baroness, wondering why she hadn’t followed up. She hadn’t even moved.

She was still standing, barely, backed into a corner. One hand was pressed tightly against her waist—blood dripped steadily from a long gash running down the side of her gown. She was using her strength just to keep from bleeding out.

Her regeneration was better than Corven’s—far better—but even that wasn’t instant. Not under these conditions.

Back in the fray, Leywin struck again.

He lunged forward, headbutting Corven with all the force he could muster.

BASH.

Both men staggered from the blow. It rattled their skulls. But Leywin came away worse—blood trailing from his temple, and only one eye left open.

"Was that really the smartest decision you could make?" Corven sneered.

Leywin spat blood at the floor. His breathing was labored.

"You’re going to be the death of us all! Do you hear me!?" he roared.

There was no deception in his voice—just raw conviction. Like he truly believed his cause was righteous.

Corven didn’t care.

He understood perspectives. He wasn’t so childish as to think every villain thought of themselves as evil.

But in this case?

He simply didn’t give a damn.

"Cry about it."

It was a juvenile answer—intentionally so. It was meant to enrage.

It worked.

"You wretched gnat! I should’ve killed you when I first found you!"

Leywin’s body expanded, morphing into the form of a massive, shadow-coated bear—easily three times larger than a real one. Crimson eyes blazed from its monstrous face.

He roared and charged, aiming to devour Corven whole in one bite.

"Bad play."

Corven didn’t retreat. He lunged forward—directly into the beast’s open maw.

Leywin’s instincts screamed. No sane man would dive into the mouth of death.

He tried to snap his jaws shut mid-charge, but it was too late. Corven was already inside.

The only danger was the bite pressure. If Leywin had chewed, Corven would’ve been pulp. But he didn’t. He hesitated.

And that was all Corven needed—to tear him apart from the inside, where the flesh was unguarded and the hide offered no protection.

GRKKKCH!

The massive bear let out one final gurgle before its body split apart—clean down the middle. A spray of blood, viscera, and broken bone filled the air.

Corven emerged, drenched in gore, standing where Leywin’s heart should’ve been.

"Easier than I thought..."

He exhaled, laughing coldly.

The battle was over.