A Warning to the False King of His Impending Karma

Ren didn’t want to believe it. There was no way. There was no way in hell anyone could have defeated Ortrone. He was one of the strongest vampires he knew. He was a fighter. He was a survivor. He… he was Ortrone, for god’s sake!

To think that things would’ve turned upside down overnight. Should he not have rested after all? No, Fantario and Fiona practically forced him to sleep, and they both meant well.

After waking up early, interrogating the assassins, and discovering the truth, Fiona rushed to his side with a new tarot card glowing in her hands… where it depicted his own mangled corpse in a forest.

Fiona’s Crimoire specialty was a peculiar one. There were only two key features of her ability: she could only see the future of herself and those closest to her, and she could only see the earliest, most life-changing futures but not the stages leading up to it.

One blessing factor was that at the very least, her predictions could be prevented if done so in time. That was how she managed to save their children’s lives over and over for the past two decades until they finally grew up to adulthood.

To think that after all those years, Ren would see himself dead in one of her cards. And yet, if Monty was truly after Ortrone’s train, then that prediction would make sense. That batshit lovestruck wanted him dead more than anyone else, and that train could definitely kill him.

Clinging onto the tiniest bits of hope that Ortrone was still alive, Ren searched all over the capital for him. He tried asking the bartenders at the Chevolaires’ base, the baristas at a local coffee shop he’d used to visit, and even Grimhilde himself, who had no idea either.

When all possible leads were thrown away, he had no other option but to find Ortrone’s train last. Once he reached the outskirts of the city, he spotted the train lying bare under the sunlight and carefully looked around.

A single passerine landed on the train’s headlamp and hopped around.

That sight of the bird alone destroyed the tiniest shred of hope he had left.

If this train was visible to other living creatures besides Ortrone’s chosen few, then its owner either unveiled it for everyone to see or could no longer control the train due to their death.

But Ortrone would never unveil it.

Ren cursed under his breath as he descended upon the train, staring at it in disbelief. “Ortrone, you damn bastard,” he muttered. “I can’t believe you. How could you let it happen?”

A soft breeze responded with wordless whispers.

He raised an arm, steadily wrapping the first car and teleporting everything inside it back to his home. One by one, he wrapped each car and transported the stuff inside away, emptying the train as much as he could.

If Monty was after this train, then Ren would better be damn sure they would find absolutely nothing inside it—not even the doors and fancy curtains and carpets. Screw it, he should set a bunch of traps in there as well! If he didn’t have his stupid promise to Solomon to stop killing people, he would’ve made his traps slice off their heads!

Once he finished cleaning up the train and setting up the traps, Ren deeply inhaled back his composure and rubbed his head. Right, of course. He should sabotage the engine as well.

Wait, if he did, then no one could ever use this train again.

…Then again, no one but Ortrone would have any use for it.

With a grunt, Ren swung an arm and sent an invisible shockwave that crushed the engine within seconds.

He stared at it, still unsatisfied.

He should steal its engine as well. He should remove any chances of it ever running again.

He swung his arm again, tearing the metal scrap off the floor and teleporting it away.

With a weary sigh, he dusted his hands and stepped out of the train, floating toward a tree and sitting on a thick branch.

There. All set. Now to wait for Monty’s henchmen to show up.

He waited, and waited, and waited, and waited even more. He glanced at his watch. It was still the middle of the morning.

Something bone-chilling stirred his intuition and quickly shortened up his limited amount of patience, and god, it was driving him on the edge.

Ah, forget this. He should check up on Horace instead. This weird, unnerving gut feeling also urged him to clear Ortrone’s mansion just in case something unexpected were to happen, so he might as well do just that.

✦☆✦

Time ticked on as endless as always. The residents continued their training, and Ren kept waiting. By the time the day reached late afternoon, he finally dropped his guard as his mind slipped into the clouds.

It was only for a few minutes. It had to be out of sheer boredom. There was no way he could’ve overworked himself.

Ren forcibly snapped himself awake a few more minutes later, gaping his eyes at a new figure standing by the train. He frantically scrambled around—slipping off the branch in the process—and crash-landed onto the ground.

He didn’t even bother brushing off the dirt. He hurriedly raced after him—the figure who resembled the train conductor himself.

“O-Ortrone?!” Ren shouted in confusion. “You’re still alive?!”

Ren winced and scurried to a sudden halt, his legs sliding through the dirt.

No, this energy—this suffocating, intense, deadly aura oozing off him…

This person wasn’t Ortrone.

Ren froze in disbelief, staring at the uncanny figure who stole Ortrone’s appearance.

The man delicately stroked the scaly patterns of the train, sighing to himself. “What a poor thing,” he murmured, “trapped to serve as a train for all these decades. It didn’t deserve it.”

“Drop the disguise,” Ren demanded. “Who the hell are you?”

The impostor unnaturally smirked, eyes still closed. Ren flinched and raised his arms, yet before he could dodge away, the stranger blasted him away, launching him through the trees and crashing down a few in the process. Ren gawked as crimson flames enshrouded the figure, transforming him into a strange, middle-aged man in a formal black tuxedo with black, neatly combed short hair and a matching umbrella.

“Monty said I should attempt to deceive you into thinking your friend was still alive,” said the stranger. “As expected, it’s impossible to fool one of the greatest actors of Theatreux.”

Veins swelled at Ren’s jaw and neck. He lunged for him at lightning speed, sparks of brilliant crimson fire raging at his cane. The stranger raised his arm, creating a thunderous shockwave as Ren slammed his cane at him.

The stranger whistled. “You aren’t so bad after all.”

“Who are you?” asked Ren.

The stranger grinned, baring his sharp, razor-sharp fangs. “Someone you should’ve killed all those years ago, boy.” He flicked a finger, and an invisible force slammed Ren from above, crushing him into the earth.

The stranger flicked his finger again, and Ren ended up crashing into more trees, his clothes collecting cuts with each tree he hit.

Ren coughed and clutched his chest. “Hey, seriously,” he croaked. “Who the hell are you?”

The stranger stroked his chin, humming to himself. “My kind calls me Obsidian,” he said.

He raised a brow. “'Your kind?’”

“That is what I said.”

“I’m asking you to elaborate. What do you mean 'your kind?'”

Obsidian chuckled and pointed at his fangs. “Isn’t this more than enough explanation?”

“No shit, you’re a vampire like me,” said Ren, stumbling back onto his feet. “But why do you claim vampires to be 'your kind?' I’m the—”

“No, no, you don’t understand.” He moved his umbrella away, rolled his sleeve, and raised his arm.

“What are you…” Ren squinted, barely noticing his sickeningly pale skin hissing under the sunlight. “What the hell’s wrong with you? Are you allergic to sunlight?”

“Allergic? Hah! That’s a funny way to describe it.” Obsidian stretched a toothy sneer. “You naive, stupid child. I am one of the Primordial Eclipses. Do you finally get it?”

Ren blinked. “The what now?”

“Oh my god.” Obsidian facepalmed. “This generation is doomed.”

“What are you even blabbering about?”

“Hmph, it matters not.” Obsidian snapped his fingers, and an invisible force flung Ren back toward him. He found his face planted against the earth, a sole pressing the back of his head.

“This power,” Ren croaked, “you… you’ve killed Ortrone with this power, haven't you?”

“Hmhm, your friend was a disappointment.”

Ren swelled a vein and slammed a fist into the earth, sending a shockwave as the ground quaked. He gasped for breath and forced himself up, brushing off the dirt on his face and gripping his cane tightly.

Ren shot multiple, brilliant laser beams, shooting in all directions toward Obsidian, who dodged and parried them all. He tried using some invisible forces of his own, but Obsidian didn’t even flinch at the impact. Ren twirled his cane and slammed it into the ground, massive spikes shooting upwards and reaching toward Obsidian.

Obsidian merely kicked away the spikes like they were clay.

Ren clicked his tongue and clenched his fists, crossing his wrists over his head as a black and red hole grew above his hands. It whirred and surged with dark static, and the sky gradually turned dark as gray clouds circled above Obsidian’s head. The wind picked up its speed, and the nearby, broken trees began to float toward its target.

Obsidian whistled, watching the sky in awe.

With a loud grunt, Ren launched the void toward the so-called “Primordial Eclipse,” and Obsidian raised his forearms as he took it all head on—the lightning strikes, the trees crashing into his figure, and the void threatening to swallow him whole.

Obsidian stretched a wicked grin and guffawed. “Excellent! Very excellent!” he shouted. “So this is the power of the strongest vampire in this generation!” With a heavy swing of his arm, Obsidian slashed the void in half, shattered the trees, and sliced through the clouds.

He flicked a finger, causing Ren to briefly float up before slamming him back into the ground. He repeated this move over and over, cratering the earth with each impact until signs of blood began to appear.

Damn, there Ren was, thinking he was the main character, the big bad, the invincible head honcho of this world. He was terribly humbled now.

The last time he was beaten up this badly was when Monty suddenly slit his throat, soaked him with water, and numbed all his muscles, leaving him brutally knifed down by his henchmen in some back alley of his amusement park eight months ago. Even though he could’ve survived on his own, they would’ve left him in a horrendous, painful state were it not for two particular youngsters.

A petite figure in yellow slid into view.

Her long, brown hair—donning a pair of sunflower hair pins—flowed gracefully behind her back as she soared through the thicket. With one, aggressive swing of her leg, she slammed her heel straight into Obsidian’s head and launched him away.

Yeah, Dorothy would appear out of nowhere just like this and—wait, what?

Ren gasped for breath and coughed, gaping at the young lady now standing before him.

“Ren, are you alright?!” Dorothy asked.

A shower of crimson rapiers rained toward Obsidian next, surfing up a massive cloud of dust as they crash-landed.

“Ren!” Clover hollered, racing out of the thicket while riding a mechanical horse. “What the hell is going on?!”

Ren blinked at the siblings as his knees gave in. “Wow,” he croaked. “What timing. What are you brats doing here?”

Dorothy glanced at him and back at her brother. “Erm, w-we on our way back home, but before we knew it, the sky suddenly turned dark. We saw all those Crimoire attacks, so we rushed over here as fast as we could, and, uh, we ended up here now…”

The man continued to stare at the two, and before he knew it, he broke into soft chuckles. “This is just like the first time we’ve met,” he murmured. He stumbled back up, hunched over, and leaned on his knees. “Yep, this is the second time you both saved my ass. I owe you twice now, haha.”

Dorothy grabbed his elbow and helped him regain his balance. She glanced at the cloud of dust enshrouding Obsidian, and with a sudden shudder, she turned back to him with a horrified look. “Wh-Who is that man?” she nervously asked.

“Honestly? I have no clue either,” said Ren.

“Th-Then we should flee!” said Dorothy. “I sense something terrible from him!”

Clover covered his nose with a sleeve and cautiously stared at the settling dust. “She’s right,” he said. “I sense something overwhelming too.”

Dorothy shook Ren's arm. “Hurry up and send us home!” she frantically cried. “Please!”

Ren clutched his head and coughed, still disoriented. He quickly snapped out of it the moment his gaze caught Obsidian sucking the dust into an intimidating ball of crimson light forming at his palms.

Sorry, Ortrone. In the end, he couldn’t even save his train either.

Ren slammed his cane, instantly teleporting him, the siblings, and the horse away from the scene right when Obsidian shot out his laser, one big enough to disturb the forest beyond the horizon.

✦☆✦

The mansion’s residents froze from their training in absolute surprise the moment the latest guests fell onto the grass out of thin air.

“Clover! Dorothy!” Solomon rushed over at once, only to freeze and widen his eyes in horror. “R-Ren? What the devil happened to you?!”

Ren tossed a lethargic gaze. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“How can I not when you have a hole in your stomach?!”

He lowered his head, now finally acknowledging the searing heat the laser left.

Everyone’s frantic voices grew muffled, only for it all to fade into black a second later.