Chapter 32: Hello, Grave Master, I Am Your Grave-Digger

In the lightless gloom, a strange soft sound came from within the coffin.

(Click.)

It sounded like someone gently tapping, or perhaps using worn-down nails to Wuli scratch.

Someone was inside the coffin.

A living person!

At this moment, under the atmosphere of the surroundings, Herbert couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow and draw in a sharp breath.

“Hss!”

He swallowed hard, his lips trembling as he whispered: “Th-there’s a zombie.”

Damn it.

I’ve run into a zombie while tomb-raiding!

Herbert wished he could just bolt away… though of course, he didn’t.

Of course there was a living thing inside the coffin—well, maybe calling it a dead thing would also work?

Who even knows how to classify a vampire?

By now, Herbert had no trouble guessing that the coffin before him belonged to the second prisoner of the Lightless Prison.

Clearly, the Grand Magus Svan Ni , who controlled the paths of the Lightless Prison in secret, did not wish to see him.

She had compromised.

But not entirely—only just a little.

Since Svan Ni herself didn’t want to meet anyone, she had pushed out her other roommate as a shield.

[The Blood-Drinker], [The Patricide], [The Vengeful Blood Prince]—Eliza Fat.

A vicious non-human, unknown for any notable feats in the human world, imprisoned solely on the strength of her title: “Vampire Prince.”

Herbert looked at the Gothic-style black iron coffin and felt a pang of reflection: “A Vampire Prince… just the name sounds like something out of a fantasy world.”

Like “Forced to Quit the Party, I Awakened a Blood Clan Princess Who Slept for Three Hundred Years” or “I, Who Was Loved by a Vampire Prince, Can’t Possibly Be the Hero.”

Doesn’t matter if the plot’s nonsense—long titles attract readers anyway—I want to see what kind of nonsense such a long title actually contains!

(Click.)

“Well, it probably won’t be as ridiculous as in those novels. I wonder what her personality’s like—easy to fool? Easy to talk to?”

(Click!)

“What if she’s just as antisocial as Svan Ni ? Then I’ll never be able to conquer this area.”

(Click… click…)

Herbert thought for a moment, then suddenly remembered something. He turned back to the motionless coffin and tilted his head in confusion.

“Huh? This is taking too long.”

“I’ve been waiting for her half an hour already—why won’t she come out? Could she be shy?”

After silently watching for a while, once the coffin fell completely silent, Herbert finally realized something very important.

This vampire wasn’t refusing to come out—she genuinely couldn’t.

Was she too weak?

Thump. Thump.

Herbert tapped the coffin again, cautiously asking: “Uh… do you need help?”

His answer was a rapid series of taps.

(Click-click-click-click…)

From the rhythm, it was clear the person inside was desperate.

Though the vampire didn’t speak, Herbert already heard phantom cries—Save me! Save me! Save me!

“Alright.”

From the current situation, their first meeting would hardly be as legendary as in fantasy tales.

But in another sense, it was even more legendary.

Have you ever seen the male lead of a story dig up his female lead from her grave?

Miss, hello. I’m your grave-digger.

Herbert did intend to help—but a new problem arose.

“By the way, how exactly am I supposed to help you?”

He stared at the black iron coffin—over three meters long and at least two meters wide—then at his own thin arms and legs, his mouth twitching.

“Push? Pull? Or lift?”

Friend, is this coffin a sliding lid? Or a hinged one?

Herbert pushed hard for a long while before the coffin lid finally shifted slightly, revealing a sliver so narrow it could barely fit a blade.

The gap was tiny—only a few millimeters wide—just enough to slip a sword’s edge into.

Herbert hesitated, then chose not to use his own sword as a pry bar.

That would be too wasteful.

I’ll wait until I find a real Physical Law Sword…

Just as Herbert was about to leave to upgrade his gear, the vampire, silent for so long, finally spoke:

“...Blood.”

“Give me… blood.”

An extremely weak voice drifted from the crack—just hearing it sent chills down Herbert’s spine.

“Help me… give me blood…”

An ancient being whispered from within, begging the outside world for even a little aid.

“Help me!”

“Drip blood on it!”

“Save me!”

“I’ll repay you… I promise.”

The woman’s voice gave no clue to her age—only a rasping, grating sound, like two sheets of sandpaper grinding endlessly, raising the hairs on the back of the neck.

Yet at the same time, the voice carried a strange enchantment, compelling Herbert to obey her without thought.

[Draw your sword!]

[Drip blood into the coffin!]

The vampire didn’t speak the words—but these three voices echoed repeatedly in Herbert’s mind, whispering, seducing him.

“...”

Slowly, Herbert’s facial expression vanished. His eyes grew dull, empty.

He raised his hand, gripping the hilt, slowly drawing the blade from its sheath.

Shhh—

The vampire, sensing the sound from outside, realized the critical moment had arrived, and intensified her call.

“Come!”

“Help me!”

“Good child, hurry… ah!!?”

The figure inside the coffin let out a startled cry.

For the mortal had indeed walked to the coffin with his sword—as she expected—but he did not slit his wrist as she commanded.

Instead… he drove the blade straight into the coffin’s crack!

Clang—

The sharp blade struck precisely, piercing her chest!

“Cough!”

Startled, she coughed up what little blood remained—then frantically sucked it back mid-air.

My blood!

Already weak, the vampire grew even more listless, her mind flooded with confusion.

Wait—how did he even do that?

Unable to hold back, the vampire asked: “W-what are you doing?”

Herbert smirked, replying as if it were obvious: “You asked for blood, didn’t you? I’m helping you.”

Damn it!

I wanted your blood!

Not this kind of help!

Until this moment, Eliza had never doubted her hypnotic power—she simply thought this mortal had an odd way of thinking.

But Herbert had no intention of playing along any longer.

Just cooperate a little—it’s boring to overact.

He spoke directly: “Miss Vampire, do you know? We could have communicated properly, but you chose to provoke me.”

Herbert’s second most hated thing is “others trying to manipulate his mind”—only surpassed by “being crushed.”

This is beyond tolerance.

As Eliza hesitated, Herbert said coldly: “By the way—you wanted my blood, didn’t you?”

"Good."

"I'll give it to you."

Herbert seized the blade jammed in the crack!

Ssshh—

(End of Chapter)