Chapter 153 Vandread: Origin (Four)

“…Vandread…” Victor said with tears in his eyes.

The sight of his friend was something heart-wrenching; the dark-skinned adventurer’s entire stomach had been torn open, causing a puddle of deep crimson to flood the stone tiles while his entrails were on display. Various tears were left on his flesh, from his face to his legs, from the claws of the undead.

“…Vic…” Vandread could hardly speak, looking towards the ceiling with barely any light left in his platinum eyes.

Julius shouted from close by, swinging his sword frantically, “–Whatever you’re planning on doing, make it quick! I can’t hold them off long like this! They want him!”

Those words cemented the choice Victor made as he nodded and wiped his tears, drawing a long breath between his lips and into his lungs as he prepared himself.

[Maybe this is why I was born, or rather why I was chosen to live. I was never destined to be a great hero. Something like this…I believe this is the right call. I can say that without any regrets.]

As he gulped down his fears, he took one of Vandread’s fallen blades from the ground, gripping it tightly as he looked at it, turning the blade to face himself.

A single tear strolled down his cheek at the reality of his choice, but without further hesitation, he plunged the blade into his own chest.

“Ghh…!” Victor winced.

The unorthodox action was noticed even by the half-dead friend of his laying in front of him, who weakly tried reaching up to stop him, but was unable.

Victor held a worn smile as reassurance, “…Don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt at all…”

As if certifying those words, he closed his eyes and pulled the blade up, cutting through his own chest as crimson fluid seeped out.

Thanks for showing me how to do this, Father…now I can pass the torch, just as you did, Victor thought.

Dragging the blade up enough, he pulled it out once a large enough incision was left, but he was still forced to pull another breath into his lungs to prepare himself for the next step. He had to be quick as the black threads inherent to his Undying Blood tried to stitch his wound together as fast as he created it.

In an act that was painful through even his resolve and adrenaline, he slid his own hand into his chest, wincing out as his vision grew hazy.

Julius was fighting with all he had, racing from one spot to the next to make sure not a single undead came between Victor’s act. The sword-wielding adventurer already surmised this was the choice made, and respected it as he did his part.

“…Ghh…!” Victor gritted his teeth.

With a brutal tug, he ripped his own heart out, nearly collapsing forward as he held his still-beating heart in his hand.

…I guess I’m not as strong as you were, Father. You did this like it was easy, he thought.

Still, he picked himself up, breathing heavily as he then crushed his own heart, causing blood to seep from his lips, ears, nose, and mouth from the act.

“…I’m now passing this on from myself to you…It might feel like a curse, but maybe one day you’ll understand, it’s a blessing…” Victor told him through faint breaths.

The words he spoke lightly met the ears of the half-dead Vandread, who laid there trying to stop his friend, though he could hardly move his fingertips by this point.

Staring at his own heart for a moment, Victor breathed as weakness filled his body, his undying nature fleeting. Still, he took the pitch-black blood exuding from his heart and let it fall into Vandread’s barely parted lips.

“…With that, it’s done…” Victor said weakly.

As soon as the act was complete, he collapsed onto his back, lying directly beside Vandread. The Undying Blood took effect immediately; Vandread’s veins pressed against his skin before black threads sprouted from his wounds, beginning to mend his broken body.

Devoid of his life-sustaining blood, Victor laid there as sound drowned out from his ears, simply watching the ceiling as his breathing became more and more faint.

[It was my destiny.]

[My destiny was to make the ultimate sacrifice.]

[Still…]

[I just wish I could’ve had a family of my own, if only just for a little while.]

、 As his eyelids grew heavy, beginning to flicker, they closed for the final time with his job being complete.

–

After some time, Vandread parted his eyelids, having to blink a few times to do away with the blur before sitting up, holding his throbbing head as he groaned.

“…What happened?…” He muttered.

As he looked up, he found a pile of fallen undead and Julius sitting alone amidst the corpses with multiple wounds on his body, but nothing pressing.

Still, despite the seeming triumph, Julius sat there with a gloomy expression. It was unusual for the confident, and at times abrasive friend of his to be so quiet and dreary.

“Julius, what…?” Vandread began to say.

Though as he felt the warmth of liquid beneath his hands, he looked down at the puddle of blood, raising his blood-soaked palms in front of his eyes. As he looked down at his tattered, black garments, he realized a lot of the blood was his own.

My blood?…How am I alive? He questioned.

As Vandread looked over, his heart sank as he saw the blonde-haired young man laying beside him as if peacefully sleeping.

“Victor?…What did you do?” Vandread muttered in disbelief.

There was no answer, at least not from the one he sought them from.

Julius stood up, slowly walking over as he hoisted Victor’s body up, tossing the chalice into Vandread’s hands at the same time.

“Let’s go,” Julius said quietly.

Though at first Julius seemed almost uncaring in his cold approach, it was clear to Vandread just how much he was going through it; Julius was the sort to try and hide his tears as he thought it was unbecoming for a man to cry in front of others.

Still, he didn’t hide it well.

“…Nngh…” Julius quietly cried, facing the other way.

It took a good minute for Vandread to adjust to his new reality, looking down at his body as he saw traces of the black threads that stitched his body together.

[This only happened because I was reckless. Somebody–no, a friend died because I wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t diligent. I was unprepared. It won’t happen again.]