Henderson Scale 1.0: Due to a fatal derailment, it has become impossible to reach the ending.
In the dead of night, shadows traversed the vast heights overlooking a sea of clouds.
There were three dragon mounts.
Known as subspecies of dragons called “dracolings,” these were the easiest dragons to domesticate and capable of flight with a rider—a modern marvel, touted as the fastest mode of transport and the strongest aerial weapon powered by magic.
Trailing behind their flight path were three peculiar objects.
They were not navigating under their own power but were instead towed by thick wires tethered to the dragon mounts.
The unusual objects, shaped like bamboo leaves, were covered ships.
Known as “dragon barges,” these were vessels towed by dragons to transport cargo, employed only when the Threefold Empire urgently needed to deliver freight at maximum speed.
However, these dragon barges bore a markedly different appearance from the usual ones.
Their streamlined hulls were coated with thick black paint, and the three auxiliary wings protruding from the sides gave them a fish-like appearance.
Additionally, for reasons unknown, their fronts were inexplicably extended and reinforced with metal.
To anyone familiar with normal dragon barges, these were strange objects that would leave even the most seasoned mariners scratching their heads in confusion.
Within these objects, the ones who had been packed inside began to stir as they received thought-waves.
“From Night Swift 1 to all personnel. We are moments away from entering the target zone. From now on, all thought-wave communications will be strictly sealed. All magical officers, please be cautious not to leak any magical energy. From this point forward, we will transition to inertial navigation. Afterward, we will sever the wires and initiate landing procedures.”
The thought-waves were being transmitted from the lead rider of the three dragon-mounted units, arranged in a wedge formation. Clad in thick padding to withstand the cold, he handled his map with double-layered gloves while transmitting his thoughts. Despite being shielded by magical barriers against the freezing temperatures of the upper atmosphere, the chill inevitably seeped through.
“After entering the airspace above the objective, each unit’s judgment will be followed. From this point forward, communication will be cut off unless an order to abort is given. May the gods grant us their blessings.”
After delivering the standard briefing, the rider communicated his commands to the dragon through the reins.
The loyal dragon, its relationship with the rider governed solely by camaraderie rather than hierarchy, responded to the command. Spreading its wings, it adjusted its magical power output and entered a glide on inertia.
After a long glide, the dragon descended through the clouds into the shadows cloaked under the night sky. Crossing fields, leaping over mountains, passing through forests, it finally arrived at the frontier beyond the empire’s furthest borders—a territory under one of the duchies.
This was one of the semi-independent regions ruled by dukes, allied to the Threefold Empire. In exchange for supporting the empire in times of need, these regions enjoyed freedom of trade and unhindered passage within the empire’s domain, all while benefiting from its formidable national power.
Currently, several such buffer nations existed between the Threefold Empire and its neighboring major powers, maintaining a precarious balance. These similar buffer nations, aligned with different major powers, ensured competition without direct conflict between the powers themselves.
However, someone aimed to disrupt this balance.
A small country’s king—one of the dukes allied with the Threefold Empire—had begun annexing neighboring states, breaking their agreements to declare independence.
Naturally, the Threefold Empire could not tolerate this and sent one urgent missive after another, all of which vanished without a trace.
Finally, only the fifth and final envoy returned—his head tied to the saddle of his horse.
An unmistakable act of rebellion. Worse yet, it seemed impossible without the backing of another great power.
The emperor hastily summoned the nobles, scattered across their lands during the farming season, and convened an emergency council, declaring war.
This response left the nobles in shock.
To be honest, this level of rebellion or skirmish was commonplace. Small-scale realignments happened every few years in some region or another, and fights between allied smaller nations were not unheard of either.
After all, these buffer zones were partly established to avoid direct conflicts between major powers. Encouraging such skirmishes was second nature; even the Threefold Empire had frequently instigated coups and uprisings in allied territories of rival nations, only abandoning operations when the risks outweighed the benefits.
To be fair, the sight of a small nation rapidly obliterating a mid-sized one and swiftly extending its influence did seem strange, but was it enough to warrant a direct military response? It would typically involve a coalition of allied nations, or simply tasking a border noble with a punitive expedition. That was the standard response.
However, the emperor sensed something different about this rebellion, persuading the council to agree, and the empire entered the war.
It had been 200 years since the Threefold Empire last deployed its full military force for the Second Eastern Expedition aimed at restoring trade routes. Now, news of the war electrified the nation.
The council’s declaration of war and the transfer of full command to a young member of the Grauflock family occurred just that afternoon. Without a moment’s delay, under the cover of darkness, these dragons had departed from the frontier…
And they had now arrived above the former capital of a mid-sized nation, now conquered by the offending kingdom—a city far more modest compared to the imperial capital, where a decrepit castle stood.
“No airborne patrols? You border bumpkins really are impressive… to dare challenge the empire like this without defenses.”
Truly, they traveled unopposed through uninhabited wilderness.
Their minimal magical presence, preserved to the fullest during flight, turned out to be absurdly unnecessary. Not only was the castle unguarded against aerial threats—despite the obvious danger of unexpected dragon attacks—it even raised suspicions of a trap among the riders.
“Oh well, delivery time, customers!”
He extended his arm and signaled the formation, releasing the moored dragon barges from their wires.
“Enjoy this batch of vampires.”
Avoiding entanglement in the uncoiling wires, the dragon mounts gracefully ascended almost vertically. Abandoned, the dragon barges entered a gentle descent, adjusting their angles with fins at the rear, plummeting toward the almost-war-free city below.
Two aimed for the castle. One descended toward what appeared to be the military accumulation point—an open plaza.
As the bows of the barges breached the thin walls and crossed into the city limits, their undersides slid open and detached.
And sure enough, out leapt soldiers draped in black battle attire.
They were troops, clad only in minimal armor who primarily carried disassemblable spears and shields. Covered head-to-toe in dark garments, these soldiers faded into the night, scattering throughout the urban area by their preferred means of descent.
Some extended personal wings, others deployed parachutes made of canvas, and a select few employed anti-gravity magic to slow their descent.
Descent continued in an orderly fashion until the last two soldiers. One shook the shoulder of the soldier strapped to the control console.
“Captain! Let’s go! We’ve reached our limit!!”
“Hmm… Right, go ahead then. I’m fine with this setup.”
“Hah…?”
Through the small frontal window, in the pitch-black night where even the castle’s silhouette would be invisible to a human eye, the soldier gazed outward, smiling as he turned back.
“I promised His Majesty the first strike.”
“You’re such a… Why do you always…?”
Faced with another absurd demand from their superior, the subordinate grimaced and shook their head. Normally, they would have knocked some sense into him, but this man was well known for refusing to change his mind once set—and for succeeding in his seemingly reckless plans.
With a sigh laced with resignation, the soldier muttered good fortune and also leapt into the shadowy night.
“Hoo-hoo-ee-ee! Hoo-hoo-ee-ee! Hoo-hoo-ee-ee!”
Cheerfully humming a rising tune, the man alone at the console tilted it slightly, aligning the nose directly toward the very center of the castle. Assuming the royal quarters were located roughly in that area based on its structural layout.
And so, the three dragon barges, carried by gravity, tore through the void—and predictably embraced the ground and walls with fervent explosions, erupting in flames as if celebrating their arrival.
A resounding blast as if the world itself was shaking. The carefully loaded refined fuel, crammed beyond reason into spaces designed for minimal crew, detonated on impact.
The fuel exploded instantly, expanding as hot gas, generating immense pressure that blasted outward in shockwaves, carving through everything at ground zero. Subsequent waves of heat indiscriminately caressed inorganic and organic materials with tongues of fire, forging a fiery hell.
One barge scythed through a third of the soldier quarters, another pierced into the castle’s upper levels, scattering attendants. The last one narrowly missed its intended target, crashing into the throne room, demolishing the grand decorations and throne imbued with history but leaving it at that.
“What the hell is going on?! WHAT IS THIS!!!”
The deafening noise shattered the peaceful night, awakening the entire capital. Commoners cowered in terror, soldiers still drunk from recent victories stirred uneasily, high-ranking commanders within the castle strategizing for the next battle were startled, and the deposed royal family resigned to execution were shaken—regardless of status, everyone was caught unaware by the overwhelming violence.
Leading a small squad into the throne room, a female knight clad in splendid armor could not grasp the situation as she surveyed the grotesquely destroyed scene.
Their vigilant patrols were well-prepared with strategies given by the king to counter the expected retaliation from the empire. By deliberately leaving the skies unguarded, they would lure dragon-mounted troops and winged creatures closer to the castle only to ambush and slay them. Then, they’d deploy their own dragon cavalry stationed at the outskirts to seal the skies, defeating the imperial forces and gaining precious time while boosting morale, as a welcome gesture to anticipated reinforcements.
Expecting the empire, with its overwhelming national power, to underestimate them, they prepared accordingly. Historically, past rebellions were swiftly quelled with just the dragon riders, so their assumptions seemed valid—at least, that was until the current emperor granted considerable strategic autonomy to a trusted aide known for exceptional military talent.
Although prepared for the night attack, the vigilant knight was thrown into confusion by what lay before her.
Even someone skilled in magic, physically enhanced to match male warriors, and standing at the frontlines, had no knowledge of a technique capable of such devastating destruction with one strike.
One way or another, the fire had to be extinguished. Plans existed to repurpose the site as an administration center for the occupied territory, and three consecutive explosions couldn’t simply be dismissed as accidents. She knew an enemy would surely arrive amidst this chaos, even if not the expected aerial onslaught of dragon riders. Her duties remained unchanged.
As the knight began to weave a spell, reciting an incantation to conjure water, an arm reached out of swirling smoke.
Not an injured servant desperately escaping after the explosion—it was something different. The hand, damaged yet astonishingly strong, clamped onto her face, squeezing with iron-like force, dragging her into the smoke.
Her scream of pain was a testament to how her skull seemed to creak under the assault. Invaded mentally by the monstrous entity, she faced not just a scorched corpse but something far more grotesque.
Though disfigured with charred flesh and internal organs spilling from wounds, this animated undead radiated an entirely different “pressure.” The mere existence of this being exerted suppression beyond comprehension. It wasn’t merely about its appearance. Its very being felt like d*ath incarnate in bipedal form.
“Good evening miss, and goodnight.”
The voice, clear and precise, carried an imperial accent. Having learned the language as a child to prepare for important dealings, she understood the words with unsettling ease. The educated tone and gentle demeanor seeping through the voice added an unsettling depth.
Simultaneously, a subtle pain at her neck was overshadowed by an overwhelming pleasure flooding her senses—something beyond human resistance. Her mind numbed as her vision blurred, sanity melting away. If she had possessed the mental fortitude to resist such pleasure, she might have recalled an old legend.
The tale that vampires bind their victims with irresistible pleasure before drawing bl**d.
Her magical energy drained from her body while her fighting spirit vanished along with her life force, though her form never withered. Instead, her pale skin transformed, taking on the ashen hue of the dead.
Lost in pleasure, she subconsciously clutched her captor’s neck. The scorched skin beneath her began to regenerate like parched earth receiving rain, and her fingers brushed silky hair as it lengthened into lush locks.
Once all life-supporting bl**d was drained, the monster raised its head.
The last thing the knight saw before oblivion were the ghastly yet mesmerizing pigeon-bl**d-red eyes…….
Though I’m fully aware it’s impolite, I licked the bl**d from my lips and stretched my finest fanged smile.
All to break the spirit of the man currently crumpled in front of me.
Thinking back on how I got here, conducting kamikaze-style raids then spiraling into chaos, reveals the long and winding path that ultimately leads back to Lady Cecilia’s lack of patience that fateful night.
That night, near d*ath from severe wounds, I fell victim to her fangs, unable to resist the intoxicating aroma of bl**d. Now, given the nature of what I’ve become, I understand the irresistible urge that drove her to act that way—I don’t blame her at all.
Ah yes, and then she, feeling the weight of having killed me, offered her bl**d without hesitation, perhaps risking her own strength to do so.
To transform another species into a vampire requires that the victim be brought to d*ath by bl**d draining, followed by ingestion of the vampire’s bl**d. The potency and purity of the vampire’s bl**d directly affect the strength of the newly-turned vampire. Without such measures, the world would quickly be overrun by vampires—this demonstrates the Sun God’s wisdom in creating such a balance.
She gave me not just bl**d, but half of her own essence. Pure-blooded, proudly descended from one of the “Three Royal Houses,” she bestowed upon me the magnificent bloodline of a prestigious vampire family.
In any case, I became a vampire. Turned. Whether I desired it or not, here I stand, and there’s no turning back.
It was quite the challenge after the transformation. The fairies went ballistic—aside from three familiar ones, I was rejected by the rest due to species-based resistance, Eliza cried endlessly, and Lady Agrippina endured countless harsh ordeals, breaking me emotionally more times than I can count.
After enduring countless sleepless nights and harrowing mornings, I found myself beside Seth, soon to be head of the Erlstraich family—though I was strictly forbidden to call him by his nickname Constanze—as his imperial knight guard.
The full story spans so many events, I believe it would take over ten volumes of a novel to recount, so I’ll spare the details.
In any case, I am here now, as Erich von Wolff, an imperial knight. And I’m prepared to serve as the cutting edge of the empire’s great sword in the impending war.
Given the empire’s unprecedented level of involvement in this incident, this is far beyond a typical political disruption operation. Considering the regional instabilities, the costs simply don’t add up.
Most likely, some arrogant power instigated this, planning to crush both the instigator and neighboring nations once the task is done, transforming them into a “corridor and food supply”—the flat terrain around here is certainly appealing for military advancement.
“Allow me to convey, on behalf of the Empress of Compassion, Empress Constanze I of the Threefold Empire, sincere congratulations to His Royal Highness the Prince for our victorious opening battle.”
“Hi-iiiyaaa!?!”
That man, possessing what could be considered quite a handsome face when serious, contorted it into an embarrassing shriek—perhaps from fear of my visage, or the sight of me tossing the drained bodies of his guards at his feet?
Ah yes, might as well embrace the characteristics of a vampire wholeheartedly. Like enduring attacks and striking counterblows, reabsorbing bl**d lost from attacks to recover—a vampire’s unique unfair moves.
Thanks to my liege—a devout follower of the God of Night Shadows, though currently not in monk’s order owing to her royal duties—I’ve also developed some resistance to silver, making me an absurdly tough and strong tank in the night. Having a good role model helped me quickly establish my optimal fighting form.
“Why, my liege is exceptionally magnanimous. So much so that she wouldn’t indulge in turning this land into a feast for me and my subordinates, numbering forty or fifty other vampires tonight.”
Moreover, vampires possess some truly monstrous traits, making them excellent reconnaissance tools to extract valuable information. Their near immortality from such attacks is one thing…
But the real horror comes from their ability to glimpse memories and knowledge through the souls mixed within the bl**d they consume—a ghastly byproduct of their miserable nature to survive by siphoning the souls of others via bl**d.
“Though, conditions do apply. Even our generous liege would lament and sigh if pests infested a cherished rose hedge in the garden?”
But…yes, I may have gone a little too far. Battling on the frontlines as a knight, my overuse of vampire abilities earned me the moniker “Vampire” within the Threefold Empire—a term that no longer refers merely to rude individuals but is now synonymous with me personally. Troublesome…
I don’t intentionally cause chaos or drain unnecessary bl**d, but it’s disheartening when people faint at the mere sight of me around a corner.
Though the excessive bl**d-drinking phase was due to an unusual surge in proficiency levels, I’ve avoided divine punishment. So… still safe.
Also, I have ensured alternative methods to survive without bl**d—except maybe from handsome men since, well, cute sisters are fine but male bl**d is a bit much.
“So then, first let’s investigate how insects infiltrated such a meticulously tended garden… You understand? If bugs can get in, crushing them individually will never end the problem.”
Ironically, thanks to such excesses, I’ve secured my position in the service of my liege, even proposing and executing “insane dragon barge landing operations.”
Still, I genuinely believe this to be a good strategy. While many nations are capable of aerial dragon combat, stopping dragon barges detached and falling inert is another matter. Furthermore, filling them with vampires, nearly indestructible, to raid enemy territory and support the vanguard—this combination would be formidable.
Plus, I can execute precision bombings until the very last moment, breaking through the bounds of this era’s warfare. Though the crew sacrifices their lives, their swift resurrection negates actual losses.
As each target in the castle counts as a respawn for the vampires, this approach is remarkably economical.
Now, one might wonder why the Grauflock’s strategist condemned my plan as “insane” despite my subordinates eventually agreeing to it…
“That said, Your Highness, consider me the gardener of Her Majesty’s estate. As such, it’s my duty to ask these questions.”
Regardless of others’ opinions, I must continue working. Even though I sometimes lament accepting this transformation, becoming accustomed to aiding Seth, who strives forward while lamenting his situation daily, has made it less taxing.
I cannot be her husband, but I am her servant, her closest kin sharing the same bl**d, the only one of her race. To remain by her side whether she remains empress, returns to the clergy, or chooses to bask in the sunlight, is my duty.
She took responsibility for killing me. So, surely, I can take responsibility for being saved by her…
For her sake, and for her empire, I bared my fangs asking a question I already knew the answer to.
No matter the response, it doesn’t change my job—be it confessing or singing embarrassingly, my task remains unchanged…
【Tips】Baron of the Frontier: An official title granted to individuals responsible for the protection and development of frontier regions. Though geographically on the edges, their importance within the country means they rank alongside lords of significant provinces. Despite the title, it is not a demotion but a position of significance.
【Tips】Empress of Compassion: A rare female ruler in history. Initially concerning due to her status as a former monk, her adept short-term policies earned her popularity. Despite initially joining as a “temporary ruler,” she remains the longest-serving emperor in imperial history at twelve decades across eight terms.
Though married politically, she remains unmarried, earning the nickname “Virgin Empress,” yet her accomplishments overshadow any criticisms of her marital status.
Thus, this is the future where Lady Cecilia’s resolve faltered slightly in her judgment.
A prime example of how cramming too many ideas results in incomprehensible writing and storylines.
Reflecting on this, I wonder what was it I wanted to write after all…
And thus concludes Henderson Scale 1.0.
