Chapter 82: The True Successor Of Varnae

"May I take a seat?" Verdelet asked politely, his gaze shifting towards a chair nearby as Ricky glanced at him, a bit perplexed.

From his lackluster experience with vampires, he was used to being insulted, called a blood bag, or attacked outright. 

But instead of hostility, Verdelet offered a warm smile, almost as if welcoming them to Sicily.

"Sure." Ricky shrugged, motioning to the chair as Verdelet nodded in gratitude and calmly pulled it over, taking a seat.

"We'll start over." Ricky announced, not bothering to ask the others as he began reshuffling the cards as a breath of hope seemed to fill Alexander, his posture perking up.

"I'm sure you know who I am." Ricky said in a passing tone, dealing the cards while Verdelet chuckled, his amused grin spreading even deeper across his face.

"Yes, I know the postion of the Black Knight all too well, and yet here I am, still surprised in my old age." Verdelet picked up his cards, his eyes gleaming with intrigue.

"I'm guessing my ancestors tried to kill you on sight." Ricky said, casually taking Alexander's six of clubs, causing the gerbil to crumple in defeat once again.

"You'd be correct," Verdelet replied, his tone light yet serious. He noticed Alexander's dramatic reaction, then shifted focus back to the game. 

"Got any Jacks?" Verdelet asked, only to be told to go fish. 

Verdelet calmly drew from the pile, pulling another Jack with a slight smile before placing the pair before all of them.

Laying the pair down, they went round while they figured out how to more or less communicate between them until it was Ricky's turn once more.

"Verdelet, can I be honest with you and just cut past this tense atmosphere of our first confrontation?" Ricky suddenly looked up from his cards, his tone more direct since he really didn't want to play metaphorical word games.

"Please do."

"I don't have any problems with you. Sure, the other Black Knights might have hated your guts or wanted to outright spill them, but I don't give three f*cks about anything that doesn't affect me or the people I care about." Ricky admitted, acknowledging that while Verdelet probably wasn't a good person, he hadn't done anything to warrant Ricky's hostility so in his mind, it didn't involve him.

"Well, this is a first," Veredelt said, genuinely taken aback as he actually had to regain himself from Ricky's shocking announcement. 

He had known seven iterations of the Black Knight personally, and not a single one had ever spared him a single word as all of them were eager to kill him for the sake of humanity.

"I don't think I've ever talked to a Black Knight this long, unless we were in the middle of a fight that is." Verdelet joked with a smile, watching as Chores took one of his queens in their game as he glanced up at Ricky, incredibly creeped out by the unusual situation.

"Then, if we have no issues with each other, may I inquire why you've come to my nesting?" Verdelet asked, his curiosity piqued, wondering why this Black Knight was here if it wasn't for his head.

"Turns out, I've got bad blood with some of the mobsters in the area." Ricky shrugged with a sigh, glancing at Verdelet, who chuckled in response, casually stealing a nine of hearts from Alexander's hand.

"Ah, I see." Verdelet said, nodding as Chores snatched one of his three's as the giant was on the edge of his seat the entire time, clearly distracted by everything going on around them rather than focusing on the game.

"Is that a problem?" Ricky asked, his eyes momentarily squinting but Verdelet simply shook his head, surprised that he was facing no conflict at all.

"Although they are the other side of the 'coin' that the fool Mussolini always preaches about, human organizations rise and fall too quickly for me to keep track of. Another group or family, or whatever they choose to call themselves, will always take their place," Verdelet explained, his perspective shaped by years of watching the cycle unfold. 

He was far too old to care about the fleeting power struggles that typically lasted only a couple of decades within the human world.

"I've found in my lifetime that forming attachments to human organizations is nothing more than a futile effort." Verdelet said, heaving a deep sigh as he reflected on how many situations he'd been dragged into because of those pointless endeavors.

"But it is good that I've met a reasonable Black Knight, considering how troublesome it can be to deal with that blade of yours." Verdelet pointed his well-groomed fingers at the weapon, his red eyes narrowing slightly with disdain as memories swirled in his mind, tainted by the blade's presence.

"You're telling me. Usually, at this point, I'm being called a blood bag, cattle, or something similar while being attacked by whatever vampire is nearby, like that weird-looking Baron Blood." Ricky thought aloud, annoyance creeping into his voice as he was honestly tired of the repetitive cycle: whenever a vampire saw his Black Knight attire, they immediately tried to kill him which was to be expected given the history of the postion.

"Who?" Verdelet froze, the familiar name sending a jolt through him as his eyes narrowed with intensity.

"He's like Dracula's minion and Baron Blood is the name that's stuck to that big forehead of his." Ricky explained, effortlessly prying a queen from Alexander's tight grip.

"....." Verdelet fell silent, stewing in his own hatred before letting out a deep breath.

"Any twos?" Verdelet asked Ricky, who shook his head, noticing the palpable animosity in old vampires demeanor.

"If you're wondering, I'm not really buddy buddy with Dracula at the moment. In fact, he's trying to rip out my heart and probably eat it." Ricky explained, interpreting Verdelet's clear distaste for Baron Blood as a reflection of his feelings toward Dracula.

"I apologize for my sudden change in demeanor; my hatred for that false successor runs deep, spanning thousands of years." Verdelet explained as Ricky raised an eyebrow, pondering for a moment before snapping his fingers. 

"Varnae, right?" Ricky recalled Abraham's words from a while ago, prompting Verdelet to laugh.

"Forgive my outburst. It's just been a while since I've heard a human say his name. But yes, Varnae was my master." Verdelet replied, drawing another card as he gazed at the various numbers in his hand.

"My master turned me twenty thousand years ago, and I followed him faithfully throughout the ages. But time can be the cruelest of gifts." Verdelet's tone was not one of sadness as he recounted this, but rather filled with visible fury. 

"Instead of me, his most faithful servant, Varnae chose Dracula as his successor as lord of Earth's vampires, imparting much of his supernatural power into his imperfect vessel." Verdelet's hand shook violently as he struggled to keep the cards contained.

"Varnae then committed suicide by exposing himself to direct sunlight, a cowardly death." Verdelet continued with disgust, taking a deep breath as he closed and opened his eyes. 

"I am the true successor, yet my master, my friend, chose not a vampire, but a human no older than fifty years over me." Verdelt forced a smile as he looked at Ricky, who remained skeptical.

"Why did you share this entire story without asking for anything in return?" Ricky questioned, fully aware that vampires, especially ancient vampires, wouldn't divulge such secrets out of the kindness of their lifeless hearts.

"Because I think this might be such a rare opportunity." Verdelet said, his eyes transforming into crescent moons, a look of joy spreading across his face as thoughts swirled in his mind. 

"If you ever find yourself in a war to kill Dracula, I ask that you allow me to join you and assist you with my hoard." Verdelet extended his offer, unknowing if Ricky would ever be able to kill his master's successor, but he wasn't about to miss the chance he let slip twenty years ago.

"Hmmmmmmm~" Ricky hummed, unsure whether to even consider Verdelet's offer, but he couldn't help but think about the future. 

If he ever needed allies to confront Dracula, it would be beneficial to have someone like Verdelet backing him, though he doubted he would ever actually call on him.

"As a show of good faith, I'll serve those humans up to you on a silver platter," Verdelet sweetened the offer without any charge, but Ricky still squinted, skeptical.

"You know what? F*ck it. If I ever start a war with Dracula, I'll call you." Ricky held out his hand, and Verdelet delightedly shook it, a smirk spreading across his face.

They wrapped up their card game, with Verdelet emerging victorious as he wore a triumphant smile that spread across his face.

Within this pleased mood, he pulled out a piece of paper and began to scribble something on it, the faint sound of the pen gliding across the surface punctuating the air.

"This is the address where I'll gather them tomorrow, along with the vault they use to store their wealth." Verdelet said, handing over the paper as Ricky's brows scrunched in immense distrust.

"For what?" Ricky asked, realizing this wasn't part of their agreement while Verdelet laughed, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

'I swear, it's never cut and dry with vampires.' Ricky frowned again, sensing that this wasn't just a generous offer as he immediately assumed there must be a catch, and he was sure he'd uncover it soon enough.

"I want all of the books, you can have the wealth but I ask for the knowledge they possess-"

"Alright, whatever." Ricky shrugged off his foreboding words, feigning indifference as he extended his hand, which Verdelet quickly shook.

"It has been a pleasure finding common ground with you, Black Knight." Verdelet said, visibly pleased to have encountered the black sheep of the Black Knights within his lifetime.

"Same, it's like a breath of fresh air of not fighting a strong ass vampire that leaves me with an existential crisis or on the verge of death, or both." Ricky waved, and Verdelet laughed as he exited through the wrecked door, turning the corner.

As Verdelet left, a host of horrid abominations trailed behind him, their grotesque forms reaching new heights of horror. 

Even Ricky, accustomed to facing dark and formidable creatures, felt a chill run down his spine at the unsettling sight.

These ghouls were unlike anything Ricky had ever seen with stitches criss crossed their bodies, remnants of haphazard reanimation, while their forms were grotesquely morphed into abominations that defied the very definition of a ghoul. 

*Sigh*

'Vampires and their ugly ghouls.'

Meanwhile In Abrella,

Eliphas sat at his desk, diligently overseeing the operations of his sect as a devoted leader. 

Managing a vampire organization was no simple task; it demanded immense dedication and meticulous attention to detail, all of which Eliphas was committed to providing.

As he was about to write something, he suddenly froze, sensing an unusual presence. 

He placed down his quill and lifted his gaze to the window, his instincts sharpening as he strained to discern what had disrupted his focus.

A black bat perched on his window, smirking at him with an arrogant grin that Eliphas could never forget.

"Dracula," Eliphas acknowledged, his voice laced with a mixture of contempt and recognition as his expression twisted into a grotesque semblance of rage which forced him to bare his fangs.

"Ah, Eliphas, how long has it been?" Dracula's voice echoed through the bat as it transformed, taking on a more humanoid form and perching on the chair across from him.

"Not long enough, it seems." Eliphas replied, squinting at his old foe, a sense of foreboding settling over him as he had an inkling of what Dracula wanted.

"And here I thought we were good friends?" Dracula said, flapping his wings in mock pain before snickering as if the mere consideration of this fact left him unable to contain his laughter.

"What are you really here for, Dracula? We both know you never visit without wanting something." Eliphas snarled, recalling the last time their paths crossed, when Dracula had ripped a powerful vampiric artifact from his grasp.

"Very well, I'll relent," Dracula replied, his expression shifting as his smile turned carnivorous. 

"I want you to set a trap for not only Abraham but the budding Black Knight." Dracula's request bordered on a demand, prompting a hearty laugh from Eliphas.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Eliphas erupted, the absurdity of Dracula's request striking him as the funniest thing he had heard in ages.

"And-PUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Eliphas attempted to respond, but the notion of aiding the loathsome creature who had nearly taken his life on five separate occasions consumed him, sending him into another fit of laughter.

"And why would I ever, EVER, help you Dracula?" Eliphas decided to ask, leaning over while shedding into his normal face to reveal the monstrous form that always lurked beneath.

"It's quite simple, actually, since I know where Nova Roma is," Dracula said calmly, his words wiping the mocking smile off Eliphas's face. 

The gravity of the statement settled heavily in the air, replacing laughter with a tense silence as Eliphas registered the implication behind Dracula's knowledge.

"What?" Eliphas breath hitched, asking out for clarification only for Dracula to raise his gaze.

"Oh, you must not know yet, since it hasn't been revealed to the world." Dracula replied, a knowing glint in his eyes. 

He could sense that Eliphas understood the weight of his words, yet he felt a twisted sense of reassurance in continuing to mock him.

*Ahem*

"Let me clarify further then, I know where your precious Selene is currently residing." 

The next day,

In a lavish ballroom, the atmosphere pulsed with the energy of mingling gangsters, a blend of anticipation and tension that charged the air. 

The expansive space was adorned with grand chandeliers, their crystal prisms glimmering like stars against the rich, dark ceiling. 

Each fixture cast a warm, inviting glow over the room, illuminating the polished wooden floors that gleamed as if freshly waxed, reflecting the elegance of the gathering.

The walls were draped in opulent fabrics, deep reds and regal golds, that exuded wealth and power, while ornate mirrors interspersed among the drapery amplified the sense of grandeur. 

Intricate moldings framed the tall windows, through which the faint glow of the city lights could be seen, a reminder of the world outside, where deals were made and fortunes lost.

The attendees, known across Sicily as members of the powerful Bruno, Greco, and Inzerillo families, moved with a confident ease, each acutely aware of their own importance in this shadowy world. 

Their presence commanded attention, exuding an air of authority that permeated the ballroom as all of these men wore sharply tailored Italian suits, crafted from the finest fabrics, and carried themselves in such a way that showed them off.

"Tsk, calling us here in the middle of the day and on our turf, who does this vampire think he is?" An older man sneered from his seat at the table, encircled by a sea of armed guards.

Though only two men sat beside him, their mere presence served as a formidable reminder of the countless weapons at their disposal. 

These three individuals were the leaders of a powerful triad of mafia families, each one intimately involved in overseeing the daily operations of Mussolini's ventures. 

Their influence was vast, stretching across the underbelly of the city, and they were not accustomed to being summoned like this.

As they exchanged glances, tension crackled in the air, thick with unspoken questions about the purpose of this unexpected meeting and the audacity of their visitor. 

The older man leaned back in his chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his eyes narrowing as he contemplated the implications of the vampire's boldness.

Paolo Bruno, Roberto Greco, and Marco Inzerillo, all seasoned men with weathered faces, sat around the polished mahogany table, their expressions a mixture of impatience and irritation with not a single pleased smile in sight.

"Aye, the man did take care of our sudden Black Knight problem, and besides, the boys haven't had a day off lately," Roberto said, scratching his chin as his pinky ring gleamed in the light as if doing this to show off the glistening ruby.

"Is that blood sucker really necessary to take on the Maggia-"

"AYE!" Paolo and Roberto exclaimed in unison, cutting off Marco, who fell silent. 

"Are you crazy, saying their name out of the blue like that?" Paolo gestured emphatically, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at Marco.

"We can't simply take them on; it's too soon," Roberto said, shaking his head as Marco's brows furrowed even deeper, resembling a pair of scrunched-up caterpillars as he considered Roberto's words.

"And why is that? We have not only the nation's leader on our side but also an old vamp-" Marco started, but his words were interrupted by a wave of protest from Paolo and Roberto.

"Because when you mess with one chair, you mess with its table," Roberto said, his expression grave. 

The weight of his words hung in the air, and Paolo and Marco exchanged glances, both recognizing the deeper implications of the metaphor.

"Now let's just enjoy the event while we wait for this blood sucker, shall we?"

As the event unfolded inside, Chores patrolled the perimeter, his keen eyes scanning the lavish surroundings. 

Numerous guards were stationed around the venue, each one a silent sentinel in tailored suits, their hands discreetly resting near concealed weapons. 

Chores and Ricky had agreed to scout the area before making their move, ensuring they could strike decisively and eliminate their targets in one fell swoop while also not exactly trusting Verdelet..

Chores focused on identifying potential exit routes, aware that every second counted but Verdelet had kept his promise, guiding them to a location with only one escape route. 

This singular path would serve as their advantage, limiting the options for anyone inside to flee or retaliate.

After finishing his scouting, Chores made his way to the corner where they had agreed was their meet up spot, expecting to find Ricky and instead, he was met with the unexpected presence of Alexander.

"Alexander, where is-" Chores began, only to be met with a heavy sigh from the gerbil as the lack of the translation device on his waist intensified the unease settling in Chores's gut.

*Sigh*

"Don't tell me." Chores murmured, dread creeping into his voice as he watched Alexander shake his head. 

The tiny creature's expression conveyed a wealth of unspoken words, amplifying Chores's apprehension as he face palmed.

"Leave it to the manwhore to get sidetracked in the only way he knows how."

10 minutes ago,

Ricky glanced at the side of the building, noting the lack of doors leading to the sea, where the banquet hall was situated. 

Nestled tightly between two other structures, the hall's few windows were designed to preserve the interior's elegant decor. 

The only outdoor feature was a railing along the service area, where cleaning supplies were stored, offering little in the way of escape or entry. 

The absence of any obvious exits heightened Ricky's sense of urgency; they needed to devise a plan swiftly.

"This might be easier than I thought-oh, momma." Ricky mused, a smile creeping across his face just as his dragon perked up, reacting to the sight before him.

The door swung open, allowing a rush of fresh air to flood in, and in walked a striking woman. 

Her figure was voluptuous and curvaceous, effortlessly commanding attention with each graceful step she took. 

Her presence seemed to fill the space, captivating the attention of everyone nearby and momentarily diverting Ricky's focus from their plans to the intoxicating allure she exuded. 

The deep V-neckline of her fitted dress accentuated her ample bosom, hugging her curves like a second skin and leaving little to the imagination.

Cascading waves of dark, lustrous hair framed a face of exquisite beauty, drawing attention to her deep, soulful eyes that sparkled with allure. 

Her olive-toned skin, smooth and radiant, glowed under the soft ambient light, accentuating the subtle curve of a beauty mark just above her upper lip. 

The combination of her striking features and the gentle glow of her complexion made her an undeniable focal point in the room, capturing the hearts and gazes of those around her.

This tiny imperfection added a touch of mystique to her otherwise flawless features, enhancing her already captivating presence. 

Turning around, a gentle gust of wind swept through, causing her hair to dance momentarily. 

As she glanced back to discern the source of the sudden breeze, her eyes locked onto Ricky's figure.

"Hey, baby, I'm THE Black Knight," Ricky said, leaning casually on the window sill as he watched as her cheeks flushed a rosy hue, the corners of her lips twitching with a hint of amusement. 

It was a playful gamble at his lousy pick-up line, but her reaction was enough to spark a flicker of hope in his chest, suggesting that this bold approach might just have struck a chord.

"I-I am honored to be in your presence, oh holy Black Knight." She anxiously looked around, red in embarrassment before trying to curtsy the best she could.

"Forgive me if I have stolen any of your time-"

"The only thing being stolen is my breath," Ricky said, his voice low and confident as he closed the distance between them. 

With a boldness that surprised even him, he slid his hands around her thin waist, drawing her closer. 

He leaned in and gently pressed a kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment as he savored the warmth of her skin.

*DING*

[Mission Received: Carla Bianchi]

Difficulty: Easy

Character Sheet: D

Description: Carla has grown up in a poor impoverished family though was born with good looks and a stellar body. There aren't many options for a woman in her shoes as she could become a poorhouse wife, a high end prostitute, or a mistress to a high ranking mafia member and she even took this job today in hopes of securing a decent livelihood.

Objective: Give her another option, single mother.

Reward: 10,000 IP

Main Mission: 

Impregnante Once

Rewards: 5,000 IP or Carla's Skills

Impregnate Twice

Rewards: ?????????

Additional Missions:

Test out some news skills on her and make her cum with them(Incomplete)

Rewards: 15,000 IP

F*ck Carla unconscious(Incomplete)

Rewards: 20,000 IP

Give her a nice creampie(Incomplete)

Rewards: 5,000 IP

Bonus Missions:

???????????????????

???????????????????

???????????????????

???????????????????

???????????????????

???????????????????

[Do you even wish to read it long enough to-]

"Yes." Ricky murmured, biting his lip as he read the mission description, a smile creeping onto his face. 

His fingers danced lower along her waist, savoring the moment while his mind raced with possibilities.

He had recently realized how much he had underutilized the system that guided him. This time, he was determined to engage fully with the details.

"H-Holy Black Knight-" Carla stammered, her cheeks flushing crimson as the imposing figure pulled her closer.

"God, you smell good. I guess the Lord does work in mysterious ways." Ricky mused aloud, shamelessly wrapping his arms around her only to take in the intoxicating scent that enveloped her.

This was a departure from Ricky's usual approach; he typically took his time, savoring every moment and nuance with a woman. 

But after reading Carla's description, he felt an exhilarating urge to be bold and direct. 

He wanted to see if showing genuine interest right off the bat could spark a connection, curious to test the waters with this stunning stranger.

"Come on, dance with me! I know it's just a closet, but it's still in a ballroom," Ricky said with a playful grin.

He grabbed her hand, his grip firm yet inviting, and suddenly began to sway her around. 

The confined space felt more like a stage as he spun her, and she couldn't help but feel completely consumed by the moment. 

Her shocked expression remained, a blend of surprise and delight, as she gracefully moved with him, swept up in the spontaneous dance.

"God, how can an angel like you be so naughty, Carla?" Ricky whispered, his voice low and teasing. 

Carla's eyes widened in shock, her breath hitching at the sound of her name as a tremor ran through her as she felt the heat radiating from him.

Ricky's hand, resting on her waist, began to glide across the arch of her back, tracing down her figure with a deliberate slowness and when he cupped her ass, a soft gasp escaped her lips, barely contained.

"Hmmmm~" Carla shivered, her body responding to the electrifying touch as she struggled to hold back a moan from one of Ricky's new skills.

"Wanting to be the mistress of a high-ranking mobster, what am I going to do with you?" Ricky teased, his voice dripping with playful mischief as he began to knead her ass like dough.

His fingers dug in, gripping and pulling, each squeeze amplifying the current of pleasure coursing through Carla's body. 

A delightful ripple of sensation spread from her center, radiating outward and leaving her breathless. 

Each touch sent sparks flying, igniting her senses and making it hard to think of anything but the heat building between them.

As he continued to explore, the line between teasing and desire blurred, leaving Carla lost in the intoxicating moment, her heart racing in rhythm with Ricky's playful advances.

"I-I-I'm sorry~" Carla breathed out in a moan, her hands resting against his chest as she closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensation.

"Ah~" Carla's soft, sensual moan slipped from her lips, free of shame, as her body began to sway with the rhythm of his hands.

"I'll forgive you." Ricky replied, his sleazy smile widening as he watched Carla completely lose herself to the pleasure of his touch. 

Each caress drew her deeper into the moment, her body slowly responding to his every movement, igniting a spark of desire that danced between them.

"But I'm going to need a favor."