Chapter 78: Confrontation Over Weapons Plus

Author's Note: For those who were lost in the sauce and didn't read the last author's note, I changed my upload schedule to thursday-sunday.

"..." Ricky stood in silence for a long moment, watching as Abraham slumped deeper into the booth and one question weighed heavily on his mind, echoing in the stillness around them.

"Is she at least hot?" Ricky leaned in, his eyes dead serious as they locked onto Abraham. 

He crossed his arms in front of his face, his expression unreadable, yet the question lingered with an odd gravity, cutting through the tension.

"Smoking." 

"Oh, alright then." Ricky shrugged, figuring that if people were out to kill him, at least he could take some comfort in the fact that they might be a hot, busty babe.

"Selene is the strongest magical being and she's a mutant on top of that." Abraham said, shaking his head with a slightly aggrieved tone.

"Even the gods keep their distance after what she did to Apollo." Abraham informed Ricky, rubbing his arm as goosebumps crept up, the mere memory sending a chill through him.

"At best, she'll recruit you into her weird club; at worst, she'll kill you." Abraham's voice wavered slightly, betraying just how unnerving the tale of Selene truly was.

"Well, putting that aside, what do we do now? With everything going on, what's our next move?" Ricky asked, scratching his chin in slight curiosity as Abraham leaned back, downing the rest of his flask before letting out a heavy sigh.

"We wait." Abraham screwed the lid back on, his tone foreboding as he pocketed the flask.

"For what-"

*BAM*

"For that," Abraham muttered, pointing at the door just as it burst open, revealing a swarm of vampires slowly trickling in.

"ABRAHAM!" A man in an expensive suit with slick, pointy black hair roared, his voice cutting through the almost desolate bar. 

Vampires filled the empty space with disdain, their gazes fixed on Abraham, who wore a confident smile in the face of their growing hostility.

"Eliphas, it's good to-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" Eliphas screeched as his face contorted into a hideous visage, resembling a common vampire but far more grotesque.

"Ugh, what the hell is that?" Ricky exclaimed, a look of disgust spreading across his face as he stared at Eliphas's morphed features. 

"He's a man cursed by Selene," Abraham whispered, glancing nervously at Eliphas, whose ears perked up at the mention of her name. 

"Jesus, what the hell did he do to deserve that?" Ricky wondered aloud, rubbing his face in disbelief as he focused on the foul creature before him.

"If your filthy mouth ever mentions her glorious name in front of me again, I'll rip out your throat myself." Eliphas growled, his tone icy as he stalked over to the booth.

Ricky's expression twisted into one of confusion and unease, caught between disbelief and the palpable threat emanating from the grotesque figure.

"Wait, she made your face like that and you still actually like her-"

*BAM*

Eliphas lunged forward, ready to punch Ricky, but was suddenly halted by a psychic barrier that materialized between them. 

He looked down, scorn etched across his grotesque features, his vampiric form radiating anger as he glared at Ricky, his fury barely contained.

"I love her; don't confuse the two." Eliphas said, his voice dripping with intensity as Ricky burst into laughter, clearly bewildered. 

"What is so funny?" Eliphas tone was slow and menacing, recoiling backwards and squinting his eyes.

"It's just that, I wouldn't even love my own mother if she gave birth to me and I looked like whatever the f*ck you are." Ricky gestured at Eliphas's grotesque vampiric features, showing his immense hesitance to accept such a fate given to him.

"Do you think you're funny by belittling my appearance?" Eliphas asked, his tone icy and his gaze unwavering. He showed no sign of being perturbed by Ricky's insults.

"No, I think it makes me hilarious," Ricky shrugged, a grin still plastered on his face as Eliphas let out a hollow laugh, tinged with scorn, the sound echoing in the charged atmosphere.

"In what world would anyone consider your words hilarious?" Eliphas placed his hands on the table, staring Ricky dead in the eye.

"I guess one with your mother in it?" Ricky blurted out, knowing he could have come up with something better but deciding to roll with the dice he'd cast.

"My mother is dead," Eliphas replied flatly, his tone devoid of emotion as he turned his attention back to Ricky.

"Then I guess the underworld must be filled with laughter." Ricky countered smiling slightly since his own words made him crack a smile. 

Eliphas regarded him in silence for a long moment, his gaze intensely analyzing Ricky, seemingly ignoring Abraham entirely.

The situation was growing increasingly tense, the air thick with unease. Chores began to move cautiously from the side, but four vampires quickly stepped in his way, squinting at them.

"No one meets the boss of their own volition, especially mutts." The vampire sneered, casting a subtle insult towards Barko, whose ears slowly drooped in response.

"He's not a mutt; he's a human. His name is Barko, and-" Chores interjected, annoyance creeping into his voice as he wasn't in the best mood after spending two hours as a mime.

"I don't care." The vampire scoffed, shoving the giant slightly but Chores stood his ground, an immovable object despite the vampire's bravado.

"I didn't finish; please do not interrupt me." Chores's tone remained calm and polite, yet the gentle giant's eyes flared with a smoldering anger fueled by years of abuse and frustration. 

His towering figure loomed over the vampire, strength radiating from him and although he typically preferred a peaceful approach, today, his mood had shifted toward the unreasonable.

"You'll regret any actions you take." The vampire warned, sensing the situation boiling toward a fight. 

His fellow kin slowly began to walk behind him, but Chores merely clenched his fist, the knuckles Ricky had given him standing out starkly.

"Chores, it's not worth it-" Barko started, trying to defuse the tension.

"Oh, come on, Barko, if you let people treat you like a dog, then that's all you'll ever be!" Ricky chimed in, fueling the flames from the sidelines as he was growing bored with how Eliphas kept staring at him without uttering a word.

"Apologize." Chores uttered this hateful word towards the vampire who merely laughed at his statement, potining his burly chest.

"Or what, huh?" The vampire sneered, seeing Chores as nothing more than a large meat bag. In his mind, vampires were the pinnacle of existence.

This perspective was common among most vampires; as they fed on humanity and other creatures, they began to see them not as competition but as mere prey. 

Just as a human wouldn't fear a cow, vampires adopted the same mentality, applying it to the races they consumed. 

They believed themselves to be at the top of the food chain, a notion that only deepened their arrogance.

"You and that mutt are the same, so who cares if I hurt the feelings of some big meat bag like you?" The vampire continued to poke his elongated fingernail into Chores's chest, provoking the giant further.

Chores slowly grasped the vampire's hand with his own, which was five times larger.

"Release my hand at once-"

*CRUNCH*

Without a moment's hesitation, Chores clenched his fist, the grotesque sounds of flesh and bones cracking and tearing filling the air. 

"AHHHHHHHH!" The vampire screeched, falling to his knees as he desperately tried to pry his smashed hand free from Chores's grip. But Chores remained silent, squeezing even tighter.

"YOU DARE-" The vampire began to threaten, but Ricky slammed his sword onto the table, cutting him off.

"The second your friends join in is the last time you'll see them alive." Ricky warned, narrowing his eyes at Eliphas, ready to back Chores if needed. 

Eliphas merely raised a hand, while the other vampires exchanged frustrated glances.

"Davide, resolve this, now." Eliphas ordered, side-eyeing his struggling brethren who clawed at Chores's unyielding grip.

"I-I-DAMMIT, I'M SORRY!" Davide shouted, directing his apology at Barko. 

The moment the words left his lips, Chores released his grasp, letting go of what was left of the vampire's mangled hand, which now resembled a grotesque ball of flesh.

"You know, they call him the gentle giant, but people still forget he's still a giant," Ricky quipped, leaning back in his chair, trying to lighten the atmosphere as Eliphas finally took a seat across from him. 

"Why did you think it was wise to kill someone from my ancient sect?" Eliphas's voice turned deadly, and Abraham nodded, understanding the weight of the question.

"We need safe passage into Germany-" Abraham began, attempting to sidestep Eliphas's ire, but the glare he received silenced him.

"And I need to find Selene, but it seems we're both unlikely to get what we want," Eliphas scoffed, sitting down across from the two, his demeanor shifting to one of reluctant resignation. 

"Here." Abraham placed a bottle of blood on the table, its crimson contents catching the light and drawing the attention of all the vampires in the room. 

Their eyes widened with hunger, a collective instinct kicking in as they focused on the offering, momentarily forgetting the tensions that had just flared.

"The blood-"

"Of the Pope himself," Abraham declared, revealing the prized bottle of blood he had taken from the Vatican's weapons vault. 

The room fell into a hushed silence, all vampiric eyes fixated on the vial, gazing at such a pure substance in its consumable form.

Eliphas, however, remained steady despite the rising hunger in the air as his gaze bore into Abraham, unyielding. 

"What of my kin?" Eliphas inquired, his voice steady but laced with tension.

"He was in cahoots with the Kregier Sect. Why do you think I was able to track him down so easily?" Abraham shrugged, casually acknowledging the implications of his words as the Kregier Sect, under Dracula's control, was a group Abraham had long kept a close watch on.

Eliphas held his silence for a moment, seemingly digesting the information while his frown deepened, and he began to tap the table with his elongated fingernail, each tap resonating like a countdown, the tension in the room palpable as everyone awaited his response.

"Any day now-"

"Shut it tin can." Eliphas snarled, his patience wearing thin as he regarded Ricky's nonchalant attitude, paired with his unapologetic display of disgust, grated on Eliphas's nerves like sandpaper against flesh. 

Each casual remark and dismissive gesture from Ricky only deepened Eliphas's irritation, fueling an undercurrent of tension that crackled in the air between them.

"Seriously, though, does this knight outfit make me look dorky?" Ricky asked, his voice laced with genuine uncertainty as he glanced around the room. 

"At first, I didn't mind it, but every time I catch my reflection, I feel like I'm just playing dress-up." Ricky spread out his arms and asked the room, his internal conflict bubbling to the surface as Abraham shook his head, letting out a weary sigh.

"I think it looks very dashing." Percival remarked from above, earning a nod of agreement from Alexander. 

"It also makes you appear more chivalrous." Alexander chimed in his own two cents, agreeing with the floating ghostly form of Percival.

Ricky frowned, his earlier comment about looking like a dork echoing in his mind as he realized their words only reinforced his self-doubt.

"It is unlikely that I will be able to get you since Germany is not only locked down from the mortal view but the supernatural as well." Eliphas said, disregarding Ricky entirely as he turned to Abraham.

Abraham frowned at the statement, this only reinforced his belief that something significant was happening in Germany, as even he couldn't pry any information about what was transpiring there. 

The fact that Eliphas was equally in the dark suggested that his suspicions might be accurate as he knew he needed to keep tugging at that thread of mystery until he unraveled the truth.

"Now, the vial," Eliphas demanded, extending his hand, prompting confused expressions from both of them.

"Is that some vampire way of agreeing to something?" Ricky asked Abraham, who shook his head.

"No, he's probably confusing conversation with compensation." Abraham clarified, making Ricky chuckle at the absurdity of it.

"You killed one of my men-"

"I did you a favor, Eliphas," Abraham pointed out, his shame evident.

"Yeah, seriously, you should be a bit more grateful," Ricky added, shaking his head in disbelief at Eliphas, who opened his mouth slightly in response to their shrewdness.

The vampires nearby watched in disbelief at the two mortals' arrogance toward Eliphas, as they regarded him as one of the fiercest beings in all of Italy.

"This is going to get ugly." Alexander shook his head with a sigh and crawled back into the nook of Ricky's armor, while Henry hovered in the air, curiously looking down below.

"You dare walk into my territory, kill my men, and then demand my thanks? Do you not understand your position right now?" Eliphas's eyes ignited with a fierce red glow as he stood up, only for Ricky to reach under the table.

"I overlooked the deaths of my men and the incitement upon my territory, but I will be damned if I let you prance around without paying a price." Eliphas's words dripped with menace, his hands pulsating with power as he prepared to pounce on them.

"GIVE ME THE VIAL-"

In the next instant, Ricky interrupted Eliphas's statement as the table splintered in two, the tip of his blade thrusting forward.

"You are strong, but that is all." Eliphas remarked, raising an eyebrow as he caught the sword within Ricky's grip, pressing it against the cusp of his throat, surprising Ricky.

Gritting his teeth, Ricky attempted to push the sword even an inch further, but it remained firmly in place.

"That was a poor swing," Percival chimed in, just as Eliphas flicked his wrist, directing a swift motion the flicked the sword away as his other hand shot towards his body.

*Crack*

Ricky instinctively raised his barrier, only for it to crack under the strain as he felt a mental backlash; Eliphas merely raised an eyebrow in response.

"Hmmmmm." Eliphas flicked his armor, sending Ricky stumbling backward onto his rear, puzzled as he realized he had been flicked like a child.

"Ha!" Ricky's eyebrow twitched, laughing out in slight frustration while seeing Eliphas was clearly looking down at him.

"Alright, I kind of had that coming." Ricky stood up, cracking his neck and laughing at the irony of it all, before his glimmering green eyes shifted to a serious light.

Flames began to materialize around Ricky, but Abraham placed a hand on his shoulder, calming him down as he pointed at him.

"The deal still stands," Abraham chimed in, prompting Eliphas to assess the situation as he glanced at his underlings, who seemed oblivious to the danger they were in. 

Eliphas recognized that while he could take on Ricky, the real uncertainty lay with Abraham. 

He had never been able to predict Abraham's actions and didn't know whether he would fight alongside the new black knight or assist that brutish figure in eliminating his underlings first.

"We accept. Meet us here in exactly one month." Eliphas's words surprised everyone as they watched him stride out of the booth, the other vampires gazing at each other in confusion before following in suit and trickling out behind him.

"Your magic mentor saved you; that man before you is a formidable creature." Percival remarked, while Alexander peeked his head out and nodded in agreement.

"It's true; your arrogance is seeping into your fighting style, and it shows," Alexander pointed out, prompting Ricky to frown as he assessed his earlier actions instead of shrugging them off. 

This was a lesson Ricky had been slowly integrating, as Alexander had taught him not to simply dismiss a win or loss, but to learn from it. 

He encouraged Ricky to reflect on events that had just transpired and strive to better himself should a similar situation arise.

"You can't beat Eliphas. I only brought you because I knew he'd bring his subpar lackeys, and knowing his soft side, he would be swayed once he realized he might win but at the cost of his subordinates." Abraham scoffed at Ricky, who widened his eyes in surprise at how much thought Abraham had put into this encounter.

"Let's go." Abraham stood up, turning to a surprised Ricky, his expression shifting into a frown.

"Just because I'm an old drunkard doesn't mean I'm not smart," Abraham scoffed, accurately reading Ricky's thoughts from his mere gaze alone.

"...." Ricky was about to retort but decided to remain silent, knowing it would only annoy Abraham further and instead, he glanced to the left for affirmation only to see both Chores and Barko whistling.

"F*cking kids these days, no respect for their elders." Abraham said with disdain as he walked out of the bar.

Later that night,

*Huff*

*Huff*

*Huff*

Ricky lay sprawled across the bed, utterly spent, while Agatha sat up beside him, her red lips glistening. 

With a slow, sultry motion, she flicked her tongue over them, savoring the remnants of their encounter.

Over the past three months, Ricky hadn't had much time to fill his bed with random women. 

The grueling training sessions with Abraham, Percival, and Alexander left him aching throughout the day and sore at night. 

It led him to keep his head down, focusing intently on his training since women were always a distraction for him.

However, that didn't exclude the occasional visits from witches who would teleport into his room for some late-night company. 

While some might consider it a waste to focus solely on his training, Ricky was still benefiting from his encounters with Agatha.

His IP had surged from a modest 10,000 to nearly 170,000, all due to his frequent interactions with her.

"How was that, darling? Has my form improved?" Agatha asked with a tinge of humor laced within, kissing the tip of his cock gracefully before crawling over to his side and sliding her finger along his chest.

Agatha had been almost cold toward Ricky when they first met, viewing him as nothing more than a toy; however, over time, she began to warm up to his personality.

"By leaps and bounds." Ricky replied, stroking her hair gently as he rested his head against it, feeling her slowly lay down on his chest.

"So, how is the coven?" Ricky asked, aware that Agatha had made it painfully clear that her position as coven leader always came first, while their fun was a distant second.

"Stressful, to say the least. The elders can't agree on a new criterion for the younglings, and my nerves are suffering for it." Agatha sighed heavily, resting her head further onto his chest as he pushed the hair falling over her face to the side.

"It's why I needed this, our encounters always relieve my stress." Agatha patted him lightly, kissing his chest before winking at him in a playful manner.

"Well, being an outlet does have its benefits." Ricky shrugged, Agatha chuckling at his words before tracing an ouroboros on his peck.

"How are you? The last time we spoke, you were struggling with the sword." Agatha asked, checking in on him with a thoughtful gaze.

She remembered that the last time they held one another, it wasn't her relieving stress, but Ricky's frustration with swordsmanship that always seemed to linger.

*Sigh*

"It's just f*cking hard sometimes. The way Percival and Alexander talk, it's as if it's the easiest thing in the world, but I can barely manage my form at times." Ricky pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration evident as he struggled to learn how to wield a sword.

"Things like that take time. Be patient, and I'm sure you'll succeed," Agatha encouraged him, remembering how difficult it had been for her to learn magic at first, but Ricky's self-doubt was clear when it came to swordsmanship.

Everything else seemed easy for him, but with swordsmanship, it felt like it took ten times the effort to learn one thing compared to the average person.

"Yeah, I don't know if I have a knack for the sword-"

"Darling, listen." Agatha grasped his cheeks, turning his face toward her so he could gaze into her firm purple eyes.

"Strength, true strength, does not come to you suddenly out of nowhere." Agatha said, drawing from her own experience as she understood how frustrating it could be to struggle while others excelled.

"It requires time, focus, effort, and you're giving your training all of that and more." Agatha assured Ricky, trying to ease his doubts as over this time, she had grown emotionally attached to him.

"You're going to be fine. Remember that the ebony blade chose you for a reason." Agatha patted his cheek lightly before resting her head back on his chest.

"Yeah, it chose me for a reason." Ricky laid back on the bed, repeating Agatha's words while stroking her hair gently.

But as Agatha drifted into sleep, Ricky remained wide awake, staring at the ceiling above him.

What unnerved Ricky the most about his swordsmanship, compared to everything else, was that he was putting in significantly more effort.

Usually, he would shrug off such feelings, but for once in his life, he genuinely cared about improving himself and felt a deep sense of insecurity.

It wasn't new for Ricky to have things come easily to him; he had grown accustomed to it but this blade was different. 

Sometimes, on a rare occasion, he felt as small as he did when he was on that ship headed toward the Vatican when holding the ebony blade.

From the outside, Ricky always appeared to be in control, his sleazy smile masking the turmoil within and yet, the feeling of slipping always lingered in his mind. 

No matter how much he practiced, swinging it in a subpar manner or battling the spiraling, murderous thoughts that coursed through his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing his grasp on it. 

That feeling persisted in his chest until he glanced to the side, where the moon hung high in the sky, and realized that three hours had already passed.

Gently removing himself from Agatha, Ricky laid her head softly on the pillow and as he sat up, he felt a pair of watchful eyes open in the darkness.

"I take it I won't be receiving any cuddling throughout the night?" Agatha's purple eyes sparkled, shimmering like stars in the dim light.

"I just can't sleep, but I can stay-"

"No, it's alright. I have things I need to attend to as well." Agatha stood up, snapping her fingers as her clothes materialized around her, perfectly fitted and elegant.

"And Ricky." Agatha said, suddenly turning serious as a purple portal formed beside her, swirling with energy as she smiled reassuringly. 

"It's going to be alright." Agatha left him those warm parting words before stepping into the portal, leaving Ricky alone in the quiet of the room. 

He rubbed the back of his neck while letting out another sigh before walking toward the backyard, shirtless and clad only in a pair of shorts.

Holding out his hand, the ebony blade suddenly lodged itself into his grasp, and Ricky felt that gnawing murderous intent creep into his consciousness.

"Can't sleep?" Percival hovered nearby, crossing his arms as he watched Ricky practice his form.

"Obviously not if I'm here rather than in the arms of a beautiful woman." Ricky side-eyed Percival, clearly annoyed with the overly chivalrous man.

"Well, you're not the only one who lies awake at night, contemplating whether you're still in control," Percival replied, a smile creeping onto his face as he saw through Ricky, who turned his head forward. 

"But remember, perseverance through those thoughts means not giving into the temptations of killing, steeling your heart in a shield of chivalry-"

"You know, I've had my thoughts about that." Ricky suddenly stepped out of his form, turning back to face the ghost. 

"It seems like every single black knight you talk about in your examples of chivalry, the same ones who followed your advice, ended up the same way: out of their f*cking minds." Ricky pointed the sword at Percival, who looked down at his stubborn descendant.

"Keeping your mind pure and your code in your heart-"

"Gets you dead either way. So why should I dedicate myself to these stupid chivalrous teachings that lead nowhere but to the ground?" Ricky asked with a mocking laugh, seeing Percival's constant words of chivalry as nothing more than a dead art.

"Because that is what defines the good from the bad." Percival spoke from the heart, believing in his way with all of his heart.

"I think that's just a cop-out, an excuse to distract from the real truth." Ricky waved his finger at Percival, unable to see the light of this ghost's words.

"And what is that?" Percival raised his gaze at Ricky, watching him sheath the ebony blade.

"I think you liked it, being the black knight and cutting through everything in your path." Ricky's words caused Percival to squint, his gaze turning serious and unnerving.

"Using this act of chivalry to defend yourself from the piercing eyes of others? But I'm not like you; I don't f*cking care what others think of me just because I do what I need to survive." Ricky then turned his back, losing his appetite to train.

"You're walking a dangerous path young descendant-"

"Better than walking the same path as all the others who slowly lost their minds." Ricky waved his hand, determined to wield the sword according to his own values rather than those of a dead man.

Walking into the house, Ricky tossed the sword onto a nearby chair and made his way into the kitchen, which was filled with people. 

The owners of the house were currently vacationing, and Ricky had learned from Abraham to take advantage of these vacancies, so he helped himself to their wine cellar.

"So, you're Alexander the Great?" Barko asked in amazement as the gerbil, wearing Ricky's translation ring around its waist, nodded in response. 

When Ricky didn't need the ring, he would give it to Alexander so that he and Percival could communicate. 

However, after much consideration, Ricky had begun to trust Chores and Barko, deciding to let them in on some of his secrets.

"I am young Barko, I am." Alexander puffed out his furry chest, while Barko shook his head in amazement.

"Slick, can we talk?" Chores asked, approaching Ricky just as he was about to pour himself a glass.

"Sure, why not." Ricky nodded, standing up as he noticed Chores wanted to speak privately.

Chores led Ricky to a secluded room before turning around and rubbing the back of his neck.

"What's up?" Ricky asked as he sat in a chair and took a sip of the freshly poured glass of wine.

"Listen, Slick, I know you've been going through a rough patch, and I understand that you've dealt with some heavy stuff," Chores began, though Ricky didn't feel anger since he knew it was true.

"And I think it's great that you're finally taking the necessary steps to improve yourself. Me and Barko have been giving you your space, but-" Chores's expression grew serious as he recalled their time spent with Abraham.

"But I think you're putting too much trust in him, Abraham that is." Chores said honestly, observing Ricky's confused reaction as he raised an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about, Chores?" Ricky asked, sensing Chores struggling to find the right words.

"I know you believe you're using him, that you're only following him because he 'said' he'd teach you magic, but you're underestimating what you bring to the table." Chores finally said, prompting Ricky to let out a small sigh.

*Sigh*

"I know that most of the time I'm thrown into situations with strong vampires, but most of them are because Alexander wants me to get more practice in fighting," Ricky explained as he usually took the lead on these missions to hunt vampires instead of just following Abraham.

"That's not what I'm trying to say. I'm saying you're not leveraging your strengths enough, at least not in my eyes," Chores clarified, sharing his observations over the past three months.

"I understand that the whole magic thing is important and might bear fruit later, but Abraham has been using you to eliminate almost the entire heavy cavalry and consistently putting you in these situations," Chores said, his assessment ringing true in Ricky's mind as he started to contemplate Chores words.

Over the past week, Ricky had been under Abraham's tutelage, concentrating on battling the strongest vampires they aimed to hunt down. While Abraham would also engage in the fights, the effort he would need to expend against the vampires Ricky faced would be nearly ten times less. 

"That Eliphas guy really clouded my judgment, especially after Abraham used you as a decoy to manipulate the immensely strong vampire into his agreement," Chores expressed his thoughts as Ricky frowned deeply, finally realizing the extent to which he had been used.

"I don't mean anything by this-"

"No, thank you for not just following me around and being a yes man," Ricky said, dismissing Chores with a wave as he genuinely appreciated being called out.

Abraham had essentially dragged Ricky into a fight without consulting him, a fact that now irked him to no end. 

He stewed over this for quite some time until Abraham finally returned to the safe house, carrying a bag of blue crystals.

"Oh, hey, kid." Abraham flinched, clenching the bag tightly before letting out a sigh, recognizing it was Ricky.

"We need to talk." Ricky remarked, noting Abraham's raised eyebrow as he scanned the area, realizing that the usual group was nowhere to be found.

"Is this about my drinking?" Abraham asked, but Ricky shook his head with a laugh.

"The only problem I have with your drinking is that you don't share." Ricky stood up from his chair, and Abraham returned the laughter.

"This is about earlier with that Eliphas guy." Ricky pointed, and Abraham rolled his eyes while letting out a dismissive breath.

"He wasn't going to do anything to you-"

"That's not the point; you led me into a losing situation without even a lick of context." Ricky pointed, and Abraham raised one of his hands.

"Fine, I apologize-"

*BAM*

"Ugh!" Abraham fell to the ground as Ricky formed a mini psionic cannonball and shot it at his stomach.

*COUGH*

As Abraham began to cough, Ricky moved gracefully toward him, bending down to his level. 

Abraham looked up, his face flushed from the coughing fit, as if he were the one who had been wronged.

"Listen, Abraham. I respect you as a mentor and appreciate the experience you bring, and I'm grateful you took me under your wing in terms of magic," Ricky said, gripping Abraham's shoulder with a fierce gaze, smiling amidst Abraham's coughing fit. 

"But that was your last warning cause I'm getting tired of this same charade. The next time you lead me into a situation with an overpowered vampire without giving me a heads-up, I'm going to hurt you, got it?" Ricky's voice was chilling, mirroring the tension of his past encounter with Xarus, and Abraham could see just how furious Ricky was.

"Got it," Abraham said, a little out of breath, as Ricky pushed him aside and walked away with Abraham's flask.

"Little sh*t-"

*TINK*

Ricky, reacting swiftly, turned and hurled the flask at Abraham's head, prompting him to roll on the ground in agony.

"F*CK!" Abraham exclaimed, clutching his forehead in pain as the metal flask clattered to the ground beside him.

"Goodnight, Abraham." Ricky waved, a smirk playing on his lips as Abraham sneered through his discomfort.

"Go f*ck yourself."

The next day,

In the morning, Chores was busy cooking breakfast while everyone gathered at the table. Abraham held a bag of peas against his forehead, wincing at the lingering pain.

"Did you have to throw my flask at me, jackass?" he asked, shooting Ricky a disdainful glare.

"I didn't have to; I just really wanted to," Ricky replied with a shrug, a smile playing on his lips as he bit into a piece of bacon.

Just then, Alexander scurried over to Abraham's plate and snatched a piece of bacon for himself.

"Give me my bacon-"

"YOU DARE!" Alexander exclaimed, spinning around to point at Abraham, who flinched at the sudden confrontation.

"You dare make demands after the stunt you pulled with my disciple, you scum," he scoffed, nibbling on the stolen bacon.

"You think I've never eaten gerbils before?" Abraham shot back, his voice growing cold.

 "Do you think I've never killed giants before?" Alexander smirked, unfazed at the threat and with that remark, he took a bite of the bacon right in front of Abraham. 

The silence that followed was palpable until finally, Abraham nodded in respect, and Alexander continued to walk away.

"I respect it," Abraham said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

"So let's iron out the details of how we're going to Germany to see what Dracula's up to, or else that little sissy over there will start whining-OW! DID YOU JUST THROW A PLATE AT ME?" Abraham yelled, looking incredulously at Ricky, who merely shrugged as if he didn't know what he was talking about.

"That Eliphas guy said to meet him there after a month; we'll start planning after he tells us how the hell we're getting there, but even then, I don't trust that guy." Ricky first pointed out, seeing something really fishy in that guy but Abraham shook his head in denial.

"Eliphas is a lot of things-"

"I don't care; I don't trust him, nor do I trust you as far as I can throw you outside our training." Ricky outright insulted Abraham, who gnashed his teeth.

"You know, I've had enough of you being such a little sh*t to me when it was YOU WHO FOLLOWED ME!" Abraham yelled, only for Ricky to jump to his feet and point back at him.

"BECAUSE YOU WERE PUT IN CHARGE OF ME-"

"OH F*CKING PLEASE, YOU THINK I CARE WHAT SEB SAYS-"

"YES, LITERALLY HE IS THE ONLY PERSON I'VE SEEN YOU LISTEN TO!" Ricky yelled, forcing Abraham to retract his words since they were indeed true.

"And besides, you owe me for leaving me for dead." Ricky held onto that grudge as Abraham crossed his arms.

"Oh my god, when are you going to stop being such a sissy and let that go?" Abraham scoffed, not caring in the least for his previous actions.

"When the chips are down, I'm dying, and you don't leave me behind." Ricky countered, watching as Abraham rubbed his forehead in frustration.

"So what, you want me to train you to help you get stronger, is that all?" Abraham plopped down in his seat, munching on his breakfast.

"Uh, yeah?" Ricky replied, a bit unsure if that was the right answer, but Abraham merely scoffed.

"Young people, I swear. You crave strength and power, yet you haven't even begun to grasp what true overwhelming power really is." Abraham leaned back, munching on his bacon while downing it with his flask full of bourbon.

"What is it-"

"Responsibility!" Abraham yelled at Ricky, frustrated that the kid wanted all the benefits without acknowledging the drawbacks. 

"You think you can just gain power and get whatever you want? Well, you can't, at least not in this world." Abraham laughed, his tone laced with the weight of experience.

"There are many powers lurking, not just in this world, but beyond, things I haven't even encountered, and I was at the pinnacle of magic in my era!" Abraham exclaimed, his voice heavy with the weight of unspoken fears. 

"I've wielded power the likes of which you've never seen, and sure, it's nice. But strength always comes with opposition, and opposition leads to conflict. It's a never-ending cycle that just wears you down." Abraham let out a pained sigh, recalling a time when he wasn't locked in a struggle against Dracula

"Sometimes I regret being so strong, but what I don't regret is having the true power to control my fate because I'm glad that there wasn't some random cosmic entity that was looking for a challenge and tried to seek me out. Because if you think that your really strong, wait til you realize that the universe f*cking huge-"

*SIGH*

"It's just so annoying." Abraham thumped his head against the counter, his frustration evident as Ricky watched him with a plain expression.

"Is that a yes or-"

"Just go outside; I'll be there in a second," Abraham sighed, his face pressed down against the counter.

Not thinking much of it, Ricky walked out, and Abraham leaned back in his chair, catching sight of Chores cooking breakfast for himself.

"Yeah, Chores, right?" Abraham asked, glancing over at the big guy, who turned to him without a hint of concern.

"No, thank you." Chores replied, setting the plate down and removing his apron, only to notice Abraham giving him a strange look.

"What do you mean I didn't say anything-"

"You were about to say something about how I'm not strong enough, that Slick will abandon me or get me killed if I stick around for too long," Chores stated, preemptively answering Abraham's unspoken concerns, leaving the latter somewhat shocked.

"I know, but even so, I would've died if Ricky hadn't come to my rescue when he did, so I owe him my life," Chores continued, his conviction clear, but Abraham shook his head in disagreement.

"And what, you've accepted your fate, just like the kid?" Abraham asked, gesturing toward Ricky, who was stretching in the sun, barely clothed.

"Abraham, you continue to think that you and Ricky are the same but in reality, like I said before, you are only similar." Chores dabbed his mouth, gazing at Abraham with a calm expression.

"Ricky is a selfish womanizer, yes, but unlike you, I believe he makes a difference, whether it's for himself or against others, he causes change." Chores explained, sharing his reasons for staying and his high opinion of Ricky.

"A difference? You're kidding. What difference has he made that wasn't just for his own ambition?" Abraham protested, but Chores shook his head.

"If a man starts a fire just to watch it burn, does that change the fact that he set fire to all the obstacles surrounding himself?" Chores countered, posing a question that truly stumped Abraham.

"Ricky isn't a good person, I'll agree with you on that. But even when he does wrong, he somehow manages to do right by those backing him, or at least he tries." Chores explained, pausing to reflect for a moment. 

"It's hard to put into words, but once you spend enough time with Ricky, you'll see what I mean." Chores finished his plate, rinsed it in the sink, and then walked outside.

Ricky settled into a meditative pose, recognizing that magic training differed vastly from weapons practice. 

Unlike the physicality of combat, mastering magic demanded inner focus and spiritual alignment. 

There were many types and areas of magic, but Ricky, like Abraham, harnessed core magic, drawing upon the mana within his own body.

Mana, an ethereal and potent energy, served as the lifeblood of all magical practices. 

It flowed through the veins like an invisible current, circulating throughout the user's body and it was exceedingly rare for humans to be born with magic, and even rarer for them to contain this mystical power within themselves. 

Those few fortunate enough to possess magic from birth did not automatically form a core, a fact Ricky learned the hard way when Abraham called him a 'dumbass' for assuming otherwise.

For his practice, Ricky had to feel the flow of his magic within the core of his heart, a glowing nexus of mana he visualized as a pulsating, radiant sphere. 

From there, he needed to learn to channel this energy, moving it throughout his body with precision and intent.

This process demanded patience and acute self-awareness, as the mana responded to his emotional and mental state, requiring a delicate balance between focus and relaxation. 

Spells were even harder to master, as they necessitated precise calculations and a deep understanding of magical mathematics. 

Each incantation required not just knowledge but a harmony between intention and execution, ensuring that the energy he summoned would manifest exactly as he envisioned.

Ricky inhaled deeply, centering himself, feeling the warmth of his core pulse in sync with his breath. 

With every exhale, he focused on releasing distractions, allowing the mana to flow freely through him. 

He knew that even a moment's lapse in concentration could lead to unintended consequences.

Ricky, who was terrible at math, struggled immensely with this aspect of his training. The intricate calculations required to manipulate mana were a formidable challenge for him, and despite his best efforts, he found himself overwhelmed by numbers and formulas. Each attempt to channel his magic felt like scaling an insurmountable wall, with his mind often drifting back to simpler pursuits.

Yet through all his patience and relentless determination, he had managed to learn four basic elemental spells, each one a testament to his perseverance in the face of his numerical challenges.

Fireball: A swirling sphere of flame that burst forth from his fingertips, igniting anything it touched. 

Wind Slash: A sharp gust of air that could slice through obstacles, its blade as sharp as the focus of its caster.

Water Surge: A wave of water that could either heal or hinder, a wide-cast array spell used for fights with multiple comrades or enemies.

Earth Wall: A large protective barrier that rose from the ground, a spell formed for defensive purposes.

It wasn't that Ricky lacked the desire to learn more; he was eager to expand and use cool magic that everyone seemed to be able to wield. 

However, when faced with the complexities of an advanced spell requiring knowledge of Calculus, he quickly became overwhelmed. 

Frustrated and disheartened, Ricky decided to abandon the effort of learning more complex spells for the time being. 

Instead, he chose to concentrate on mastering the three basic elemental spells to their fullest potential. 

He understood that a solid foundation was crucial, and he hoped that by refining these spells would help prepare himself for more advanced magic in the future.

"Tsk, listen, kid. I get it—you don't want to learn advanced arithmetic until you've fully mastered those basic spells. But they can only take you so far," Abraham said, frustration seeping into his tone.

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm~" Ricky hummed, slipping into meditation as he tuned out Abraham's voice. The old man's expression soured further, his teeth gritting in annoyance.

"Fine." Abraham huffed, waving a dismissive hand. 

"It's not like I care if you end up killing yourself." Abraham, with a scoff, he settled himself off to the side and picked up a newspaper, flipping through the pages with exaggerated disinterest, all while casting occasional glances at Ricky, who remained blissfully unaware of the world around him.

The Van Helsing meditation method, renowned for its ability to refine and amplify the flow of core magic, demanded a grueling two hours of intense concentration and absolute stillness. 

"So about magic relating to math-"

"You ain't got what it takes, Barko." Abraham flipped the newspaper, his expression shifting to one of disappointment.

"How dare you, a rancid old man, speak down to my furry comrade!" Alexander, clad in his imposing armor, brandished his spear menacingly at the indifferent Abraham.

"Listen, furball." Abraham shot back, not bothering to look up. 

"Unless you feel what magic is like, you'll never be able to wield it." Abraham turned the page of the newspaper, dismissing Alexander's indignation. 

Despite the insult, Barko perked up, his ears standing tall as if sensing the tension.

"F-FURBALL-"

"It's like asking a blind guy to paint the ocean," Abraham elaborated, his tone matter-of-fact. 

"Can you really expect him to know what it looks like or even get the colors right? Of course not." Abraham glanced at Barko, who nodded thoughtfully, the weight of the analogy sinking in.

"Then, the reason you can manipulate magic-"

"It's because I already possessed it, mastered it, and memorized its textures well enough to wield it." Abraham explained to Barko, who listened intently, deep in thought as he tilted his head in contemplation.

"Then if I am to assume that those vials are magic in its liquid form, how do you always possess such vials if you cannot-"

"I've got a guy," Abraham said, quickly flipping to the next page of the newspaper, shifting the conversation's focus as Barko nodded in understanding as Percival hovered nearby.

"Abraham, it is uncommon for a black knight to possess magic. May I ask for your opinion on young Ricky's progress?" Percival inquired, his curiosity evident as he met Abraham's gaze, a rarity among the others.

Despite Abraham's many flaws, he held a grudging respect for a select few figures, one of whom was the legendary first black knight.

"Honestly, Ser Percival," Abraham said, his tone surprisingly earnest. 

"It's best to minimize his weapon training for now. It's imperative that he strikes while his core is still malleable." Abraham looked up at the floating ghost, who nodded in understanding.

"It's surprising that someone so undeserving possesses such a vast range of powers, but if Ricky continues to act without properly honing his skills one at a time, he'll become nothing more than a hollow shell of a once formidable figure." Abraham offered his honest assessment to Percival, who rubbed his chin thoughtfully, deep in contemplation.

"None of us are masters of the mind," Abraham stated bluntly. "Ricky must learn to harness his psychic powers independently while simultaneously mastering three weapons. On top of that, he needs to grasp the intricacies of wielding magic." Abraham's words hung in the air, Alexander felt a surge of resistance rising within him, but he couldn't shake the truth of what Abraham was saying.

"I was the same at his age, but Ricky is well—.......Ricky." Abraham stated, unsure how to explain it, but both Percival and Alexander immediately understood.

A collective sigh escaped the group as they turned their gazes toward Ricky, who remained focused on his practice, seemingly unfazed by the discussions around him.

"It's best that his main focuses are his psychic abilities and magic for the time being, until he gains a better grasp of them." Abraham continued, his words causing Percival to frown heavily.

"But the ebony blade-"

"Can wait, I ain't gonna tag along forever like you two might." Abraham continued, revealing that eventually they would split up.

"I agreed to help Ricky learn magic until he finds out what Dracula is up to; that's the agreement we reached after the train." Abraham revealed, outlining the limits of their deal as Percival nodded in understanding.

"But wasn't the deal to help kill Dracula?" Alexander inquired, but Abraham scoffed, glancing over at Ricky and shaking his head.

"The kid can't kill Dracula. Only I can, but I need to do it alone. Once I've gathered enough of Mother Mary's tears, I'll be ready." Abraham's gaze fell on the five vials sitting on the counter, the same ones Ricky had threatened to smash months ago.

"I've been preparing for twenty years, ever since that day," Abraham said, his grip tightening around the vials before he tucked them back into his trench coat as he met Chores's steady gaze, noting the intensity in the big man's eyes.

"Then you plan to leave after Slick helps you uncover the truth, correct?" Chores asked, his voice steady and unwavering, betraying a mistrust that lingered unlike the others in the room.

"Correct."