Chapter 18 - Irrational

That Same Night

A Few Minutes Later

The Count’s Temporary Residence

Near the Bathroom

The door was seen opening, and the Count (40 years old) walked calmly after taking his bath, ready to lie down in bed.

He was already dressed from the waist down, while he hadn’t yet put on his shirt, preferring to remain shirtless when alone in his "chambers."

Before reaching his room to organize some documents—documents he would spend the night reading, likely falling asleep only at the break of dawn—

someone appeared to knock on his door with respectful restraint, calling him by name and stating that an exclusive message had arrived for him.

The message had been sent from the human reality to the Oculi reality, where he presently resided.

The moment he heard this, the Count immediately walked toward the entrance of the residence, slinging the towel over his left shoulder.

As he tried to fix his short, white hair—still messy from the recent bath—and after just a few steps, he reached the door.

Upon opening it, he revealed, standing in the hallway, a young woman around twenty years old, with long, white hair that was immaculately cared for.

This was one of the reasons he found himself briefly entranced by the sheer natural beauty that surrounded her like a quiet aura.

And in those few seconds, he was able to perceive that this young woman bore the genetic roots of the ancient city of Luskrusca.

Her clothing, paired with her head bowed in respect—never once meeting the Count’s eyes—spoke volumes about her deference.

Yet, the moment she heard his voice, she immediately recognized it—he was the one person in all of existence whose presence she had hoped never to encounter.

Her head rose slowly, revealing widened eyes filled with disbelief, staring ahead as if refusing to accept the reality before her.

The Count, meanwhile, was drying his hair with one hand, the large towel still partially draped over his shoulder.

He stood shirtless, his chest and back calmly exposed, revealing numerous healed scars from battles long past.

Many of those wounds had been earned in the name of his former best friend and queen, Luna. Others were in service of her daughters—Lilian, Urius, and the eldest, Nox.

It was his solemn duty as the sole personal guard of the current royal lineage—now reduced to the young Queen Lilian, only fifteen years old.

And of her two older sisters: Urius, twenty-three, and Nox, twenty-five, who was currently absent, operating within the human reality.

Together with the Count, she led the forces of the Reginae faction from that world, while Lilian commanded its other half from their origin realm.

To the Count, the three daughters of Luna—his best friend, now ten years gone—were the only people she had ever loved more than her own life.

And before her death, they were the three people she entrusted—without hesitation—to the one soul she believed in more than any other in the entire world.

To protect, and above all, to care for… should shadows ever desire to harm them, either by the blade or by the slow and silent weight of nightfall.

Knowing all of this—because it was one of the most well-known facts in that entire world, and above all, because it encapsulated one of its central pillars.

The life story of the Count, who now stood before that girl, who immediately felt her world slow down abruptly.

That girl too was dressed in black, the uniform of the Reginae faction, suggesting in the Count’s eyes that she was merely an officer-in-training.

Assigned her duty that very night: to deliver items to various dormitories scattered across that section of the base.

One of the calmest and most routine tasks available, frequently given to trainees.

So they could cultivate greater attentiveness and, above all, focus on their more formal duties—those not related to combat.

The girl seemed to glance at the many healed scars that marked the Count’s chest, beginning to understand why the Count’s 35-year record was spoken of with such awe.

Something so astonishing, and at the same time terrifying in its own way—how could someone have faced “death” so many times and still exist?

For many among the new generation, it was inconceivable that a person like the Count could truly exist in the real world—and not merely in tales and fictional legends.

And that perception now triggered something in her—a chill that ran down her spine, spreading rapidly through her entire body in a matter of seconds.

She realized that if she allowed him to uncover her true identity—and especially the purpose behind her current mission, which, at that moment, made her an enemy—

An infiltrator within that subterranean Reginae base—a place she regarded as hostile territory where she had but one goal in the coming weeks—

She would, without doubt, be killed by the very hands of the one who now stood before her, as she continued to pose as a mere trainee officer.

At that moment, their gazes crossed for the first time, causing time itself to seem to flow more slowly.

As their eyes locked, each staring deeply into the other's, a reflection took shape—within her eyes, the image of the Count appeared relaxed and unbothered.

He apologized to her for not wearing a shirt, having just come out of the shower and gone straight to the door to meet her.

Simultaneously, reflected in his eyes was the young girl, frozen in place, instinctively taking a single, subtle step backward.

Internally, she was screaming at herself to beg for his mercy, even though he had done absolutely nothing to her in that moment.

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He did not even suspect that she was an infiltrator, possibly the greatest enemy hidden within the entirety of the Reginae’s underground base.

For that young woman, merely twenty years old, was in truth Miss Viatã herself—an infiltrator and the vice-leader of the organization Duodecim Relicti.

She had been in that place for just under five days, with a single, unshakable objective: to assassinate the central pillar currently sustaining—

No less than all that remained of the hope and purpose behind Reginae’s continued existence since Luna’s death ten years prior.

Viata’s target during her infiltration was none other than the current young queen, the youngest daughter of Luna—Lilian.

Lilian, who was being protected within that base by every active Reginae soldier, be they fully initiated or still in training.

All of them served solely the ideals upon which the Reginae faction had been founded: to protect the last light of hope—a light that no longer shone on the horizon.

For Luna had perished, and now, in her place, the one who shone was her youngest daughter, Lilian, who, despite her youth, led alongside her older middle sister, Urius.

And then, in a single blink of her eye, Viatã was suddenly seized by a vision—one of the darkest possible futures she could ever imagine.

A Few Moments Later

Inside Her Mind

This vision showed Viatã observing another version of herself from a possible future—one that was badly injured, wearing the same clothes she wore in the present, standing before the Count.

She appeared to be trying to escape from something that was desperately and furiously hunting her, while the setting around her was none other than the lowest level of the Reginae base’s underground.

It was the same place where Viatã and the Count stood face to face in the present, but in this possible vision, the entire area was engulfed in flames and surrounded by debris.

This scene took place after Viatã had completed her mission as an infiltrator in that base, and behind her echoed the animalistic scream of the Count in utter despair.

His voice triggered an intense tremor, a release of the raw force of his essence erupting outward in every direction.

It surged forward like a white lightning bolt cutting through the darkness and the flaming wreckage of that ruined part of the base.

All around her were lifeless bodies buried under rubble, while others still clung to life, gravely wounded, gasping for air and crying out for help.

The Count landed on the ground several meters behind that future version of Viatã, who immediately stopped limping forward, trembling with irrational fear.

Her eyes, wide with horror, betrayed the terror of having finally been found by the Count—after what she had done with her own hands, still stained with blood.

Through the smoke that billowed from the crater he had created upon landing, the Count appeared—sending out a pulse of sheer force as he rose.

He stood up with an overwhelming fury and commanding presence, clad in his tailored black garments—unique in all the world—bestowed upon him as a gift from his best friend and former queen, Luna.

It was a design of such formal elegance and refined craftsmanship, yet beneath it all lay the mark of royalty.

His body and clothes were stained with dust and blood.

But his hands... his hands were stained with the blood of only one person—someone who no longer lived because of Viatã.

She had used her blade, materialized from her essence, to pierce the heart of one of Luna’s three daughters—shattering the Count’s psyche in immediate response.

That version of Viatã in the vision turned around with eyes full of horror, hearing the deep, beast-like breathing of the Count behind her.

She saw him approaching with his head bowed, his face hidden beneath blood-streaked white hair, dust, and fragments of ruin.

Then, she saw his eyes—those eyes previously obscured now laid bare, consumed by the slowest, coldest thirst for vengeance imaginable.

It was the most terrifying gaze anyone had ever cast upon that version of Viatã, and even the present-day Viatã, watching the vision unfold, could see that face.

She looked into the depth of his eyes as she turned and begged him not to come any closer.

Then, she collapsed to the ground, watching as he advanced, step by step—each one pressing slightly deeper into the floor, creating a suffocating pressure in the air within a meter around him.

That Viatã, calling him a monster for emanating such a horrid presence, saw on his lips a smile beginning to form—one consumed by pure sadism.

It was the first time he ever spoke her true name, after realizing she was the cursed infiltrator in that base full of people good in essence.

He thus made her a vow, staking his own life: he himself would go after every single person involved in the organization to which she belonged.

And he would kill each of them in the most brutal and slow way possible—because that Viatã had killed one of the three people he had sworn to protect at any cost.

In the name of his best friend and former queen, Luna. Giving form, through the use of his special Oculi abilities, by using his own essence as fuel.

What took shape in one of his hands was his own blade—cracked in appearance yet still luminous—fully materialized from his own essence.

It glowed in a white so pure and at the same time so pale, with a hue of extreme coldness.

Creating what seemed like a powerful light that made the darkness of the burning, debris-filled underground base

appear, for a few consecutive seconds, to be above ground under the light of the sun. That version of the Count, whose eyes were so empty, locked his gaze onto hers.

She tried to move backward while still collapsed on the ground, desperately seeking to get away from him, even though her legs were numb.

Faced with an irrational fear that left her trembling and breathless. That very gaze had only been seen three times in the last 35 years—

in which the Count had served the throne since childhood at Luna’s side. And afterward, at the side of her heir, Lilian, and her older sisters, Urius and Lady Nox.

The last of those three times had been five years ago, after the complete fall of the Oculi capital at the hands of the Inanis faction, in a monstrous and vile attack on the capital's population.

Returning to the Present

Still in That Hallway

That scene was now viewed from the present with a broader perspective, as he stood behind the door inside the apartment.

He was looking at the young girl in the hallway, displaying a slightly concerned gaze, due to her strange reaction.

It suggested that she was afraid of him for some reason, which made him, who had previously stood so nonchalantly before her...

Change his expression upon seeing her hand over the small box tucked under her arm, trying her best to maintain her composure.

Avoiding looking at his face again, and above all, avoiding eye contact from that moment on.

She had studied some of these stories when she was younger in the past, and she knew the tales and legends that had named the Count after his deeds in the name of the throne — such as: “The Shadow Guardian.”

The young girl asked him to sign the digital validation system, so that she could leave that place immediately.

Claiming she had "other" deliveries to make that evening. He was confused by her unexpected reaction to his respectful apology.

He wondered whether, somehow, in a way he hadn’t yet realized, he had possibly frightened this young girl — who was a stranger to him.

But in truth, even if he spent hours pondering, he would never guess the real reason behind Viatã’s reaction — lowering her gaze before him.

It conveyed respect toward him at first glance, yet at the same time revealed fear in her slightly trembling hands as she handed him the box.

She hadn’t uttered a single word after that horrid vision that had appeared within her own mind. Even though she was extremely skilled...

Compared to almost 90% of the forces present within that underground base — the headquarters of Reginae — she wouldn’t stand a chance, not even the slightest.

Not against the brutal training of the organization Duodecim Relicti, to which she had belonged for almost ten years — not if it came to a real combat situation between her and the Count standing before her.

Viatã instinctively seemed to take a small step back after handing the box to the Count, apologizing for disturbing him as she walked away from the front of his dormitory.

Leaving the Count to look at the scene with so many doubts, stepping outside the dormitory unable to understand what had just happened between him and that young girl (Viatã).

She apologized once again while Viatã had her back turned to him, waving her hand for him not to look back, accepting her apology at his first glance.

But in reality, she kept her back turned because she was nothing less than silently and instinctively crying over the entire previous mental scene she had witnessed.

Having almost caused him to panic in front of the Count moments before, she was trying with all her strength to walk calmly.

And not run away in total panic down that corridor, knowing that now with the Count’s presence inside that base,

She would have to completely rework the plan for her current mission, and immediately get in touch with her superior and founder of Duodecim Relicti, Lucian.

To report that one of the worst scenarios was now among them: the presence once again in reality of Oculi, coming from the human world.

The greatest obstacle to reaching Lilian’s heart was none other than her "dear" guardian of shadows.