CHAPTER 22: NOVA AETAS

When the crowd finally disperses, only we remain, surrounded by about twenty hooded figures.

Their blood-red cloaks drag across the ground as they move.

Beneath their hoods, they wear masks the color of dried blood, each carved with the terrifying face of a demon.

Jagged fangs, narrow slits for eyes—it’s unnerving just to look at them.

But one figure stands out, slightly ahead of the others, holding a massive halberd.

Shit... this reeks of an ambush!

And who the hell are these cloaked people supposed to be?!

Whoever they are, they’re not here with good intentions... I’m scared out of my damn mind!

«We have no reason to kill honorable soldiers like you!» declares the hooded figure with the halberd.

Her voice is firm, resolute, and unmistakably female.

«Lay down your weapons and hand over Princesses Ayra and Daphne. If you do this without resistance, I swear on my honor your lives will be spared!»

«Be careful, that’s the White Death!» one of the soldiers shouts in alarm.

«Don’t believe a word from that terrorist!» another yells with determination to his comrades. «We swore to protect the royal family with our lives, and we will not back down!»

«Honor...» Daphne mutters, her voice sharp with irritation—it’s the first time I’ve seen her lose her usual composure. «What do you know of honor?! You betrayed your family, denied the blood that gave you life, murdered our beloved sister, and joined those terrorists! Never again dare to soil the word "honor" with your filthy mouth, White Death! Or perhaps I should call you by your true name... Vespera Volkom!»

The hooded woman raises a hand to her mask.

It dissolves into a swirl of crimson smoke, revealing what was no longer a secret—her identity.

She’s a woman in her thirties, with long, straight white hair.

«Ayra... what’s happening?» I ask, my voice trembling with fear and worry.

I turn toward her.

Her face is twisted in a mask of rage.

Her fists bleed as her nails dig deep into her palms, consumed by a fury ready to explode any second.

«My sister... no, that bitch, is Vespera Volkom. She was once the third daughter of Viktor, but now she’s nothing but a filthy traitor. My beloved sister, Karol Volkom—the fifth daughter—had long suspected Vespera of being tied to Nova Aetas, a terrorist group bent on exterminating the vampire race in the name of absurd, self-destructive ideals. But no one ever took Karol’s suspicions seriously. In fact, Father even despised her for daring to voice such outrageous accusations. Karol was always the most intelligent and perceptive among us, but in the end, her brilliance cost her life.»

Ayra’s face, beyond her rage, is streaked with tears carving down her flushed cheeks.

«One night, Vespera left the castle without permission. Karol, who had just begun following her in secret to find proof, tailed her. Karol’s diary, where she wrote down all her suspicions, ends there. The next morning, her mutilated body was found in a clearing near the castle, and Vespera had vanished without a trace.» Ayra’s voice, broken by sobs, grows heavier with grief. «Karol, if only we had listened to you... but today I will avenge your death. I swear it!»

«Shut up your mouth! Scum like us don’t deserve to live another moment in this world!» Vespera screams in fury. «We will free N’Raeth from the tyranny of vampires, a cancer that must be torn out as soon as possible! We are a vile, ruthless race that oppresses every other in this world and even beyond it, only for selfish gain!»

«You’re completely insane...» Daphne says, her tone cold and dripping with disgust.

«No. I’ve simply opened my eyes to the truth. You call yourselves rulers of the universe, wallowing in your ego and thirst for power, crushing other peoples and expanding your dominion with endless bloodshed! You are the true madmen, and I will end this madness once and for all!»

Vespera lifts her halberd high into the air—a signal.

«Kill them all!»

At her command, the hooded figures surge forward.

Their bodies radiate a violent crimson aura as they charge, led by Vespera herself.

But the soldiers defending us prove just as formidable.

The clash of steel and powerful magic tears apart the ground beneath our feet, shattering nearby buildings.

It feels like we’re caught in the middle of a massive earthquake.

Bolts of crimson energy rip through the sky and rebound across the battlefield, only to be repelled by equally powerful defensive spells.

Everything happens so fast I can hardly follow it.

I stand frozen amid the catastrophic chaos, powerless, unable to move.

A shimmering barrier of energy, woven from Ayra and Daphne’s combined magic, shields us for the moment.

But the exhaustion in their eyes is clear—I don’t know how long they can hold it.

As if that weren’t enough, Daphne explains that normal teleportation magic is useless here.

The sheer amount of energy flooding the battlefield creates interference strong enough to destabilize the spell—trying to use it now would mean certain death.

We have no choice but to rely on the skill of our bodyguards.

Our fate lies entirely in their hands.