Otaku Translation: Lone Adventure V4C7

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On the second underground level of the Woodland Mausoleum stood a grand hall dedicated to Teflimar, the goddess of death who ruled over the path of souls and safeguarded the silent realm of eternity. The people revered her as both merciful through death and protective in silence, hoping she would honor the spirits of warriors she had ushered into the afterlife. In reverence, they built this sacred chamber deep within the catacombs.

But now, this once solemn sanctuary reeked of decay and corruption. Piles of desiccated corpses—stacked with horrifying brutality—littered every corner: beneath columns, near walls, even beside the statue of Teflimar herself. These bodies were dry and brittle, their skin stretched taut over exposed bones, making it impossible to discern gender or identity. Yet, despite their lifeless state, the faces bore expressions of unimaginable terror and despair, their final moments of agony etched into their skeletal remains like grotesque sculptures.

The corpses were stripped bare, robbed of all dignity. Rusted chains pierced through their shoulder blades, binding them together in ghastly strings. Foul-smelling, yellowish fluids pooled on the floor, spreading unchecked. Some bodies had begun to rot and mold, while others crumbled into ash.

Scattered throughout the hall were vampires—viscounts and barons clad in frilled noble attire. Among them were vampiresses known as "blood countesses," dressed provocatively with lustful gazes. These vile creatures mingled freely, shamelessly caressing and kissing one another, sinking their fangs into each other’s necks to drink blood. Crimson streams trickled down their lips and chins, painting macabre lines across their pale skin. They cackled wickedly, reveling in their depravity. Here, amidst the stench of blood and debauchery, violence and death intertwined to create a sinister atmosphere that churned the stomach.

"Whistle…" Long Triangle let out a low, teasing whistle. “…Now I understand why minors aren’t allowed to register accounts…"

Unlike my orc friend, I couldn’t remain calm or lighthearted. My heart swelled with rage, a fiery anger searing my chest and scorching my breath. My hands gripped my weapon so tightly that my knuckles turned white and numb. No, I could not tolerate this savagery, this evil. These monstrous beings did not deserve to walk among the living.

For the first time, an uncontrollable desire for slaughter consumed me. I wanted to eradicate every last one of these fiends, leaving none alive. I vowed to avenge those whose lives they had drained, to repay them for their atrocities. If the deaths I had caused before were merely acts of duty—born of orders, tasks, or opposing factions—now I pursued carnage purely by my own will.

At that moment, a vampiress emerged from the piles of corpses, dragging a trembling young boy behind her. His face was pale and devoid of sunlight, his screams piercing yet powerless as she sank her fangs into his throat. She drank greedily, swallowing mouthfuls of warm, life-filled liquid. At first, the boy thrashed wildly, kicking his legs in anguish, but soon his convulsions slowed, then ceased entirely. When the vampiress finally rose, satisfied, the once-handsome youth had been reduced to a hollow husk. She laughed shrilly, clearly pleased with herself.

This sight ignited the fury simmering within me.

I don’t recall when I charged into the fray; I only remember finding myself face-to-face with the vampiress. How many enemies I attracted during my reckless dash, I cannot say. They surrounded me, roaring furiously as they closed in. There was no time to think—only the image of the boy’s agonizing demise burned in my mind. All I wanted was to tear this vampiress apart, limb from limb.

She wore a violet satin gown, its straps delicate, its plunging neckline accentuating her figure. Her blue eyes sparkled, her golden curls framed her face, and her curves were undeniably alluring. To most, she might have appeared bewitchingly beautiful.

But to me, she was the ugliest demon imaginable. Her bright eyes gleamed with greed, her crimson lips thirsted for blood, and her claw-like fingers tore at death itself. Every trace of beauty about her seemed twisted and grotesque.

“Good grief, he’s gone mad! How are we supposed to fight with so many enemies?” Amidst the chaos, I heard Long Triangle grumble anxiously as he hacked away at the encroaching foes.

“Haha, who cares? I love it! Kill them all!” Longbow Sunshot cheered, charging toward me. Before he even arrived, his bizarre battle cries echoed through the crypt. Inspired, the tauren shaman and elven mage eagerly joined the fray.

“A bunch of reckless fools! We’re doomed if this keeps up…” The orc rogue stomped his feet in frustration, cursing loudly. Then, throwing caution to the wind, he shouted, “Fine, kill away! If we all die, it won’t be me reviving our corpses later—not with a priest and a shaman around!” With that, his form blurred, melting into the shadows of the tomb walls. Moments later, he reappeared beside a fallen vampire, a bloodied dagger in hand.

Compared to the male vampire nobles who relied on brute force, these female vampires excelled in magical combat. The vampiress I pursued wielded an enhanced version of Blood Drain and could shape blood into sharp projectiles, firing them at incredible speeds. While weaker than ice-based spells like Ice Arrow, the sheer number of blood spikes fired by multiple vampiresses made their assault formidable.

In addition to offensive magic, she cast a defensive spell called Blood Armor. A thin layer of blood enveloped her, forming a spherical shield pulsating with eerie red light. This barrier absorbed much of my attacks, preventing me from landing a fatal blow quickly.

However, the tearing damage inflicted by my Serrated Ripper wasn’t diminished by the magical shield. Under relentless assault, her health plummeted rapidly. Repeated uses of my Armor-Piercing Sword skill weakened the Blood Armor until its glow faded almost completely. Finally, with a powerful swing, I shattered the shield, dispersing it into a cloud of blood mist.

Without her magical protection, the vampire mage was as vulnerable as a turtle without its shell. I struck swiftly, driving my blade through her heart. For good measure, I kicked her teeth, still stained with the boy’s blood.

I had slain the cruel woman who had fueled my rage. But as I calmed down and surveyed the battlefield, guilt washed over me. My reckless charge had dragged my companions into grave danger.

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