what if I'm an undead! then so what?-Chapter 30: Crimson threads of fate

A/N: during the part when Michael Viremonthe spoke otherworldly words, it was I’m this ««»» symbol and the translation followed suite bellow the foreign tongues, Incase of future reference.

----------------------------------------------------------

"So even now, you still refuse me?" said the red-haired boy, his voice silky yet laced with irritation. He sat with his legs crossed in a luxurious hotel suite overlooking the neon-lit skyline of Tokyo. Rich red curtains draped the windows, filtering in the faint moonlight. Crystal glasses rested untouched on the mahogany table between him and the girl seated across from him.

Akane Mikazuki met his eyes with a cold stare, her arms folded as if to barricade herself from his presence. Her midnight-black hair framed her pale face like an artist’s brushstroke—perfect, sharp, and immovable.

"I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—there’s no way I’m changing my mind. I won’t agree to your deal, Michael." Her voice was clear, unwavering. Each word struck like the clang of steel against steel.

Michael Viremonthe narrowed his eyes slightly, the crimson in his irises pulsing as if reacting to her resistance. "I see," he said, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. "Then don’t blame me for what happens to the Mikazuki family. As you know, they’ve been in decline for years now. And who knows how far they’ll have fallen by the time your generation finishes its reign?"

Akane’s brow twitched slightly at the threat, but she remained composed. "I know your plan, Michael. Your supposed goodwill is nothing more than a facade. You don’t care about my family. You want me—because of the rumor that I’m Selene Bloodfallen reborn. And you want the Mikazuki name under the control of your Viremonthe house. Nothing more, nothing less."

Michael chuckled, the sound too casual, almost mocking. "True, I don’t deny it. But even still, wouldn’t your family benefit? I hear they’re searching for the Philosopher’s Stone—somewhere in the U.S., wasn’t it? My family holds far more connections over there. If we wanted to, we could simply take it for ourselves. Of course"—his voice dropped to a near-whisper—"only if we’re forced to play dirty."

Her eyes flared with rage.

"Is that a threat?" she asked. Her words were quiet, but the aura around her flared—a suffocating pressure that warped the air like heat over asphalt.

Michael didn’t flinch. "Don’t try to intimidate me with your violent aura. Sure, I’m not your equal in a one-on-one fight—but you know what would happen if you tried anything reckless. You touch me, and war follows."

His pupils shifted from crimson to obsidian black. From the edges of the room, shadows twitched unnaturally, whispering with voices that didn’t belong in the world of the living. Ghastly sounds trickled through the walls—moans, weeping, the crunch of unseen bones grinding beneath footfalls that weren’t there.

Akane stood abruptly, her chair screeching against the floor. "Demonic scum," she spat, turning on her heel.

She stopped mid-step, glancing at him from over her shoulder. Her voice was colder than ever.

"I think you’ve overstayed your welcome here in Japan. Stay if you like—your funeral. But a word of advice: don’t underestimate the powers that dwell here. There are forces in this land that not even your family can comprehend. That’s the only warning you’ll get."

Without waiting for a reply, she strode from the room, her departure accompanied by the sharp click of her heels on marble and the slam of the door behind her.

Silence.

Michael sighed, his expression turning dark. With a snap of his fingers, the lights in the room blinked out, as if the very room itself had taken its final breath.

From the pool of shadows at his feet, a thick black puddle began to form, bubbling as if alive. A small figure emerged—a barefoot girl, or what once might’ve been one. Her arms were grotesquely long, dragging across the floor. Her fingers ended in cracked nails that screeched as they raked across the tiles. Her face was hidden behind a porcelain mask: one half etched with a perpetual smile, the other weeping silently. From her open back dangled strings of black sinew, writhing like parasitic worms.

Michael lifted his hand, as if holding the strands of fate themselves. His voice shifted, now ancient and layered with countless tones:

««Severine vel Ny’hail’thra... Atrax mo delar’vahl, vhosh kai erun halmoth. Na’kelah thyra’n vaktra... ekra-nai, Mikazuki tal Varehn. Akane’s soul — sa’val krynn, now braced in Sovereign Shadow. Valthor’sech... kravh’nai — and crush her will beneath thy sorrowed limbs.»»

A gust of deathly wind howled through the suite. Shadows curled tighter around them. Then came his whisper—barely audible, yet thick with corruption:

"Severine the Hollow Child, your cries have been heard. Though you may perish in the attempt, I command you... infiltrate the Mikazuki. Discover what strengthens the girl Akane. A month ago, she was hesitant. Now she walks like royalty, backed by unseen power. Find the source... and destroy it."

From the shadows came a twisted, childlike giggle, followed by the slow scrape of nails across glass. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

Severine tilted her head, the smiling side of her mask beginning to crack.

She replied in a tongue long dead:

««Thyr vel’nasha... Viremonthe d’rakhal... velth’ari eknor...»»

"Blood shall sing. Bones shall dance. Her light will scream."

She dragged behind her a twisted doll, sewn from human arms, which slumped grotesquely on the floor. Her voice, now whisper-soft, echoed like wind through a crypt:

««Al’serak vren’nath vel’tira... sheth’aloth nai mahr’kaelen uth vexu. Mikazuki dral’var... in’krae val sa’thellion.»»

"I will peel her confidence like skin... and feed it to the mouths beneath my bed. Mikazuki shall mourn a girl who thought herself a queen."

Without another word, her form dissolved into the shadows, leaving no trace of her vile existence.

Michael smiled. "Foolish creature... You’re destined to die tonight. But you’ll serve your purpose beautifully."

The lights flickered back on.

---

Elsewhere, That Same Night — Shinjuku Ward

Evening had settled over Tokyo like a lullaby, and Shinjuku basked in its neon dreamscape. Streets buzzed with life. Shops glowed with lantern light. Laughter echoed through alleyways.

Through the crowd walked a girl with bubblegum-pink hair, twin buns bouncing with every step. Her soft smile seemed innocent, even sweet—enough to disarm the wary. She walked with no hurry, turning into a dark alleyway that branched away from the main street.

A figure blocked her path.

The light dimmed as a hulking man stepped into view, his silhouette towering over her, cutting off the moonlight. He stood over seven feet tall, muscles rippling beneath his jacket.

"Hey there, little lady," he said, flashing a grin that dripped with malice. "I’m lost. Mind helping me with some directions?"

She smiled sweetly, her hands clasped in front of her. "Of course! How can I help you?"

"Looking for the nearest bar," he said, stepping closer until he was within arm’s reach. The stench of his breath mixed with the heat of his body, and his bloodshot eyes gleamed like a predator’s.

"Oh, I know just the place," she said, extending her hand. "Take mine, and I’ll show you the way."

The man hesitated for a split second. Her smile hadn’t wavered. Too naive. Too composed. Something was wrong.

Still, he reached out.

The moment their hands met, his arm burst into blue flame.

The man roared, leaping backward at a speed surpassing two hundred meters per second. He landed in a crouch, snarling, his pupils now slits. His instincts screamed at him—she’s not human.

"i’ll lead you straight to hell," the girl said, her expression now blank. The innocence in her eyes was gone, replaced by cold, clinical fury.

The man’s body convulsed. Bones snapped and reshaped. Muscles exploded in mass. Coarse black fur burst from his skin. His snout elongated, eyes glowing a deep blood red. His transformation complete, he stood nearly nine feet tall—a full-blooded Lycan.

"I thought you were a werewolf," the girl sighed, clearly disappointed. "But you’re just a Lycan. Even more fragile."

"Underestimate me and die, you puny thing!" the beast snarled, preparing to strike—

Then his body froze.

His knees hit the ground.

"You’re already dead," she said, stepping closer. "Three seconds ago, in fact."

The Lycan looked down. His fur was turning gray. Bones weakened. Muscles withered. A haunting realization dawned on him—he was aging... rapidly.

"I call it Aoi Akuma—the Blue Demon," she explained, flames still dancing along her fingers. "It’s the ability of my Sigil. These flames would originally burn at temperature 300,000°C in per with the core of an atomic bomb. But that would attract too much attention. So instead, I used its second function."

The Lycan’s eyes widened in horror.

"Time acceleration. My flame consumes time at ten years per second. You had only thirty years left. It took three seconds to reduce you to a corpse."

Before his eyes, his body shriveled into a skeleton. Then, even that began to turn to dust. Within moments, the wind carried him away.

She exhaled, brushing her hair back into place. "What a weak species," she muttered.

Then, she looked up at the sky and smiled. "Japan... what a wonderful homeland."

She turned the corner and melted back into the crowd, her presence disappearing like a shadow under the city’s neon glow.