what if I'm an undead! then so what?-Chapter 36: The cat’s gaze, the mask sorrow

"I got four tickets to the Solstice Spring Events in Shibuya. It’s happening tomorrow! So, what do you think, Akane? If you ask me, I’d say it’s the perfect chance to blow off some steam!" Hinata said, flaunting the tickets in her hand as she walked into the room, Eve trailing behind her.

"That’s a waste of time... and childish too," Akane replied with a straight face, sitting on the bed with her legs crossed. She looked down, perhaps to hide the blush creeping onto her face.

"I think it’s a good idea. Besides, I’ve never been to Shibuya—and there’s someone I hope to meet over there," Masaru added, glancing at Akane as if trying to sway her. In truth, it was the perfect opportunity for him to see Michael Viremonthe. This might be his only chance.

"Fine. We’ll leave later in the day. But before that... Masaru, do you know what a familiar is?" Akane asked, watching him closely.

"Well, I think a familiar is like a summon, right? Probably bound to you through a pact or some kind of contract," Masaru answered. The term was familiar from the many anime and novels he used to enjoy.

"Close. That creature Severine you faced was also a familiar—though not a normal one. The typical familiars are cats, bats, crows, or owls. It may sound unimpressive, but that’s far from the truth. Familiars are divided into four categories, based on the world they originate from: the First World, Second World, and Third World. I was lucky enough to obtain one from the Third World," Akane explained as a black bird emerged from her shadow and perched on her shoulder.

It was a crow with crimson red eyes, intricate patterns lining its feathers. It looked simple, but the blood energy it released was overwhelming. Other than that, Masaru didn’t see anything particularly remarkable about it—in fact, in his opinion, that crow would lose badly to Severine.

"I bet you think it’s less impressive than Severine. Well, its strength lies in support. I can use blood arts from its reserve blood energy, meaning even if I run out of blood energy, I can keep going using its own. It can also cast powerful illusions on anyone who makes eye contact with it—regardless of their strength. On top of that, it can use some unique blood arts, and once a day, no matter what state I’m in, I can fully resurrect through it. It may not seem like much, but combined, its powers aren’t something to underestimate," Akane explained as the crow vanished into thin air.

"I still prefer Severine," Masaru said bluntly. For some reason, that sparked something inside Akane—but she chose to ignore it. Now wasn’t the time to joke around.

"Now that you’ve become a mid ranking vsmpire, you’re now eligible to contract a familiar. The world you draw from depends on you and you alone," she said, summoning a glowing red orb from thin air.

"Holding this will protect you from the miasma of whatever world you end up in. The First World is much like ours but in ruins and chaos it’s easy to identify. The Second World is shrouded in a bright red sky red moon, with a foggy crimson atmosphere. The Third World is a place of eternal darkness with two moons. When you arrive, release your blood energy. Any creature that approaches and accepts your blood energy will become your familiar. Once you return to our world, it will appear beside you. Keep in mind—time passes differently in those worlds. Stay too long, and you might return to find fifty years have passed," Akane warned.

"Now that’s kinda creepy," Masaru said, gripping the orb in both hands. "So, how do I enter the wor—"

Before he could finish, he was swallowed by swirling darkness. He kept falling for what felt like hours, unable to move, unable to speak, spiraling through an endless void—until he landed with a hard thud.

Opening his eyes, he scanned his surroundings. It was dark and unnerving. Distorted growls echoed through the air. Above, the sky was pitch black, pierced by a massive red moon—no, two halves of a broken moon.

"This must be the First World... It looks like Earth, and the moon’s destroyed, so... it’s in ruins, right?" Masaru muttered, preparing to release his blood energy—when suddenly, an icy chill crept through the air.

The bushes around him rustled.

From every direction emerged creatures straight out of nightmares: behemoths dripping with lava, titans clad in bloody armor, winged monstrosities with wingspans that dwarfed him, multi-headed hydras, and even humanoid abominations. None of them wanted a contract. They wanted to devour him. He could feel it in their killing intent—pure, primal bloodlust. They were demons.

Masaru’s body refused to move. Not a muscle. He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t flee.

"Why does this always happen to me...?" he muttered, forcing himself to believe it was all an illusion. A test, maybe. A trick to determine if he was worthy. He held onto that thought—because if he gave in to fear, it would all be over. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

That is, until the cold, viscous saliva from the hydra splattered onto his skin.

His eyes snapped open. This was real.

He closed his eyes again, preparing to die. Maybe it would hurt less if he embraced it.

But after several moments of silence, he heard... meowing?

He opened his eyes.

A cat sat in front of him, licking its fur. It looked harmless. Ordinary. Just a plain cat—except for the streaks of silver on its tail and paws. It even had peircings and a ring hanging from one ear.

"I knew it wasn’t real," Masaru smiled, picking up the cat. "What’s with the earrings? Trying to look cool or something?"

The cat didn’t resist. Maybe it wanted to be his familiar. Masaru gazed into its green eyes—and immediately felt as though he was staring into a beautiful, endless void.

"I’ll name you... Emerald," he whispered.

The orb in his hand shattered.

Once again, Masaru found himself falling into darkness—but this time, it lasted only a few minutes. He awoke in his room, but the cat was gone. No trace of it.

"Did I fail...? More importantly, where the hell is Akane and the others?" he shouted, glancing around the empty room. It was already evening. He had clearly been gone for a while.

He walked over to the bed and saw a note—maybe a letter.

"They left without me because I took too long? Damn it! At least I can still catch up. They said to meet at the Sapphire Tower Tokyo Hotel in Shibuya. I’d better start—"

Masaru froze.

That smell. That presence. The stench of rotting flesh. The choking aura of purgatory. Death itself.

He turned slowly, his body instinctively preparing to fight.

Standing before him was the very creature that had almost ended his life—the one that had shown him how powerless he truly was.

She wore a porcelain mask, terrifying in its silence. Her limbs stretched unnaturally far, her body twisted and broken, her spine exposed for all to see.

"Severine..." Masaru muttered, eyes locked on the monstrosity as he clenched his fists. The sound of muffled speech echoed from beneath the mask—but Masaru didn’t care.

Not now.

Not when he was about to face the nightmare that had once crushed him.

Masaru unleashed his blood energy in a violent surge, a crimson storm of raw force that flooded the room like an untamed tide. The very air trembled beneath the pressure, warping and humming with barely contained destruction. Delicate ornaments cracked. Vases shattered into shards. The walls moaned under the weight of his power, and fragile structures collapsed without resistance. Yet, in the midst of the chaos, Severine stood still—unflinching, unmoved.

She didn’t so much as blink.

Mysterious, foreign words slipped softly from behind her mask, spoken in a tone too calm for the growing storm around her. Masaru heard them clearly, yet their meaning eluded him. He could not understand the language—but something about the way she spoke them made his instincts pause.

Something ancient stirred within the syllables.

Despite the overwhelming power pulsing through his veins, despite his readiness to strike, Masaru hesitated. Not from fear. Not from doubt. But from a strange, unexplainable feeling—a sense that now was not the time to attack.

"Zah’karel voth in’mari," she murmured again, her voice delicate and unwavering.

Each time she spoke, her feet moved closer to him in slow, graceful steps. The air grew heavier with every word, not with dread, but with sorrow. Masaru, though still radiating violent energy, remained motionless. His eyes narrowed. He searched her for any trace of killing intent—but there was none. Not this time.

"Zah’karel voth in’mari."

"Zah’karel voth in’mari."

"Zah’karel voth in’mari..."

She repeated the phrase like a mantra, each repetition filled with a deeper grief than the last.

And then, as she stepped closer, something strange began to happen. The integrity of her mask weakened, cracks spreading like spiderwebs across its surface. With a faint, almost sorrowful sound, the mask finally broke apart and fell to the ground.

Masaru’s breath caught.

What he saw behind the mask was not the fierce warrior he had imagined. Not the enemy he expected. But a girl.

A young girl.

Her features were soft, delicate—almost childlike in their innocence. Her hazel eyes shimmered with unshed tears that now poured freely, streaking down her cheeks as she looked at him—not with malice, but with heartbreak. The pain in her expression was so human, so raw, that even Masaru’s rage faltered.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, voice breaking. "Zah’karel, I’m sorry..."

Then she screamed.

"Master—I’m sorry!"

Her entire body erupted in a blinding light, so radiant it forced Masaru to shield his eyes for a moment. The blood energy around him flickered uncertainly, as if responding to the sudden shift in presence. From that searing glow, a new form emerged. The dark aura that had once cloaked her vanished, replaced by something pure—something achingly beautiful.

A girl now stood before him.

Her skin was flawless, glowing faintly like freshly fallen snow bathed in moonlight. Her long, golden hair flowed with an unseen breeze, framing a tear-stained face that bore the same hazel eyes—but now they shimmered with warmth, sorrow, and devotion.

She stared into Masaru’s eyes with trembling lips and a gaze filled with longing.

Then, without warning, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him, embracing him tightly.

She sobbed into his chest.

"Master... I’m sorry... I’m so, so sorry..."

Again and again, she repeated the words, her voice broken, her shoulders trembling.

Masaru, for the first time in a long while, stood in complete silence—not as a warrior, not as a vessel of rage—but as a man unsure of the truth unraveling before him.