Vampire Hunter D: Dark Nocturne (15 page)

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The castle challenged the heavens. Although the way it had been constructed—by hollowing out a jagged mountain and pouring countless tons of liquid concrete—was startling, the reason the terrified scientists had their eyes open as wide as they possibly could was because a massive nuclear reactor set dozens of floors below the castle was still running.

“Yes, but just where is all that power going?” one member of the survey team asked as he tightened his grip on a garlic flower.

Not an iota of the energy was devoted to illuminating the castle or even opening and closing the doors of this massive structure that'd been carved from a whole mountain. It would probably take them more than a decade to learn every detail of this palace.

“When did the Nobility abandon this castle?” another scientist asked.

“Two thousand years ago.”

“And you mean to say the nuclear reactor has been going nonstop ever since?”

“According to the records kept by their monitoring devices, yes.”

“In that case, you should be able to check what that power line is supposed to feed into.”

“No, that's the only information that's been lost.”

“And you think that might've been intentional?”

“The odds are pretty good.”

“How much juice does the nuclear reactor generate?”

“Fifty million megawatts an hour.”

The scientists fell silent. They were numbed by the thought of the vast energy that'd been pouring into this unknown thing for the last two thousand years—or perhaps even longer.

Terror then hovered over the group like an aurora. What was the thing? Why had it been necessary to hide its existence while enormous amounts of power were fed into it for two millennia?

It was two days later that they came up with an answer, when the linguist who'd been holed up in the library located in the castle's annex madly deciphering ancient documents of the Nobility appeared before a scientist who'd stepped out onto the castle's observation deck to enjoy the cool summer breeze.

Going over to the edge of the observation deck, the linguist peered down. There was nothing there. A foreboding precipice that was sheer and smooth, the castle walls dropped straight down for more than three thousand feet. The outline of a distant mountain chain curtained by fog and twilight caught the linguist's eye, and he finally felt calm again.

“They chose a hell of a place to make a hell of thing, didn't they,” the scientist said. “This isn't merely a mountain stronghold; it's an impenetrable fortress.”

“Precisely,” the young linguist replied bluntly. “As you say, this was something exceptional. It's been here for roughly seven thousand years.”

“Well, isn't that something,” the scientist remarked with admiration, but he wasn't able to fully conceal his feelings that a mere seven millennia in and of itself wasn't all that amazing.

“For the five millennia from its construction to its abandonment, the castle was at war continuously.”

“What's that you say?”

“I suppose you've already seen how the castle is equipped. The whole place is bristling with armaments like a veritable porcupine.”

That remark cut the scientist to the quick. If the government back in the Capital ever saw the countless weapons of legend to be found here, they'd have the whole castle locked up tight. Needless to say, there were the basic armaments such as neutron missiles, atomic cannons, and lasers, but judging merely by the remaining structures, the place had almost certainly been equipped with dimensional vortex cannons, weather disruptors, energy lines, and other weapons of mass destruction. It was a level of fortification inconceivable in an ordinary castle of the Nobility.

“According to local folklore and what I've managed to decipher from the scant records kept in the castle's archives, this was the center of an ancient battlefield twenty-five hundred miles in diameter—a place known as ‘The Armageddon Zone.' And the conflict was an extremely personal one.”

“Personal, eh?” the scientist said, involuntarily looking down.

As if on command, the fog broke like a curtain opening on the ravaged earth. An expanse of reddish brown soil without a single spot of green, the desolate scene would probably be enough to trouble anyone's soul. Even though he only suspected that was the result of a nuclear war that'd showered the area with copious amounts of radioactive material, what the linguist had pointed out was undoubtedly the brutal truth.

“There was another family that was, in a manner of speaking, sworn enemies of the master of this fortress for several millennia. Currently, neither their names nor their crests are known to us, but there can be no mistaking the fact that they did exist. Receiving no assistance from the rest of the Nobility, these two families fought for five thousand years. And then one day, they suddenly vanished. Many Nobles have been wiped out without a trace, but this castle remains, and even now its reactor is feeding energy into something.”

“And what is this ‘something'?”

“I don't know. It's certainly not the weapons we've discovered.”

“I wonder whatever became of the other family. Since this castle remains, its master must've won the conflict, right?”

“We can't even begin to guess.”

As the linguist lit a cigarette, the scientist eyed it enviously. The Capital did an extremely poor job of distributing them.

“Care for one?”

While he didn't want to add to the other man's sense of superiority, the scientist thanked the linguist anyway and took a yellow cigarette from him, asking him for a light at the same time. Filling his lungs deeply with smoke, he experienced a moment of supreme bliss. The ebbing of his tension actually gave rise to the most extraordinary thought.

“You think it was eventually settled?” the scientist said, but as he did, he felt a chill run down his spine. One of the possible answers was the last thing he wanted to hear.

The other man couldn't even take that into consideration.

“I don't know, either. If it did reach a conclusion, then the fact that this castle survived would suggest that their foes lost, but since neither the records nor any other documents make mention of it, I can't say for certain.”

“In other words—”

“Yes. There's a very strong possibility the conflict was never ultimately resolved.”

The scientist held his tongue. A specific thought arose in his brain with frightening clarity. It was supported by the Nobles' nuclear reactor that even now continued its tireless activity deep within the earth and by the vast wasteland that surrounded the mountain fortress.

Looking at the linguist's face and finding a hint of anticipation there, he decided not to indulge the other man any further. As far as the Nobility and their civilization was concerned, there was an unwritten yet ironclad rule:
The less you know, the better.

The linguist knew it, too. The major difference between the scientist and him was the youthfulness of the latter. Although he was still free to choose whether or not to discuss his thoughts, his youthful overconfidence was so strong that it threatened to make him burst.

“What probably happened—” he began to say as prudently as possible.

Steeling himself, the scientist took a long drag on his cigarette.

Just then, a strange sensation traveled up through their feet.

The gaze of the youthful linguist shot to the scientist. But the scientist had his eyes shut. Suddenly, the linguist realized that it was dusk.

The observation deck faced west. The vermilion-tinged outlines of a distant mountain struck at his heart with a wave of surprise. He got the feeling that the entire page of history penned at this castle was stained the very same hue.

When the scientist's parched lips blew out a protracted cloud of purple smoke, a now unmistakable rumbling in the earth and the sounds of destruction rose from below them. And then—there was a roaring laugh.

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II

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From off to his left he heard the whistle of a spear thrust. Though the drive came with such speed the very air seemed to bend around it, the figure in black didn't seem to make any special moves, but merely grabbed the spear just behind the tip with his left hand. As the spearman stumbled forward with an incredulous cry, he was met head-on by the casual swipe of a sword that dispatched him before the ink-black figure surveyed his remaining opponents.

There was a wind—a winter wind that seemed to make every cheek it buffeted swell to twice its normal size. And to the men, it seemed as if the same wind was protecting the other man. An outline like a wintry night crystallized, but with all the resulting sparkle crushed from winter's true form. His face was gorgeous, and his coat absolutely mesmerizing as it billowed out elegantly.

We're all gonna die. That's the price we'll pay for trying to kill a man so beautiful and taking his gold.

“Give me some room, damn it!” one noticeably short man growled as he stepped out onto the frozen ground. It seemed like he was ready to make his move, but suddenly a pair of black wings opened noisily on his back. They weren't organic. Rather, they'd been crafted from animal hide stretched over a skeleton of wire and wood.

Flapping his wings before the beautiful butcher, the man flitted into the air like some sort of unholy bird. The wings must've utilized a compact but powerful motor, and the flesh and bones of the man himself had to be awfully light.

His shouts rained down from the sky. “I'm gonna go after him, too. All of you hit him at once!”

And then the winged man rapidly climbed another fifty yards. That was the kind of altitude he'd need to launch his attack.

Naked steel glittering in their hands, his cohorts charged the butcher. They had no way of knowing that on his way down, the airborne figure had reduced his speed.

The second all the forms fused into a single mass, the bird man began to climb again with a brown rain pouring down from his chest.

Twice, cries rang out—once when the liquid made contact, and once more when the soaked bodies began to dissolve with terrifying speed. They'd been showered with a powerful acid.

When the bird man dropped thirty feet and turned for a look, none of the forms on the ground resembled a human being any longer. Descending another thirty feet and changing direction, he gasped aloud.

One of the figures who should've melted down into a pile of meat and bones had just stood up straight. Even from his present height, the heaven-sent beauty of the countenance now peering up at him was unmistakable.

It's him! There's white smoke coming off his coat—don't tell me that shielded him from my rain of death!

Eyes glittering with malice, the bird man gained altitude. Though his opponent might've cheated death once, no lowly creature on the ground could possibly escape the speed and murderous intent of one who ruled the sky.

“No way in hell are you getting away!” snarled the bird man.

But before he could beat his wings to dive in an assault from the heavens, it looked as if the figure of beauty on the ground rose with exquisite weightlessness. In order to ensure his foe was now slain, the bird man had intended to swoop down to a mere ten feet above his opponent's head. He never would've thought the figure in black would rise to his altitude as he was about to rain liquid death on him. The instant the man felt the silvery flash touch the top of his head, he realized the second round of screams that'd come from his compatriots hadn't been prompted by the liquid death, but rather by their opponent's swordplay.

As his body continued to glide through the air, its path was suddenly blocked by a figure that resembled a small mountain. Just as it looked like they were about to collide, the bird man split in two. A bloody mist spattered the giant as the pieces passed him on either side. After angling down through the hazy white of winter and slamming into the ground, neither half moved again.

While it was unclear whether or not he knew the massive individual who'd intruded on the deadly battle, the gorgeous figure silently turned his back on him to walk away.

“Wait just a second!” a voice boomed from ten feet in the air. It came from a pair of thick lips and a face larger than most children.

The figure in the black coat turned around impassively.

“Sweet lord!” the giant said with an appreciative whistle, his wide eyes going even wider. “My, but you are one good-looking fella! What do you go by, anyway?”

“D,” said the shadowy figure.

“Wow, that kinda has a sad sound to it, but it's a good name. I'm—”

As he pondered, he twisted a great neck that was thick as a tree trunk.

“Come to think of it, I guess I don't have one,” he laughed.

Heaven and earth seemed to quake at the sound.

Giants weren't completely unheard-of in this world. In the western Frontier there was a village of forty-foot-tall Cyclopes spawned by the Nobility. However, this nameless Goliath was extremely ordinary in appearance, clad from the neck down in a purple cloth that looked like velvet curtains, and at the end of the pole he had over his shoulder hung a cloth bundle that looked big enough to hold five grown men. A giant traveler was indeed a rare thing.

The smile didn't fade from the giant's face, no matter how long he stood there. D turned around.

“Hey! Wait a second!” the giant cried, hastening after the Hunter. The ground shook with every thud of his feet.

As he followed after D, he pointed to the earthen mound over which he'd come and said, “I was sleeping nice and peaceful-like back there. Not only did you and your playmates go and wake me up, but look what a mess you made of my only set of clothes. I'll never get the stink of blood out of them. You've got to take some responsibility, buster!”