Part 3
The morning carried on, and little Simmone walked with a calm pace toward a dungeon in the forest. Her white parasol shielded her from the sun's rays as she moved, eyes fixed on the path ahead.
Suddenly, she stopped when she noticed something on the ground:
a small lifeless bird and near it, a yellow orb slowly spinning, as if caught between this world and the next.
"Poor thing… if it stays like this, it'll become a tormented soul," Simmone murmured, her voice soft and tinged with melancholy.
She knelt beside the orb, examining it carefully. A faint sadness crossed her eyes as she extended her hand.
"I know life isn't always fair… but hatred only keeps us from returning to the cycle.
Walk with me, and I'll show you the way to the light. I'll purify your soul so you can let go of your hate…"
Her words echoed like a gentle prayer.
A soft glow surrounded her, casting a warm, soothing light across the clearing.
"Soul Absorption!" she declared with quiet resolve.
The small orb vanished in a flash of light, absorbed into Simmone's magic.
She closed her eyes for a moment, as if feeling the soul's transition.
When the glow faded, she looked at the little bird with a gentle expression.
"Don't worry, little one. I'll help you return to the cycle of life," she whispered, adjusting her parasol before standing up.
With one last glance at the spot, she continued her way toward the dungeon, as if nothing had happened but with a slight smile reflecting the quiet satisfaction of having helped a lost soul.
At the dungeon's entrance, a chill ran down her spine, and the image of Eliza's face returned to her mind an echo she couldn't ignore.
"She didn't do this to me… but if vampires exist in this world, that means Victor Tepes is out there too," she muttered, clenching her teeth as her gaze hardened.
"I need to purify more souls. I gathered a lot in the Molgaroth dungeon… so I'll train here.
I can't waste time not if I want to avenge my mother."
With a firm motion, she removed the top of her parasol, revealing the fencing blade hidden inside: Soul Separator.
She held it before her, studying it closely as memories of her mother clouded her view of the present.
Many years ago…
"Simmone, come here a moment… cough, cough," called a weak voice from the bed.
"Yes, Mother?" replied a much younger Simmone, rushing over.
The pale, fragile woman offered her a soft smile.
"My little British lady… I wanted to give you a gift. With the little I managed to gather… cough, cough."
"Don't push yourself, Mommy. You promised we'd go see Big Ben when you got better," the girl said with a forced smile that couldn't hide her sorrow.
Her mother let out a broken sigh, her expression full of guilt and love.
"I'm sorry, sweetie… I might not be able to keep that promise. Mommy's health keeps getting worse… this curse is eating me alive… cough, cough."
Little Simmone lowered her gaze, tears silently falling.
"Come now, my girl… one day, you'll meet someone special, and together you can go see Big Ben," her mother continued, voice cracked but full of tenderness.
"But…" Simmone began, only for her mother to gently interrupt.
"My little British lady… hold your head high, and keep that beautiful face smiling—no matter what happens… cough, cough."
The woman pulled out a package wrapped in paper, her hands trembling, and handed it to Simmone.
"And even if I'm no longer with you… this will always be by your side. You can remember me every time you use it," she said with a faint smile.
With trembling fingers, Simmone unwrapped the gift revealing a beautiful white parasol, perfectly matching her dress.
"It's beautiful, Mommy… I promise I'll treasure it forever," the little girl said, hugging the parasol tightly.
Her mother let out a soft chuckle, followed by a ragged breath.
"That smile… I love it so much, sweetie. I know one day you'll grow into a fine British lady… cough, cough."
"Thank you, Mommy… Now get some rest. I'll take care of everything," Simmone replied, tears streaming down her cheeks as she struggled to keep her voice steady.
The woman gave her one final smile before closing her eyes and the memory faded, pulling Simmone back to the present.
Simmone took a deep breath, staring at the blade of her parasol with a mix of pain and determination.
"No matter how much time passes… Mother, I promise I'll honor our legacy," she whispered, tightening her grip on Soul Separator as she stepped into the dark dungeon.
High above, nestled in the trees, Elizabeth Tepes watched the scene in complete silence. Her figure was hidden within the shadows, but her crimson eye glowed with interest as she tracked Simmone's every move.
"What a curious little girl… she's much stronger than she looks," she murmured to herself, a playful smile curling her lips.
Her gaze softened for a moment though a flicker of guilt flashed across her thoughts.
"But… considering what my father did to her family, it's no surprise she carries such resolve," she added in a lower voice, as if the guilt didn't fully belong to her but clung to her all the same.
With graceful ease, Elizabeth dropped from the tree, landing softly on the leaf-covered ground. Her movements were almost otherworldly, as if the wind itself guided her.
In front of the dungeon's entrance, she paused, watching the darkness that swallowed Simmone whole. Her smile returned this time more calculated.
"I'd better follow her… I'm quite interested in her potential," she said with fascination, as if discovering a key piece in a long-studied puzzle.
Without another word, Elizabeth vanished into the shadows, following Simmone's trail with the elegance befitting her vampiric lineage.
Meanwhile, near the Earth Elf village, Hans Versalles meticulously inspected one of his many traps. He leaned down, examining the mechanism carefully before letting out a soft sigh.
"This one was disarmed too…" he murmured, smoothing back his hair with a calculated gesture. He looked around, as if expecting to find some lingering clue. "That makes ten traps disarmed so far."
Suddenly, a spark of excitement lit up his eyes. A crooked smile spread across his face as he raised a hand, covering half of it like a theatrical mask.
"What a magnificent creature…" he whispered, his voice echoing with reverence. He slowly lowered his hand, revealing a face filled with pure fascination.
"What a grand stage! Oh, how I long to see her face…" he said, raising his voice dramatically, as if reciting lines from a play.
He took a step back, spreading his arms toward the sky as his smile widened.
"Once I capture you… King Victor will reward me handsomely. Maybe… maybe I'll finally become a vampire!" he exclaimed, voice brimming with ambition. "I'll be able to practice my art for all eternity…"
With a fluid motion, he grabbed his large crossbow and began spinning in place, improvising a waltz as he imagined his ideal future.
Throughout his life, his only companion had been that crossbow. As he danced, memories from the past surfaced, and a bitter laugh escaped his lips.
No one in all of Netheria could stand his personality.
He might have been the most efficient hunter, a true master of the stalk but to the vampires, he was nothing more than a weirdo. An anomaly.
"A discarded freak…" he murmured to himself, abruptly stopping mid-dance.
His eyes—full of both melancholy and ambition—locked on the horizon.
He remembered the day King Victor picked him up from the streets as a child. Since then, he had lived with one mission… to prove his worth to the only being who had ever given him a chance.
"But that's about to change," he whispered.
His smile returned—this time more controlled as he adjusted the crossbow over his shoulder.
Without another word, Hans stepped into the forest, each step charged with determination.
The hunter was ready to turn his obsession into reality.