Path of the Demonic Villain

Michael D’Angelo sat on his armchair with his elbows on his knees and a saddened expression on his face. It was the same expression broke people had after taking a look into their wallets and only air comes out.

"Tsk. The capital is so expensive. Everything here is exorbitant. I only bought a few things, and..."

He lowered his eyes to the open, empty wallet in his hand.

Then looked up, shook his head, and sighed woefully, holding back his tears.

’Thank goodness I’m now employed by a wealthy noble. I would have considered selling myself to a brothel if I wasn’t.’

He let out another deep sigh.

’I just hope my employer is someone generous.’

Just then, he heard a knock on his door.

’Hm?’

Michael stood up and took a step toward the door, but he stumbled and almost fell, barely managing to catch himself.

He raised a hand to his mouth and blew air into his palm, checking if the reek of alcohol on his breath was too noticeable.

’I think I drank too much,’ he thought, letting out a small burp as he glanced back at the empty wine bottles on the small table by his chair.

At that moment, the knock on the door sounded again, reminding him that someone was still waiting for him outside.

"Oh. Coming..."

He wobbled toward the door and pulled it open to reveal Dante, who was meticulously rubbing his monocle with a pocket square.

"Signore," Michael blurted in a flat tone.

"Just call me Dante."

As Dante placed the monocle back over his eye, he offered a faint smile and waved dismissively.

Michael blinked in surprise.

’So he has purple eyes, not red?’ he thought, taking in Dante’s features, then as if remembering something, he suddenly stepped aside with an awkward gesture. "Oh, come in."

With his hands in his pockets, Dante stepped into the room and glanced around the space, taking note of the empty bottles on the table. "You seem to have settled in nicely, Amico."

"Well, life seems good so far," Michael replied with a sheepish smile as he pocketed his hands.

"Wonderful. So let’s get straight to business, hmm?" Dante sat down on the leather armchair Michael had vacated, produced a silver case, and took out a cigarette.

Michael nodded as he walked over and leaned against his table with his arms crossed, while still feeling the alcohol.

Dante then continued, "First things first."

He lit the cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled. "When you hear of bloodthirsty men, what’s the first thing that comes to mind?"

"People who love killing, probably," Michael replied after a beat with a shrug, while scratching the back of his neck as he processed the strange question. "Or a bunch of lawless maniacs who go around slaughtering folks for fun."

Dante smiled and extended the cigarette to Michael, who took it without hesitation and brought it to his lips for a long drag.

"Well, my definition is a bit more different," Dante said, leaning back into the cushions. "You see, I am the literal definition of a bloodthirsty fellow, because I do drink the actual blood of people."

"...?" Michael blinked, before arching a brow.

Maybe it was because he was drunk right now, but he couldn’t tell if his new employer was making a morbid joke or dead serious.

At the same time, he didn’t freak out or suddenly begin doing mental gymnastics when he heard that, mainly because everything right now felt completely unreal to him. Imagine if he had heard that while sober, though. Heh. This was why he always said life was much easier to swallow when you weren’t dragging yourself through reality with a clear head.

Dante then pointed at the cigarette in Michael’s hand and continued. "Just like you need cigarettes and wine, I need blood. But then... there are times when that’s hard for me to get and so, I’ll have to rely on drinking... a bit of your blood from time to time."

’He drinks blood?’

While Michael was still processing the blood leeching bit, he suddenly felt that he had an inkling of why his employer hired him. Little by little, a bad sense of foreboding began to creep in.

’What sort of person is he?’

"Wait, wait, wait," he raised his hand. "You want to drink my blood?"

Dante nodded. "Of course. I’ll pay you for every liter of your blood."

Michael swallowed and looked hesitant.

Dante held up two fingers. "Twenty crowns per liter."

"Do you really think my life can be bought with money?" Michael scoffed, though his eyes lingered on Dante’s raised fingers.

Dante nodded calmly. "Of course. I know your life can be bought with money."

"And you are damn right, Signore!" Michael didn’t even hesitate to flip his stance, grinning widely.

’Twenty crowns per liter? Heh. I’ve been spilling twice that at the penitentiary for free!’ he added inwardly before leaning forward. "So, how are we going to do this, huh?"

He rolled his sleeve back and began tapping his forearm vein with two fingers, presenting it like a eager blood donor.

Hearing the reply he expected from the drunken man, Dante smiled, reached into his vest pocket, and took out a small dagger. He unsheathed the blade, then pulled off the leather glove of his left hand with his teeth.

With Michael watching him intently, Dante brought the blade to his palm and sliced open a thin, clean line across his skin.

From what Dante had learned so far, Edward could materialize by leaking out of Dante. But in that state, he wouldn’t be strong and would just be a condensed mass of energy without a lot of substance. In that form, he could only hold small objects like a flask of blood, for instance.

To gain enough physical substance to interact with the world normally, Edward needed to materialize directly from living blood itself.

A few seconds after Dante cut his palm, the crimson drops pooled out to the ground, then began to swell and expand until a small, deranged-looking boy of around twelve took form.

"Huh?" Michael could recognize the boy, and come to think of it, he had been curious right from the first time he saw him.

He couldn’t help but ask, "Who’s the little one?"

"Mm?" Dante alternated gazes between Edward and Michael before answering honestly. "Oh him? He goes by the name, Edward."

Michael arched a brow because that didn’t answer his question.

’Honestly, I don’t think this kid is human. So many things about him creeps me out.’

When he gave it some thought, he figured that there were some Divine Skills that let an Apostle summon creatures, so he ventured, "Is he like a summon?"

"Nope." Edward smiled and hopped forward with his hands behind his back. "I’m not a summon, don’t call me that!"

Michael still seemed lost. ’He’s not a summon? Then what the byss is he?’

He was still in thought when Edward leaned in close with a hungry glint in his eyes. "Can I drink from your neck instead?"

"Oh, uh, yes," Michael stammered, tilting his head forward nervously. "Just... please be gentle."

Edward grinned, exposing his sharp fangs. "Of course."

But then Dante interjected, casting a stern look at the boy. "Just one liter!"

Edward gave a thumbs up. "Of course, of course!"

He turned and lunged for Michael’s exposed neck, and his fangs sank into the soft flesh right over his jugular.

For a few seconds, everything seemed alright, and then, Michael gasped slightly as he felt more and more blood get drained. When the room started to tilt and he began to feel dizzy, he began to feel concerned.

"Hey... isn’t that a bit much already?" he slurred out, trying to push himself back.

Edward then pulled away with a grin, but before he fully leaned back, he whispered in a quiet but threatening voice that only Michael could hear: "I asked to drink from your neck to give you this warning. Call me a little one again, and I’ll drain you till your heart stops."

Michael’s eyes widened in cold, sudden sobriety, but Edward just stepped back with a cheerful laugh, wiping a stray drop of blood from his lips like nothing had happened.

"How was it, little one?" Dante asked, tossing the small dagger back and forth between his palms.

"Wonderful, Master. There’s something to an Apostle’s blood that makes regular blood taste bland," Edward said with a grin as he walked back to his master’s side.

"I see." Dante smiled as he shifted his gaze to a screen only he could see, which had appeared by his side.

Faith: [0%——-[41%]—————100%]

After a few seconds, the screen disappeared as he looked away to look at Michael, who was wiping his neck with a slightly pale, shaken expression.

Then Dante leaned back into his seat and said, "Now that we are done with the first things first, the next thing on the agenda is what we will call Weekend Mishaps."

"Weekend Mishaps?"

"Yes." Dante stood up and took out a kerchief. At the same time, Edward dissolved into a thin stream of blood that flowed back into Dante’s palm. Following that, Dante wiped his hand, and as he began putting back the glove, he walked closer to Michael. "It’s just as the name implies."

He didn’t explain more than that because he believed that, based on everything he had said so far, Michael was smart enough to catch his drift. He then tapped Michael’s shoulder twice with a smile. "These Weekend Mishaps are going to take place in Sylveria, your hometown."

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