Reincarnated as the Vampire Princess' Familiar
Chapter 56 - 10 - Rakvaron, the Demon God

Chapter 56: 10 - Rakvaron, the Demon God

«You seem deep in thought, Lyon. Are you worried about Ayra, or is there something else on your mind?» Daphne asks me, her voice gentle and full of concern.

That’s the hardest question she could have asked me right now.

«I don’t even know myself...» I mutter, my voice low, as I catch sight of my inexplicably melancholic reflection in the rippling water around us. We’re lying in the same small thermal pool where she brought me last time—the one carved into a quarry of completely white stone—with her right beside me.

It’s already the second time she’s brought me here after noticing I was upset. She must have realized this place has a calming effect on me—just like the small, enchanting lake she takes Ayra to when she needs comfort. In the same way, she brings me here. I’m starting to see her almost like an older sister. Now I understand why my mistress holds such admiration and affection for her—Daphne truly is an exceptional vampire. Sweet, caring, and... far too beautiful.

Yes, I see her as an older sister... but she isn’t one, and it’s hard to stay indifferent with her so close in such a small space—especially since, being in a thermal pool, we’re both naked. Even the slightest touch, the faintest brush of her thigh against mine, or our arms grazing, is enough to stir... certain inappropriate feelings. Daphne isn’t Sasha; she’s never done anything to provoke me or make me uncomfortable. And, as Ayra has drilled into me, nudity among vampires is the most natural thing in the world... I really need to stop acting like a sex-starved corpse. At least around Daphne.

«D-Daphne, I’d like to ask you something...» I stammer, a clumsy but necessary attempt to steer my mind elsewhere. «During the clash between Ayra and Draven Vorthgen, they mentioned someone called Rakvaron, the Demon God... Who is he? And what exactly are the Cursed Blood Words Draven used?»

To be honest, these are things Ayra already explained to me during one of the nights we spent together at the royal castle, but it was the first thing that came to mind to steer my thoughts... elsewhere. Besides, Ayra’s explanation was pretty shallow and filled with unclear parts—she probably doesn’t know much herself. Maybe Daphne knows more.

She turns slightly toward me—it takes a superhuman effort to pull my eyes away from her large, water-drenched breasts—tilts her head just a bit, and looks at me with an amused smile. «You do know that sharing such delicate information with a human is strictly forbidden by law, right? And that the punishment is quite severe, even for a princess?»

«Yeah, I figured as much...»

Damn it, I need to find another topic fast—if she touches me again by accident, I might completely lose control of the beast!

«Anyway, I feel like I can trust you,» she adds with a sweet smile. «After all, if Ayra is still alive and well despite everything she must’ve told you, it means you’re someone who knows how to keep his mouth shut.»

She must really know her little sister well...

«From what little the ancient texts tell us, millennia ago there existed a demon of unimaginable power—thousands of times stronger than even the mightiest of his kind. A being so powerful, he was considered a deity. That demon was Rakvaron. At the time, demons and vampires coexisted relatively peacefully on the continent of Khavvsk, until the demons, empowered by Rakvaron’s overwhelming strength, waged war on the vampires to conquer the entire continent and eventually expand their rule over all of N’raeth. Back then, we vampires were fragmented into many small, independent kingdoms—often even at war with one another. But in the face of that common threat, Lucypher Valakys succeeded in uniting all those small realms under one banner: the current kingdom of Mildelar.»

Up to this point, it’s more or less the same story Ayra told me. But the way Daphne recounts it—her soft, delicate voice—it’s like a gentle caress to my ears. I could listen to her for hours.

My body sinks slightly—the surface of the water almost reaches my nose. Between the soothing warmth of the thermal bath and the absolute silence of these caves—broken only by the soft gurgling of bubbles, like in a jacuzzi, and Daphne’s honey-sweet voice—I feel like I could fall asleep at any moment. My eyelids are half-closed, on the verge of giving in, when...

... I jolt with a sudden shiver the moment Daphne’s soft hand rests gently on my thigh, beginning—without any warning—to caress it with her nails. She starts at the knee, stopping just at the start of the inner thigh—a breath away from certain very sensitive spots—before sliding back to where she began, in a slow and continuous motion that wipes away my drowsiness in an instant, shattering any effort I was making to suppress inappropriate physical reactions.

W-Why is she doing this...?

I’m about to ask her, but she speaks a moment before I can.

«When Ayra feels particularly tense, I always give her this special massage while we lie on the grassy shore of the small Umlareth lake; it helps her relax and regain her balance. And it’s the same with my beloved Kajetan—it helps him relieve stress before an important fight. I hope it can have the same calming effect on you,» she says, with such sweetness and innocence that I don’t doubt her sincerity for even a second.

After all, why should I? If it had been Sasha saying this, I never would’ve taken her seriously. But Daphne... she’s a proper woman—graceful, refined, and with a heart of gold. I have no reason to think badly of her. She’s doing this for my own good—to help me shake off the unrest tormenting me. What kind of horrible person would I be if I didn’t trust her, after she trusted me enough to share all this despite the risks she’s taking?

And yet... I can’t help but recall something Sasha said just before her fight with Kajetan. At the time, it sounded like nothing more than a provocation, but for some strange reason, those words are echoing in my mind right now:

«...I will get to have sex with your familiar all night... if he still has anything left down there...»

What was she referring to...?

Daphne’s touch is pleasant and relaxing, but also incredibly intimate—something not even Ayra has ever dared to do, despite the nights we’ve spent together. Still, it stays confined to my thigh, never going further. She’s never given me any reason to get strange ideas about her, and I don’t plan to start now—not over a simple massage that, for a vampire, is probably just that: a massage.

This thought of mine is reinforced by her complete composure—ever since she began caressing me, she’s remained the same kind, composed woman as always, never slipping into ambiguous words or glances. Then she simply resumes speaking in her usual sweet, sleep-inducing voice, as if nothing had happened.

«The ancient scriptures don’t go into much detail. They simply recount the victory of the newly formed kingdom of Mildelar, Rakvaron’s death at the hands of Lucypher—with the help of three artifacts he created: the Armor of Eternal Rebirth, Eterenas, the Cloak of Infinite Energy, Maginfinitus and the Soul-Devouring Sword, Devoranimas—and the mass exodus of demons from the continent of Khavvsk to Gharzor, where they still dwell. From this point on, we enter the realm of oral legend passed down by the elders, and nothing is certain.» Daphne’s voice lowers to a whisper, almost imperceptible—like she’s afraid someone might be listening. Considering what she’s risking, her caution doesn’t surprise me.

«According to legend, the fierce duel between Lucypher and Rakvaron lasted two full weeks without pause, ending at last with the Demon God’s defeat. But demon magic is powerful—powerful enough to bring the dead back to life—and Lucypher knew that. So he divided Rakvaron’s body into three parts, sealing each one inside a different artifact using powerful confinement magic: the head in the sword, the upper torso in the armor, and the lower body in the cloak. The legend says that if someone brings all three artifacts back to the place where Rakvaron was sealed and recites the proper incantation, the Demon God can be freed—so long as the one speaking is a Valakys.»

«So that’s the CrimsonRequiem’s true objective? To bring Rakvaron back to life...?» I ask, clearly concerned.

«Yes, although I believe they’re truly convinced of their own ideology—to rid the world of vampire oppression. The spirit of Rakvaron, which still lingers in this world, must have brainwashed them—if not outright subjugated them with magic—convincing them that resurrecting him is the only way to free the world from evil. To that end, he granted them a portion of his own power which, combined with Sanguis energy, gave birth to the CursedBloodWord—a hybrid form of demonic and vampiric magic. That’s all I know. I hope my knowledge was of some help,» she concludes with a gentle smile.

«Y-Yeah... even though I kind of wish I didn’t know now...» I murmur, clearly uneasy. Ayra’s knowledge never went this far, and knowing that this terrifying demon could return at any moment—and kill Ayra, Daphne, and all the familiars I care about—fills me with a deep sense of dread.

«It’s getting late now—I’ll take you back to the dormitory,» Daphne says as she stands up. As she does, her knuckles briefly graze against my erection—surely just an accidental brush while getting up, but no less... spine-tingling.

«I really enjoyed spending time together, just the two of us. I hope I won’t have to wait until you’re feeling down again to be alone with you.»

Her words make me blush—I won’t deny it—but not out of embarrassment. I enjoy spending time with her too. She’s one of the few vampires who isn’t cruel, and I’m glad to know the feeling is mutual.

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