Ingrid flitted out of the room, going at an instance speed due to her rage that appeared to have been fuelled by insanity.
With her gone, the Count’s predicament seemed a little better… and worse, a lot worse.
There was nothing left to distract the Count from the UV bars that surrounded him.
He could almost feel them, like they were radiating some kind of heat. That just made them all seem like they were moving inwards, getting closer and closer to him and to burning his skin.
The Count flinched, and turned to face his son praying that that he was still alive in some form.
The idea that Vlad was the Chosen One was a source of delight for the Count, but also of great worry because now Ingrid was not the only threat.
The fact that such a highly trained slayer had shown up the same time as ceremonies couldn’t have been a coincidence,
he must have been here to kill the next Grand High Vampire which meant that he was targeting the Dracula heir he just didn’t realise it.
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