Chapter 288 - Translation

<h1>Chapter 288: Request</h1><p>The Cardinal's voice, already thin with frustration, rose into a sharp, trembling pitch.</p><p>"What you're doing goes against the Holy Order!" he barked, spittle flashing under the dying torchlight.</p><p>Van Dijk turned his gaze toward him with a look that was neither amused nor angry—merely tired. A wolf regarding a barking dog.</p><p>"You know, Clement," Van Dijk said, his voice low, steady as the slow pull of a blade from its sheath, "I was here when your 'Order' was still nothing but a group of ragged preachers, begging scraps in the alleys of Lufondal."</p><p>He took a step forward.</p><p>Mot said nothing—did nothing. He only watched.</p><p>"I was here," Van Dijk continued, "when you were little more than a cult, pulling desperate fools into your promises of the Four Gods' mercy. I was here when the city branded you heretics."</p><p>Another step. Closer. The chains clinked faintly at his ankles, but they no longer restrained him.</p><p>"I was here," Van Dijk whispered, "seven hundred years ago."</p><p>The Cardinal took a half-step back, instinctively.</p><p>"And yet..." Van Dijk smiled faintly. No warmth. No joy. Just inevitability. "Why do I still live, Clement?"</p><p>The Cardinal's mouth opened, but no words came.</p><p>Van Dijk tilted his head, observing the old man like a curious specimen.</p><p>"I'll tell you," he said, his voice almost soft. "Because I did nothing."</p><p>Clement frowned. "What—?"</p><p>"I haven't actively participated in the world's affairs for centuries," Van Dijk continued, voice sharpening. "I didn't seek revenge. I didn't correct the wrongs. I didn't rebuild what they took from me. I grew stronger. I learned. I waited."</p><p>He folded his hands behind his back, posture relaxed—almost regal.</p><p>"Do you know why, Cardinal?"</p><p>The question hung in the air. Heavy. Suffocating.</p><p>Clement didn't answer. But the hunger in his eyes was clear.</p><p>Van Dijk obliged him.</p><p>"Because I am immortal," he said simply. "And to me... you are all children. Your lives are like falling leaves. Beautiful, struggling... but ultimately brief. You work, you fight, you bleed... and you die. Forgotten."</p><p>He let the words settle into the cracks of the chamber.</p><p>"For a True Vampire," Van Dijk said, "time is but a river. And we—" he smiled thinly— "we are the stones that the current cannot erode."</p><p>The Cardinal's knuckles whitened around his staff.</p><p>"Even True Vampires can die!" he snapped.</p><p>Van Dijk's smile never faltered.</p><p>"Indeed," he said. His voice grew quieter. Sadder. "Even my father died. My brothers. My dearest sister..."</p><p>He closed his eyes for a moment, as if feeling the weight of those names.</p><p>"They were all True Vampires. Their blood pure. Their power immense."</p><p>A pause.</p><p>"And yet they fell."</p><p>His eyes opened, burning gold in the dark.</p><p>"Do you know why?"</p><p>He didn't wait for an answer.</p><p>"Because they were weak."</p><p>The words cracked like a whip through the air.</p><p>"I am not."</p><p>The torchlight flickered violently for a moment, as if reacting to the force in his voice.</p><p>"So believe me, Clement," Van Dijk said, stepping even closer, voice dropping to a near-whisper. "If you think my capture at the Black Tower was your doing—you are mistaken."</p><p>Clement stiffened, but said nothing.</p><p>"I allowed myself to be taken," Van Dijk continued. "Because I needed time. Time to understand what treachery brewed within my walls. I let my disciple escape."</p><p>The Cardinal seized on it instantly.</p><p>"Aha!" he cried, jabbing a finger. "You admit it! You aided a fugitive!"</p><p>Van Dijk's eyes turned to ice.</p><p>"And what," he said slowly, each word laced with quiet venom, "are you going to do about it?"</p><p>The chamber fell into a strained silence.</p><p>Even Mot shifted, stepping forward—this time not with hostility, but with calm deliberation.</p><p>"Master Van Dijk," the boy said, his voice unusually formal. "My lord wishes to speak with you."</p><p>Van Dijk arched a brow and tilted his head downward to the boy's small frame.</p><p>"What is it?" he asked.</p><p>Mot's body tensed for a breath, then his eyes shifted again—changing in that grotesque, impossible way. His irises stretched into squares. His pupils dilated into something alien, beyond comprehension.</p><p>And then, Mot spoke—but the voice that came forth was layered. A child's tone overlaid with something vast and ancient. Something wrong.</p><p>"One who seeks the End," the voice said, reverberating without sound, seeping into the very stones, "it is advised that you calm your wrath. Though it is but a spark in a sea of fire, it would be enough to ignite the land. Do not destroy this place. This is not an order, but a request. For its preservation shall serve you in ways you do not yet see."</p><p>The torches guttered once, as if gasping for air.</p><p>Then, as quickly as it had come, the presence withdrew. Mot blinked twice, confused.</p><p>"What did he say?" the boy asked innocently.</p><p>Van Dijk straightened, expression unreadable.</p><p>He turned his gaze back to Clement—who stood frozen, wide-eyed, having heard nothing.</p><p>"So only I heard," Van Dijk muttered under his breath. "Figures. It's always the damn scary ones that talk directly."</p><p>He let out a slow, resigned sigh.</p><p>"Well," he said, voice dry. "Second time I get to talk to a god personally. I suppose I should listen."</p><p>He stepped back toward the torture chair, chains and glyphs utterly meaningless now, and sat down with a casual grunt as if he were sitting on a royal throne.</p><p>"But at least," he added, leaning back with a grin, "someone bring me a proper meal. I'm getting tired of pretending I enjoy blood-stained porridge."</p><p>The Cardinal still looked stricken.</p><p>The two bishops glanced at each other, visibly rattled.</p><p>They had exhausted every torture method they knew. Every sacred rite. Every physical punishment. Nothing had cracked Van Dijk. Nothing had broken him.</p><p>And now... it seemed nothing could.</p><p>Clement opened his mouth—to argue, to order something—but Van Dijk beat him to it.</p><p>"I'm simply doing," he said, voice lilting with dark humor, "what your boy's god advises."</p><p>He drummed his fingers idly on the chair's arm.</p><p>"Chilling here."</p><p>The Cardinal turned sharply toward Mot. The boy merely nodded, serene and unbothered.</p><p>Clement looked like he was about to explode. He threw up his hands with a frustrated growl.</p><p>"For the love of the Four, Van Dijk, you're insufferable!"</p><p>He stomped toward the exit, nearly knocking over one of the bishops in his wake.</p><p>"I'm getting the Pontiff!" he barked as he stormed out.</p><p>The heavy doors slammed closed behind him, leaving the chamber once again cloaked in uneasy darkness.</p><p>Van Dijk sighed contentedly and closed his eyes.</p><p>At last, peace.</p><p>A silence he welcomed.</p><p>Visit freeweb(n)ovel.com for the best novel reading experience</p>

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