June, restless monsters, out-of-control magic, and the ominous Red Moon. All of these elements stacked together made the average living being terrified. Although the big shots, magicians and officials, call this month the Crimson Moon, or the Month of Magic. But the commoners are more accustomed to calling it the Month of Disaster.

　　On this day, Varede was ready to take some action and make an adventure. That is, to strengthen his strength and to spice up his slightly boring life. Despite not being a Grand Magician. But to be honest, this young master who was born with an affinity for the winds of magic, and whose own magical reserves had reached an extremely considerable point, regardless of skill, in terms of strength alone, was even above the average Archmage.

　　After a few years of previous observation. He had already initially understood the mysteries of this month, as well as the red moon. As an excellent Spiritualist, or according to this world's terminology, an excellent battle mage. Varede knew the techniques of navigating this storm. Just like the most excellent sailors who knew the tides, monsoons and currents of the ocean.

　　Although living in a society ruled by bloodsucking nobles, with internal unity and love for each other. But that doesn't mean that Varede can relax and be a rice worm by not caring about anything.

　　Because he was a vampire noble. And the heir of a noble family. This identity destined him to join the army at the age of sixteen and become a warrior. In order to expand the territory and guard the territory and fight.

　　On the battlefield, the enemy doesn't care what your identity is. Valeed's biological father, the former Count of the Karstein family, was killed in battle six years ago, two months before Valeed's birth. The young earl had ended up being chopped in two by a green-skinned orc war chief, with his axe.

　　At the time, the Earl was concentrating all his energies on commanding his army. Because of the army of the dead, it had to rely on the command of a necromancer in order to move. Since he had invested too much of his spirit in commanding his army, he was thus defenseless against the green-skinned chief who had suddenly appeared. And the vampire warriors around him, the high-level undead guards, were no match for that war chief.

　　In this way, the previous generation of Count Kastanin was killed in battle, and the total of fifteen thousand undead soldiers under his command lost their commanders and became a pile of dead bones that couldn't move. The battle ended in a crushing defeat for Sylvania.

　　That battle, named the Battle of the Southern Wastelands, was completely lost because of the loss of the previous generation of Count Kastanin. It ultimately led to the kingdom losing one tenth of its army and falling to one twentieth of its territory. And a large portion of the plains, which had no dangers to defend, was laid bare and placed in the midst of the ravages of the green-skinned orcs. It can be said to be a heavy loss. And Vared was born two months prematurely because of his birth mother's excessive grief - which is probably why Vared still has the memories of his previous life.

　　Though fated to be a vampire noble, the head of the House and Count of the Karstein family. But that doesn't mean that Varede is willing to recognize his parents. Though technically, there would be no Varede without them. And the Count's death was, in a way, a relief to Varede.

　　He addressed Isabella, his sister by her first name. Rarely called her sister. And when addressing his biological mother, the Countess Windsor, she was only addressed as Madam. Such a slightly cold address naturally made his sister and mother unhappy.

　　The Countess felt that this son of hers seemed to be somewhat less fond of himself. The reason was perhaps because she had treated him a little coldly. But there was no way out. After the Count's death, the large family business had to be run by her. Although relatives and other families will help. But some things related to the core of the family, still can not leave her.

　　And besides that, there was another reason. It was that Varede had fully inherited his biological father's handsome looks. As he got older and older, coupled with some subjective consciousness of the Countess. When she saw her son, she would often think of her dead husband. Consequently, the Countess also tried her best, intentionally, not to come into contact with Varede, so as not to grieve herself even more. Of course, this was equally good for Varede.

　　As for Isabella, she was not convinced and felt that her dignity as a sister was trampled on. As a result, she always tried to find ways to tease Varede in order to force him to call herself his sister.

　　Of course, pranks at the level of a twelve year old child were simply a joke to Varede. Those traps, bait, lies, and whatnot, one didn't even need to seriously distinguish them to know they were fake. Varede even felt that if he continued to play with her cheap sister like this, his IQ would drop as a result.

　　For Varede, the real difficulty wasn't how to maneuver around his sister. Rather, it was how to pretend to be unaware of, or think hard and very laboriously to decipher those so-called plots and tricks of hers. It had to be done as if one were a very clever, but not overly clever, little child. Living like this, weighing left and right, was driving Varede crazy.

　　Fortunately, after a period of time, Valède also summarized a simple and convenient method that could counter Isabella very well. That was to trick her into disguising herself as if she had been harmed by a trap and was seriously injured. If necessary, one could also cry a couple times. Then Isabella would take it at face value and show up very concerned. After that comes the revenge and the conditions.

　　Speaking of which, it was quite fun to tease Lori like this for fun. And from an outsider's point of view, this is a very normal game between children. Adults who saw it would only come up with: ah, ah. These two siblings are really close. Such a specious conclusion. Therefore, Varede didn't need to be too polite at all.

　　Thinking of this, Varede, who had the appearance of an innocent and cute little child, revealed an innocent and cute smile. The next moment when the light laughter, which was noticed by the few servants outside the door, a slight pain attacked their necks. Allowing them to sleep a little deeper. Most of the time, when Varede wanted to go out he would use this kind of trick to greet these servants who were guarding the outside.

　　It wasn't that Varede felt that they dared to disobey his orders. It was just that he didn't want them to tell about his going out to minimize unnecessary troubles.

　　And amongst this group of maids, there was one that was an exception, which was Maya. It wasn't because Varede looked at her differently. Rather, after she supplied Varede's dinner, she would have to get a good night's sleep in order to regain her strength. And to ensure the quality of her sleep, she would take a specialized sleeping pill. So there was no need for a special supplement.

　　Within the entire Dekenhof Old Castle, other than these few servants, there were only the two of them, Varede, and Isabella. As usual, the Countess was not at home, most likely busy with family territory matters, or working for the Citizens' Assembly. The other members of the Karstein family either owned their own castles or lived in the city, while others worked within the Citizen's Assembly system. None of them were here, either.

　　Of course, that didn't mean that the old fortress in Novo lacked manpower and defense forces. In fact, compared to the sparse number of self-aware beings. The number of undead within this old castle was much higher.

　　Unlike the normal, randomly put together skeletons that couldn't even defeat the most ordinary human farm soldiers. These undead warriors guarding within the ancient fortress were all the elite of the elite.

　　In their lifetime, they were all elites in the army, or warriors with a certain reputation, or possibly knights who had undergone hard training. And after their deaths, their skeletal remains were obtained by the vampire nobles, and through a special transmutation method, they were made into powerful undead creatures.

　　Although only one skeleton remains. But under the dark power of necromancy, these undead were even more powerful than when they were alive, than when they were in their heyday.

　　Faster speed, higher attack power. These undead had green phosphorescent flames flickering in their eyes, wore black iron plate armor with painted magical patterns, and held black iron halberds with ominous glints, or two-handed longswords, and swords and shields. They were the elite, the main force of the vampire kingdom, the close guard of the vampire clans. It was the excellent warriors called Tomb Guards.

　　These lurid-looking and numerous Tomb Guards tirelessly roamed and patrolled the grounds of the old fortress of Dekenhof to guard their lord's fortress. To expel their enemies. Or perhaps waiting for their lord's call to form an array to enter the battlefield ......

　　They were clear in their attitude, well equipped and tireless in their efforts to strike a sobering blow against any enemy who dared to risk House Karstein. Yet now, they maintained their patrol as Varede walked past them. As if they hadn't seen him.

　　Because Varede was not an enemy.

　　Or on the contrary, Valed was also one of the members of the Dekenhof Ancient Castle, the future count of the Karstein family. It was the one they were to guard. The mechanics and rigidity of the undead soldiers could be seen here. They wouldn't act like real people and stop Varede to inquire, “My little master, what exactly do you want to do at this late hour when you don't sleep and come here?” And then send him back to his room.

　　The undead soldier was indeed very obedient. However, at certain times, it appeared to be a bit too obedient. If some unhinged necromancer wanted to do an experiment, ordering the undead soldiers under his command and giving them, “Kill me.” Such a command then. Then the undead soldiers would absolutely not hesitate to swing their weapons at him. Until he was killed. Or until the necromancer changed the order, or until he was killed by the necromancer.