22: Chapter 22 Cecilia's Transformation

The caravan set off again in less than half an hour.

The road remained difficult to travel, the mud was just as deep, and the sky was just as overcast.

The five covered wagons had been reduced to one covered wagon and one flatbed carriage; the axles of the remaining vehicles had been smashed during the battle, forcing them to be abandoned.

Nearly half of the cargo was also abandoned: sacks of grain, several barrels of wine, and a chest of luxurious silk destined for Blackstone City.

Everything was piled in the mud on the side of the road, soaked through by the rain, and no one spared them a second glance.

The Old Coachman did not look back once while driving; he did not want to see that bloody scene again.

Two attendants were also helping to drive the wagons, but their eyes were glazed over, and neither of them spoke.

Only the viscous sound of wheels crushing through the mud and the dull thud of hooves splashing in the water echoed continuously.

Cecilia lay in the covered wagon, with Richard sitting beside her.

Her breathing grew shallower, and the color of her lips faded from bluish-purple to an almost translucent grayish-white.

The black veins on her neck spread past her jawline, continuing to slowly advance toward her eye sockets and temples.

A night passed.

The caravan did not make camp; no one dared to stop for the night again.

Everyone took turns driving, and when tired, they would doze off against the cargo amidst the jolting of the carriage, never letting go of their weapons.

Before dawn, a sliver of gray morning light finally appeared on the horizon.

And just as that light shone into the covered wagon, Cecilia, who was lying on the bedding, suddenly opened her eyes.

Her eyes were no longer their former sky blue.

They were a pair of blood-red eyes, with vertical pupils and dark red irises, appearing exceptionally eerie.

When Richard lowered his head to look at her, she was staring straight at him with a look Richard had never seen before.

That was not Cecilia's gaze, at least not the Cecilia he knew.

In those blood-red eyes, there was no composure, no calmness, and none of the emotions that originally belonged to a human.

There was only hunger in those eyes.

A pure, primitive hunger, devoid of any reason.

She opened her mouth, revealing a set of canines; four fangs flipped out from both the upper and lower jaws, a full segment longer than a normal person's eyeteeth.

Her body sprang up from the bedding almost instinctively, her hands reaching for Richard's throat, moving with a speed that completely exceeded her level before she was injured.

Then, she stopped less than a palm's width away from Richard's throat.

She was forcefully and tightly restrained by Richard's hands.

A violent struggle surged in Cecilia's blood-red eyes.

Her pupils switched repeatedly between vertical and round, her eyelids twitched incessantly, and a dense layer of cold sweat seeped from her forehead.

Her hands were firmly gripped by Richard, her fingers curled into claws, and her nails sharpened and lengthened at a speed visible to the naked eye.

But she gritted her teeth tightly, her jawbone making faint creaking sounds amidst the violent trembling.

"I… I don't…"

Her voice was so hoarse it was almost unrecognizable as her speaking; every word was squeezed out from between her teeth, carrying a hoarse, suppressed undertone.

"I can't… I can't control myself, I want…"

Richard did not retreat; he did not even draw his weapon.

He simply maintained eye contact with those blood-red eyes, his tone very calm: "Stay conscious, Cecilia."

Cecilia collapsed back onto the bedding as if all her strength had been drained.

She curled into a ball, clutching her shoulders tightly with both arms, her ten fingers digging into her upper arms, her nails leaving several bloody scratches on her body.

Her body trembled violently, every breath accompanied by the urgency of desperate panting, her jawbone opening and closing incessantly, the sound of her teeth clashing together exceptionally clear in the covered wagon.

"What happened… I… so thirsty…" Her voice was intermittent.

"Why do I feel… something's wrong… my body is wrong… I see light… so blinding… my head hurts so much…"

After waiting for her breathing to calm down slightly, Richard told her everything that had happened during her coma in the most concise language possible.

The Vampire's death, her situation after being bitten, and the curse beginning to transform her body.

He did not omit the death of anyone, including Val, Hoffman, and those attendants.

After listening, Cecilia did not cry, perhaps because her tear glands had already begun to degenerate after becoming a Vampire.

Perhaps it was simply because she had used all her strength to suppress her craving for blood, leaving no extra energy to shed tears.

She closed her eyes and was silent for a long time, then asked: "Val's body… was it brought back?"

"It was brought back, on the wagon."

There was another long silence.

The carriage continued to jolt forward on the muddy trade route, and from outside the canvas, the sound of the Old Coachman cracking his whip to urge the horses could be heard, the lash snapping crisply in the damp air.

"Where is Liam?" she asked.

Richard looked back at the corner of the covered wagon.

Liam was huddled there, his knees pressed against his chest, his holy symbol pressed against his forehead with both hands, his whole body curled into a ball.

He was whispering continuously, reciting prayers to the God of Healing Jua, over and over again, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

His eyes were open, but his pupils were unfocused as if they might dissipate at any moment, his gaze passing through the floor of the wagon, staring at some unknown void.

Richard called out to him, but he did not respond.

He called out again, but he still did not respond, like a walking corpse.

From last night until now, Liam had done only one thing—praying incessantly.

He spoke to no one, looked at no one, neither ate nor drank, just prayed.

"Sigh, this kid has been scared out of his wits." Richard sighed.

Cecilia did not say much; she just bit her lip tightly.

Then, she lifted a corner of the canvas; the blinding morning light shone in through the gap and onto the back of her hand.

The skin on the back of her hand emitted a wisp of extremely thin white smoke the moment it touched the sunlight, accompanied by a faint sizzling sound, like a drop of water falling on a red-hot iron plate.

She quickly pulled her hand back, looking at the small, scorched red spot on the back of her hand, and was silent for a few seconds.

"No… no, heh, I've become a damn Vampire now too."

Richard gripped her hands tightly and comforted her: "As long as you are alive, there is hope. We will find a way to cure you, so don't overthink it."

During the few days of traveling to Blackstone City, Cecilia did not have contact with anyone other than Richard.

When she felt hungry, she would walk alone into the woods by the roadside when the caravan stopped to change horses, using her sharp claws to hunt any living creature she could find: wild rabbits, foxes, a half-grown deer.

At first, she only bit the throats of the beasts to drink their blood, but later she discovered that her craving for blood was even harder to control than she had imagined.

So she simply drained the entire prey dry, then buried the shriveled corpse under the rotting leaves in the forest.

After drinking the beast's blood, her condition would improve slightly; the color of her eyeballs would change from bright red to deep red, the low growl when she spoke would disappear, and her lips would regain a bit of color.

But she refused to consume human blood.

Richard had offered to let her drink his own blood in an emergency, but Cecilia looked at him with an expression of shock that was almost offended.

Then she said decisively: "Richard, I am very grateful for the sacrifice you are willing to make, but I will never become a monster that feeds on human blood, never!"