Chapter 3 – Summoning the Commanders

“My Lord!”

A deep, polished voice echoed through the hall.

It scared Mark to the bone.

There was someone else here?

He wasn’t the only one inside the Ziggurat?

The shock of hearing a real voice for the first time in that world made his human heart race, but his body didn’t follow.

On the outside, Vaelin remained upright, his face icy and unreadable.

Clack

Clack

Clack

The rhythmic sound of heels striking marble filled the space.

Without Mark being able to control it, his crimson eyes merely observed with predatory calm the figure approaching in quick steps.

The moment he saw the figure, recognition struck like lightning.

‘It’s him!’

It was a man.

He wore spotless white dress shoes, and his legs were covered by fine white trousers of the same color.

Over a high-collared shirt rested a vest and a tailored coat that fit his body with precision.

In contrast, his hands were covered by red gloves, as if dipped in blood.

It was the attire of an elite butler.

But what truly drew attention was above the neckline.

Instead of a human head, there was a large… bat’s head.

Its fur was gray and velvety, with long ears that twitched, catching every sound in the environment. Its eyes were large, round black orbs, giving the creature a look that was more expressive than monstrous.

When he reached a few meters from Mark, the figure collapsed in an exaggerated motion.

He dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead against the cold marble, red-gloved hands spread on the floor in submission.

“Please forgive the insolence of this humble servant for invading the hall, Sovereign!” the man’s voice trembled.

There was a mixture of respect, fear, and a joy that bordered on madness.

“Upon hearing the turbulent sounds escaping Your chambers… I feared that Your Lordship was being attacked during your sacred rest! I could not bear such failure, so this servant trespassed!”

Mark remained silent, his gaze fixed on the bat head now softly sniffing against the floor.

A bat wearing a white suit and red gloves.

Mark’s mind spun.

He knew that “unit.”

In the game, it had only been an icon he clicked to manage blood stocks and trap maintenance.

But now he could smell lavender from the white suit and see the real trembling in that figure’s shoulders.

“…” Mark.

That was Hermos, the bat-butler he had obtained as an event reward years ago.

He had been the prize of a seasonal event, “The Siege of the Winged Clan.”

In the game’s lore, Hermos descended from an ancient lineage of noble bats that had fled after their lands were devastated by enemies.

During the event, the player had to withstand uninterrupted invasions for seven real days to earn the smallest chance of recruiting a member of that family.

And Mark had won Hermos.

Seeing him through a five-inch screen was one thing. Having that creature standing before him was something else entirely.

That character, who once had only three repetitive dialogue lines, now showed personality and loyalty.

Mark’s human mind slipped into the uncanny valley, struggling to process the texture of the gray fur and the frantic movement of those pointed ears.

It was bizarre, almost hypnotic.

He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. He meant to calmly say that everything was fine and reassure Hermos, but his throat tightened at that moment.

“That’s enough.”

What left his mouth was a cold, lofty command.

Hermos shrank even further against the floor. “Y-yes!”

‘What the hell…’

Mark felt a chill crawl down his spine.

He tried to say A, but his voice obeyed something else and answered B.

Could… Vaelin be taking control?

The realization hit hard.

That was the personality he himself had created. Every arrogant line, every twisted trait, every gesture of superiority he had written for his avatar when he was younger… all of it was now coming back to bite him.

If he acted like the original Vaelin… would Mark become a bastard, arrogant vampire? What would happen to his own personality?

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Shit, that didn’t sound good.

Maybe there was some way around it, even though it felt engraved into his soul.

Looking down, he noticed Hermos remained motionless, almost fused to the floor.

“Stand.”

His mouth ordered again. Mark tried to soften the tone, though the voice still carried natural authority.

“T-thank you, Sovereign! A thousand thanks!” Hermos sprang up with agile, precise movements.

He began smoothing his white clothes with his gloved fingers, removing invisible wrinkles with obsessive care.

Despite the strangeness, Mark felt a sudden nostalgic ache in his chest.

In the middle of all this, seeing Hermos brought strange comfort.

That “icon” from years ago was now his first real companion.

He wasn’t completely alone.

Clearing his throat, Mark tried to regain control of the conversation.

“It’s fine, Hermos. Those sounds… I was just testing my own abilities.”

Hermos’s ears vibrated instantly, and his large black eyes shone with genuine, almost childlike admiration.

“As expected of the Sovereign! Such power…” he exclaimed, placing a hand over his chest.

“From the turbulence, I truly believed the Ziggurat was under massive attack. Never did I imagine that merely Your Lordship’s awakening would shake this place’s foundations. Truly admirable!”

Mark swallowed internally.

Being stared at by those two big, round black orbs, he didn’t know how to respond.

He really had overdone the tests.

Thankfully, the Ziggurat’s walls were as resilient as the game’s stats promised.

Thinking of that, he asked, “How is the perimeter integrity? Was there any notable change in the Ziggurat during my… rest?”

Inside, he was curious whether everything remained the same.

Hermos straightened, instantly recovering his posture. He tilted his bat head slightly, ears twitching before replying.

“The structure remains impeccable, Sovereign. The outer perimeter of the first ring has suffered no breach, and mana levels are stable, circulating exactly as in previous cycles.”

He paused, adjusting his red gloves.

“Nothing has changed, my Lord,” Hermos concluded.

A knot formed in Mark’s throat.

‘Nothing changed?’

The answer confirmed that, mechanically, the territory was the same as always.

Yet that only deepened the mystery.

If nothing had changed inside, what about the real world outside?

What happened to the enemies and nations that used to send armies to his gates every day?