MIGHT AS WELL BE OP Chapter 1088: Talk With The Blood Queen

The aircraft touched down at the Blood Estate. As soon as it landed, the humming ceased entirely, accompanied by a soft hissing as the hatch slid open. Without a moment's pause, Anthony, Tiara, Bryan, Bringer, and Rider emerged with serene poise, their steps steady and graceful.

The casual smiles and relaxed attitudes they had shared just moments before vanished instantly. No longer isolated, they now found themselves deep in the Vampire Domain, obligated to uphold royal etiquette and sustain the dignity worthy of their exalted positions.

Even though he lacked the true Royal blood like his companions, Anthony's Emperor Demeanor skill operated at maximum as he strode forward. His gaze stayed serene and detached, his footfalls feather-light but intentional, virtually silent, while projecting an intangible pressure that quietly altered the air around him.

Elara Bloodmoon, the Blood Queen, stood ready alongside several elite figures from Vampire society—people Anthony didn't recognize or care about—their faces poised, their auras noble but held in check.

Anthony advanced toward Elara Bloodmoon with a tranquil expression. Halting two meters from her, he said, "It’s been a while, Blood Queen," his voice even, firm, and neutral, devoid of either friendliness or enmity.

"Welcome to the Vampire Domain, Null Anthony," the Blood Queen replied at once, her tone just as steady, giving away nothing of her private sentiments.

Anthony shifted his attention to the unfamiliar Vampire officials, offering them only a curt nod as bare recognition—it demanded no real effort—despite his evident lack of curiosity in them.

The Blood Queen's eyes flicked momentarily toward Bryan, Bringer, and Rider before snapping away. Though they bore royal titles and Royal-grade Bloodlines, Elara held them in utter contempt. As non-Vampires, they struck her as nothing more than immature youths, trivial beside entities of her caliber. She had zero desire to trade courtesies with such inferiors.

"Allow me to escort you within," Elara Bloodmoon declared, pivoting to lead the way. Anthony matched her without delay, striding alongside in composed, precise steps, as Tiara and the others trailed one pace back in disciplined order.

Upon entering the Blood Castle, Elara Bloodmoon spoke up, "I must first offer my apologies, for I cannot provide a tour or the complete hospitality at my disposal amid this dire urgency," she explained, gaze fixed ahead without glancing at Anthony.

"There's no call for apologies over that; I grasp your need for speed," Anthony shot back seamlessly. "That said, your residence is truly splendid," he appended, voice impartial with a subtle note of praise.

'She's beautiful as well,' Anthony pondered silently while covertly appraising the Blood Queen; her allure proved perilously captivating from every angle. 'Sigh... Vega outshines all— even Vampires famed for seduction can't rival her cosmic splendor,' Anthony reflected inwardly, his mind straying to Vega even here.

In truth, he stood as a man utterly ensnared by love.

"So, what brings you to summon me?" Anthony queried bluntly, acting oblivious despite knowing precisely why he had come.

The Blood Queen glanced back at the trailing Vampire officials and signaled with a faint nod; they surged ahead on command, blocking Bryan, Rider, and Bringer.

"Our regrets, but this marks the end of your path; we've arranged a separate chamber and diversions for you," a Vampire official addressed Bryan, Rider, and Bringer with polite firmness.

Yet the trio offered no words; they merely fixed their eyes on Anthony, awaiting his verdict. He halted briefly, then pivoted toward them with a subtle nod, directing them to obey and accompany the officials.

At that, they withdrew, vanishing into a distant castle wing, isolating Anthony, Tiara, and the Blood Queen to traverse the expansive halls in quiet.

"You can now speak without restraint, I'm certain," Anthony remarked amid his detached stride, tone unaltered.

Elara Bloodmoon drew a steadying breath before announcing, "My son, Drake Bloodmoon, lies dead; assassins struck him down mere hours past," her gaze shifting to Anthony, hunting for any flicker of response.

Anthony, however, betrayed no disturbance whatsoever, face impassive, stare locked forward as if the revelation weighed nothing at all.

"You show no shock or disturbance," Elara Bloodmoon noted, eyes still probing him intently for the faintest hint of change.

"Why would I be? I’ve never met your son, nor did I even know you had a son; why would I suddenly care about the death of someone I never knew existed to begin with?" Anthony shot back, his response straightforward, candid, and stripped of any extra emotion.

For a brief moment, the Blood Queen stayed quiet before replying, "You are right."

Anthony nodded slightly and then added, "Then I’m guessing you want me to resurrect him."

"That is correct; this is the favor I am asking of you, Anthony," Elara Bloodmoon declared. Though she tried to hide it, Anthony detected a faint hint of desperation in her voice, subtle yet impossible to miss.

"I thought Vampires had all sorts of blood rituals and methods; didn’t any of that work?" Anthony inquired, pretending not to know, keeping his tone light and offhand.

"None of it. This death seems... abnormal, which is precisely why I had no choice but to contact you," the Blood Queen responded honestly, her voice firm yet laced with hidden strain.

"No problem then, I will resurrect your son," Anthony declared without pause as he kept walking, his words casual, like he was agreeing to something minor.

Upon hearing Anthony’s assurance, the Blood Queen sensed the heavy burden on her lift noticeably; her gaze involuntarily turned to Tiara. With her Blood Sensing as the Blood Queen, she could effortlessly detect Tiara’s feelings and saw plainly that Tiara disliked the notion of this resurrection.

Yet she remained silent, knowing full well that Tiara had never held love for her son.

"But I must say, Blood Queen, to owe someone a favor, you need to be on the same level as them, don’t you think so?" Anthony remarked, his tone steady, the question loaded with quiet authority. "So, I won’t accept your favor, Blood Queen; instead, from your hidden treasury, I will need something that can compel me to bring your son back from death. If you don’t have anything of that sort, then I’m sorry, I cannot help you," he concluded firmly, his statement sharp, unyielding, and brooking no debate or compromise.

At Anthony’s declaration, the Blood Queen’s crimson eyes narrowed sharply, though she held her tongue. He had openly declared her inferiority in strength, a fact she’d never confess openly but couldn’t deny. And as he pointed out, owing a favor required equal standing; the weaker couldn’t owe the stronger one.

After all, what value could the weak hold when the strong called in that debt during tough times? It was a harsh, straightforward reality of their world.