The vortex of magical energy released when Kanata’s blood revived the vampire woman was big enough that some of the villagers must have taken note. Kanata, Fenrir, and Zag’giel knew that the vampire was not some evil magic beast here to destroy the village, but Zag’giel wanted to avoid any unnecessary commotion, so under his advice, Kanata took the others back to the inn. The innkeeper had been waiting for them to come back, and was overjoyed to see Kanata back safe. Kanata offered to pay for the additional magic beast she had brought back with her, but the innkeeper refused.
“Never mind that, just get some rest,” she said, urging Kanata and her party on to their room. Privately, however, she was a bit surprised to see the pink furball accompanying her. It didn’t look anything like the ghost or vampire that rumors said had occupied the old castle.
The former vampire and present furball hopped out of Kanata’s hands the moment they reached the room. She flew around the room once, flapping with her tiny little wings, before landing on the headboard of the bed.
“Hahhh...” she sighed. “Indoors at last. I feel much calmer already.”
Kanata, for her part, found herself completely smitten by the tiny little movements the bat critter was making with her claws as she settled down on her perch. But before she could fulfill her heart’s desire and leap on the pink fluff to rub it against her cheeks, there was an important matter that needed to be settled.
“How about we introduce ourselves, then?” Kanata proposed as she finished using her magic to dry off the furballs.
“E-Excuse me?! Y-You want me to introduce myself?!” The furry little vampire seemed strangely taken aback by the suggestion.
“And what is so surprising about self-introductions?” Zag’giel snapped.
“Such disrespect!” agreed Fenrir. “Lady Kanata saved your life! The least you can do is tell us your name.”
Zag’giel and Fenrir still hadn’t let down their guard toward the vampire. They were still concerned for Kanata’s safety.
“Sh-Sh-Shut up!” the newcomer shot back. “Shut up shut up shut up! I’ll have you know it’s been a thousand years since I’ve talked to anyone! Give me a break!”
Neither Zag’giel nor Fenrir were about to make fun of someone for having been alone for a thousand years. After all, both of them had spent about that long on their own themselves. If anything, the pair felt a pang of sympathy for this new lonesome ball of fluff who had shown up in their lives.
“Then you are a vampire over a millennium in age...” Zag’giel mused. “We suppose that accounts for your power.”
“Do you know something about vampires, Demon King?” asked Fenrir.
“Like dragons, a vampire grows stronger the longer they live,” Zag’giel explained. “In the case of dragons it is a simple matter of size, but vampires gain in strength the more they bathe in the light of the moon.”
“I see!” said Kanata, petting him adoringly on the head. “You’re always so full of useful facts, Zaggy!”
“Hah,” Zag’giel laughed proudly. “It is only to be expected.”
Kanata was kind enough not to tell Zag’giel that she already knew that bit of information. She had read a near-identical explanation in her favorite book, The Bestiary of Albert Molmo, Tamer of Legends (Complete Edition).
“E...liza...vett...” the former vampire muttered under her breath.
“Huh?” asked Fenrir, looking up from his jealous sulk due to Zag’giel being praised. “Did the pink furball say something?”
“M-My name!” she yelled, hopping up and down on the headboard. “I am the Corpse Princess Elizavett! I am not a pink furball!”
She was a pink furball no matter how you looked at it, but at least she had finally told them her name—the Corpse Princess Elizavett. If she was called a princess, it stood to reason that she must come from some sort of noble stock among vampires.
“I have told you my name! Now tell me yours! Surely you must have names,” she continued, doing her best to hide her embarrassment behind a mask of indignation.
“We are the rightful ruler of the Dark Continent, the Demon King Zag’giel!” Zag’giel declared with a supremely smug grin on his face.
“I am the Spirit Wolf Fenrir, who accompanied the Saint on her quest to save the world!” announced Fenrir, equally self-assured.
Elizavett balked in surprise. “D-Did I hear you right?! The Demon King and the Spirit Wolf?! That’s—”
“Bwa ha ha!” Zag’giel laughed. “You seem surprised, Elizavett!”
“Ah ha ha!” laughed Fenrir. “Perhaps she’s just in awe of our majesty!”
“That’s ridiculous!” Elizavett finished. “There’s no way a pair of black and white furballs like you would be beings of such import! You must be lying! Pitiful furballs!”
“You’re the furball here!!!” shouted Zag’giel and Fenrir in unison.
The three furballs leapt at each other in a rage, collided, and fell together to the ground as a single ball of fur, yipping and mewing and screeching as they fought.
“Haah... Haah...” Kanata’s breath turned heavy. She had tried to hold herself back, but the sight of the three of them rolling around on the floor was quickly pushing her past her limit. “I-I can’t...” she said. “Y-You’re just too cuuuuute!” A dark shadow fell over her face. Only her eyes were visible, shining with a dim light as she advanced toward the three furballs, making grabby motions with both hands. “Y-You’re all... You’re all so naughty...” she said.
“No!” exclaimed Zag’giel. “We went too far!”
“L-Lady Kanata!” pleaded Fenrir. “Please! Calm yourself!”
“Huh...?” Elizavett said. She had no idea why the other two suddenly seemed so panicked. “What’s happening? What’s going on?”
Kanata scooped all three furballs into her arms at once.
“You’re so naughty for tempting me with those cuuuute boooodies of yours!!!” she wailed.
And so, once again, it was time for Kanata’s familiar welcome. Her suction power was as impressive as always, and the sound of her practically inhaling the fluff echoed throughout the sleepy village.