SSS Awakening: Rebirth of the Strongest Vampire God-Chapter 219: A flying castle

"This is too cool!" Damon whistled. Despite the serious situation right now, he couldn’t help but admire what was happening at the moment. The whole freaking castle was flying in the air!

He looked out the window and stared at the endless frozen wasteland in awe. Apparently, short-distance flying was less energy-consuming than teleportation. La Rocha informed that

La Rocha had informed him that, unlike spatial jumps, which momentarily tore through the fabric of the world, levitation over short distances only required sustained mana infusion into the foundational array.

Snow whipped past the windows, ghostly and fast, as if trying to outrun the thing cutting through the heavens. Below them, an unending stretch of pale white death stretched endlessly.

Damon leaned forward, pressing a hand to the window as if he could absorb the surreal moment into his skin. "This is it, huh?" he murmured to himself. "My floating vampire fortress in the middle of nowhere. Not gonna lie, ten-year-old me would be weeping tears of joy."

La Rocha’s voice emerged in a dry huff. "Ten-year-old you clearly had no taste. And the current you also have no taste."

Damon laughed, the sound echoing faintly off the polished stone and velvet-draped walls. "You wound me, La Rocha. Here I thought we were bonding."

"If by bonding you mean dragging me across this wasteland while bleeding me of all my reserves, then yes, we’re practically family," the spirit muttered.

The castle dipped slightly, adjusting course as it skimmed above a jagged ridge of ice-encrusted peaks. Soon, in another few minutes, they reached the location, and they could already see the ice dome in the distance. They hadn’t travelled a lot of distance in the first place before the accident happened, so the return was just as fast.

Once they arrived closer, Damon asked La Rocha to set the castle down, allowing Sylvara to walk out. The enormous castle settled atop the frozen plains with a soundless grace, its spires cutting like fangs into the sky, the snow curling gently around its base as though afraid to touch it.

Sylvara stood at the open archway of the grand entrance, her golden hair fluttering behind her. She turned once to look at Damon, her expression unreadable, half grateful and half burdened. "Thank you," she said softly. "For everything. I will go in and bring the others as well as some resources we have managed to gather."

Damon nodded. "Just don’t take too long."

Sylvara gave him a small, knowing smile before stepping into the snow. As she vanished into the distance, heading toward the barely visible shimmer of the ice dome, Damon stayed at the gate a moment longer, watching the white horizon.

Behind him, La Rocha muttered, "You’ve got too many moving parts already. You keep adding more, and eventually something’s going to snap. Isn’t saving that old man more than enough? Even that woman is not worth keeping around."

Damon chuckled. "You need to give more chances to others before coming to conclusions about them. They might surprise you if you do. She is just asking for a little help, and I won’t lose anything by doing so."

La Rocha snorted. "Compassionate. Noble. Heroic. Ugh. You sound like one of those bright-eyed protagonists from a third-rate bard’s tale. It’s revolting."

Damon smirked, still watching the snow swirl like restless ghosts. He did not answer the item spirit. Instead, he stared ahead silently. The future was uncertain for sure, and he could use more allies. But that wasn’t the reason he was helping Sylvara.

Damon’s mind flickered back to the fierce swordsmanship of the old guy. It was thanks to Artimius that he was able to force the demon’s hand and get out of the mess they were all in. freewebnøvel.coɱ

Maybe his strength alone would have been enough, but that old man jumped into the fire for him, for the word he gave him, and he had to respect that. He was not a complete bastard after all.

He did not plan to babysit their whole group for the rest of his life, but he definitely did not mind lending a small helping hand.

Damon continued looking outside as the events of the fight once again ran through his mind. He couldn’t help but think about it again and again. He let out a sigh and was about to turn back when he noticed that Sylvara was back, along with a small group.

There was Nevin, a handful of elders, and finally two robed figures. In total, there were just ten of them.

Damon’s brows lifted slightly at the sight. Only ten? Out of an entire ancient clan, that was all who remained loyal? It felt very odd. How could Robert alone have swayed an entire clan of people who had been together for a long time? Was their clan really that broken?

Damon felt as if he was still not seeing the full picture. He let out a sigh and decided to talk to the old man about it soon. There was anyway a lot they still needed to talk about, and now that he was recovering in his castle, they had quite a bit of time together, plenty of time to discuss many things.

Outside, Sylvara led the group with quiet dignity, her steps steady despite the terrain. Nevin walked beside her, face grim but calm, his gaze scanning the castle with the caution of a man entering sacred ground.

Behind them came the elders, their expressions weary, etched with frost and resolve. The last two figures kept their hoods up, their features completely hidden beneath layered robes, though Damon noticed a faint shimmer of mana dancing around their forms like protective mist.

"They made it," Damon muttered to himself, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile. "La Rocha, open the gates. Let them in."

With a reluctant grumble, the great iron gates parted once more, the enchantments flaring like lines of fire tracing the runes embedded in the walls.

The group stepped through slowly, gazes rising to take in the towering obsidian and the watchful gargoyles perched on high ledges. No one spoke. The scene was simply too shocking to take in. What the hell was this castle, and how did it come here all of a sudden? The flamboyant style was simply too much to digest.

Damon walked forward to greet them. "Welcome," he said simply, voice echoing in the vast stone hall. "This place isn’t what you’re used to, but it’ll do. You’ll be safe here."

Sylvara gave Damon a grateful glance, her eyes softening. "We’ll do our best not to burden you further."

Damon waved the words away. "Don’t worry about it. There are empty quarters on the east wing. Take your time, get some rest. We’ll talk more once you’ve settled." With that, the group moved deeper into the stronghold, and Damon turned back toward the window.

This time, La Rocha was going to teleport the whole castle, and he was kind of curious where the item spirit was going to take them.

As he silently stared outside, all of a sudden, he felt a figure bounding towards him, and before Damon could react, two arms embraced him from the back, and someone hugged him tightly.

Damon froze, and his heart rate quickened. No. No way. It couldn’t possibly be?

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