The Vampire Count Returned to the Apocalypse Game

The quest still floated at the edge of his vision like an insistent reminder.

Find Paranoid Dan.

He did not waste time with anyone. His mind kept circling around that potential quest.

But first, he had to count his earnings. He had gathered a considerable amount of coins, mostly silver, some copper pieces, and a couple of fragments he could sell later.

Combined with the previous rewards, he felt like a newly rich man inside the game. Even though his appearance said otherwise: no proper armor, basic clothing worn down by combat, and only a pair of light daggers visible at his sides. He looked like any other ambitious beginner.

At that point, he was already moving on to his next step. The game’s real economy felt just as tangible as the world outside the neural helmet.

For him, every credit mattered.

He headed toward the outskirts of the village, walking with steady but alert steps.

In a discreet spot behind the public privies—a nauseating place where the accumulated stench saturated the air, one of the exchange points operated by an organization tied to the game conducted business.

A hooded man with an unkempt beard and nervous eyes greeted him with a grunt. Gabriel avoided prolonged eye contact.

He loaded his coins onto the improvised wooden board and handed over an untraceable PIN he had prepared beforehand.

The old trick used by players. Nobody liked being controlled, so it had become a natural response.

The exchange was carried out in silence, with a slight transactional tax taking away a small percentage. Even so, the amount he would receive was more than acceptable. Enough to eat properly for several days.

Once he was far enough away, he discarded the extra cloak partially covering his mask and stored everything away. He did not want to draw more attention than necessary.

Throughout the entire trip from the fairgrounds to the outskirts, Gabriel had kept his senses amplified. Hearing and awareness at their maximum.

He picked up casual conversations between players planning raids, the laughter of groups of friends, complaints from those who had died inside dungeons, and the quieter murmurs of NPCs. Nothing specific about Dan.

Even so, he persisted.

He reached an abandoned area of the village, a district that clearly had not received any investment or attention from the developers. The houses were deteriorated, grass grew through the cracks in the streets, and the smell of dampness lingered everywhere.

The whispers here were different.

He passed near a group of NPCs gathered with cheap drinks and decided to try his luck.

He approached cautiously.

"Excuse me," he said in a neutral voice. "I’m looking for someone called Paranoid Dan. Do you know where I could find him?"

The reactions were immediate and dismissive. Some looked at him indifferently, others with open contempt. An older woman spat on the ground.

"Kid, get your ass outta here. Asking stupid questions!" growled a sturdy man drinking cheap liquor.

Gabriel apologized with a respectful bow of his head and withdrew. He did not want to earn the locals’ hostility. NPCs had memory and could make a player’s life difficult if offended too much.

He had barely taken a few steps when someone caught up to him.

It was a nervous-looking young man, perhaps seventeen in appearance, wearing patched clothes and constantly glancing from side to side.

"Outsider..." he whispered with a slight stutter. "You don’t seem like an arrogant idiot like the others. I recommend you stop asking about him. He’s just crazy. Very crazy."

Gabriel stopped. He knew he had hit the mark.

He turned slowly and lowered his voice slightly, trying to sound desperate but sincere.

"Believe me, I wouldn’t do it either if I could avoid it. I can’t refuse. It’s an important favor... someone asked me to do it, and they won’t take no for an answer."

The young NPC hesitated, biting his lower lip. He glanced both ways down the deserted street and finally sighed.

"Alright... but don’t say I told you. Search around the abandoned church. You’ll recognize his place immediately. And be careful. It’s not just paranoia... sometimes he says things that make people wonder if he’s really that crazy."

Gabriel nodded gratefully, and the young man hurried away as though afraid someone had seen them talking.

Gabriel increased his pace. The day was growing darker, and torches were scarce in that area.

He walked between ruined houses and narrow alleyways until he found it.

A small wooden house—more like a shack—separated from the others.

The walls were covered in insults painted with crude, faded red paint:

CRAZY DAN.

SHAMELESS SON OF A BITCH.

CRAZY DRUNK BASTARD.

MAY EVIL TAKE YOU.

Gabriel approached stealthily, stepping carefully to avoid making noise. His survival instincts, sharpened by years on real streets and recent combat, were on full alert.

He crouched beside a broken window and peeked through a gap where moonlight pierced the splintered wood, trying to see inside.

It was a mistake.

His instincts screamed a fraction of a second beforehand. Gabriel threw himself backward at full speed, but it was not enough.

A loud impact rang out.

A knife burst violently through the wood from inside, right where his head had been. The blade grazed his face. Splinters exploded in every direction. Several pierced through the openings of his mask and lodged into his open eyes.

The pain was immediate and blinding.

"Son of a bitch!" Gabriel snarled, stumbling backward while covering his face with both hands.

The splinters burned like fire. He could feel at least three or four embedded in his left eye and one in the right. Tears of pain mixed with blood streamed down his cheeks beneath the mask.

He tripped over a stone and fell onto his back, cursing through clenched teeth.

From inside the shack came a hoarse, raspy voice filled with paranoia and restrained fury:

"Who the hell are you? Another one of their errand boys? You came to steal my eyes? My skull? You won’t take anything! Anything!"

Gabriel crawled backward, trying to pull the splinters out with trembling fingers. The pain blurred his vision and sent sharp throbs through his skull. His physical recovery was good, but not instant.

He got onto his knees, breathing heavily.

"I’m not here to steal anything, you crazy bastard!" he replied, his voice strained with pain. "A strange man... with eyes like bottomless pits... told me to look for you."

A long silence came from inside.

Gabriel heard movement: furniture dragging, glass jars clinking, uneven footsteps.

Finally, the door cracked open just a few centimeters. A rusted chain prevented it from opening wider.

One bloodshot eye stared at him from the darkness. The face was gaunt, with an uneven beard and greasy hair hanging down in filthy strands.

"Eyes like pits?" the voice repeated, now quieter, almost a whisper.

"That useless bastard... always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong."