Vampire Hunter D 16: Tyrant's Stars

by Hideyuki Kikuchi

  VAMPIRE HUNTER D VOLUME 16: TYRANT’S STARS PARTS ONE AND TWO © Hideyuki Kikuchi 2011. Originally published in Japan in 2000 by ASAHI SONORAMA Co. English translation copyright © 2011 by Dark Horse Books and Digital Manga Publishing.

  No portion of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the express written permission of the copyright holders. Names, characters, places, and incidents featured in this publication either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events, institutions, or locales, without satiric intent, is coincidental. Dark Horse Books® and the Dark Horse logo are registered trademarks of Dark Horse Comics, Inc. All rights reserved.

  Cover art by Yoshitaka Amano English translation by Kevin Leahy Book design by Krystal Hennes

  Published by

  Dark Horse Books

  A division of Dark Horse Comics, Inc.

  10956 SE Main Street Milwaukie, OR 97222

  DarkHorse.com

  Digital Manga Publishing

  1487 West 178th Street, Suite 300 Gardena, CA 90248

  DMPBooks.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Kikuchi, Hideyuki, 1949-ID—Bokun no hoshi. English]

  Tyrant’s stars. Parts one and two / written by Hideyuki Kikuchi; illustrated by Yoshitaka Amano ; english translation by Kevin Leahy. — 1st Dark Horse Books ed. p. cm. " (Vampire Hunter D ; v. 16)

  “Originally published in Japan in 2000 by Asahi Sonorama, Tokyo”"T.p. verso.

  ISBN 978-l'59582-572'8

  I. Amano, Yoshitaka. II. Leahy, Kevin. III. Title.

  PL832.I37D23513 2011

  895.6'36"dc22

  2010040396

  First Dark Horse Books Edition: April 2011 10 987654321

  Printed at Lake Book Manufacturing, Inc., Melrose Park, IL, U.S.A.

  Contents

  CHAPTER I. 6

  I. 6

  II. 13

  III. 19

  CHAPTER 2. 24

  I. 24

  II. 29

  III. 37

  CHAPTER 3. 41

  I. 41

  II. 48

  CHAPTER 4. 60

  I. 60

  II. 64

  III. 68

  CHAPTER 5. 74

  I. 74

  II. 79

  CHAPTER 6. 91

  I. 91

  II. 96

  III. 101

  CHAPTER 7. 108

  I. 108

  II. 115

  III. 119

  CHAPTER I. 126

  I. 126

  II. 131

  III. 136

  CHAPTER 2. 143

  I. 143

  II. 149

  III. 154

  CHAPTER 3. 161

  I. 161

  CHAPTER 4. 179

  I. 179

  II. 185

  CHAPTER 5. 196

  I. 196

  II. 202

  CHAPTER 6. 213

  I. 213

  II. 218

  III. 224

  CHAPTER 7. 230

  I. 230

  II. 234

  III. 237

  END.. 241

  CHAPTER I

  I

  Eyes shut, he sat on his throne listening to the echoes of battle ringing out on the floor below. He shouldn’t have been hearing these sounds. The clang of sword on sword as iron met steel, the crunch of severed flesh and bone, and then the noises that took their place—the thud of combatants hitting the floor without so much as a final cry. He could even see the sparks from when blade struck blade. All the defensive systems of his castle had been rendered ineffective and his warriors had been slain, and all that remained were the last fifteen stalwart individuals who now faced his fearsome foe in the chamber beneath him.

  There was no light in his room. Naturally, there were no windows either. Though there were those who, despite having eyes that could see in complete darkness, used candles, lamps, and other sources of light just as humans did, he had forgone all of that. As a result, there was nothing in this chamber except the chair on which he sat, a table, and a coffin. He had no need of the darkness outside. So long as he remained in the room, an inky blackness equally dark and dense would surround him forever.

  How long had it been since he’d decided not to leave?

  A white glow shone behind his eyelids: someone’s face. He heard an agonized cry. The groan that rang out was the death rattle of the fifteenth of his retainers, stabbed through the heart.

  It was too early. Such speed was terrifying—amazing, even impossible. His foe was truly capable. There was a feverish aching deep in his chest. Power called to power—but though he endeavored to recall the person’s name, he fared poorly. That had all been forgotten long ago, the instant he took a seat in this room. And ever since, he’d been at peace.

  Inaudible footsteps were climbing the stairs. Unable to slow the racing of his heart, he opened his eyes. Dust filled his field of view, but the world soon became visible.

  His foe was on the other side of the door. The dimensional vortex, phase-switching device, hypnocircuits, and other defenses that had been imprinted into the two-inch-thick door would no doubt do their deadly best to eliminate the intruder. But he got the feeling none of them would do any good. His brain could no longer form any picture from the sounds he heard. Between the door and that attacker, a breathtaking life-or-death conflict had to be taking place.

  A minute passed.

  There was a flash at one edge of the door—at the side where the lock was. It carved the lock right out of the door as if it were slicing through water.

  The door was opening without a sound . . . and he was directly across from it. The fine crack of light grew broader, and when it’d taken on an oblong shape, he saw the shadowy figure that stood on the other side. In the intruder’s right hand was the sword he’d lowered. Oddly enough, not a single drop of blood clung to its blade. He wore a wide-brimmed traveler’s hat and a long black coat. The instant the Nobleman glimpsed the face below that hat, he let a gasp of surprise escape in spite of himself. He had to clear his throat with a cough before he could even speak.

  “I’d heard there was a Hunter of unearthly beauty out there, but

  I never thought I’d lay eyes on him myself. I am Count Braujou. And you are?”

  “D.”

  His reply was more a concept than a name.

  “That’s what I’d also heard.”

  First his eyelids and now his lips—both had stirred up storms of swirling dust, but through it Count Braujou stared at the gorgeous embodiment of death who stood there, silent and stock still.

  “I didn’t think there was anyone left in the world who’d hire you to destroy me. The outside world should’ve long since forgotten about my manse, my servants, and me. Why, when I stepped into this room for the last time, it must’ve been—”

  “Five thousand and one years ago,” said the assassin who’d identified himself as D, supplying the answer. He spoke without a whit of murderous intent. Count Braujou couldn’t help but voice his surprise.

  “Hmm, has it been that long? So, is it the farmers of this region who’ve come to find an old fossil of a Noble like me an obstruction?

  I don’t suppose a Hunter like yourself is too free with information, but if you could, I’d like you to tell me who sent you.”

  “It was the Capital,” D said.

  “The Capital? But these are the southernmost reaches of the southern Frontier—not the kind of place likely to draw the least bit of attention from the Capital.”

  “F
or human beings, five millennia is time enough for a great many things to change,” said D. “The Capital has set about actively developing the Frontier regions. On the surface, it appears that they’re out to eliminate the abhorrent influence of the Nobility who remain on the Frontier—and give the farmers some peace of mind— but their actual aim is the things hidden in places like this.”

  The count smiled thinly.

  “The wisdom and treasures of the Nobility? So, the lowly humans would pick through the dregs of those they called monsters? I can see where a fossil like me might be a hindrance.”

  He made a bow to D where he stood by the door.

  “Thank you for sharing this with me. I greatly appreciate it. And to show my gratitude, I shall shake off five millennia of rust and battle you with all my heart and soul.”

  Putting his hands on the armrests, the count slowly rose to his feet. From head to foot he was shrouded in gray detritus—dust that had collected on him over the span of five thousand years. Since taking his place in his chair, he hadn’t moved a single step. The dust actually felt rather nice as it slid off his skin.

  Putting his hands on his hips, the count stretched. Not only from his waist, but also from his spine and shoulder blades, there were snaps and pops. Warming himself up, he swung his arms from side to side, bending and stretching them.

  “It seems I’m not as rusty as I thought. I suppose this place will serve.”

  Looking around, he found the entire chamber filled with gray ash. The eddying dust constantly filled his field of view.

  All this time, D watched him silently. You might say it was an incredible folly on his part. Who in their right mind would give a motionless Noble the chance to move again?

  The count reached for the spear that was leaning against his chair. Once he’d grabbed it and given it a single swing, the dust fell from it, and his imposing black weapon was awakened from five thousand years of sleep. Twenty feet long, the great spear had a tip that ran a third of that length, and although it seemed like it would be a highly impractical toy or decoration, such would be the case only if this weapon were in the hands of an ordinary person. Having risen from his throne, the Nobleman stood exactly ten feet tall—it was over six and a half feet from the floor to the seat of his chair. Yet the way he pointed his weapon at D’s chest without another test swing or any rousing battle cry seemed terribly naive, and the count was entirely devoid of killing lust. Just like D.

  “Most kind of you to wait. Have at you!” he said, and then the entire situation changed.

  D’s body warped as if he were behind a heat shimmer—the murderous intent radiating from the tip of the Nobleman’s spear was transforming the air. A normal adversary would’ve fainted dead away just by seeing it directed at him.

  In response, D slowly raised his longsword.

  Just then, the count said, “My word—who knew that D was such a man?” This time his voice shook with infinite terror as the words spilled from the corner of his mouth. But whatever he’d felt, it would never be made known.

  D kicked off the floor. Only those Nobles who’d fallen to his blade knew how amazing and horrifying it was to have it come down at their heads. A millisecond opening—and then a glittering waterwheel spun beneath that shooting star and the trail it left behind. Was it sparks that were sent flying, or the blade?

  With the most mellifluous of sounds, D’s sword bounced back, and the hem of his black garb spread like the wings of some mystic bird as he made a great bound to the left. As the Hunter landed, so gently he didn’t stir up even a mote of dust, the head of the spinning spear whistled toward his feet. The figure in black narrowly evaded it with a leap, but the shaft of the weapon buzzed at his torso from an impossible angle, only to meet his sword with a thud.

  The swipe D made with his blade in midair was fearsome; a heartbeat later, the spear’s apparently steel shaft had been severed a foot and a half from the end and was sailing through the air. D’s left hand rose, and a black glint screamed through the air to pierce the base of the giant’s throat with unerring accuracy.

  Though he staggered for an instant without making a sound, Count Braujou swiftly grabbed the murderous implement with his left hand and tossed it away, groaning, “What have we here?”

  It was the severed end of the spear. Lopping it off, D had caught it with his left hand and hurled it like a throwing knife. And that was why he’d sliced it off at an angle.

  However, even as black blood gushed from the wound, the giant wasn’t the least bit rattled as he stood with his long spear at the ready.

  D was equally composed. The right ankle of his boot was split diagonally, with fresh blood seeping out, showing that the count’s attack earlier hadn’t been without effect. Yet the Hunter remained perfectly still with his sword held straight at eye level, like an exquisite ice sculpture standing in the inky blackness.

  The darkness solidified. The temperature in the room was rapidly falling, thanks to the killing lust that billowed at D from the giant.

  What would D do to counter it?

  The young man in black simply stood there. In fact, the killing lust disappeared as soon as it touched him—it was unclear whether he absorbed it or deflected it. However, his form distorted mysteriously, and from it there was just one flash—his blade alone remaining immutable, poised to take action against the fearsome spearman.

  There was no point in asking which of them moved. Harsh sparks were scattered in a chamber lacquered over with five millennia of pitch blackness.

  But before this fleeting light vanished in the air, a voice told the Hunter, “Wait. The life I abandoned five millennia ago isn’t dear to me. I have remained here like the dead for just such a moment as this. D—we will settle this. But may I ask that before I fulfill this promise to you, you allow me to fulfill an earlier pledge?”

  The murderous intent had already evaporated, and the two figures—one with sword extended, the other with long spear sweeping to one side—looked as if they had dissolved into one.

  “A star just shot by,” D said.

  His head only came up to the solar plexus of the giant. But from a room with no windows, his eyes had apparently glimpsed something in space.

  “Is that the reason?” the giant said. “Valcua has returned.”

  There was a faraway sound to his voice, and a distant look in his eyes. The eyes gave off a red glow.

  “And he’s bound to see to it that those who drove him into space are charred to the bone. He’ll be merciless with their innocent descendants.

  But I must prevent him from doing so. You see, it’s in keeping with a pledge I made in days long past to one of their ancestors.”

  The tangled silhouettes separated. At the very moment the count lowered his long spear, there was the click of hilt against scabbard by D’s shoulder. His blade had been sheathed. Turning a defenseless back to his foe, D walked toward the door.

  “You have my thanks,” the count said, although it was unclear if his words reached the Hunter. “The last time I raise my spear, it shall be against you.”

  As D exited the darkened chamber, his left hand rose casually, and from it a hoarse voice said, “I really have to hand it to you this time. You saw it. I did, too. Yep, we saw the same thing he did. A wicked star fell in the northern reaches. I can still see the long long tail that streamed behind it. Oh—here it comes! An impact only we’d sense. But it’s neither its death nor the end. Five . . .”

  D kept walking. Not pausing for even a second, he began to descend the staircase.

  “Four. ..”

  In the midst of the darkness, the giant heaved a long sigh.

  “Three . .

  In one tiny village in a western Frontier sector, a family of three awoke.

  “Two . ..”

  D halted in the middle of the staircase.

  “One . .

  The star was swallowed by a land of great forests and tundra.

  “Zero.”

  It was
quiet. A silence gripped the world as if time itself had stopped.

  Then, when the hoarse voice finally told him, “There it goes,” the gorgeous young man in black who’d been like a sculpture of death finally began walking again.

  “Half a northern Frontier sector has been laid to waste!” the hoarse voice continued.

  The Hunter’s eyes as well might have beheld that vision of death.

  II

  It was two days later that the survey party from the Northern Frontier Administration Bureau set out for the area where the meteorite had landed.

  “This is just...” The young geologist was going to say horrible, but the spectacle before his eyes had finally robbed him of his speech.

  It was a sight that no one could ignore. The roar that assailed their ears was that of a muddy torrent that snaked by in a thick ocher flow just a few yards from where the men had frozen on their mounts. And there wasn’t just muddy water. Titanic trees floated by—the places where they’d snapped in two showing plain as day— and the dull thuds that rang out from time to time were the sound of these countless boles banging into one another. As if tethered to the trees, the remains of enormous armored beasts and other unidentifiable monsters also flowed past—as did human corpses.