Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint

Chapter 412

For vampires, whose blood is both their power and their essence, the dominance of a higher-ranked vampire is absolute. Among them, the Progenitor's authority and symbolism surpass all others.

Through bloodcraft, direct control over a vampire’s body is only possible with direct progeny—an Elder cannot command another Elder’s thralls. That is why only the Progenitor wields absolute authority over all vampires.

Of course, bloodcraft isn’t the only means of control.

"What is this clueless fool doing? Interrupting my dear sister’s time with her beloved concubine? A mere thrall? No awareness, no use whatsoever!"

Strength and fear are also methods. Just as the Bloodstitcher Kabilla was demonstrating with Jazra.

Vampires may be immortal, but only when facing lesser foes. A superior vampire can interfere with the very essence of bloodcraft—the source of regeneration. The bone saw that tore through Jazra’s body disrupted the very flow of his blood.

Jazra barely contained the rampaging blood within him as he gasped out,

"Ugh…! Lady Kabilla, why are you—?!"
"Why? Hihih. You ask why?"

Kabilla narrowed her eyes, twisting her wrist. The bone saw buried in his flesh grew, feeding on his blood and sinew. She whispered darkly.

"Asking why is the very reason you deserve to die. Die. Die. Just die already."

To Jazra, it was infuriating—utterly unjust.

All he had done was come to petition the Progenitor, and now he was on the brink of death.

…The bonds of blood. The shackles that make vampires obey their progenitors and control their thralls… if even the Progenitor has escaped them…

Jazra’s thoughts reached that point.

And he despaired.

Lir Nightingale, that traitor breaking free, was nothing. If the Progenitor has severed those shackles—if she intends to abandon all vampires—then… now that I know, I cannot be allowed to live!

They say those who face death become fearless. That is rarely true. Most creatures deny their impending doom, thrashing in desperation, drowning in terror until the very end.

But Jazra was a vampire—a seasoned thrall who had survived countless battles. With his heart long since stilled, he coolly assessed reality. He understood his fate.

Elder Ruskinia…! Forgive this unworthy thrall who could not avenge you…!

The growing bone saws burrowed deeper into his body. Most of his blood was devoured. But he was still a thrall.

With the last remnants of his blood, he screamed.

"The Progenitor… has abandoned us…! She has… severed the shackles…!"

And that was the end.

The jagged bone blade pierced through his skull.

Jazra, once a loyal thrall and a witness to the duchy’s history, was annihilated. All that remained of him was a stream of blood along the saw’s length and a handful of ash-like darkness.

Somewhere, a gust of wind stirred.

The ashes that had once been Jazra rose into the air, like a soul ascending to the heavens. But as the dark embers lifted, they melted into the shadows of the Mist Duchy. Whether they soared to the sky or simply became part of the boundless darkness, no one could tell.

"Sister. There was no need to spare him. Creatures like this need to be crushed the moment they step out of line. With Ruskinia dead, thralls without an Elder will run wild unless we keep them in check."

Kabilla retracted her bone saws, which had grown as large as a small tree.

She smoothed her expression, then turned to Tyr with a bright, friendly smile—so casual that it was hard to believe she had just executed a fellow vampire.

"How ridiculous. As if you would ever abandon us, Sister. Isn’t that right?"

She was an Elder who wielded bloodcraft more skillfully than anyone. In sheer technique, she might even surpass the Progenitor herself.

None of the other Elders had voiced it, but they all felt it.

Tyr’s control over them had weakened.

Suppressing her emotions, Tyr nodded.

"Of course. If I had intended to abandon you, I would not have returned."
"I believe you. I know you. You, who tore your own body apart to shield us from the sun, who bled yourself dry to sustain us—you would never forsake us. You are our god, our life, our nation."

Kabilla drove her bone saw into a stuffed bear’s stomach.

Despite the blade being several times larger than the plush toy, it was absorbed as if sinking into a void.

After concealing the grotesque weapon, Kabilla smiled radiantly as she approached Tyr.

It was a charming, childlike grin—but after witnessing the execution, I found it impossible to take at face value.

Terrifying.

This vampire world is terrifying.

Thank god I’m human.

"Sister. May I ask one thing? What happened to your control over us?"
"I have regained my heart."
"Your… heart?"
"Yes. Long ago, in my first life, I was slain by the Holy Crown Church. The moment my heart stopped beating, I lost it. But now, I have reconstructed my heart with bloodcraft. Time, once halted, flows again."

Tyr placed a hand over her chest and murmured.

"Because of it, I have regained my emotions. This heart, beating of its own accord, guides me to unknown places. It reveals emotions I never understood before. Yes… I have reclaimed my life."
"Your life…"

Kabilla slowly absorbed Tyr’s words, then broke into a radiant smile.

Still holding her sister’s hand, she seized the chance to caress it, reveling in the contact under the guise of empathy.

"That is wonderful, Sister. You always sacrificed for us—how wonderful it is that you have found your own life."
"Thank you. As for the broken shackles, I will find another way. It does not concern me too much—there are still Elders to maintain order."

But as she spoke, Tyr’s expression darkened, recalling an Elder who no longer existed.

"…Except for Ruskinia. That must be dealt with quickly."
"Yes. Let’s hurry and settle these tedious matters. Then, let’s hold a grand banquet at the Castle of the Full Moon! We’ll bring in livestock, gather fresh blood, and celebrate your return properly!"
"Yes… Hughes, let’s finish our conversation when we arrive."

Kabilla’s gaze shifted to me.

Her smile, unchanged from the one she had shown Tyr, now turned to me.

Feeling the weight of the two vampires’ expectant gazes, I nodded.

"Sure. Why not."

Vampires feel emotions faintly.

For beings who can manipulate the very flow of their blood, it is extremely difficult to surprise or delight them. If a vampire shows an expression, it is a meticulously crafted performance.

Kabilla’s expression, too, was an act.

Terrifying. Absolutely terrifying.

I really am glad I’m human.

The preparations for the journey to the Castle of the Full Moon were complete.

Per Tyr’s instructions, the procession was lavish but not ostentatious. A single grand carriage, escorted by three figures and one Elder, with a few thralls trailing behind in silence. The numbers were small, but their sheer presence was overwhelming.

Aside from the fact that Lalion was pulling it, the carriage hardly resembled a carriage at all. It was larger than a luxurious two-story mansion, its body painted pitch black. There were no wheels—only a shadowy mass beneath it, shifting as if it had taken form.

It glided forward smoothly, like ice sliding across a polished surface.

With no rattling or shaking, the ride was comfortable. Almost too comfortable.

It might even be… a little boring.

"Concubine of the Progenitor!"

Or not.

I turned my head to see Runken glaring at me.

Since we’d be seeing each other often, I decided to be as polite as possible.

"What."
"I have heard that you are the King of Humans! The ruler of the supreme species! I am curious about the strength of humanity’s king! Come, let us fight!"
"No."
"Why not—?!"
"Because I don’t have any power—!"

We ended up yelling at each other.

Runken was… simple, to put it kindly. Dumb, to put it bluntly. If you didn’t shout directly in his face, he wouldn’t get it.

And honestly, he wouldn’t even take offense.

He wasn’t mad at me. He was just sulking because I refused to fight him.

"Rrgh! Where have you spilled all your power?! If you are the King of Humans, then you should at least know how to hold onto your strength!"
"It wasn’t me who lost it. It was my predecessor. My great-great-great-great-great—ugh, too many ‘greats’—grand predecessor. I’m a victim too."
"Do you not know where it was lost? If it is nearby, I can help you find it!"
"Now that’s a helpful offer. Find me a Demon God. If I gather all the Demon Gods and awaken as the King of Humans, I’ll fight you first."
"Hah! Good! A warrior’s promise must not be broken!"

Well, I guess I gained an ally to help find the Demon Gods.

Not that he’d actually be any help.

Runken nodded fiercely, then leaned out the carriage window and bellowed:

"DEMON GOD—! SHOW YOURSELF—!"

Yeah, just as I expected. Runken was completely useless.

No hints about the Demon Gods. Not even a way to approach them.

I had no expectations anyway.

I watched him continue yelling until Kabilla hooked her bone saw around his neck and yanked him back.

"Are you a pig getting its throat slit?! My sister is traveling the duchy, and you dare ruin her mood?! Stop being a nuisance and SIT DOWN! At least have the patience of a pig’s tail!"

Apparently, hooking a saw around someone’s neck was a casual thing among vampires.

Even as his throat was nearly cut, Runken simply pried the saw off with a grumble.

"There is nothing else to do in the carriage! Should we not at least search for the Demon Gods along the way?"
"Screaming at the sky is your idea of a search?! You really have nothing better to do?! If you’re that bored, go race Lalion or something!"
"Hmm! A good idea!"

It was obviously a joke.

But depending on who hears it, a joke can be taken quite seriously.

Runken leapt out of the carriage immediately.

Balancing himself on the ground, he took off running on two legs. The thud-thud-thud of a boar beastman’s heavy steps echoed nearby.

But come on, it was Lalion.

No matter how fast Runken was, Lalion had four legs. He had no chance.

Despite his enthusiastic start, Runken was steadily falling behind.

"Huff! Huff! As expected, Lalion is fast! I—I don’t think I can—"

Click.

Kabilla shut the carriage window right in his face.

Instantly, silence.

The shadowed windows absorbed even sound itself.

"Sister! I’ve removed the noisy nuisance. Now your journey will be peaceful!"

Kabilla beamed at Tyr, clearly expecting praise.

Honestly, I appreciated it too.

Tyr must have felt the same.

"Now that it is quiet, we can finally have a serious discussion."

She slid closer to me and turned her gaze to Hilde, who sat across from us, calmly flipping through a book.

Somehow, she had acquired a massive stack of thick tomes.

Pretending not to notice, Hilde continued turning pages—until she sighed and glanced up.

"Your stare is intense enough to burn a hole through my book~. What is it, Tyrkanzyaka~?"

Tyr spoke softly, but there was weight in her words.

"Hilde. It is time to discuss your nation’s great matter."
"In a moving carriage?"
"It is the best place for it. Eavesdropping here would be even harder than at the Castle of the Full Moon."
"Hmm, that’s true. Alright. I have been itching to talk about this anyway~."

Hilde snapped her book shut.

Resting it on her lap, she folded her hands and raised her chin.

In an instant, she transformed from a playful reader to a seasoned politician.

Locking eyes with Tyr, she declared:

"To be direct—I want an alliance between the Military Nation and the Duchy!"

An alliance with the Mist Duchy.

That was a major state matter.

But Tyr’s reaction was unimpressed.

"Is that all?"

How many nations had sought the power of vampires?

To some, this alliance might have seemed like a brilliant strategy.

But in the 1,200 years of her existence, Tyr had seen countless rulers come and go, making the same offer.

To her, alliances were tedious, uninspired, and practically useless.

But Hilde had an ace up her sleeve.

As if expecting Tyr’s response, she flashed a smile, turned to me, and spoke.

"With my father as the King of the Military Nation!"