“I don’t want to.”
At those words, which sounded like a child’s fit of sulking, Kavila’s expression briefly stiffened. But by then, Tirkanjaka no longer cared about Kavila’s reaction. Tirkanjaka spoke.
“Die again? To lose the heart and emotions I’ve regained, and return to those years of feeling nothing but boredom and ennui?”
Once one has attained enlightenment, there is no going back. To ask Tirkanjaka to give up the heart she had so desperately desired was tantamount to telling her to die.
The reason the Progenitor Tirkanjaka fell into long slumbers time and again was that lying in a coffin was hardly any different from being awake. Devoid of sensation and emotion, she found it difficult to devote herself to anything except destroying the Holy Imperial Church. And after realizing that even those attempts were being used by the Holy Imperial Church to consolidate its power, she lost much of her interest.
The most enjoyable amusement available to her was waking from sleep to see how the world had changed. Whenever she opened her eyes, there would be an abundance of new knowledge, refined music, and unique paintings. Even then, she merely read and appreciated them mechanically, but for Tirkanjaka, such changes were the only ones that held any meaning.
“Are you asking me to endure solitude and ennui? How absurd. I am the Progenitor. The beginning and the end of all of you. How dare you demand anything of me?”
“Sister, it isn’t a demand….”
“My power may no longer reach you, but it all still exists within me. I am still myself. You say that I have changed, but you have it backward.”
The Progenitor had changed. Yet not a single thing about her attitude or behavior had changed. Just as she always had, she returned and reigned. She did not particularly govern, either. She was either asleep or quietly ruling the country. It was always one or the other.
Tirkanjaka had not changed. The ones who had changed were—
“You. It wasn’t I who abandoned you. You were the ones who abandoned me.”
“…Sister. That wasn’t me. I did it for your sake.”
“Kavila. Do you truly think I wouldn’t know?”
Tirkanjaka looked around with her red eyes.
Muri, Lahu Khan, and Bakuta had done little in response to the shell of the sea fiend. The only thing Bakuta had done was tear off one of its pincers and eat it, unable to suppress his hunger. The others calmly waited for Tirkanjaka’s decision, as though merely observing.
She did not need to think long to know that this situation had been staged. Vampires had enjoyed peace for far too long to be adept at palace intrigue. They did not grow tense or flustered, being vampires, but that did not guarantee their acting skills.
“Did you awaken them and put them up to this? If not, why would those who were sleeping come looking for me?”
“N-no, Sister. Those were the servants of Ruskinia, who sought to slander you. They awakened them….”
“By your own account, if they were hostile toward me, the first person they should have awakened would have been Rahan. It would only make sense to awaken Rahan first, then move under his command. They would not awaken Lahu, who merely observes, or Muri, who is devoted to me.”
Kavila was left at a loss after being so easily seen through. The emotion did not appear on her face, but it sometimes revealed itself subtly through her silence and the pauses between her words.
Her guess had been correct. Tirkanjaka continued to press Kavila.
“Did you intend to deceive me and stop my heart, Kavila? I was the one who resurrected you after you were killed for possessing an ominous magic power. I cherished you so dearly… and you, of all people, are the most ungrateful—”
An emotion she could not conceal seeped into her words. It was not the cold anger of a vampire, but the humiliation of a ruler who had been betrayed. As Kavila watched Tirkanjaka’s expression change so vividly, she realized that the Progenitor truly had become different—and felt bitter.
“…You’re the one at fault, Sister.”
Leaving Tirkanjaka where she stood, Kavila slowly rose.
“You’re the only one who can command us. Yet even that became a bother to you. You left the country behind to sleep in distant lands, then returned decades later merely to see what had changed. All that was left for us to do was prepare works that might please you.”
“Everything you did was for me?”
“Our loyalty toward you. That is the only emotion we have left. But you went beyond neglecting us—you abandoned us. You even took away our only joy.”
Therefore, she was merely reclaiming what she had rightfully possessed.
When Kavila said that, Tirkanjaka felt something surge up from within her chest. Resentment and indignation—emotions she had never experienced as a vampire—raced fiercely through her veins. Her field of vision narrowed, and her words grew harsh. The heart that she had so desperately longed for was truly working as it pleased. Even in such a state, Tirkanjaka felt life within herself, and she honestly poured out the emotion.
“So you had joy, at least. I had nothing.”
Tirkanjaka stood facing Kavila and spoke.
“Sitting on this throne and watching was no different from closing my eyes. Not only you, but the other Ain and Yeiling as well, did nothing but play with puppets according to my will. If I had not been here, I could have ruled the country while devoting myself to the things I was meant to do. That is why I leave the castle and seek a long sleep in other lands. Watching the changed world is simply less boring.”
Having poured out every thought she had been unable to confess to anyone until now, she shouted toward all the Elders.
“You say your only joy has disappeared? I have already lived that way for over a thousand years. And you, whose lives were spared thanks to me, cannot even endure three days!”
Kavila understood Tirkanjaka. Vampires had neither blood nor tears, but that was precisely why they could understand regardless of what emotions they possessed.
Likewise, they could act without being bound by whatever emotions they possessed. Kavila delivered an ultimatum.
“Sister. Is it truly impossible?”
“I would sooner leave this country behind than remain still with my heart stopped. That is my will!”
“That will not do.”
Splash.
A shallow pool of blood rose around their feet. It was so stealthy that it was difficult to notice, yet its power was vast enough to rival a natural phenomenon.
Blood enough to compare to a lake, along with dominion over it. Blood sorcery powerful in sheer quantity. There was only one person besides Tirkanjaka who could be the source of such power.
The Countess Erzebeth came walking slowly, holding up the hem of her skirt so it would not be stained with blood. The sound of blood splashing beneath her feet echoed through the great hall.
“Since you wish to cast aside that power which places you above all and live as an ordinary human… Progenitor. How blessed… and how arrogant, you must be.”
“Erzebeth. Are you trying to stop my heart as well?”
“Of course not. Opportunities pass far too quickly, as a rule, so when one falls into your grasp, you must seize it with all your might. Kavila’s proposal was the last chance to return everything to the way it was. But since the Progenitor does not desire that…”
Thorns shot up from the blood flowing across the floor. Tirkanjaka felt something sharp pierce into her body.
The thorns pierced Tirkanjaka’s flesh. The girl’s delicate skin could not keep out the thorns of the blood-red rose. But the blood sorcery within Tirkanjaka was another matter; it fought Erzebeth for dominion over the blood that had invaded her body.
Naturally, Tirkanjaka won the tug-of-war. Yet it was a victory that left her with nothing but wounds. Having already divided the inside and outside of her body, she could not absorb the mixed blood Erzebeth controlled and turn it to her own power.
“Erzebeth…!”
“Progenitor. Your power does not belong to you alone. That blood is the power to dominate and command all. If the one who would cast off the reins, abandon the country, and yet retain that power continues to hold it… then she no longer needs to tend to herself, lead her kin, or lead the nation.”
Unfolding a bright-red folding fan, Erzebeth spoke with a smile that had by now become habitual.
“Progenitor. If you intend to distance yourself from this country and its power… then leave that blood behind as well.”
Countess Erzebeth—the embodiment of the desire for power and ostentation. Perhaps turning her into a vampire had been a service to the world. She had used that tremendous vanity and hunger for recognition entirely for the sake of the Progenitor.
But those desires still remained within Erzebeth. Her decision to appoint herself the Progenitor’s chief lady-in-waiting and her interference in domestic affairs still bore traces of the desires she had possessed in life.
Desire did not disappear. The wish for something remained. No matter what form it took.
The vampires filling the hall began to move. Not toward the Progenitor, but toward their respective lieges.
Kavila averted her gaze, seemingly sorrowful. Perhaps unable to oppose the Progenitor directly, she climbed onto the sea fiend’s shell and sat there as though observing. Her proposal had clearly been made out of kindness.
T3hVeTJ6UU5QLzJ0UHhJQWpPSi9EYkhsY3RLSjJyZVF0VXl3UlZDOHlwTWc5dWRLWjdUS0pDUmtqRm01TWN0UA
The others, however, were even prepared to attack the Progenitor if things did not go their way.
“Is that truly what you all desire…?”
One Progenitor, facing all the vampires present in this place—at least all of them. Kavila and Rungen were the only ones who remained somewhat on the sidelines.
“Grrr. Now that I’ve heard it, it all sounds right!”
Bang. Rungen leaped to his feet. Descending with blood splashing noisily around him, he looked toward the Progenitor and positioned himself between Erzebeth and the other Elders.
As though she had expected this, Erzebeth spoke.
“You’ve finally made up your mind. You said you hated complicated matters and told us to handle things ourselves. I’m glad you’ve decided to use your brain, even if only now.”
“Shut up, female.”
“Fe…male?”
Rungen silenced Erzebeth with his outrageous rudeness, then bared his molars in a grin.
“Thoughts? Hmph. Those are for the weak. Yapping with short teeth won’t solve anything. In the end, what changes anything is—power!”
Rungen stamped his foot hard, lowered his stance, and glared at Tirkanjaka. His molars, jutting out beyond his teeth, bobbed toward the Progenitor as though they had been waiting for this battle.
“No matter how grandly you prattle, it all comes down to the law of power! Yes, if we’re deciding the head of the pack, then it ought to be decided by strength—! I’ll challenge you first—!”
Rungen roared at the Progenitor.
“Fi-ight me-! Progenitor, the time has come to accept the challenge you’ve been putting off—!”
Bang. Rungen kicked off the ground at once and charged toward the Progenitor.