If vampires have one bad habit, it's that they always believe time is on their side and act with leisure. Unpressed by time, they wasted a brief moment listening to Kabila's words that finally reached them.
This was true even for Rungken, who was beating Tirkanjaka.
"Snort! You're accepting the challenge! I like it! As expected, I shouldn't have held back just because you're a concubine and should have charged in from the start!"
Leaving behind a small regret, Rungken snorted again.
Boar beastmen were known for their narrow field of vision and reckless charging, but he hadn't loved fighting from the beginning. Beastmen who randomly picked fights were killed off long ago, and through natural selection, only the relatively docile beastmen survived.
Beastmen, having inherited some characteristics of beasts, possess keen senses of smell and hearing. Rungken led his kin and worked as a member of a mercenary group, achieving results by utilizing the strengths of beastmen. However, unable to overcome the weakness of their narrow field of vision, they were used as discarded pawns on some battlefields.
While they were scattered and hunted like beasts, he received blood from Tirkanjaka, who came to collect the corpses, and became an Elder. Under her, Rungken trampled both the army that killed him and the army that abandoned him.
However, a thirst remained in Rungken's heart.
His keen senses disappeared, leaving him able to smell only the scent of blood. He could no longer feel the dry wind ruffling his fur, nor did he need to scratch his itchy tusks against trees. At first, he rejoiced at the loss of tedious chores, but eliminating all the countless annoyances necessary for survival left only boredom and lethargy. Feeling an even greater emptiness because his senses had been so keen, Rungken fell into despair.
Rungken's blood stirred again only during bloody battles. The reason was no different. In a physical sense, it was because his blood splattered to places it shouldn't.
Rungken drove himself into endless battles.
"I gave a warning out of consideration for fragile humans, but it seems it wasn't delivered! Haha, so you must accept a challenge! Right! As expected, even the human king is a beast-!"
Snorting heavily, Rungken once again challenged Tirkanjaka. This time, Tirkanjaka did not put up any particular defense. She merely raised both arms to shield her head and swung them. Like a reed swept away in a storm, Tirkanjaka was ravaged by Rungken's attacks.
As mentioned earlier, vampires have one bad habit. They believe time is always on their side. Even if they aren't necessarily enduring ascetic hardships, they clearly have a tendency to observe and verify all of their opponent's attacks and methods. Is it a leisure born from being immortal beings who won't die even if injured, or do they simply enjoy seeing and experiencing things?
The Elders watching the fight between Rungken and Tirkanjaka were late to notice.
"...Rungken. Stop. That is enough."
"Stop? Krrung. Why should I!"
Rungken scoffed and charged at the Progenitor once more. His violence and explosiveness made it difficult for anyone else to intervene. Fearing they might hinder Rungken, the other Elders couldn't easily join the fray and simply watched.
...A boring and meaningless fight where neither could inflict any damage on the other.
"Leave this to me and Bakuta and step back. Unrefined punches without any authority cannot inflict any harm."
With Erzebet's Domination or Bakuta's Gluttony, one could contest for dominance against the Progenitor. However, fighting desperately like Rungken would only hurt her a little and end there.
Erzebet realized the meaninglessness of this fight and tried to stop him, but Rungken effortlessly ignored her.
"No, there is! Giving pain!"
"Meaningless..."
"There is meaning! Because receiving pain changes you! Normally, getting hit makes you come to your senses a bit!"
Thud, thud, thud. Monotonous and one-sided attacks that would hurt but weren't fatal to a vampire. If his goal was to attack Tirkanjaka, it was truly a stupid and foolish attempt, befitting a boar beastman.
But if he had another purpose.
"Does it hurt? Then, fight back-! With all your might--!!"
"Rungken, you! Everyone, pull him off!"
"Whatever! I will just fight-! Against an opponent worth fighting-!"
Like tempering steel, Rungken relentlessly pounded Tirkanjaka with all his might. The continuous pain raining down on her head transformed Tirkanjaka.
Slightly bending her knees into a posture that could better withstand the shock. Moving minutely when struck to reduce the pain. Combining authority and Blood Arts appropriately, she molded herself into a technique to rival Rungken's Herculean strength. It wasn't that Tirkanjaka lacked strength. Her pure strength already overwhelmed Rungken's. It was merely that her means to utilize and exert it were crude, resulting in no tangible outcome.
No matter the difference in strength, anyone would die being beaten like this, but Tirkanjaka was the Progenitor of vampires. She regenerated instantly even from impacts that seemed to crush her entire body. After hundreds of deaths, Tirkanjaka found a way not to die.
"Figure it out! Progenitor, I know you have strength! Unleash everything you have-! Because I don't want to fight a half-assed you!"
"You boar...!"
She was engraving how to fight into her. Somewhat rough, but certainly.
Still, it wasn't that Rungken was sticking to Tirkanjaka to antagonize the Elders. He simply enjoyed charging at the strong. Even if it meant making his opponent strong. Realizing this, Erzebet regained her composure.
"Let us not mind Rungken. Let us proceed."
The Elders, who had been watching for a moment, all moved at once to harvest the Progenitor's blood.
It's hard to expect cooperation from vampires. Unless they are subordinates dominated by a lord, they don't mesh well. However, there was never any hesitation about hurting allies.
"Beastman.... Full belly. Forming a pack, that obvious thing, there are beings for whom it is a wish and a duty."
Lahu Khan leaped in, aiming his massive spear. A lone cavalry Centaur turns even a simple charge into a cavalry charge. Lahu Khan's spear, becoming a gust of wind, pierced through space and excavated the darkness Tirkanjaka had surrounded herself with. Crunch, the sound of something breaking echoed as Tirkanjaka's body was flung backward.
"Horseman! Butting in?"
"You. It's you who butted in."
Lahu Khan spun his massive spear like a windmill. A storm swirled around his four-legged lower body. The Watcher Lahu Khan. The hegemon of the wilderness who once ravaged the world but fell due to unavoidable issues of birth, spoke with resolute will.
"The clan leader abandoned their duty. I protect the seed. Centaurs must save themselves."
"Krrung! To only realize the obvious now-!"
While the two men mixed with beasts brawled in the narrow corridor, Muri settled beside Tirkanjaka like mist. Tirkanjaka, heavily draped in darkness, looked just like a pitch-black sphere.
No matter how much darkness was a power to resist light, its density was now at a level that even Elders would find bothersome. However, it wasn't much of a concern for the ghost dancer Muri. Muri wielded her blade as if dancing. The crescent-shaped blade pierced and carved through the darkness.
Muri delivered her voice through the gap she had created.
"My heart is pounding-. Progenitor, were you truly betrayed by love? Were you abandoned by the lover who shared your heart? Ah, it's a comedy good enough to make a song out of-."
As if unwilling to listen, the darkness shook off Muri, but the ghost dancer deflected the darkness with ghost-like movements. Eventually, Tirkanjaka gave up on shaking off Muri and asked.
"...Muri."
"Yes-?"
From within the undulating darkness, the wounded Progenitor spoke grimly.
"Are you enjoying this?"
"There's no way-. Or is there? I don't know-. I just don't know!"
In contrast to her, Muri spoke as if singing, carrying a melody.
"The horribly ruined appearance shown by the Progenitor who was my heart, my queen, my faith, my everything-. It is beyond words. My heart races. Thump thump, whether it's immorality or excitement-."
"...What did you want to do?"
Muri, who called herself the Progenitor's dancer and contributed to the principality's arts. One might think emotionless vampires couldn't produce music, but she left behind much music that was as coldly refined. She even used humans as an audience to observe their reactions.
Briefly reminiscing about the past, Muri stroked her lips and murmured.
"Dance, song, painting. It's all for 'showing'. I suppose- I wanted to show my song, my dance, to the Progenitor-!"
"...If you brought dance and music, I would have kept watching."
"Not feeling it fully, like you do now-!"
Muri moved both hands brilliantly. The ghost's blade that carved through the darkness dug into Tirkanjaka strangely. Her skin split, revealing the Progenitor's blood, the True Blood, for a very brief moment. It healed quickly, but the domination of that blood flickered ever so slightly in that fleeting instant.
The blood floor created by Erzebet didn't miss that gap. The moment she sensed the blood, she rushed in like a ghost.
A wound, no matter how small, is still a wound. Shedding blood on this land is dangerous. Tirkanjaka stared at Muri's elegantly swaying blade and let out a small groan, and at that moment, Muri shouted fiercely.
"Look-. This reaction! It's different! Please look straight at my movements. When I perform a trick, please applaud in admiration. When I sing, please hum along. I wanted this. I wanted a reaction that echoes back like an echo!"
Muri shouted as if spitting out her feelings and swung her blade. The tip of the blade, swaying beautifully and dazzlingly like a dance, was hard to predict. When Tirkanjaka's pupils lost track of the blade for a moment, as if aiming for that opening, the blade tip drew a picture on Tirkanjaka's arm.
The flinching arm, the clenched lips, the small groan leaking out. Muri savored all these reactions and took steps following Tirkanjaka.
"Let's dance together, Progenitor-."
Muri is an eccentric who, despite being a vampire, tries to avoid attacks. She drew scorn for having too many unnecessary movements, but to a being like Tirkanjaka who only had raw strength without any technique, Muri was like a bird that couldn't be caught no matter what method was used.
Her body gets sliced. The attack isn't the goal. As if matching steps with the Progenitor was the goal, she distanced herself as much as she attacked and chased as much as she retreated.
A small body isn't enough. To properly unleash this explosive power, another method is needed. Even a primitive technique like directly scattering her own blood outside, though she wasn't sure if it would work for a vampire. Like loading a pistol, Tirkanjaka wounded her finger and aimed it at Muri.
"Ah."
A boy who suddenly popped out chomped down and swallowed Tirkanjaka's finger whole.
Lord Bakuta, the Bloodworm. The remnant of Gluttony. The monster of the deep swamp that devours blood. His power is consuming other existences, especially blood, and using it as his own. Like a predator, having swallowed Tirkanjaka's finger whole, he smacked his lips with an ecstatic expression.
"De, licious.... Mommy's, finger.... One bite and I'm full..."
It is the True Blood of the Progenitor Tirkanjaka. It cannot be digested in a short time. It is a power that might spread through his body and dominate him if things go wrong.
However, before his endless hunger, future threats were of no concern.
The finger regenerated quickly. However, the 'devoured' True Blood still remains inside Bakuta's body. They fight fiercely over domination, but the power of Gluttony tries to digest even the True Blood.
Bakuta was entranced by the satiety filling his body.
"I was starving.... But thanks to that, I feel full.... I'm happy..."
He wished to be freed from endless craving, but at the same time, the life of a vampire had even robbed him of the smallest feeling of satiety. To feel satisfaction, deficiency is necessary. If you don't desire it, you can't attain it.
Not only Bakuta, but all the Elders were like this. Like Tirkanjaka before her heart was revived, having broken their shackles and recalled their own small wishes, they savored their freedom and ran amok.
"Sigh... Are you truly the king of all of them...?"
And the one who would rejoice in this situation. The person who, just as they returned a heart and senses to Tirkanjaka, made the Elders recall their wishes once again.
Recalling him, whom she had believed was love, Tirkanjaka struggled against the continuous pain.
"Did I, too, merely grant wishes because I was just human? Does saying that I am also human mean it's not that special?"
The human king said it. That even the Progenitor Tirkanjaka was human. Tirkanjaka, who had longed for an ordinary life, was happy at those words.
...However, once she understood the meaning hidden within those cold and cruel words. Shame and self-contempt rushed in on the waves of sorrow.
Even the relationship where they traveled together and spent nights together wasn't particularly special to him. Probably even Tirkanjaka's precious pure feelings.
"...Not even once did you ever consider anything special."
Everything a human can do is ordinary to the human king.
To Tirkanjaka, Hughes was a special person, but to him, Tirkanjaka was not a special existence. She was just an ordinary human with worries, and he merely responded to her wish. No matter who it was—Elder, Ain, or Yailing—Hughes would have listened to their wishes seriously.
...Perhaps, it was also why Finlay was able to manipulate Tirkanjaka even a little.
If, right then, he hadn't drawn Tirkanjaka's attention with lightning. If he hadn't reignited her old wishes. If she hadn't momentarily let go of the will to control her own body.
If Hughes hadn't given him the chance to fulfill his wish. It might not have happened.
It felt as if the world was collapsing. She hadn't been revived to experience such pain; she thought that regaining her senses and emotions would make everything in the world joyful. Now, she didn't even know what was left.
Not even Hughes is by her side now.
It hurts. Her heart feels like it's being torn into a thousand, ten thousand pieces. Her body had been broken and regenerated so many times that she no longer knew what pain was.
Did they say life is pain? After her heart was revived, Tirkanjaka felt life most intensely.
"...Sigh. Did you desire this? A world desired by all."
And she craved anew.
To end this pain, and to regain happiness and joy once more.
Unlike when she was whole as the Progenitor of vampires and the lord of the Elders, the Queen of Shadows and the Blood Sea. As a special human with a slightly stronger power.
"Hey, Progenitor-? Your reactions have gotten weaker-. Are you already tired of it-?"
No matter how much she scratched with the blade, there was no reaction. Had she already adapted to the pain? Muri tilted her head, withdrew her sword, and spoke as if testing her.
"I suppose I need to put on a slightly more stimulating performance-. Shall I draw a picture on that white body of yours? Shall I pin blades into your hands and feet? Or-. Shall I decorate the concubine's corpse and turn her into a doll-?"
If the intent was to provoke the Progenitor, it was highly successful. Excessively so.
Tirkanjaka's eyes flashed open. Immediately after, a massive hand rose up and seized Muri.