“Pheeheeheeng!”
The Blood Demon Rallion let out a harsh cry. Kicking off the floor, Rallion leaped up and drove his forelegs into Rahu Khan’s chest. After having a hoof-shaped brand stamped into his pectorals, Rahu Khan endured the impact and thrust out his spear. Spinning as it pierced Rallion from head to tail, the spear reduced him to a handful of blood.
But only for a moment. Having regenerated his body in an instant, Rallion snorted and slammed his body into Rahu Khan. Fighting like a horse, Rahu Khan shouted.
“Rallion. Are you still the same?”
The First Elder of the Progenitor, Rallion was an Elder, yet not an Elder. He was the end of the girl Tir and the beginning of the Progenitor Tirkanjaka. The first creation, fashioned from the memory of a dead horse at her side. Unlike the Elders, who possessed a self of their own, Rallion followed only the Progenitor’s emotions. The original form of the Elders was human, but Rallion was an old friend molded from the Progenitor’s memories.
That had not changed even now, when the Progenitor had escaped the bonds of blood. Rallion stood loyally, blocking the traitor’s path. Overwhelming strength was power in itself. With his innate might, Rallion drove Rahu Khan back.
The battle entered a lull. Bakuta and Myuri showed little movement after taking a few blows. The two were extremely temperamental by nature, and after the bonds vanished, they had merely lashed out on impulse without any particular purpose. As for Erejebwiteu, who possessed enough power to pose a real threat to the Progenitor, there had been no sign of him since he was sent flying.
It was a fight Rahu Khan had no heart for. His goal was to protect the “species” known as the centaurs. He had aided the rebellion against the Progenitor because he had felt uneasy about the unstable power structure after the bonds were severed. If the rebellion against the Progenitor failed, he intended to flee into the jungle with his followers. Rahu Khan, with four legs, was faster than anyone.
Naturally, someone filled with thoughts of escape would be reluctant to fight. Even though he could have shaken Rallion off by using his full strength, Rahu Khan grappled with him while merely watching the situation.
“Ha-ha-ha! Progenitor! You still have a long way to go!”
Ironically, it was Rungen who made up for Erejebwiteu’s absence. Rungen, who had created opportunities to confront the Progenitor and grow stronger, was now facing Tirkanjaka.
As though annoyed by the shadow, Tirkanjaka swung her arm. It was a motion much like brushing away an insect. The arm of the enormous shadow smashed through the walls and floor as it flew toward Rungen.
Rungen used no special power. All he possessed was a sturdy body and an endless will to struggle. Yet when overwhelming strength was joined by a will to struggle, that itself became a magnificent power. The primitive desire of the boar beastkin, which even the Progenitor’s pure blood could not suppress, drove his body to move against an enormous and powerful foe.
“Hup!”
Rungen charged forward and collided with Tirkanjaka’s shadow. Against overwhelming size, the mass to match it, and a speed far too great for its weight, he thrust out both arms and his head to meet it head-on.
It looked as though he had crashed into a chariot charging straight at him. Rungen’s body was crushed from his legs to his head. Yet even as his head was driven into the shadow up to the back of his neck, both his fists continued moving, aimed at his opponent.
Even as everything below his knees was ground against the stone floor, he clenched his fists and struck wildly in rapid succession. Dozens, then hundreds, of ripples spread across the shadow’s formed shape. If one blow was insufficient, he used a barrage. Rungen poured out his strength without pause.
Tirkanjaka’s shadow was intricate, but it was still only modeled after her body and was not yet solid. When Rungen struck the same spot repeatedly, the darkness scattered. In the end, Rungen finally shattered the shadow by ramming his head into it, then roared, drenched in blood.
Of course, it had only been one arm. Two arms abruptly rose from the shadow. Seizing Rungen with both, they hurled him into the air, creating yet another hole in the ceiling of the Castle of the Full Moon. Rungen’s cries receded into the distance.
Regardless, Tirkanjaka’s attention was not on Rungen. Tirkanjaka muttered darkly.
[…Where is Hyu?]
“If you mean your favorite concubine, he has already run away. He left his sister behind.”
Kabilla, who had watched without joining the battle, remained unchanged despite the worsening situation. Tirkanjaka glared at her and said,
[He merely left for a while because things became dangerous.]
“It’s the same thing. He won’t be at your side when danger comes. Or, if he is at your side, things might become even more dangerous.”
[You’re saying it is dangerous to be at my side?]
“Yes, Sister. Just like now.”
Kabilla spread both arms and gestured toward the castle, which had been turned into a wreck. The successive battles had brought down everything indiscriminately—the furniture and decorations, the floor and the ceiling alike. The castle was simply too fragile to withstand a battle between vampires.
The only things that retained even a semblance of form in this place were the vampires. Just as they had remained intact throughout more than a thousand years of history, the vampires were unchanged even as the castle collapsed around them.
“Look. Only the vampires remain. The only things that do not change and are eternal are vampires. Everything around them crumbles like grains of sand instead, because they are softer and more fragile than vampires.”
They felt no pain, and so they had no fear. Their bodies regenerated, and so they did not hesitate to destroy them. The Elders were no exception, nor was Tirkanjaka. Even when something new approached, she would simply watch it until it broke her.
“If you rule over everyone in this land, then as long as you love him, this land will be safe for him. But what if you stop being the Progenitor? What if they take him hostage, attack him without recognizing him, or assassinate him simply to torment you? Can you, blinded by love, recognize and stop them in advance?”
[You underestimate Hyu. Do you really think he would be so easily defeated?]
“Yes-. He will be. It is the destiny of the king of humans—or rather, the king of beasts.”
Kabilla spoke with certainty.
“The role of a beast is to be foolishly defeated by a wise human. The king of dogs fawns on humans, the king of wolves is caught in a trap and dies, and the king of sheep survives by offering up his wool every time… The king of humans will be abandoned by humans and die.”
[Abandoned…?]
“Before Year One, humans conquered the surface and built the greatest empire. The master of that mighty nation was the king of humans. Do you know how the most powerful king of beasts, the king of humans who possessed both strength and wisdom, disappeared?”
It was something from the distant past, so far back that even Tirkanjaka knew nothing of it. Tirkanjaka had lived through the Age of the Five Sovereigns and had only watched as their number dwindled. All she knew concerned the Five Sovereigns.
The Saint had said that humans were the lords of all creation, beings who transcended beasts. That was why, she claimed, there was no king of humans.
Tirkanjaka rejected everything the Saint said and did not take those words at face value, but… neither did she care enough to show much interest. It was only because of Hughes’s existence that she had recently begun to pay attention.
But Kabilla knew something. Without realizing it, Tirkanjaka listened closely to her words.
“It was a rebellion.”
Kabilla recounted a history known to few.
“The king of humans accepts the will of humanity. Rebellion is the usurpation of a king’s power and authority. They say that when humans wished to rebel, the king of humans offered up his life and power, then disappeared.”
[…Disappeared?]
“Yes. I don’t know why he appeared before you only now, after never appearing until this point. But he won’t last long either. The ‘living Sister’ will not be able to protect him. The country, the king of humans, and even your heart will all be shaken and collapse. I am truly advising you for your sake. Please make a wise choice. That fool Baldamir will support you without knowing anything, so before he comes….”
Even without Kabilla taking action, tragedy would eventually arrive. Kabilla whispered like a prophet.
It had been a needless concern when Tirkanjaka ruled over everyone. But now the duchy no longer moved solely according to her will. The Elders’ rebellion was a clear example. As Tirkanjaka’s darkness grew deeper, Kabilla suddenly looked outside and muttered,
“Oh my, he’s here.”
Boom!
Before she could finish speaking, one entire wall came crashing down, and a gaunt high monk came tumbling through it before slamming into the wall. The Blood Monk Dogo, who had left after rebuking the Progenitor, had reappeared in an entirely unexpected state. Looking as though someone had thoroughly beaten him, Dogo glared through the wall and roared,
“You wretched bastard-!”
Baldamir calmly appeared through the broken opening. Unlike Dogo, he entered lightly without a single thing out of place, then looked down at Dogo and said,
“Stand up straight. You are in the presence of the Progenitor.”
“A Progenitor who abandoned strength and authority after falling into lust is nothing-! Rest is over. This monk shall leave the world of suffering!”
“If that is what you wish, then do so. However, leave the disposition of your blood to the Progenitor.”
“No one can decide this monk’s fate!”
The moment Dogo regained his stance, he charged at Baldamir like a bolt of lightning. The renowned martial artist slipped beneath Baldamir without giving him even a chance to swing his greatsword. Stamping the ground with a step that shook the entire castle, Dogo fired out his qi.
Secret Art of the Blood Battle Demon Method, Catastrophe.
Swirling blood qi surged upward as though it would tear Baldamir apart. In response, Baldamir bent his arm and pulled it inward.
Immense force interlocked along a slightly misaligned axis. The twisted strength created a vast rotation. Dogo’s strike, which should have torn Baldamir apart, grazed him instead, and their arms entwined and spiraled upward. Dodging the attack by the width of a sheet of paper, Baldamir seized Dogo’s fully extended arm.
Crack. The arm that had expended all its strength had no power left in reserve. Twisting the arm and pushing it outward beyond the joint, Baldamir snapped it like a stalk of sorghum. Even if it was qi, the method of casting it off was that of a martial artist. Then he would answer in the manner of a martial artist.
Before Dogo could regenerate his dangling elbow, Baldamir swung his greatsword with speed. Dogo reacted quickly and struck the flat of the blade aside, but Baldamir slipped the hilt, rather than the blade, between his ribs.
It was a wound that meant nothing to a vampire, but Baldamir’s purpose was not to attack—it was to restrict Dogo’s movements. No matter how much of a vampire he was, Dogo could not move naturally with a greatsword clutched between his ribs. He needed to pull it free, but Baldamir moved half a beat faster and pressed him back.
In physical strength, technique, and even in this situation, Baldamir held a slight advantage. Baldamir was like an executioner punishing a sinner. Each time Dogo made the slightest error in judgment, Baldamir coldly collected the price. An arm was cut, a shoulder shattered. He repeatedly exploited each brief interval in which Dogo tried to regenerate.
For a battle in which the gap was so clear, it took a long time, but for a fight between vampires, the outcome was decided in an instant. Dogo lay sprawled, his entire body reduced to a ragged mess, and shouted humiliatingly from beneath Baldamir’s feet.
“Ggh…! You deciphered this monk’s techniques! When did you…?”
“After watching them for nearly a thousand years, one comes to know them naturally. In fact, I would rather ask you this: What have you done all this time?”
Baldamir knew the answer. Dogo had done nothing.
The Elders were all monsters who had once made names for themselves. They had retained the full strength of their prime while gaining the immortality of vampires. That alone had made them beings approaching calamities.
And then they stopped there.
With their already perfected techniques supplemented by greater strength, the Elders each acquired a unique power. That alone made them powerful enough to carry out the Progenitor’s commands.
Baldamir, who had merely happened to meet the Progenitor and receive her blood, had to struggle even to be of the slightest use. Fortunately, as an Elder, Baldamir had been promised vast amounts of time and countless opportunities. He honed himself by learning the techniques of the other Elders.
“You have been left behind, Dogo.”
“Ugh…!”
“I will not blame you for your laziness. That is why you became a vampire. You ended up like this simply because you became an obstacle on the path the Progenitor intends to follow.”
Baldamir muttered coldly and pressed down with his foot. Even the ascetic’s sturdy body collapsed beneath the power of the Red Blood Art. Crack. Along with his ribs, even his heart was crushed in one blow, and the foot of the Red Blood Art pierced through Dogo before touching the floor. Treating Dogo like a shoe with a hole in it, Baldamir dusted off his hands and went to pay his respects to Tirkanjaka.
[…Baldamir.]
“I apologize, Progenitor. I was late because I had to execute the traitor.”
A flood of emotions surged from the eerie shadow. The darkness writhed chaotically, as though responding to Tirkanjaka’s heart. Looking up at the shadow glaring down at him, Baldamir thought.
‘At last, it seems you have learned to be wary.’
Vampires are naturally lacking in vigilance. Since they neither die nor feel pain, they have little reason to fear anything. Valdamir was proud to see Tirkanjaka’s changed appearance.
[Are you trying to defy me as well? Do you condemn me for reclaiming my heart?]
“Not at all. The path the Ancestor takes is my path as well.”
[The other Elders appear to think differently.]
“They chose to stop. Since the Ancestor has chosen to move forward, they can only be left behind.”
[Have you been silently watching until now to test me?]
“How could I dare do such a thing? The one I wished to test was the Elder.”
Dullahan, Erzebeth, and Dogo had merely failed to pass the test. Valdamir calmly reported this to the Ancestor, as though killing Elders were something he was accustomed to.
Looking upon the Elder who lingered in a state that was neither dead nor alive, Tirkanjaka soon realized the truth.
[Ruskinia did not choose death of her own accord. I have been carrying out a futile judgment all this time.]
“That is correct.”
Valdamir was loyal to the Ancestor, but he did not completely obey him. He was the sort of human who would calmly accomplish even tasks the Ancestor had not ordered, if they were for the Ancestor’s sake. Like a parent hoping for a child to grow, he had always left something for Tirkanjaka to handle himself. Whether it was a judgment concerning the nation, knowledge he needed to study, or an Elder who had started a rebellion.
Looking at the strongest Elder, Tirkanjaka asked as if confirming the truth.
[You were the one who annihilated Ruskinia.]
“Yes.”
He had been about to acknowledge it without hesitation when a hypothesis suddenly occurred to him.
Valdamir acted for the Ancestor’s sake. Not because he was a thrall. On the verge of death, Valdamir had wished to become an opportunity for the Ancestor, and he had held on to that feeling even after becoming a thrall. That was why he had killed Ruskinia, an Elder like himself. Because she had dared suggest rebelling against the Ancestor.
At the time, he had been certain. Ruskinia’s madness had reached a level that could not be stopped immediately, and having broken free of the shackles through her own power, she would truly become a threat to the Ancestor. It had been a rational decision worthy of a vampire.
But… after breaking free of the shackles, when he looked back on it, something had not quite added up.
Why had Ruskinia come to Valdamir? Had she truly proposed a rebellion to the Crimson Blood Duke who sincerely followed the Ancestor? And that, while her body was still incomplete from breaking free of the shackles?
And why had she brought along a daughter who was barely distinguishable from the dead?
Valdamir had had no choice but to kill Ruskinia. He had done it for the Ancestor’s sake, but it had not been what he wanted. If an Elder killed another Elder, turmoil would descend upon the nation. Valdamir was not an Elder. He could kill them, but he could not rule them.
That was why Valdamir had poured the true blood he had obtained into Rir, Ruskinia’s daughter. Valdamir possessed no special power, but that was fine. Rir was both Ruskinia’s daughter and her thrall. With no particular side effects, Rir accepted the true blood and became an Elder.
Once the Ancestor returned, he could reveal the truth then. There was no vessel better suited than Rir to preserve the true blood until the Ancestor’s return. Of course, since the vessel could not be allowed to break before then, Valdamir had protected her from the shadows….
He had thought it a rational and natural decision, but now that he had broken free of the shackles, as he looked at Tirkanjaka, Valdamir felt something strange.
Perhaps he had been acting according to Ruskinia’s design.
Did breaking free of the shackles mean that one’s cold reason vanished? No. Ruskinia must have been as clear-headed as Valdamir himself. Unable to understand why she had come to Valdamir to plot a rebellion while still in full possession of her reason, Valdamir had simply dismissed it as madness.
But what if it had not been madness? What if she had chosen to have herself killed in order to save her dying daughter?
Once she had broken free of the blood shackles through the chain of domination, only one of Ruskinia or Rir could exist. No matter how great an Elder was, no one could perform the surgery of killing themselves. Ruskinia needed an intermediary who could kill her and pass her true blood on to her daughter. Valdamir had been the means perfectly suited to that purpose. Even protecting her daughter had been part of it.
He might have been played from beginning to end. Valdamir suddenly felt the urge to smile. Unlike a vampire.
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This, too, must have been an idea he could conceive only because he had broken free of the shackles. It was likely the conjecture closest to the truth.
However, Valdamir was no mind reader. He could not know what Ruskinia had been thinking in the past, nor did he have any way to confirm it. Even if he were to return to the past, he would reach the same conclusion. What mattered was who had done what.
Valdamir simply reported the facts.
“That is correct. Since Ruskinia, having broken free of the shackles, plotted treason, I killed her and poured her true blood into Rir.”
In any case, Valdamir was stronger than the other Elders. Gaining true blood offered him no further advantage. The moment he decided to stand on the Ancestor’s side—that is, more than a thousand years ago—the Elders’ rebellion had already been doomed to fail.
Rahu Khan had fled before anyone realized it, and the three traitors had been subdued. The others had no will left to fight, while the strongest of them all, Valdamir, was instead on the Ancestor’s side. The Elders’ rebellion ended in an instant. The result was as empty as it was sudden.
Valdamir brought the traitors before the Ancestor and said,
“I would leave their treatment to the Ancestor. What shall be done with them?”
But the Ancestor was more interested in somewhere else. Without even casting a glance at the Elders, Tirkanjaka asked,
[Does Hugh know that you killed Ruskinia?]
It might not have been a particularly important matter. Even so, the question was as sharp as a finely honed blade. Just how honest had the king of the humans he loved been with Tirkanjaka? From Tirkanjaka, who had been oblivious and easygoing about everything, a taut tension could be felt.
Was love what changed a person, or did a person change because there was love? Having briefly thought of Ruskinia, Valdamir soon scattered those thoughts and answered honestly.
“That is correct.”