The Blood Empress's Thousand-Year Confession
Cardistella Moon Night sat motionless on the floor, her eyes as lifeless as a corpse's, devoid of even the faintest spark of vitality. She looked so much like a true corpse that one might forget she had always been one of the undead. Whatever fragment of her mind had been retracing where things had gone wrong had finally let go of that fragile thread, and all her cognitive functions had come to a halt.
“…It wasn’t like this the last time I came here……”
“A thousand years have passed. It would be strange if nothing had changed. Especially if one has been trapped in a single place for that long—losing control over one’s desires is hardly surprising.”
“No, but still……”
The room Lusteria had seen a thousand years ago had not been this seething den of lust and delusion. It had been a chamber befitting a monarch, adorned with antique decorations and artworks that lent it dignity. Lusteria looked up once more at the ceiling painting in question. It was the very embodiment of fantasy: Neromeltia, depicted in the nude, radiating seductive allure as she tempted the viewer.
At Beatrice’s level-headed assessment, Lusteria found herself unable to offer any denial. If she herself had been in this situation, she suspected she would have done the same—or worse. Being separated from the one she loved for a thousand years, with a room she could decorate however she pleased… just imagining what she might have created and how she would have spent her time there made her dizzy. Having spent those thousand years wandering near Barkus Volcano, Lusteria had often drawn Neromeltia’s likeness in the dirt, so the thought struck her all the more deeply.
“I didn’t think…… I should have considered what state my room was in and taken you to the banquet hall instead…… I was so happy to see you that I didn’t even think about it. I just brought you here……”
Cardistella covered her face with both hands, groaning in a tearful voice as she recoiled from the tragic reality. Neromeltia, who had been hesitating uncertainly while watching the pitiful sight of her writhing in shame, seemed to reach a decision. She approached Cardistella, gently took hold of the hands shielding her face, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Cardistella, who had been sitting as though her soul had left her body, flushed crimson at the sudden kiss. Neromeltia simply pulled her into an embrace.
“I missed you too. Since we felt the same way, it’s all right.”
Perhaps because the longing and sorrow she had buried deep in her heart had finally surged forth, tears began to well in Cardistella’s crimson eyes. Neromeltia held her trembling body close, gently stroking her back to soothe her. In Cardistella’s ear, the voice she had waited so desperately to hear whispered softly.
“I’m sorry I came so late.”
After some time had passed and Cardistella’s tangled emotions had settled, Neromeltia was at last able to hear what had happened to her over the past thousand years. The story began on the day Neromeltia had died, with the Humian assault.
Cardistella began speaking in a voice still damp with emotion that had not yet fully dried.
“I still remember that day vividly. The day a massive surge of magical power was felt throughout Hemonigent. Sensing the ominous ripple, I was about to head there to find out what had happened when a sealing barrier of faith enveloped the entire Crimson Castle.”
Though an unfathomable span of time had passed for any ordinary being, Cardistella continued as though the memory of that day was painted clearly before her eyes, gazing into the distance. Everyone present knew exactly what that surge of magical power signified, and each of them could not help but adopt a grave expression.
“I tried to tear through the barrier, but it had been created by hundreds of Humian priests channeling Divana…… I even saw them using some kind of holy relic. Given enough time, I could have broken it eventually…… but before that, your magical power vanished from this world.”
Cardistella, a being powerful enough to rival the Demon Lord’s second-in-command within the Demon Lord’s army. If she had joined the battle, the war that day might have ended in Hemonigent’s victory. That was precisely why the Humians had gone to such lengths to keep her from participating—they must have shackled her completely. Because it was such a critical strategy, they had used the holy power Divana, which was anathema to the undead, to stop her, and had deployed the majority of their priests to Crimson Castle. That was why the army that attacked Hemonigent had consisted entirely of magic-powered siege weapons and bombardment units that required neither recovery nor blessings.
The fact that they had not used a sealing barrier from the start—if their goal had been to annihilate her as well—only confirmed the suspicion further.
“When I felt your death, I had no choice but to withdraw the power I was pouring into breaking the barrier while clashing with the priests wielding Odvolg’s holy relic. If I broke through and went outside, the Humians’ next target would have been my people. Just as I expected, as long as the barrier held, they never attacked us…… Once the barrier was complete, we were completely isolated—no contact with the outside world, not even the faintest trace of magical power could be sensed. I could no longer make a move.”
Even the Humians, who delighted in enslaving other races and plundering, seemed reluctant to attack a castle swarming with the undead. Their fear of the dead was well-known, and it was clear they had no intention of touching Crimson Castle, no matter what treasures might lie within. The undead were difficult to enslave and even harder to capture alive. Vampires, also called nobles of the night, were so extraordinarily beautiful that they were sometimes called jewels of the night, but making an enemy of them meant forsaking peaceful sleep forever. Even if one could slaughter and suppress them by force, as long as a single vampire remained alive, those in power would have to fight the terror of death every night. If such beings remained quietly within the barrier they had erected, there was no reason to provoke them.
Cardistella’s next words confirmed that this assumption was essentially fact. Even after the war ended, the Humians had maintained their siege outside the barrier, keeping watch over the castle of the dead for hundreds of years. She had considered digging tunnels underground to escape, but the barrier had been created in a spherical shape from the beginning, leaving no gaps even beneath the ground. After about eight hundred years, the Humians encamped around the castle had vanished without a trace, but she had still been unable to risk breaking the barrier for fear that the Humians might detect it. Even though she possessed the power to tear apart a sealing barrier that lacked priestly or relic support with ease, she had been unable to act. She had simply spent a thousand years waiting in vain for the Demon Lord to resurrect and come find them. The reason the Demon Lord had not come for them for hundreds of years was, she suspected, because repeated resurrections had failed. In such dire circumstances, she had believed there would be no benefit in revealing themselves to the world—and that had been the right choice.
“Yes, you did well. I can resurrect again and again…… but if you are destroyed, that is the end. Your choice was not wrong.”
“……If the Humians had won, I could easily imagine what kind of life the survivors of Hemonigent would have led…… Even so, I couldn’t bring myself to go out and save them…… The thought that my people might be endangered if I left the barrier…… All I could do was protect them…… I’m sorry…… I’m so sorry……”
Neromeltia pulled Cardistella into another embrace as she began to sob again, her emotions surging. This time, she held her even more tightly. Simply watching the guilt this woman carried—having power yet being forced to turn away from others—made Neromeltia’s own heart ache deeply.
After holding and soothing her for a while, Neromeltia began recounting everything she had seen since her resurrection. She told her that the survivors were living well under Crawford’s leadership. Their storehouses were always stocked with food, their clothes were never tattered, and they had ample luxuries like soap, alcohol, and cheese. She also told her that the goblins living in the sewers had never gone hungry or thirsty, and had never once been attacked. Cardistella’s expression visibly softened as she listened. Her sobs subsided, and a faint flush of color returned to her cheeks.
Neromeltia found the sight all too familiar. It reminded her of her own reaction when she had reunited with Crawford and heard his stories. She recalled how Crawford had endlessly reassured her about how safe and peaceful the survivors had been. And now she realized how similar his demeanor then had been to hers now.
Neromeltia felt not the slightest desire to blame Cardistella for remaining sealed within the castle to protect the undead. On the contrary, she believed the undead were also part of Hemonigent’s people, and that Cardistella deserved gratitude for protecting them. Neromeltia continued speaking without pause, recounting everything that had happened, just as Crawford had once done for her—until Cardistella’s beautiful face once again found its smile.