Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: The Bell of Freedom
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Leighton. What I hate most are those who pretend to obey me while harboring other thoughts behind my back.
You have a son, don't you? A deformed freak unfit for our bloodline.
I killed that crippled little brat. I married your wife off to someone else.
If she takes another man's seed and births another monster, we'll dispose of her then too.
Even with eyes shut and ears plugged, the clamor echoed on.
Duke Shumira's sneer replayed in the man's head. Over and over. Endlessly. Forever.
All the loyalty and devotion he'd offered returned as a dead son and a wife handed off to another. Now he lay powerless on the floor, awaiting only death.
‘I’ll kill her. I’ll kill her!’
He lacked even the strength to gnash his teeth, spewing fury only in his mind—but deep down, he knew.
No matter how much he cursed her inwardly, Duke Shumira wouldn't suffer so much as a single hair out of place. Who else was there to blame? Only himself, for pledging loyalty to such a lord.
How laughable must he have seemed to Duke Shumira? How utterly ridiculous, as he broke his back in service to her?
In the end, that backbone had been boiled down to rich broth and sucked dry. He'd been utterly betrayed, plummeting to the abyss. Even his final life had become fodder for the Blood-Sucking Demon Spear, nourishment for the damned thing.
Wasn't this too pathetic?
Blood tears streamed from eyes that had already lost their light. Those tears were a lament for himself—for gaining the Bell of Commandments yet never using it—and the sorrow of a vassal betrayed by his liege.
‘Right.’
Yet there was something he could only understand after falling into this abyss.
The feelings of those he had personally cast down.
‘Who can I blame? I merely reaped what I sowed.’
A mongrel unfit to uphold the vampire bloodline.
Leighton had truly believed that of every deformed child born that way. He had, right up until his own wife bore his seed as such a creature.
While suppressing parents desperate to protect their child with the power of domination and slaughtering the infant, he had felt no guilt whatsoever. Only now, hearing that Duke Shumira had killed his own child, could he feel it. Only now could he realize the sin he had committed.
His tears were the manifestation of that guilt as well. A sin he could never repay, not for all eternity.
But what did realization matter now? He was in no state to even apologize.
What good was enlightenment when facing death? Nothing changed, and death would come all the same.
There was nowhere to voice his helplessness. In such moments, humans turn to prayer, even to gods.
Not just their own patron deity, but even the ankles of evil gods like Oberta, whom they'd normally ignore. An impossibility for demonkin or vampires, races forsaken by the divine.
‘God.’
Viscount Leighton, spurned by every god on the continent from the Five Great Divinities upward, finally recalled the Night Angel in his final moments—majestic and grand.
He had never met her, never heard her voice, never received her revelation. Yet he thought of the enigmatic god she served. The god served by that priest Kyle, whose patron remained unknown.
Somehow, it felt like that god might hear his prayer.
At the very least, that god wouldn't ignore him. Just a hunch.
Whether the God of Hope would truly listen was anyone's guess.
‘Nameless God. I am Leighton Valencia, firstborn of the Valencia house.’
The prayer never left his lips, so naturally, no one heard it.
Even so, he decided to believe that god was listening. A sneer twisted Viscount Leighton's lips as he continued his prayer—the mockery aimed squarely at himself.
‘I received the title of viscount from the Empire itself, but now I am merely a criminal.’
Crack.
A small sound came from within his bosom.
The viscount, failing to hear it, continued his quiet prayer. His cognition, drained of too much blood, was no longer sound.
‘Do with me as you will. Tear this body to shreds if you must. Please, grant me just one chance. One chance to ring this bell.’
He had sought his own freedom with the Bell of Commandments. But now, things were different. Freedom was no longer just for him.
Duke Shumira. That woman who saw her subordinates as nothing but expendable tools. She must not be allowed to dominate vampires any longer.
Only after suffering it himself did he realize the truth. She was the sort who would grind every last vampire to dust for her own advancement. If he could bring freedom to his kin, he didn't care if he was cast into the endless pit of hell afterward. With the Bell of Commandments, the viscount wanted to grant freedom to them all.
‘Even if I cannot, please, You do it. Grant us freedom, I beg you. Even if that freedom strangles me to death, I will gladly accept it.’
Was it because Leighton’s prayer reached the heavens? Or because Duke Shumira had broken her promise?
Or perhaps the glass vial, damaged in his fall, had chosen this moment to shatter?
The reason was unknowable, but the result was the same. The viscount's bosom grew wet.
Splash!
Water gushed from the crack. Holy water from the Baptizer's Vial poured over Viscount Leighton's body. Wherever it flowed, blood staunched, wounds cleansed, and life returned.
Moments later, his unmoving hand twitched. Light returned to his eyes, his pierced abdomen knit shut as if nothing had happened. His left hand stroked the flawless skin of his belly, unmarred by even a scar.
‘Th-this is...’
Regaining his senses, Viscount Leighton shot to his feet and frantically rummaged in his bosom. The moment he pulled out the cracked, leaking vial, a shiver raced through him, his scalp prickling.
Was this coincidence? No, impossible.
Even the rational viscount couldn't doubt it. The instant he realized a god had aided him, immense courage surged within. He no longer feared Duke Shumira.
He had already died once. What was there to fear—dying twice?
Regaining his wits, he burst from the great hall. A passing maid greeted him; he halted her and issued orders.
“Is there anything you need to do right now?”
“If it's something that must be done... no, nothing in particular.”
“No special instructions from Her Majesty the Queen or the Princess?”
“No, there aren't.”
Absolute obedience was a given for vampires. The maid didn't question why he asked.
“Then go through the castle and tell everyone you meet to come to the basement. Spread it to every vampire lower than me. Make sure to say it's on my orders.”
This was the beauty of such moments. Without a shred of doubt, the maid set off to carry out Leighton's command. She soon informed others that Viscount Leighton was gathering the workers, and they joined the relay.
One person called two, those two called four—the ripple spread until nearly everyone had heard Viscount Leighton's summons.
The process flowed as naturally as water, for all those above him were absent. Their queen in name and truth, Duke Shumira, had temporarily fled the castle to evade the imperial princess, and most of the other lords had been slain by his son.
The walking infant had spared no one involved in the cullings, no matter who they were. None escaped the grasp of the reaper.
“Has everyone gathered?”
Even seeing far more people than expected, Viscount Leighton showed no surprise. After nearly dying and being revived, he had become a fanatic believer in divine will.
He saw even coincidence as proof that a god was aiding him. The near-total assembly of the castle's residents in response to his order felt entirely natural.
“Viscount. May we ask why you've summoned us? Is it about the caravan again?”
One vampire stepped forward politely to inquire. Their gazes toward the viscount were warm. Yes, he had killed deformed children at Duke Shumira's behest—but they weren't theirs. Viscount Leighton enjoyed far greater esteem than he realized.
Duke Shumira was the sort who flew into a rage unless everything bent to her will. She had a habit of blaming her subordinates' mental fortitude for any mishap, her logic being that she was always right, and failures arose only from their incompetence.
The one who had offered even mild opposition at such times was Viscount Leighton, enabled by his inherently sly nature. He sometimes disagreed with the lords' views but never clashed head-on, contenting himself with petty backstage rebellions.
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course. We'd trust your word without question.”
“No lord among them cares for us like you do.”
Of course, even this approach irked Shumira. That he hadn't become a target until the spear struck today was solely because he ran the territory's largest trading company, bringing in money and luxuries from outside.
Perfumes, handbags, dresses, jewels... items the duchy couldn't procure on its own. Irritating as he was, they left him be for his utility.
That changed after she allied with Harma El, gaining access to her subordinate demon merchant, Olok. His value diminished, and so he took the spear.
They had overlooked his true worth—not in the caravan, but in his abilities. They failed to grasp how precious a subordinate was who brought in money while others merely spent it.
The practical sorts knew full well that Viscount Leighton kept the territory running. Naturally, their view of him was favorable.
Compared to the other lords who abused the power of domination to treat them like slaves, he was a true gentleman.
The viscount nodded and drew the bell from his bosom.
“What's that?”
One vampire tilted his head and spoke upon seeing it.
The viscount replied curtly.
“Freedom.”
Moments later, the Bell of Commandments tolled. Its sound wasn't grand enough to shake the world, nor loud enough to fill even this basement.
Yet in that instant, everyone present felt a profound vibration. Not from without, but from deep within.
Eight indescribable melodies wove gentle ripples that swept over them all. Something inside bent like reeds in the wind, resounding.
A sound that would shape not just one life, but the fate of an entire race, played in every heart before blending into music. A sweet melody none had ever heard played for a dozen seconds or so before fading away.
“Huh...!”
One vampire, dazed by the otherworldly sound, realized something and shuddered.
The shiver spread like contagion, gasps bursting forth.
The great chain of existence that had bound them. The innate hierarchy they could never defy.
The power of domination existed nowhere anymore.
......
And so, no one noticed the baby toddling toward Leighton as a target.
The infant halted in surprise at the tolling. In eyes that had ascended to godhood, it saw what the vampires, Leighton included, could not.
For a moment, it stared silently at Leighton before abandoning its intent to kill and departing. The reaper had come unknown to all and left the same.
Wherever it went, death would bloom like flowers to welcome its godhead—but at least Blood Domain had escaped the reaper's clutches.
As babies do when hunger strikes, it would reach for food.
As they do upon growing, it would soon seek toys to play with.
How far could this baby grow? That depended on the strength of the darkness lurking in human hearts.
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