Chapter 149
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 149
Chapter Title: Eastern Front (4)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Pierre felt like he was going insane.
The Holy Relic he possessed, Arcana, was a versatile artifact so multifaceted that even calling it "all-purpose" fell short.
It allowed him to compose ever-changing arrays of powers and phenomena contained within its cards, enabling a dazzling array of strategies. It was an extraordinarily potent force capable of housing even absolute techniques from unparalleled powerhouses that no ordinary method could resist.
Through this ability, every time Pierre stepped onto the battlefield, he unveiled countless powers, combining bizarre abilities with his "stage" to toy with and slaughter innumerable foes. In the end, he earned the title of "Deceiver."
But now...
"Kuh...!!"
As round objects charged in and a demon clad in strangely pristine, snow-white attire barreled toward him like an enraged bull, Pierre drew another card to intercept her and flung it forth.
The power sealed within that card was none other than the purest, most destructive white light. It was a card containing the might of the "Hero of Radiance," a fellow five-star hero renowned as the pinnacle of raw destructive power.
-Flash!!
The brilliance stored in the card erupted, vaporizing the onrushing demon's body. Its power was so immense that even Pierre, who had thrown the card, felt the shockwave.
However...
-Whirrr...!!!
Those hellish, hungry ghost-like monstrosities ignored the radiance without a single scratch, charging straight at the card he'd thrown and devouring it whole.
Pierre hurriedly checked his Arcana bundle, confirming that the card he'd just tossed hadn't returned.
'This can't be. Cards that expend their power should revert to blank cards and come back...!'
The earlier swallowed cards were the same; none of the cards devoured by those grotesque things were recovering. Were they sealed somehow?
"You seem flustered."
Watching Pierre freeze up, unable to draw more cards, Erzse murmured as if she understood completely.
She herself was constantly amazed by the bizarre abilities and strange tools her master displayed, time and again.
"...Nothing's changing."
At this rate, he'd lose every last card, so Pierre stowed his Arcana bundle. Regaining his composure, he muttered in a slightly deflated tone while facing Erzse, who thrust her blood spear at him, and swung his staff-sword in response.
-Stab!!
-Thud!!
Their strikes landed as fatal blows: Erzse's heart pierced, Pierre's flesh exploding. Torrents of blood gushed out, regenerating Erzse's body, while Pierre shed his damaged form like a husk, reborn in pristine flesh.
"Hee hee ho! I'm perfectly fine now? But what about you, lady? How much longer can you hold out?"
"........."
It was as if he knew her grotesque regeneration relied solely on "consuming" blood. Having regained her leisure by drawing her master's equipment and tools once more, Erzse ignored his words and checked her blood reserves.
'...The consumption is faster than I thought.'
That clown. His speech had been playful and his actions flamboyant from the start, but he was steadily targeting her weaknesses.
He'd first trapped her in water to cut off her breathing and render regeneration meaningless, and now that her cards were sealed, he was aggressively forcing her to expend as much blood as possible...
He fought as if he knew the Blood Demon Tribe's vulnerabilities intimately, like he'd battled them countless times before.
'I can endure. I can hold out... The three hours my master mentioned are nearly up, so I should manage until then. But...'
Several things nagged at her.
First, that man hadn't revealed his full power yet. Second, the peculiarity of this space itself.
A ability to freely warp space and teleport targets, just like the one her master had shown. As long as that power persisted... would her master's return ability even work?
Uncertain of everything, Erzse decided against blindly stalling for time. She needed to take down that clown somehow or at least resolve this bizarre space.
Thus, as the once-leisurely Erzse grew subtly anxious and the greatly flustered Pierre began regaining his poise...
"Shut up."
"?!"
A white-haired woman, visibly irritated, cleaved through one side of the stage and intruded. She looked like someone rudely awakened from a deep sleep.
"Clown. Now you're even interrupting my nap..."
She'd constantly been thwarted from heading south, and just when she'd settled in for a peaceful slumber, this clown was ruining even that. As she started venting her frustration at him, the empress who had burst in spotted the figure facing him and froze in bewilderment.
"......Ah?"
And Erzse, too, stared at the sudden intruder—a woman with an appearance strikingly similar to her own, yet exuding a strange pull. A name surfaced unbidden in her mind, and she murmured it.
"...Bathory?"
"...Lady Erzsebet...?"
The empress's seething rage, ready to erupt, dissipated in an instant. Joy, confusion, doubt, ecstasy, denial flooded in to fill the void.
She might be fake. Or perhaps this was all a dream. Thinking that, the empress slowly approached Erzse and touched her cheek, feeling the faint chill of her body heat.
-Thump. Thump...!
And as if to prove it real, the blood within her—cherished across centuries—reacted to the figure before her as its true owner, drawing her in. Overwhelmed with ecstasy, the empress burst into tears.
"Lady Erzsebet...! You've returned...! Ahh... I... I waited. I kept waiting for your return. Ten years passed, then a hundred, and I waited still... because I believed you'd come back...!"
Slowly accepting the situation, Bathory sobbed uncontrollably.
How long had she awaited this moment? Waited and waited. Believing her master—Lady Erzsebet—would one day return...
From the castle where she resided, reliving traces of her mistress amid memories, she'd fended off invaders trying to erase her legacy for centuries, waiting... always waiting.
"What happened...! No, it's fine. I won't ask. You were always like that. Just... I'm so happy you're back..."
"Bathory..."
Erzse gazed at the woman weeping before her. Likely the "empress" of the Blood Demon Tribe she'd longed to meet.
And just as her name had surfaced upon seeing her, a jumble of memories flooded Erzsebet's mind.
Facing those memories and feeling a slight headache, Erzse first whispered to her kin before her.
"I'm sorry."
"Sniff... Yes..?"
"My memories aren't intact right now. I remember your name... but nothing beyond that."
As she sifted through the chaotic recollections, Erzse honestly revealed her condition to the sobbing Blood Demon. Unable to give the reaction her kin desired due to her faulty memory, she apologized.
"You've lost your memories...? Now that you mention it, your aura feels off... your blood too... Heavens. Lady Erzsebet. Have you been starving all this time? Why are you so gaunt? Your hair looks a bit frizzy... and your hands seem a little calloused..."
Upon hearing of Erzse's amnesia, Bathory panicked while urgently inspecting her body, pouring out worried words. It felt just like old times, bringing profound happiness and the realization that this wasn't a dream.
"Oh ho. Regular patron? So your name is Bathory? This is delightful. You never answered no matter how much I asked..."
"...Grind!!!"
And amid this scene, an unwelcome intruder was disrupting their touching reunion. Bathory glared murderously at the clown, who had reappeared unscathed despite her having torn him apart moments ago, and growled menacingly.
"Get lost. This isn't a place for the likes of you."
"Come now, mind your words. Wasn't it your patron who crashed our ongoing performance?"
Pierre watched the two with immense fascination.
The intruding empress, the demon she'd wept over whom she'd awaited for over a century... and the enigmatic demon claiming amnesia and the name Erzsebet...
'This... is beyond my expectations. A windfall.'
An unimaginable, unexpected harvest sent shivers through him as Pierre etched the freshly overheard information into his mind.
Glare that could tear Pierre apart on the spot, Bathory first awakened the power slumbering deep in her heart before drawing her strength, pitying Erzse's heavily depleted blood from battling the damned clown.
"Lady Erzsebet. Take this first."
The trace always dormant in her heart, providing her warmth, memories, and power. As she expelled it from her body, Erzse's eyes widened.
-Drip...
A handful of flawlessly pure blood. Infused with endlessly concentrated essence, far superior to the true blood that once filled the space where Erzse slept. Yet it drew her in with a mysterious pull. Entranced, Erzse accepted it.
"It's the blood you gave me, Lady Erzsebet. I merely kept it safe for a while... That should restore you somewhat."
"......!!!"
Centuries ago. A blessing from Erzsebet to a frail young Blood Demon child, born weaker than her kin and struggling with blood consumption.
It transformed an ordinary—no, far below-average—Blood Demon girl into stronger than any other, enabling her to steadfastly protect herself amid the tribe's annihilation and ultimately earning her the title of "empress."
Sloth's Throne. Erzsebet's purest true blood.
Without hesitation, Bathory extracted it from her heart and offered it to Erzsebet.
'I've gained unexpected intel, but I've dragged this out too long. And with the empress joining in now... I have no choice but to use it.'
As the empress and the enigmatic demon moved to act, Pierre, having rapidly calculated in his head, resolved to unleash the power of his fifth Holy Relic, which he'd been holding back.
The "stage's" duration was nearly up. Retreating with nothing but a few lost Arcana cards and scraps of info wouldn't balance the scales. So...
"Whatever you're planning... stay right there, ladies."
Pierre removed the mask that had never left his face, not even for a moment. As the mask that had endured the entire battle without slipping came off, Erzse and Bathory's gazes naturally turned to him.
They met his eyes, cracked like a shattered mirror.
Demonic Eye. Oculus Phantasma.
The fifth Holy Relic that made the Hero of Deception unbeatable against anyone.
"Allow me to invite you to my 'true stage.'"