Chapter 441: A Far Away Tale. Intermission
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 441: A Far Away Tale. Intermission
Vampires of the Duchy have the ability to detect blood. It is the predator's instinct for finding a meal, and the only sense to which even the most jaded vampire is keenly attuned. Therefore, writing with blood could serve as an urgent summons.
The signal Valdamir received was of this nature. A symbol, one he had shared only with his own Kindred, pulsed from a great distance—a pattern meant to call him and him alone. In this rapidly changing situation, information was precious. Valdamir moved to obtain whatever his Kindred had discovered.
It was some distance away. Moving to avoid the notice of other vampires, Valdamir replayed the recent trial in his mind.
To a vampire, a decade passes in an instant. Before long, his thoughts traced back to the very cause of that trial.
Back to when he had killed a certain Elder, one with a pale face and sharp fangs.
His thoughts stopped just before the moment of death, rewinding a little further. To the point when Luscynia had appeared, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
His Bloodcraft was unstable, as if he were injured somewhere. Valdamir could feel the rampant blood energy raging within Luscynia's body, a sign that he had lost control. Losing control meant he could be controlled by another Elder. Luscynia was in a very dangerous state.
“Hahaha! Valdamir. I’ve found it, I’ve found it!”
His crazed laughter was the same as ever. Valdamir turned to face him.
Luscynia. The Duchy's problem child. Trace back half the problems in the Duchy, and you would find him at the source.
He killed so many humans that other Elders had to protest publicly.
He incited such fear that his Kindred staged a mass exodus.
He executed someone according to the law, only to show up days later and raise hell.
Since Valdamir was always the one to solve these problems, the two met often. Elders rarely cared for one another, but these two were the exception. If they didn't pay attention to each other, the nation itself could falter.
Valdamir asked, with the firm conviction that Luscynia had caused trouble yet again.
“What trouble have you caused this time? I need to deal with it quickly, so get to the point.”
“I have no memory of causing trouble! Well, I suppose I did cause some trouble this time! If you can call a revolution ‘trouble,’ that is!”
If all his past incidents were nothing compared to this, what on earth had he done now? While Valdamir mentally prepared a response, Luscynia collapsed into a chair and shouted.
“I’ve figured out how to escape the Blood Shackles! As expected, I’m a genius!”
Indeed, this was trouble. A major incident. Had Valdamir been alive, he would have felt dizzy.
“So you finally succeeded.”
“And you, my friend, who knew and kept your mouth shut, are more insidious than I!”
“Hardly more than you. You nonchalantly gave your blood to your own wife and daughter.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
Valdamir explained once more to Luscynia, who had asked with genuine confusion.
“Embracing a woman without feeling love or lust could be excused as a way of reliving a memory. But you went so far as to cut and scrape your own body to make her bear your child. You’re in no position to call anyone insidious.”
They would never see eye to eye anyway. Words were merely a means of asserting one's own justification. Valdamir hadn't spoken with any real intention of making him understand, but Luscynia’s reaction was different from usual.
“Love? Did you say I have no love? A block of wood like you, saying that to me?”
Luscynia had always been impulsive, but that was because he intended to act on his ideas the moment they occurred to him. He was a man who would only consider the means so long as they didn't interfere with his objective. Making his consort bear his child was one such means. There was no one to stop him.
But now, he was… emotional. Valdamir felt a slight sense of unease and said,
“Was there any basis for you to believe you had it?”
Vampires do not know love. They do not experience the fluttering heart or the excitement one feels when they hold someone dear. Their hearts do not beat, and they control every last drop of blood flowing through their veins by will alone.
Thus, vampires are bloodless and tearless. If something must be done, they do it. For example.
“Your consort and wife, your Ain, Lily. Did you not execute her yourself? I recall you were furious when she ran away.”
The execution of a wife who broke the law—a task a human would never be ordered to do, let alone volunteer for—is something a vampire undertakes willingly. Because that is what a vampire is.
It was also expected that Luscynia would show no affection for his wife and daughter. Even if a vampire had a child through some method, it was impossible for them to feel attachment. No one found it strange that Luscynia executed his own wife. Before being a wife, Lily was his Kindred, and her blood belonged to Luscynia. It was his to reclaim.
Luscynia had even greedily taken every last drop of her blood, as if it were too precious to waste. No one suspected him. He was a vampire, and a madman who would make his own consort bear his child, but a vampire nonetheless. He acted as everyone expected. Like a heartless vampire who knew nothing of affection, he collected the flowing blood of his Kindred.
But now, Luscynia was pouring out the feelings from that time.
“Even a genius like me makes mistakes.”
“A mistake.”
“Yes. I didn’t know what love was. No, to be precise, I ‘mistook’ that love existed and that I didn’t have it! In the first place, it’s impossible for a mere thought to have a name. You haven’t understood a thing.”
As he said this, Luscynia’s eyes, looking at Valdamir… held a hint of pity. It was a look Valdamir had never seen in his entire existence.
“I simply needed her blood. But it was clear that if things continued as they were, she would one day die. So I made her a vampire.”
Valdamir understood this. That was why he had taken no action. Luscynia continued.
“But once she became a vampire, she changed too much. She could no longer even taste blood, and that foolish expression she made when she feared me was gone. Every drop of blood in her body became mine, but for that very reason, she became less worthy of keeping by my side. With my own hands, I had broken my own possession.”
“So you tried to fix her, even to the point of shattering the Blood Shackles. I know.”
“No, you still don’t know.”
Luscynia’s eyes flashed wide. Valdamir felt an unfamiliar sensation from his gaze. He had always been a madman, one who would casually bring his fleeting ideas to life. His actions always led to unforeseen consequences. Valdamir, judging that this madness was also necessary for the nation, had mostly stood by, almost to the point of assisting him.
“Emotion? It’s nothing. It’s just a grandiose name we’ve attached to the driving force that makes us do things. Searching for delicious blood is an emotion, and feeling regret when you lose that blood is also an emotion. We haven’t lost our emotions. Because the concept of emotion never existed in the first place.”
But can madness be explained by reason? From the Luscynia before him now, Valdamir felt something inexplicable.
In other words, he felt true madness.
“We merely give up. The Progenitor rules and moves our blood, so we cannot even harbor any impulse. We have no driving force to do anything that goes against the Progenitor’s will from the very beginning. That’s why we are known to have no emotions, and in a way, that’s correct.”
“Have you regained your emotions?”
“See? You still don’t understand! I’m telling you, emotion never existed in the first place!”
Luscynia leaned his upper body far forward in his seat. It was an unnecessary movement, but he did it. The reason—‘because he wanted to’—was sufficient.
“We simply try to do things. But because that great being, the Progenitor, rules our blood, we cannot even make an attempt if it deviates even slightly from her will! It’s not some vague nonsense about not being able to feel because we lack emotions. It’s power! The logic of the power that rules over us!”
“Watch your words. You seem to be excited…”
Excited? A vampire, excited? Even as he spoke, Valdamir felt a sense of dissonance. And then he realized.
Luscynia had truly thrown off the shackles.
“You truly succeeded.”
“Only halfway! It would have been perfect if that foolish child had done it properly. But she failed!”
“The child.”
Luscynia snapped his fingers. And over there, the lump of meat resembling a corpse that had collapsed in front of Valdamir’s office floated up and moved. Valdamir, who knew the personal details of every vampire, recognized the bloodied figure as Lily Nightingale. And that she was Luscynia’s daughter.
And that she had been used to sever the Elder’s shackles.
Luscynia spoke with a sneer.
“A foolish child. She succeeded in controlling my body, but she couldn't dominate it. But even that single moment was good. My dominion created a loop. The Kindred I rule, ruling me in turn. Within that cycle, the shackles were finally broken.”
“It turned out as you wished.”
“As I wished… I suppose so.”
Allowing a Kindred to rule you. It was a dangerous and foolish idea that only Luscynia would conceive. What if the Kindred had been incompetent? Or competent but malicious? If Lily had harbored malice and killed Luscynia, the loop of dominion would have been passed to her. It was a stroke of luck that he had survived…
“Thanks to her, that thing is dying, but I made good use of her, so it’s fine. Yes. It had to be done…”
Valdamir ignored Luscynia’s dazed muttering and said,
“To summarize, you have succeeded in breaking free from the shackles. Understood.”
“You understand?”
“It is an unexpected situation, but with the Progenitor absent, I cannot pass judgment. Judgment on the matter of breaking the shackles will be deferred. It seems no other Elder would follow your method, but the risk remains, so the method must be kept secret.”
It was a flawless judgment that would have satisfied everyone in the Duchy until now. But Luscynia did not agree.
“I thought you, of all people, might be able to understand, but I suppose it can’t be helped.”
Luscynia staggered to his feet.
“We are loyal to the Progenitor and revere her. But to the Progenitor, we are nothing. We are merely limbs that move as she commands.”
“Loyalty is not given in expectation of a reward. We have already received our payment.”
“Is that the best we can do? Do you really think that’s what the Progenitor wants?”
Luscynia glanced at his dying daughter, then quickly turned his head away and continued.
“Then why does the Progenitor sleep outside the Duchy? Why does she stay away from us for decades, for centuries? Why does she entrust the nation to you and wander the world?”
“How dare you presume to judge the Progenitor’s will?”
“That’s it! That’s the problem!”
Luscynia shouted with all his might.
“You don’t ask. You don’t question. Therefore, you are not needed. What you offer is not loyalty. It is disloyalty, neglect, and indifference! That is why the Progenitor has left you and all of us! She is abandoning and ignoring us!”
“…”
“And it’s a good thing! Thanks to that, we were able to distance ourselves from the Progenitor and live our own lives! Perhaps the Progenitor wanted that as well!”
“Hasty speculation is…”
“Necessary! Otherwise, nothing will ever change!”
Valdamir always made judgments based only on established facts. Speculation merely presented possibilities; he would prepare for them but defer judgment until more certain facts came to light. It was a slow process, but one that suited the Undying vampires.
Luscynia had been dropping hints until now. And until now, Valdamir had been deferring judgment. As it concerned an Elder, he had intended to postpone it, if possible, until Tyrkanzyaka’s return.
“To be truly loyal, we must first sever these shackles! Loyalty given while bound by them is meaningless!”
But once something became certain, he dealt with it without delay. That was Valdamir’s way.
“Attacking the Progenitor is the only loyalty we can offer!”
And so, Valdamir killed Luscynia.
Valdamir gazed at the symbol drawn at his feet. A sword and shield. It was the symbol of his former self, who had sworn to become the Progenitor’s sharpest sword and the shield that would protect her.
Long ago, he had lost everything.
The empire built by the King of Humans had fallen, and it was an age when everyone claimed to be his successor. The Monk King, who had defeated the Overlord, was blessed with heavenly luck, but he lacked the power to unite everyone. As the number of factions challenging kings and gods grew, the Monk King’s clan, unable to cope, made a startling decision. They divided their own country and gave it to the warlords.
That decision, like carving off their own flesh to eat, was both a self-destructive move and a stroke of genius. The blades that should have been aimed at the Monk King turned on each other. Soon, an era of warring lords unfolded, and the weak were culled.
Valdamir, who had inherited his duchy at a young age, was also a victim of the era. He was a man who could have been a hero, but he could not overcome the tide of the times. Before a mighty enemy that invaded during a vacuum of power and military might, he lost his domain and his people. Having lost even his honor, he fled disgracefully, only to be hunted down and killed. He nearly perished then and there, a hideous and terrible sight with a sword plunged into his chest.
It was no wonder that he mistook the pure white girl who appeared then for a messenger of God. Even as he was dying, he prayed shamelessly.
That he would give his all for a chance to turn back his life.
The girl was no apostle of God. She was closer to a demon. She did not give him a chance to turn back. She only gave him the chance to paint over his life after death.
The girl, who was not yet a Progenitor or a vampire, let her own blood flow into Valdamir’s wounds.
It was an age where too much blood flowed. So much that it wouldn't be noticed even if a vampire swallowed it all.
While they failed to even recognize the danger, Valdamir devoured an entire nation. It was the least revenge he could take.
After that, what was left for Valdamir?
Loyalty? Reverence? Gratitude?
No, a vampire has no emotions. The moment he became the Progenitor’s Kindred, such human feelings faded.
What Valdamir had was duty. Only after casting off the shackles could Valdamir face the heavy sense of duty that had moved him for a thousand years. Though he hadn't followed Luscynia's path, he too had gained freedom, thanks to the Progenitor whose actions had, in effect, cast off the shackles for them.
Now, how to use this freedom was the only question that remained.
Before pondering that further, Valdamir decided to deal with the matter at hand.
“…Unexpected.”
Snapping out of his reverie, Valdamir spoke to the shadow lingering near the symbol.
“I had considered the possibility that someone sent a false signal… but I never imagined the one who drew this symbol wouldn't even be a vampire.”
It was no coincidence. Nor could it have been a lucky guess. It was drawn by a human who knew exactly what Valdamir’s symbol meant. A human who was said to have been struck down by Dogo, no less, using pulsing Bloodcraft.
A realistically impossible event. As he considered a possibility that could explain it, Valdamir looked at the boy—no, the girl—before him and asked,
“Your business?”