Chapter 449: Trial That Defies Fate - 12
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 449: Trial That Defies Fate - 12
Kindred are often compared to the limbs of their Progenitor. It's not a simple metaphor. A Kindred is dominated by their Progenitor's mood, will, and commands.
Consider your right arm. It moves when you command it. When you want to grab something, it moves instinctively to do so, without you needing to consciously control every finger and joint. Sometimes, when it reaches its limit or has a problem, it might not move properly. But it doesn't act on its own volition—not unless you're a newborn who has just discovered their arms.
A Kindred is exactly that. A limb. The Progenitor, who possessed only her power, swept through the world with thirteen limbs to fight in her stead. Now, those limbs had broken off and were rising against her.
So then... what becomes of the strength and knowledge that the limbs learned and acquired? Does it belong entirely to the arms and legs, destined to vanish forever if the shackles are broken?
Most of it might, but not all. No, the Progenitor, having experienced and learned far more than she would have without her limbs, is changed all the more for it.
Struck by the massive arm of darkness, Muri was thrown into confusion. It wasn't because of the impact, of course.
Long ago, the most dangerous enemy of the vampires was not the Sanctum, nor was it humanity. It was light. A holy power that changed all things. For vampires, whose bodies had died and remained frozen in time, sunlight, which altered the very medium of Bloodcraft, was a potent poison.
The same was true for Tyrkanzyaka. She cloaked herself in blood to block out the light. With her powerful Bloodcraft, she created a veil of blood to protect the vampires. The altered and corrupted blood quickly turned black, but Tyrkanzyaka used even its crumbled fragments as a shield against the light.
Darkness is not a power. It is merely the absence of light. As long as light could be blocked, darkness could be created in abundance. Tyrkanzyaka merely used the blackened, discolored blood as a tool.
However, humans who saw the vampires always shrouded in darkness grew to fear it, calling it a darkness meant to defy God.
The shared perception of countless people can twist the nature of a thing. This is especially true when it comes to human affairs. And so, Tyrkanzyaka came to wield darkness, independent of her Bloodcraft.
But Muri, who was familiar with darkness and had inherited a part of that power, knew its true nature well. It was mere crumbling, corrupted blood meant to block the light. Something that could not even properly receive the power of Bloodcraft. Though it had become more than a mere speck of dust through its status as a false idol, the force exerted by the darkness was trivial.
…And yet, this darkness now overwhelmed Muri, if only for a moment.
"Blood energy—? No, even for a dark knight cloaked in blood energy, this is—."
Muri broke free from the darkness and clung to the ceiling. With eyes that could pierce the gloom, she stared at Tyrkanzyaka.
"Progenitor—?"
Tyrkanzyaka's arms were outstretched.
But they were not the arms that had struck Muri. Those short, slender arms could not have reached her. What had struck Muri was Tyrkanzyaka's shadow. The wavering darkness that floated behind her was mimicking Tyrkanzyaka, its own arms extended.
It was the same action-mimicking shadow she had once shown in the Abyss. The only difference was that it was bizarrely powerful.
Tyrkanzyaka opened her mouth. Following her lead, the shadow also parted a mouth from which darkness dripped.
[Muri. Isn't it strange?]
"Yes—? What is—?"
[How you all, who seemed eternally loyal, turned on me as easily as flipping your hand.]
Vampires do not feel fear. With their hearts stopped, their sense of pain deadened, and their ability to regenerate from injury, they lack the emotion of fear.
But perhaps it was because the shackles were broken, or perhaps because her opponent was the Progenitor, Muri felt a sensation like a cold drop of water tracing its way down her spine. She would probably call this feeling fear.
[For a thousand years, I lived in an unchanging world. I thought loyalty, love, and emotion were as eternal as I was.]
The voice produced by Tyrkanzyaka's shadow seemed to grip space itself and shake it. Faced with this ominous presence that stirred such dread, Muri felt a strange impulse.
She wanted to sing.
[...My feelings for Hu, too, I believed would never change. When we spent the night together, my heart swelled at the thought that this moment would last forever. I watched his sleeping face and was lost in happiness.]
"O Progenitor, who has grasped the happiness you so desired. O Progenitor, who has awakened to a pleasure you never knew. Tell me, how are you now—?"
To Muri's melodic question, the shadow answered in a viscous voice.
[I hate him. I hate him so much I cannot bear it. I thought I would give him my all, but I resent that I cannot be his everything. Only a single night has passed, I have only heard a single whisper from you all… Was the heart always so easy to change? Was the will always so weak and pliable?]
"The heart is a reed—, the heart is a reed—. When the wind blows, it shamelessly bends its body, a weak and pliable reed is the heart—."
[You are all the same. A thousand years of loyalty was nothing more than words bound by shackles. The moment the Blood Shackles vanished, you turned your blades on me.]
"Who let the wind into the field of reeds—? O tree standing silent in a slanted world, did you see? Who was it that let the wind into this field of reeds—?"
[…And what I resent most is that I cannot deny that Hu wanted all of this.]
Pouring out her emotions amidst Muri's song, Tyrkanzyaka let her hands fall and lamented.
[Perhaps, if you all had not rebelled. Perhaps I could have been with him longer. This resentment becomes a sharp thorn, pointing in every direction. I want to pierce anything. I want to make a hole and watch it bleed. But I know. The one who brought this wind… was none other than Hu.]
As Tyrkanzyaka finished speaking, the Grand Castle began to move. Because the bricks were fortified with blood, Erzsebet could manipulate each one with her Bloodcraft. Having found Tyrkanzyaka, Erzsebet cleared the obstructing paths, creating a direct route toward her.
At the other end of the path stood the Elders, each having come with their own desires. Erzsebet, who harbored ambition; Rahu Khan, who desired an unchanging lineage; Lunken, who wished for endless struggle; Kavila, with her twisted loyalty. Even the starving Bakuta and the singing Muri.
"Progenitor."
"Clan Chief."
"Sis."
They were just like Tyrkanzyaka, who had wanted a heart. These beings, who had come bearing their own desires, were trying to obtain something from her. Feeling a wind blow through the wide-open space, Tyrkanzyaka murmured.
[…Hu. So this was the sight you wanted. I think I'm beginning to understand.]
Until now, Tyrkanzyaka had never needed to scheme. She had limbs to move for her.
Now, having lost all her limbs, Tyrkanzyaka utilized everything she had ever experienced and witnessed.
The Elders might be more adept at combat, but Bloodcraft belonged to Tyrkanzyaka. She might not understand battle, but the Bloodcraft used within it was all under her power.
All power converges to a single point.
Black darkness gathered and formed a body. A pitch-black shadow resembling her rose up.
[Back then, I was a corpse, and yet I was the duchy itself, the ancestral god. I was the very ground that supported you.]
Like a shadow, it bore a striking resemblance to Tyrkanzyaka, but it was easily ten times her size. The only difference from a shadow, however, was that it possessed a distinct, physical form.
[You do not want a nation that lives and breathes, a land that moves of its own accord. So you reject my existence… That is your desire.]
With a powerful will, the blood energy that filled Tyrkanzyaka's body flowed into the giant made of shadow, with Tyrkanzyaka herself as its heart.
The shadow stretched. Its reddish arms scraped against the castle walls. Screeeech. The walls of the Grand Castle ground away without any resistance.
Having gained substance, power, and even emotion and a heart, the giant was no longer a simple shadow. It had surpassed the level of a doll crafted from darkness. That thing was Tyrkanzyaka's body itself.
If the blood cannot leave the body, then she would simply expand the definition of 'body'. With her power and Bloodcraft, she forged a giant. A giant that looked exactly like her, merely colored black, rose up behind Tyrkanzyaka.
[Then I will ask not with right, but with might. Are you prepared to face a tyrant?]
Before the blood energy that burned like lava, the god who had reclaimed her heart questioned her former subjects.
*
The Great Tide is coming.
The Island Whale and the Cloud Manta. The two Leviathans were colossal beings comparable to natural phenomena, but they were, in the end, living creatures that roamed the great ocean. She had warned that the Sky Manta would not stand by and watch the Island Whale block the currents and fill its belly forever, that it would shatter the sea to make a 'just protest'.
Valdamir was so surprised he was at a loss for words. Not because the content was so random, but because a 'prophecy' had been used for the sake of vampires. Until now, the Saintess's prophecies had only ever been used to oppose vampires, so Valdamir had been suspicious enough to consider capturing and interrogating her.
He didn't for two reasons.
One was that there was no harm in preparing for the prophecy. Forcing people to retreat from the coast for a while during the Night Ebb Tide would be a minor inconvenience for the humans, but it wouldn't cause any significant losses. The lack of opportunity cost was a very important matter for Valdamir.
And the other.
He could not gauge his opponent's power.
The Saintesses of the Sanctum each possessed bizarre abilities. Feruel, the Saintess of Steel, was a prime example. A Saintess who could foresee her own future and make it reality was invincible. Not even Valdamir could harm her directly.
If 'that thing' was also a Saintess, she could not be taken lightly. What she knew, how she had obtained the two blades—there were too many unknowns, and the risk of provoking her blindly was too great.
Moreover, he had heard she was injured after her encounter with Dogo, yet she had appeared perfectly fine, exuding such a strange aura… If he fought her needlessly and wasted time, it would be a loss for Valdamir, who had much to do.
Especially.
"Ah, Valdamir."
He had to go and meet the Black Knight before him, Du Rahan.
"A welcome face. You feel the same, don't you? Though I don't have a face myself. Hahahaha!"
Sir Rahan, carrying his severed head under his arm, laughed foolishly at his own joke. Valdamir, ever the vampire, did not return the smile and instead asked curtly.
"Rahan. You've awakened."
The Black Knight Du Rahan, the strongest warrior before the rise of the Elders, greeted his old enemy and longtime friend by cheerfully shaking his head.