Chapter 460: Escape from the Duchy no.2
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 460: Escape from the Duchy no.2
In Plenilune Castle, within the deepest, darkest sanctum of the Duchy, sat the Progenitor. The Progenitor, who had certainly departed for her villa with her consort, had for some reason returned alone. Awed by Tyrkanzyaka’s terrifying yet sorrowful aura, no one dared to ask where the consort had gone. They could only guess that he had run away.
Having changed into a different dress for reasons unknown, the Progenitor Tyrkanzyaka sat upon her throne, her expressionless eyes sweeping over the Elders.
Erzsebet, Dogo, Du Rahan. The Elders now before her were all those who had either plotted or participated in the rebellion. Though they had been subdued by Valdamir, they were Elders, and their bodies had already fully regenerated. Effectively nothing more than defeated soldiers, they awaited judgment before the Progenitor.
Even in this humiliating moment, Dogo and Erzsebet’s minds were racing.
They had only momentarily succumbed to force; they were Elders. They did not die, nor did they tire. A moment ago, they had been ambushed and defeated one by one by Valdamir, but now that they were gathered, if they combined their strength, they could still achieve their unfinished goal….
Or rather, they could have.
[Bring him to me.]
If not for the ominous shadow that had risen behind Tyrkanzyaka. Erzsebet could feel the immense power contained within that shadow.
The Progenitor Tyrkanzyaka had poured all the knowledge and power she possessed into it.
The Progenitor, who possessed absolute power, had never pondered how to wield it herself. Instead, she had her limbs—the Elders and her Ain. The power and experience brought to her by the Elders and Ain, who worked like ants. Their skills and enlightenments remained intact within the Progenitor. She simply couldn't use them as her own, as they were insights gained by her subordinates.
So, the Progenitor ‘created’ a vessel to contain the power and authority she had accumulated over a thousand years. Instead of her own body, which was difficult to alter at will, she took a new form molded from darkness and forged with Bloodcraft, and crammed all her experience and power into it. The result was the birth of a monster, cloaked in darkness and wielding the Progenitor’s Bloodcraft, capable of using the powers of every Elder.
[Only the Elder who brings him to me shall be forgiven.]
Erzsebet realized it to her very core. The Elders could no longer defeat Tyrkanzyaka. Perhaps only Valdamir, who had learned and mastered the powers of all the other Elders, could stand against her to some degree… but he had no intention of betraying the Progenitor.
Things having come to this, there was only one way to survive. They had to prostrate themselves and cater to the Progenitor’s whims. Just as Erzsebet was about to accept her command…
“I refuse.”
A gauntlet flew toward the Progenitor. It was thrown by Du Rahan. The gauntlet, thrown with tremendous force, stopped dead in mid-air before it could reach Tyrkanzyaka. The shadow, having deftly snatched it from the air, nonchalantly tried to put it on.
Pop. The gauntlet could not withstand the shadow’s massive hand, nor its immense strength. The tough, steel-reinforced leather gauntlet burst like a balloon. The shadow looked at the shredded pieces, dejected.
But as if the gauntlet’s tragedy was of no concern, Du Rahan and Tyrkanzyaka glared at each other.
“I have not yet been defeated! Had that coward Valdamir not launched a surprise attack, I would not have fallen so easily!”
That he didn’t say he would have won was perhaps his last shred of conscience, but there was some truth to his words. Even Valdamir had sought to deal with Du Rahan first, before he could join forces with the other Elders.
Tyrkanzyaka looked at the knight of a bygone era, who still refused to accept defeat, and asked.
[What is your wish?]
“A duel, Progenitor. On behalf of all the knights you have slain, and for myself, who was used by you to slaughter humans for hundreds of years! I challenge you to a duel!”
Du Rahan placed his own head back on his neck. Like fitting together the pieces of a broken statue, he turned his head this way and that.
The headless knight, Du Rahan, used to carry his own head and wield it like a flail. When facing an enemy, he fought by directly comparing their durability to that of his head. People saw it as a symbol of his cruelty, but surprisingly, it was Du Rahan’s form of mercy. Du Rahan fought while imposing upon himself the handicap of his head spinning around.
…However, what even he had not anticipated was that this stubborn adherence had gifted him a power bordering on an authority. His insistence on swinging his head, combined with his combat sense, allowed Du Rahan to achieve a masterful sense of balance. No matter what bizarre position his head was in, Du Rahan could distinguish up from down and clearly perceive his own position and that of his opponent.
The strength and skill he possessed even before his death, combined with that sense of balance, elevated Du Rahan to a new level. If not for Valdamir, he would still have been the strongest of the Elders.
[Is that your wish?]
“Well, yes. I do not fear annihilation. I have already died once; what is a second time! But I cannot surrender without even fighting the Progenitor! The reason I clung to this wretched life despite being dead was for this very moment!”
Having finally attached his head, Du Rahan clenched and unclenched his now-free hands. Blood energy condensed in his hands, forming the shape of large flails.
Just like Valdamir’s greatsword. A martial artist imbues their weapon with qi. Upon reaching a state of mastery, they can feel and wield their weapon as if it were an extension of their own body. This is the state commonly known as sword-body unity.
And a martial artist who becomes a vampire forges a weapon from their blood energy, which is no different from their own body. A weapon created in this way is as powerful as a vampire’s own flesh.
“You may not be a man… but if you know honor, accept my challenge!”
Du Rahan had already been defeated once. There was no reason for the Progenitor to accept his challenge. Valdamir, the Progenitor’s sharpest sword, could have handled him. But Tyrkanzyaka gestured for Valdamir to stand down and looked at Du Rahan.
[I know nothing of such things. But I will respect your will. For you to realize your will would have been a result he desired as well.]
“…I don’t know who ‘he’ is, but he sounds like quite the romantic.”
[And barbaric, besides.]
Tyrkanzyaka gave a faint smile while still seated on her throne. Du Rahan clashed his two flails together and aimed them at the Progenitor.
“So. When are you going to stand? You don’t intend to accept my challenge while sitting on your throne, do you?”
[That sounds fine.]
“What?”
Tyrkanzyaka did not move. Instead, the shadow standing behind her stretched forward, its upper body jutting out. Sensing hostility, the shadow reached for Du Rahan as if to grab a toy.
Facing the shadow’s giant hand, Du Rahan swung his flails wide and muttered.
“What a monster! A good opponent for a warm-up!”
It was indeed a good opponent for a warm-up.
From the shadow’s perspective.
Crunch, crunch.
The shadow was chewing up Du Rahan, whole. His broken flails rolled on the floor, and his limbs, torn off like chicken wings, twitched pathetically. The limbs seemed to want to find their torso, but to become whole again, they would have to reunite inside the shadow’s stomach.
Du Rahan had fought bravely against Tyrkanzyaka’s shadow without backing down, but the shadow was no longer a being an Elder could face.
The shadow was the totality of the vampire species. A monarch of vampires, embodying all their powers and skills in a single form.
The Progenitor who had scattered her blood and darkness across the vampire species and the entire nation of the Duchy of Mist was no more. In place of a god, a tyrant now sat on the throne, beginning her cruel reign.
[Only after gaining a heart did I realize why it is necessary to make an example of someone. In the end, history repeats itself, I suppose. Even after becoming vampires, human nature has not changed.]
Even as the shadow devoured Du Rahan, Tyrkanzyaka remained calmly seated on her throne.
It is said that vampires do not feel emotion, but they do not wish for their existence to be extinguished. Therefore, it was rational not to oppose her like Du Rahan had. For the time being, Dogo and Erzsebet kept their mouths shut and followed that rationale.
In other words, they were afraid of death. Afraid enough to swallow their pride and bow their heads.
[In any case, with one less competitor, this is good news for you.]
And Tyrkanzyaka had learned how to use fear. Just like an ordinary monarch.
[Bring Hu to me. If you wish to simply flee, I will not stop you… but for all of time to come, you had better pray you never cross my path again.]
The two surviving Elders abjectly bowed their heads.
*
“Halt. I am Baron Zenryu, an Ain of Sir Du Rahan, guardian of this canyon. Human, state your identity!”
“The Progenitor’s consort.”
“!”
News that the Progenitor had taken a consort had reached even Baron Zenryu on the frontier. He looked at my appearance and asked cautiously.
“…Where are you headed?”
“The Military State.”
“You have a pass, I presume?”
“I do not.”
Hearing my shameless reply, Baron Zenryu declared resolutely.
“You cannot pass without the Progenitor’s authorization! I have no way of verifying whether you are the consort or not, but even if you were, it would make no difference!”
It was a standard and proper response. To vampires, humans were livestock. They had set up checkpoints in various places to prevent them from escaping at will. Humans were not permitted to leave their designated residential areas, and if they had to travel for unavoidable reasons, they required a pass from a vampire.
Tch. I wanted to slip by unnoticed, but of course, they’re vampires. They stand guard day and night.
The one silver lining was that during the day, when the darkness and mist thinned, a vampire’s vision grew dim. Just like now!
“Hilde! Now!”
“Yes~.”
Baron Zenryu’s head was severed. As it fell to the ground, his face was a mask of shock. No matter how loyal and diligent he was, he had not expected a single soldier to suddenly strike his neck from behind.
It was a surprise attack made possible by the bright midday sun. Hilde, having felled Baron Zenryu, commandeered his horse and reached out her hand.
“Father! Run!”
I kicked off the ground and vaulted up behind Hilde. The moment I was settled, Hilde spurred the horse. As if unaware of its sudden change in rider, the horse galloped forward immediately.
Anyone watching might curse us for beheading an official doing his job and stealing his horse. But that kind of common sense only applies when the victim is an ordinary person who dies when their head is cut off.
“Seize them!”
Baron Zenryu, cradling his severed head in his arms, immediately began to give chase.