“You're a coward-. We were once the same body. We were both the dead. Even if our hearts were cold, even if we felt nothing-. We were one with the Progenitor and were no longer lonely-. But now, you've abandoned us. Coward.”
Muri's voice, trembling like a sob, was accompanied by a faint harmony. A spectral dancer, Muri, bathed in the crescent moonlight, was an artist. She hummed and danced, adorning the desolate duchy with her art. Though she had lost her sense of inspiration after becoming a vampire, the subtle changes Tyrkanzyaka felt whenever she listened to music resonated within Muri’s heart, compelling her to continue.
“Progenitor-. Why did you abandon us? You left, you slumbered. And when we finally saw you again-. You discarded us like old rags.”
Yet now, with the shackles broken, nothing resonated within Muri's heart.
No inspiration, no emotion, no confusion, no betrayal. The feelings that Tyrkanzyaka should have evoked were gone.
For an artist, inspiration was everything. But now that Tyrkanzyaka was no longer there to listen and judge, Muri’s music had no audience. And art without an audience was nothing. Now that the Progenitor had left in search of a man, Muri had become nothing.
“I did not cast you away! You were the ones who made your own assumptions and came looking for me!”
Tyrkanzyaka's words reached them, but now that the shackles were gone, her voice was nothing more than noise that could not stir their hearts. Lahu Khan spoke.
“Chieftain. The shackles were a promise. I swore to protect the body given to me by my mother. That is why I became a vampire. But now, the chieftain has broken the promise.”
“Even if I have reclaimed my heart, your immortality has not disappeared. No, if anything, you've grown stronger. Even if I order it, you will not die! So what is the problem?”
In the early days, the Elders of the Progenitor perished despite their immortality. While it was partly because they were a weaker force facing formidable foes, there were also frequent instances where Tyrkanzyaka or the Elders lost control of their own power and went berserk.
That was why the Progenitor, Tyrkanzyaka, only accepted individuals strong enough to wield their power with restraint as Elders, despite her own strength.
“...It’s different. Now, we... are different from Mother.”
Old Bakuta, the Man-Eater. His age and origin were unknown—a predator from the depths of the swamp. He had become an Elder to satiate his hunger. Now, rubbing his empty stomach, he gnawed on something with sorrowful eyes.
“We were supposed to become the same. So we wouldn’t be lonely. But... if one of us changes alone, what then?”
“Changed? What has changed about you, Bakuta! You are still an Elder. You cannot feel hunger!”
“...But, Mother. I'm hungry. Something is missing. I can’t fill it.”
Bakuta’s empty eyes swept the surroundings. Even the vampires flinched at his gaze, which regarded them as nothing more than food.
The power to consume another’s blood and make it his own was unique to Bakuta. No matter how resilient a vampire was, once consumed by him, they could not regenerate. The act of devouring another was inherently repulsive. The only reason he had been able to remain among the Elders was because of Tyrkanzyaka’s overwhelming bloodcraft, which suppressed his urges.
Under the Progenitor’s rule, Bakuta had leisurely butchered livestock, honing his particular expertise.
That was—until now.
Lahu Khan gazed intently at the starving Bakuta before speaking as if realizing something.
“Hunger, no. It is desire.”
“...Desire?”
“The chieftain carried it for us. She took our desires. That is why we were at peace. But now, the desires have returned.”
“Hm-. It does seem that way. I want to move. I want to dance. I want to tear myself apart. I want to drink. I want to be held-. Could it be that the Progenitor also... wanted to be held by that man-?”
“That is irrelevant!”
The Elders, now freed from their shackles, kept throwing questions.
And Tyrkanzyaka answered them all.
No gavel struck, no announcement of trial was made. Yet, the Trial Against Heaven had already begun.
Ain. Yeiling. The vampires who no longer had to follow the Progenitor moved toward their own lords.
The one who had stood above all, with none beneath her, was now alone.
The throne had become a courtroom.
Without a single retainer, the Progenitor sat in solitude, subjected to the vampires’ inquisition.
I had suspected something might happen, and sure enough, it did.
These damn vampires. The Progenitor lost her strength for just a moment, and they immediately staged a coup.
I had thought them devoid of blood and tears, but it turns out they lacked shame as well.
I needed to get out of here. If the Elders had raised the banner of rebellion, then this Full Moon Castle would soon become a battlefield.
“For now, let’s get out of the castle! No matter where we go, we need to have our feet on solid ground!”
I yanked down the curtains hanging over the bed.
The bed itself was an ancient artifact, and even a strip of its curtains was likely some kind of priceless treasure, but none of that mattered more than my life. Without hesitation, I tied the °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° end of the fabric into a makeshift handle.
“Father. What are you planning to do?”
“I’m going to use it as a parachute! Hilde, don’t even think about getting on. It’s a one-person ride!”
“...‘I’ will be fine even if I just fall.”
Oh, right. Hilde was one of the Six Martial Saints.
For someone trained in martial arts, falling wasn’t a danger—it was just a convenient method of vertical movement that didn’t require effort.
The same went for vampires, come to think of it...
Wait, am I the only one scared of falling? Then why the hell do I even have acrophobia?!
“By the way, you’re unusually serious today.”
“I’ll start joking once we’re out of here. Just go first. They’ll be here soon.”
“You really do separate business from pleasure.... Huh? Wait, why are you grabbing my collar—”
Hilde planted her feet on the bed and pushed it hard.
Rumble.
The massive bed skidded across the room, slamming into the opposite wall.
Ordinarily, when a bed and a wall collided, one would expect the bed to be utterly destroyed.
But this was a noble’s bed—huge, opulent, and sturdy enough to withstand the impact.
Crash.
The bed smashed through the wall and soared into the air.
Unfortunately, what goes up must come down.
The ancient relic that had spent centuries in the Progenitor’s chamber would soon become nothing more than debris.
You served me well, bed.
I may have tormented you a lot, but thanks to you, I slept comfortably.
I’ll mourn you.
“Go ahead. ‘I’ will follow soon.”
“No way, you’re not—Ahhhhhh!”
Hilde hurled me straight through the broken wall. Just moments ago, I had mourned the bed, and now I was sharing its fate—soaring through the air.
“Ahhh! I haven’t even finished setting this up yet!”
As I fell, I caught a glimpse of Erzebeth’s Ains kicking down the door.
Not that it mattered now.
I had my own survival to worry about.
I waited for my speed to pick up a little.
I needed wind resistance to spread the parachute wider.
After counting to five in my head, I threw out my arms and unfurled the curtain parachute.
Fortunately, despite being an antique, the fabric wasn’t fragile. The sturdy, thick material held my weight.
The air of the duchy was heavy.
The humid sea breeze mixed with an unknown darkness, clinging to my body as if I were submerged in water.
Against the backdrop of the dim, misty sea in the distance, I was descending rather quickly toward the ground...
“...Wait. This is still too fast.”
Even if I used every falling technique I knew, the impact would be rough.
Would I be okay?
As I debated my next move, I suddenly heard a crashing sound below.
The bed.
The frame was destroyed, leaving only the soft mattress behind...
Oh.
“My apologies. You’ve helped me till the very end.”
I landed right onto the mattress, brushing off my clothes as I stood up.
A curtain, a broken wall, and now even a cushion to land on—the bed’s tearful sacrifice had left me completely unharmed.
As I let out a sigh of relief and lifted my head, I was met with Hilde standing before me in her nurse’s uniform, her expression sour.
“Ah! You startled me. What the—? I swear I jumped first, so how did you get here before me?”
Did she have a technique not for breaking falls but for falling faster?
As I stood there, bewildered, Hilde spun around and started walking ahead.
“Follow me.”
“You’ve been rather cold toward me since earlier. What’s bothering you?”
“The situation is urgent. We don’t have time for idle chatter, so let’s move quickly.”
Hilde guided me through the dimly lit alleys of the Full Moon Castle as if it were her own backyard.
Her demeanor was strictly professional, reminiscent of her old self—the Ghost Blade.
She was clearly irritated.
Not because of the dire situation—no, this was personal.
“...Are you jealous, by any chance?”
“If only it were just jealousy, Father.”
Hilde didn’t even look at me as she responded.
“For the past few days, rumors have been spreading like wildfire about you spending the nights with the Progenitor. It started with the vampires and soon reached the humans. By now, there are no secrets in this castle regarding the Progenitor and her so-called consort.”
“...That’s a bit embarrassing. Also, kind of flattering.”
“...Flattering? Hah.”
Hilde let out a sharp sigh, then suddenly turned, her gaze piercing into me like a blade.
“‘I’ did my best. And what did you do? Roll around in bed with the Progenitor? Carve your mark onto her body?”
“...It was an enjoyable time.”
“If you truly wanted to strengthen your relationship with the Progenitor, you should have taken care of business first.”
Was it because she was still dressed as a nurse?
The way she scolded me felt sharper, more precise than usual.
“You knew there were factions openly opposing the Progenitor. And yet, before resolving that, you decided to lock yourselves away in a bedroom? You indulged in pleasure during this golden time? I always knew you were a beast, but I thought you at least knew how to handle your own crises. When I finally barged in, you were just lying there in bed.”
“Maybe I was a little lazy. But it was Tyr’s request.”
“If you were going to indulge in pillow talk, you should have at least warned Tyrkanzyaka beforehand so she could prepare. Father, you are beyond saving.”
Hearing her call me "Father" while simultaneously expressing her contempt was a strange feeling.
As I smiled awkwardly, Hilde looked at me as if I were filth and said,
“The Elders who had been dormant are waking up. We don’t know if they’ll be hostile or friendly toward the Progenitor. Because this is the first time her authority has weakened. No one—not even the Saintess—can predict how a vampire who has lost their leash will behave.”
“If even the Saintess doesn’t know, then how am I supposed to—”
“But you, of all people, should have been more careful. You were just attacked by Ain.”
Her eyes were sharp enough to cut through steel.
Right.
Hilde may call me Father now, but she was once the Public Safety Director of the Military State.
That side of her was showing, and I was starting to get a little scared.
I quickly tried to defuse the situation.
“B-But there are plenty of Elders who are still loyal to Tyr, right? Historically, most of them have been indebted to her. And most importantly, the Blood Weaver, Lady Kabilla, is completely devoted to her.”
“...Do you know what ‘I’ discovered?”
I already knew, thanks to my mind-reading ability, but I asked anyway for formality’s sake.
“What?”
“Ains are equal to one another. Just because one is stronger doesn’t mean they can rule over the others. To unite them, an Elder is necessary—even if it’s not their own Elder.”
“...So you’re saying that an Elder has already gathered Ruskinia’s Ains?”
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“And according to my investigation, that Elder is...”
***
At the very moment the Progenitor’s authority was plummeting, Kabilla clapped her hands in frustration.
A massive presence smashed through the wall.
Several vampires quickly withdrew, some attempting to defend themselves using their bloodcraft.
But the enormous being ignored their attacks effortlessly, widening the hole with its colossal pincers.
“You dare mock the sister who shared her blood with you?! I offered you the grace of death, and you repay me with betrayal?!”
The Bone of the Abyss.
To be precise, it was the molted exoskeleton of an Abyssal Horror that had been attacked and killed mid-molt.
Kabilla had retrieved its remains when the corpse washed ashore long ago and painstakingly turned it into a puppet.
The process of animating a deep-sea creature had been difficult, but Kabilla had persevered and succeeded.
A colossal lobster’s claws ripped through the hall, sweeping aside everything in its path.
The hardened exoskeleton deflected most attacks, reducing the trial chamber to chaos in an instant.
Draped in a veil of bloodcraft, Kabilla approached Tyrkanzyaka.
“Sister. Look at these wretched fools.”
“The moment they reclaimed their hearts, they believed all their True Blood belonged to them. These filthy vermin think that just because their hearts beat again, they hold all their power.”
“We can’t just stand by. If we do, they won’t stop at your throne—they’ll come for your blood and your life.”
Walking alone through the battlefield, Kabilla looked every bit like the Progenitor’s savior.
And in that moment, she fully embraced that role.
She had finally fulfilled her desire—more than anyone else.
“...There’s no other way, Sister.”
And unlike the other Elders, Kabilla’s desire was something deeply human and profoundly simple...
“I’ll stop your heart for just a moment.”
“So you can be my sister once again.”
By killing the Progenitor, she would complete her goal.
Smiling like a flower on the verge of wilting, Kabilla offered her proposal to Tyrkanzyaka.