Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 393: It Didn’t Fall From the Sky - 12

Runken’s charge was not just destructive—it was catastrophic. With each step, the earth flipped, and the clouds trembled. Charging straight ahead, Runken collided head-on with a battalion of hundreds of armed soldiers.

The Thunder Guardians responded as weak humans often do—they grouped together to resist.

Forming a phalanx, they reinforced each other with alchemy. In an instant, the thirty men in the formation transformed into a massive living wall, their bodies acting as bricks. Spearheads crackling with electricity jutted out from the gaps, an ancient formation augmented by alchemical ingenuity and unveiled to the world.

“That’s more like it!”

Runken let out a wild laugh and hurled himself against the wall with everything he had.

Spears shattered. Bodies broke. Steel crumpled.

The boar beastman’s charge was many times more devastating than that of a real boar. Spear tips snapped under the strain, and the hands of the Guardians, unable to withstand the force, were torn apart. The thirty-man formation, reinforced with alchemy, began to give way.

Of course, Runken didn’t escape unscathed. Spearheads pierced his body, and blood streamed from his forehead where it had struck. His figure, smeared with blood like a hunted beast, was ghastly to behold. And yet, he grinned as if even pain was a source of delight.

One of the Thunder Guardians muttered under their breath.

“A m-monster...!”

Hearing the words, Runken bared his teeth in a savage grin. He fixed his gaze on the Guardian who had called him a monster and threw his head back.

Then, with all his strength, he headbutted.

The boar beastman’s headbutt struck like a seismic blow, cracking the phalanx. The cracks spread uncontrollably. As Runken surged through the opening, thrashing his body with abandon, the formation shattered, and soldiers were flung in all directions. Those who escaped with only a broken bone were fortunate. Those directly in Runken’s path were killed instantly.

Covered in blood, Runken let out a deafening roar.

“Yes! I am a monster! You’re not enough to kill me! Is there nothing more?!”

As he whipped his head around, Runken spotted a massive shadow approaching him—a juggernaut, repurposed from obsolete siege engines. Its size and presence made it clear that no single creature could hope to match it. Yet, Runken, caught in his frenzy, scraped the ground with his feet.

“Let’s fight!”

Without hesitation, he charged at the steel behemoth. The juggernaut’s pilot hesitated momentarily—it was insanity, like smashing an egg against a boulder. But since the madness was on the enemy’s side, there was no reason to stop it. The pilot pushed the juggernaut harder.

Boom. The Elder and the juggernaut collided. Blood splattered, and steel groaned. Predictably, it was Runken who was pushed back in the initial clash. Even an Elder couldn’t match the juggernaut’s raw power. Blood gushed from his muscles, and his legs twisted unnaturally as they were driven deep into the earth.

“Urgh... Aaagh!”

By all logic, he shouldn’t have been able to endure. But sometimes, logic exists only to be shattered. Runken let out a guttural roar and pressed forward, enduring the juggernaut’s weight even as his body was mangled. Gradually, the juggernaut’s momentum slowed. The more blood Runken shed, the stronger his force became.

Finally, the juggernaut came to a complete halt. Its raised wheels spun helplessly in the air. The Guardians operating the machine were dumbstruck by the sheer force of the Elder.

“A blood-drenched monster... this is what it takes?”

Though the juggernaut lacked its original firepower without its engine core, it still harnessed the power of lightning. It wasn’t a tool meant to face humans—it was industrial machinery fit for cutting down trees or tearing through earth. Yet, Elders were not humans but forces of nature. Just as no human could stop a juggernaut, no human could stop an Elder. One Thunder Guardian whispered in despair.

“...And there are three of them. What do we even...?”

The Bloodstitcher, Kabilla, sliced open the back of her doll. Inside, bone needles were meticulously arranged. Grinning wickedly, Kabilla took the needles in both hands and cackled.

“Did you think the Cloud Village survived this long because they were strong? Haha! Oh, you naive little livestock, too stupid to be cute! That’s what happens when cattle get uppity—they become useless!”

Kabilla crafted her dolls from bone, blood, and flesh. She shaped their forms and filled them with darkness and gore to bring her creations to life.

The progenitor Tyrkanzyaka’s greatest power was creating thralls. In that sense, Kabilla was the vampire most like her. No one could match Kabilla’s ability to create and command thralls.

“You thought you could call an angel, knowing we were beyond the mist?! You rank as fourth-grade at best! Garbage fit for disposal!”

Kabilla shrieked as she hurled a bone needle. It fell upon the death and destruction Runken had wrought, sinking into the blood-soaked ground. The blood coalesced around the bone needles, forming grotesque shapes. From the dark crimson pool, skulls imbued with malice rose ominously.

Those bones had all once been her servants. Even in death, they fought as her thralls.

“Bone Warriors! Kill anything standing between me and my sister!”

Ten Bone Warriors surged forward.

The Thunder Guardians quickly reacted. Though their number was small, they were elite alchemists trained to exploit weaknesses. One leapt forward, dodging the Bone Warrior’s bone saw by a hair and gripping its rib cage.

The Guardian’s alchemy didn’t just aim to strengthen materials but also to dismantle enemies. To them, the thralls were ideal targets. The Bone Warrior’s ribs crumbled instantly.

“Poorly constructed materials are just fodder for alchemy. Everyone, dismantle them!”

Encouraged, the Guardians swarmed the Bone Warriors, avoiding their attacks and tearing them apart. But as the last of the Bone Warriors fell, Kabilla extended her hands, orchestrating her dark magic.

“Fools make the best fertilizer. Harvest time, my Bone Warriors!”

A sinister spell engulfed the battlefield.

Wounded Guardians clutched their bleeding limbs, intending to staunch the flow and return to combat. But their blood betrayed them. Despite their minor injuries, the flow of blood wouldn’t stop. A chilling realization dawned as they stared at the crimson streams spilling from their bodies.

“B-blood...!”

“It won’t stop...!”

The blood drained relentlessly, abandoning its owners. Unless one could perfectly control their body, even with martial arts, they were merely prey. Few among the Guardians had such mastery. The wounded collapsed, their vitality stolen, as their blood flowed into the Bone Warriors.

The shattered Bone Warriors revived, feeding on the spilled blood and multiplying their numbers. Kabilla, drinking from her chalice of gore, declared with glee:

“A perfect blood cycle! Welcome to the new era of farming!”

The Thunder Overseer remained motionless—or rather, incapable of moving.

She was well aware of the dire state of the battlefield and had already made preparations. If the Thunderwheel’s defensive systems activated, they might gain an upper hand against the Elders.

But killing them was another matter entirely. Capturing something is far harder than killing it, and capturing an undying foe? Nearly impossible.

On top of that, the most dangerous presence, far more so than any other Elder, stood before her. Vladimir the Crimson Duke tilted his head as he observed the Thunder Overseer blocking his path.

“Weren’t you here to deliver a message to me?”

[“...Why would you think that?”]

“Otherwise, you wouldn’t be standing here staring at me while your subordinates are dying.”

It was, of course, to buy time, but the Crimson Duke seemed to interpret it differently. The Thunder Overseer responded.

[“As if I’d have anything to discuss with a vampire. I’m standing here because I’m the only one who can face you.”]

“How intriguing.”

Though the Thunder Overseer flinched at even the smallest movement of the Crimson Duke, he didn’t seem to care. He leisurely ran his hand along the length of his greatsword.

“Even if the gods demand sacrifices, they wouldn’t deceive you outright. What led you to make such a mistaken judgment?”

[Mistaken? It’s the most fitting judgment. After all, I’m the only one here capable of stopping you.]

“Oh?”

The Thunder Overseer maintained a combat-ready posture, her mind racing.

What made the Crimson Duke truly terrifying was his intellect. His raw power, accumulated experience, and exceptional political acumen were all wielded with surgical precision. A beast with intelligence is far more frightening than mere brute strength.

Her role was to keep him from reuniting with the other Elders. That much was clear.

“Now then.”

The Crimson Duke raised his greatsword. Crimson energy flowed from his body into the blade. As he prepared to strike, the Thunder Overseer called upon the city’s power, unleashing a barrage of lightning.

This was her chance—the moment when he focused his energy into his attack.

Divine judgment rained down upon the Crimson Duke. Lightning tore through his body with relentless force, leaving him trembling under its onslaught. Through the blinding whiteness, he gripped his greatsword with a trembling hand and swung it slowly downward.

“Blood Glyph.”

The Cloud Waterfall split in two.

For martial artists, distance was always the greatest obstacle. No matter how much energy one imbued into a weapon, it became useless if the opponent stayed out of range.

The Crimson Duke had found a unique way to overcome that limitation.

His blood aura dispersed into the air, transcending space. The crimson energy was his own blood, a part of his body. What appeared to be sword energy was, in fact, himself, condensed on the blade.

This was a technique only a vampire could perform. Humans caught in its path were tossed aside like trash.

A strike to an arm severed it. A hit to a leg cleaved it. His finely honed blood cut through flesh, spilling more blood, which he then absorbed to amplify his power further. Within the Cloud Waterfall, a new crimson storm rose.

Hundreds of dismembered bodies were swept away in the blood tide.

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The Thunder Overseer stood frozen, watching as the slaughter unfolded. His strike had intentionally avoided her, leaving her untouched, as though mocking her.

[“You vile—!”]

“Do you understand now? You cannot stop me. Not even if I stand still.”

He was indeed mocking her.

He had endured her lightning without resistance and slaughtered her Guardians right in front of her, all to make a point.

His mindset was fundamentally different. The Thunder Overseer felt not just fear or tension but an insurmountable abyss between them, as though they stood on opposite sides of an unbridgeable chasm.

“Let’s return to our earlier topic. If you have nothing to say, I’ll get back to my work.”

There was nothing to say.

Lacking fear of death, he had no reservations about killing. Even after taking the lives of dozens, he remained as calm as if performing a mundane task. What was a profound tragedy to some was mere routine for him.

For eternity, they would never understand one another. The only language they could speak was through blood and violence.

[“You wretched vampire—!”]

Overcome with rage, the Thunder Overseer charged. Wings of lightning tore into the ground as she moved like a thunderbolt. In an instant, she was upon the Crimson Duke, her hand gripping a bolt of lightning as she swung.

[“I’ll kill you—!”]

Her words were cut off mid-sentence.

Snap.

The Crimson Duke’s hand shot out, seizing the Thunder Overseer by the neck with perfect precision.