Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 398: Humans Who Drink Blood

Hilde had spent her journey closely observing the regressor. Tyrkanzyaka, ancient and powerful as she was, was already well-documented—a walking natural disaster. There was no need to study her further. Instead, Hilde always kept the regressor and me in her sights, constantly devising minor tests to gauge our reactions.

Her observations were more akin to research. Appearance, origins, personality, voice, speech patterns, gait, and internal energy—she scrutinized and analyzed everything, breaking it down before incorporating it into herself. She meticulously studied the traits that made people recognizable as themselves, then refined them, enhancing her ability to deceive others with impeccable mimicry.

Through this process, she sometimes uncovered hidden secrets. It was through her performance as the regressor that she managed to discern her true gender.

"Shei’s weakness is clear. Close combat. Not in the realm of divine clashes where authorities collide and reshape the heavens and earth, but in battles among humans—she is merely somewhat talented."

The regressor was undeniably strong. However, perhaps due to her reliance on relics, she had vulnerabilities when facing human opponents. A butcher’s knife is ill-suited for slaughtering chickens, just as a blade meant to cleave the heavens and earth struggles against the small beings who live within them. This was likely why the regressor had hesitated when facing supreme swordsman Patraxion or the gunner Historia. Even more so when faced with pure technique.

Hilde had never fully mastered pure technique herself. But she had been a member of the Sacred Sword Order. Her faith had granted her miracles on par with the logic of the world itself.

...Though, in Hilde’s case, her faith was mutable, manifesting as a sacred sword that could change its form at will.

"Well then~."

Two daggers flew swiftly, aiming to lock down the regressor’s arms. One blocked the hand gripping Jizan instead of Jizan itself, while the other clashed against Tianying’s hilt, pressing for control. At this close distance, where breaths intermingled, the dagger had the advantage. A relentless exchange of feints and blade work ensued. The regressor barely managed to fend them off, deflecting attacks with Heaven’s Reflection while preparing a counterstrike.

"I am Historia. The gunner of the military nation. The wielder of the quasi-detonation field."

A sharp jolt ran through the regressor. Before Heaven’s Reflection could even react, her instincts responded. It was the same chilling déjà vu she had experienced countless times in previous iterations.

A style that aimed its blade at its target at all times—this was the core of Historia’s combat method. A gunner who also wielded a blade, Historia relied on her firearm as her trump card, securing advantageous positioning through swordplay before landing a decisive shot. She didn’t need to fire; simply showing her ability to unleash a devastating shot at any moment was enough to force her opponent into a disadvantage.

Right now, Hilde was employing Historia’s combat style flawlessly. The regressor realized this and twisted her body, channeling energy into Tianying.

At that moment, Hilde’s sacred sword flared, bursting forth with explosive force. The two blades extended, grazing past each other. Their sudden clash in midair altered the trajectory of their swings.

"This is... a gunner’s technique!"

"Oh my, your response is impressive!"

It wasn’t exactly Historia’s technique. Hilde replaced the explosive force of Historia’s quasi-detonation field with her body’s elasticity and the detonation of her sacred sword. Instead of relying on speed, she focused on sharp, precise strikes. The range was shorter; if the regressor took two steps back, she would be out of reach.

Different, yet eerily familiar. Familiar enough to unsettle even the regressor.

"Now, let’s begin~. Focus! If you let your guard down again, this sacred sword might end up buried right between your eyes!"

Runken charged toward the crowd without hesitation. There were no more warnings. No bestial howls. The thrill of battle no longer took precedence—he prioritized fulfilling the progenitor’s command. His massive arms swung wildly, seeking to take down as many as possible.

Humans fell. Azzy would not tolerate it. She let out a ferocious roar and pounced on Runken from behind.

"I have no time to play, King of Beasts!"

At that moment, Runken suddenly lifted one of the still-living Thunder Guardians. The crumpled human dangled helplessly in his grip, limbs broken and twisted beyond repair, barely clinging to life. But even that was enough to make Azzy halt in her tracks.

"Woof! Woof woof!"

Azzy barked frantically, hopping up and down in distress, pleading for him to stop the slaughter and focus on her instead.

Runken ignored her. To fulfill Tyrkanzyaka’s command, he pursued the fleeing humans.

"I’ll deal with you later—after I’ve carried out the will of the progenitor!"

Every time Runken followed his progenitor’s will, the darkness around him thickened. It was Tyrkanzyaka’s authority—the shroud of night that shielded vampires from the accursed sunlight. Within its embrace, even daylight failed to sap his blood power. He moved seamlessly through the faint sunlight, feeling no resistance.

With the full extent of his power unleashed, Runken wielded it solely to enact the progenitor’s will. Blood surged like a storm.

At the same time, Vladimir raised his greatsword. Swathed in a crimson aura, he took a step forward with slaughter in his eyes. That single motion was enough to shrink the space in which humans could survive. His aura churned like a blade-ridden tempest, a razor-sharp vortex.

Yet, even amidst the carnage, Vladimir murmured dispassionately.

"You seem to have made a meaningful encounter."

That was the end of his sentiment. Now, it was time for action.

Vladimir kicked off the ground. The crimson mist around him wavered before his massive form suddenly materialized in the heart of the battlefield. The Thunder Guardians, who had rushed in to protect their master, flinched at the sudden intrusion. But before they could react, they were swept away by the shockwave of his greatsword’s swing.

Blood erupted in waves. Amidst the crimson tempest, the only one who reacted properly was the Thunder Archon.

[...Crimson Surge!]

The Thunder Archon charged his arm and unleashed a bolt of lightning.

In an instant, he merged with the divine thunder and shot forward at breakneck speed. Condensing his energy to the extreme, he burned his own blood power black, forging it into sacred lightning. No ordinary force could kill an Elder Vampire, so the Archon had deliberately closed the distance and allowed himself to be caught, all to prepare this decisive strike. Heaven’s wrath descended upon the Elder.

The energy that powered Claudia itself was now being unleashed to slay a single vampire.

But—Vladimir was faster.

Before the attack could land, Vladimir slipped his greatsword’s hilt inside the Archon’s arm and twisted it ever so slightly. The motion turned his blade into a pivot, disrupting their positioning and causing the Archon’s attack to veer off course, piercing only the empty air.

A blinding streak of lightning shot past, cascading down the Cloud Waterfall. The city’s power was wasted in vain.

No matter how immense one’s strength, if it was wielded by a human, it could be countered with human technique.

Vladimir had been hailed as a genius swordsman from birth. Even in death, he had continued honing his skill through his Crimson Surge. With just pure technique, he had reached the pinnacle of human ability. He did not need to take the full brunt of a massive attack—he simply redirected it. And even this was just a fraction of what Crimson Surge could achieve.

[Ah...]

A Different League

His strength, his skill—both were far beyond comparison. If an immortal beast were to refine its technique to such an extent, how could an ordinary human ever hope to stand against it?

After unleashing his attack, the Thunder Archon experienced the inevitable moment of depletion—a brief but unavoidable vulnerability before his strength could be replenished. Vladimir exploited this opening instantly. Gripping the spine of his greatsword with one hand, he gave a short, precise push. The Thunder Archon’s arm was already bent awkwardly from his last movement—blocking was impossible. With a single fluid motion, Vladimir rendered his guard useless and tore his body apart.

His shoulder split halfway open, crimson blood staining the edge of Vladimir’s blade. The Thunder Archon hurriedly reached out with his other hand, grasping at the flat of the blade in a desperate attempt to push it away.

"You’re tougher than I expected."

That was the extent of Vladimir’s acknowledgment. If the enemy was more resilient than anticipated, he simply needed to apply more force. His greatsword, empowered by his blood aura, gnawed deeper into the Thunder Archon’s body. Crimson Surge—like ice melting under the weight of steel, his sword carved its way through the Archon’s arm. It was only a matter of time before it severed everything.

Then, something flickered in Vladimir’s perception. An immense, inescapable force collapsed upon the space he occupied. He was moments away from killing the Thunder Archon, yet without hesitation, he withdrew his greatsword and raised an arm to block the unknown attack.

A muffled boom followed. His blood-infused arm exploded from the impact, sending droplets of crimson flying. Amidst the scattering blood, a small fist wrapped in cloth emerged. Vladimir narrowed his eyes as he recognized the assailant.

"The Saintess?"

"...."

A powerful physique crumbled in an instant. It wasn’t mere strength or technique at play—there was something of a fundamentally different nature imbued in that punch. Vladimir, assessing the situation with cold precision, adjusted his grip on the hilt of his sword and struck at Peru without hesitation. The attack was swift and practiced, a motion ingrained into his body.

A dull thud. The greatsword, despite appearing to sink into her, rebounded instantly. Even though he had put enough force into the blow to bring down a building, not a single scratch appeared on Peru’s body. Her skin didn’t even dent. Despite Vladimir being an Elder at the pinnacle of vampiric might, his full-force strike had failed to alter the inevitability of self-foreseen fate.

"Then I suppose... you are fated not to die."

Vladimir accepted this reality. His stance shifted. He lowered his center of gravity and shortened his grip on the greatsword. Was he planning to retreat? No—the fighting spirit in his eyes had not faded. Peru, noting that his blade was still aimed toward humanity, clenched her fist and spoke.

"Fate... can change. Just as it has been distorted now. But you, vampire, you cursed being—you hold neither the power nor the right to alter it."

The immortality of an Elder was formidable, but it was not absolute like that of the progenitor. Destroy the head, crush the heart, then cut the remains into pieces and scatter them into the sunlit ocean—there would be no coming back. The target was Crimson Surge, the damned strongest Elder vampire. Peru chased the future she had seen in her foresight.

Strength and resilience—mere words were insufficient to describe the sheer inevitability of her strike. It was already destiny, an immutable truth. Before that fist, Vladimir—

"No! I must stop Crimson Surge! No one else—!"

—submitted.

He did not resist Peru’s foresight. Instead, he wove himself into the flow. As Peru’s fist sought to crush Vladimir’s arm, he positioned his body like a lever, redirecting the force elsewhere. Their clashing wills twisted the trajectory of the bloodied greatsword into an unpredictable arc.

The blade spun through the air.

At its endpoint stood the Thunder Archon.

The wounded angel of thunder only realized, far too late, that the greatsword was descending to cleave their head in two. There was no strength left to stop it.

The greatsword tore through the Thunder Archon’s body. It plunged from shoulder to chest before ripping free without a moment’s hesitation. Vladimir, unable to kill Peru, instead retreated just enough to coldly reap the lives of the injured. Peru’s foresight was her own—she could not perceive the Thunder Archon’s fate. Shocked by the sudden loss, she turned her gaze to Vladimir and shouted.

"Fight back! If you truly wish to escape your wretched fate, then resist!"

Vladimir ignored her. He did not even consider her words worth responding to. Instead, he raised his foot and crushed a human groaning beneath him. Fresh, warm blood splattered across Peru’s face.

Fury burned within her. She unleashed strike after strike, each one carrying the weight of a finishing blow. Yet Vladimir met them with an eerie composure.

Direct attacks—he took them head-on. A fist too strong simply pierced through his body without stopping him. Even with a hole torn through him, Crimson Surge continued harvesting lives without pause.

Wide swings—he read them with his aura and twisted them against her. If Peru aimed to break his greatsword, he altered its angle just enough to prevent it. He sacrificed flesh to protect his heart and head, preserving his core even if the rest of his body was shattered. No matter how much damage Peru inflicted, he regenerated, all while methodically butchering the Thunder Guardians.

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The regressor had been right. No one here could stop Crimson Surge.

More than anything, his slaughter was swift and efficient. Unlike Runken, who left behind chaotic carnage and wailing victims, Vladimir moved without waste. Every human he passed collapsed, a precise wound somewhere on their body marking the end of their life. Even with Peru keeping him engaged, he continued his silent massacre.

The only one capable of stalling Vladimir was the regressor. But she, too, was locked in combat—completely entangled with Hilde, who had revealed all her hidden cards. If things continued this way, no one would survive.

...That was why Peru moved.