Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 400: Even Heroes Never Wished to Be Born in Chaos

The Thunder God had always been Claudia’s ancient guardian. On days when thick clouds gathered, it would drift in from the distant sea, looming over the land before letting out a deep howl and unleashing a cascade of lightning. Thanks to the lightning towers and the Thunder Archon, it was never truly dangerous—just a noisy old entity that threatened destruction but never brought it.

Yet, everything about the Thunder God’s behavior had always been intentional. It had merely fulfilled its assigned role as an alarm. It never truly turned its power against anyone. It only announced the coming storm and allowed itself to be outwitted by human ingenuity—like the strong but foolish giants of old tales.

[... . -]

But those words no longer applied to the Thunder God that stood here now.

The Thunder God took hold of its spear.

The world trembled.

Hairs stood on end.

A faint static charge danced across the earth and stone.

The Thunder God’s fury was searching for a target.

All creation stilled, bowing its head, hoping to escape divine wrath.

Not once, in all its existence, had the Thunder God ever turned its anger upon mankind. Had it done so, the world as they knew it would not have remained intact.

And now, it proved that fact.

[..-. .. .-. .]

The ten-meter-long spear in its grip burned white-hot.

Earth and stone quivered, then began to lift into the air. Then, suddenly, time itself seemed to stretch—the world elongated, and the spear became a single streak of light.

No deafening roar of destruction.

No blinding flash to signal its power.

Not a single shred of wasted energy.

Its only purpose: to strike.

There was no throwing motion. One instant, the spear was in the Thunder God’s grasp. The next, it had vanished. The steel weapon, now moving at the speed of lightning, had already disappeared beyond human sight.

"Wha—?!"

Azzy, who had been barking furiously, blinked in confusion.

Just moments ago, Runken had been standing right there, slaughtering humans.

Now, he was gone.

Only his severed arms and legs remained, tumbling lifelessly to the ground. The people he had been clutching collapsed alongside them.

Wherever Runken had been sent, one thing was certain—he was now far closer to the Mist Duchy than he was to Claudia. Even for an immortal Elder, regenerating his body and making his way back would take considerable time.

Peru, who had unleashed the lightning, stood frozen, arm still outstretched, breathing heavily.

Vampires and humans alike had fallen into stunned silence, their eyes locked onto her.

Peru stared blankly at the devastation she had wrought.

A branching scar had been etched across the ground where the spear had passed. The earth had been torn open by the strike, leaving behind deep cracks. From within those fissures, thin bolts of residual lightning flickered like reeds swaying in the wind.

The land, now saturated with electricity, awaited only her command.

And in the midst of that silence, Peru’s expression remained unreadable—except for the faintest trace of shock.

"...Huh?"

This wasn’t what she had intended.

All she had wanted was to repair the Thunder God using the Golden Mirror, making it a simple deterrent—loud, imposing, but ultimately harmless. Just as it had always been.

But the moment she tried to restore it, an unfamiliar force had intervened, throwing everything off course.

The Lightning Thief’s long-hidden power had been handed over to her will.

And before she even realized it, Peru had seized control of every single bolt of lightning in this land. She had inadvertently created the real Thunder God.

"...This isn’t right."

It was like firing a blank but accidentally shooting a live round.

And the person most shocked by what had happened was none other than the one who had pulled the trigger.

That was Peru now.

She had meant to restore the Thunder God as a mere threat, yet here it was, erasing an Elder from the battlefield.

Faced with power that had completely exceeded her control, she was utterly stunned.

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Still, because her facial expressions were always subdued, her shock was nearly indistinguishable from an air of composed indifference.

Lips pressed into a firm line, gaze fixed on the distant point where the Elder had vanished, Peru looked almost... detached.

Like an absolute force of nature.

There was no time to correct any misunderstandings.

While all eyes were still locked on her, Peru swiftly cut straight to the point.

"This is your final warning. Stop."

It was impossible not to interpret it as a threat.

If they didn’t stop—then she would make them all suffer the same fate.

And it wouldn’t be an exaggeration.

Now that she had proven her ability, her words were no longer a bluff. They were mercy.

She was restraining power strong enough to overturn the world, offering them one last chance to survive.

She didn’t yet know how to wield this power properly.

But precise technique wasn’t necessary to kill.

However, there was one man in this battlefield who was both immensely powerful and had honed his abilities to absolute precision.

A warrior who had been battling the Iron Saintess the moment the new force surged into existence.

And the instant he sensed it—he acted.

"Blood Dance."

Vladimir clenched his fist.

An overwhelming force surged through him, so powerful that even his own grip burst his hand apart. Blood sprayed in all directions. In an instant, a thick crimson mist spread outward, devouring the battlefield.

The pools of blood on the ground were consumed, feeding into the growing red haze.

A being closest to death—one who had transcended it, becoming immortal instead.

The progenitor had once been a seed of a Demon God—yet had failed to fully bloom, instead becoming a god of their species. The rules for vampires had been written by Tyrkanzyaka.

But just because she had created the game didn’t mean she was its strongest player.

The one who had truly mastered it—who had refined it into an art—was Vladimir.

For a moment, the Cloud Waterfall turned crimson.

No sunlight pierced through the blood-soaked mist. The scent of blood thickened, drowning the battlefield.

A space created by vampires, for vampires.

And within it, Vladimir moved.

His glowing red eyes flickered like lingering afterimages in the fog—then suddenly, his entire form blurred.

Not from speed.

Because his body itself had melted into the crimson mist.

Ghostblood Phantom Step.

Though it bore the name of a movement technique, it was more akin to swimming.

Or, more accurately—instantaneous relocation.

For vampires, the boundary between body and blood was indistinct. Blood flowed, flesh broke—but such things held no meaning. Their existence was tethered to their blood, an unbreakable connection forged by the progenitor’s True Blood.

So what if their blood became mist?

That mist became their body—became their domain.

Within this space, Vladimir shifted his center of gravity ever so slightly—

And in that single motion—

He was already standing before Peru.

Snatching his greatsword from the air, he spoke in a low voice.

"You wield a power you cannot control."

A technique that first deconstructs the body before moving—one that cannot be pursued or stopped.

Peru had no time to feel fear.

She had only a brief moment of stunned confusion before Vladimir’s greatsword came slashing down at her. He did not test her ability to respond—he did not even give her the opportunity to do so.

But I always see my opponent’s moves. I usually see them and get hit anyway, powerless to stop them.

This time, however, I had a way to intervene.

The greatsword barely grazed Peru’s ear. The sound of the world being split in two rang through the air, and a crimson arc of energy left a deep scar upon the earth. The blade carved halfway into the ground, as though even the firmest land was nothing more than something to be cut.

A blade capable of splitting the very earth. Yet there was no trace of Peru’s blood on it.

The sword had missed by the width of a sheet of paper.

Vladimir glanced at his right arm—the very limb he had just dismantled and reassembled.

From within it, something thin and thread-like extended outward.

A thread finer than a spider’s silk, flickering with a pale yellow glow.

A fragile thread that seemed incapable of lifting even a leaf—yet it had restrained the strongest Elder’s arm.

Vladimir followed the thread to its source.

A playing card.

The Seven of Spades, wrapped in lightning like a tightly wound coil.

The Seven of Spades—Lightning Tangle. Like the spool of a kite string, this card had condensed and coiled countless—no, trillions—of fine strands of lightning into a single mass.

Vladimir tilted his head slightly, showing a faint trace of curiosity.

"So it was you controlling this power."

Phew. That was close. I let out a silent sigh of relief. Then, with my best poker face, I denied it.

"No. This isn’t my power. I’m just borrowing it."

And it was true. I wasn’t the one who had stopped Vladimir’s attack.

Vladimir’s own power had.

I had scattered the threads of lightning while he was reconstructing his body. The strands had slipped into the merging blood and flesh, lying dormant. Then, just as he swung his greatsword, I interfered.

If I could touch something inside a body, even my pitiful magic could briefly force a progenitor’s heart to beat. I knew that from experience.

And when it comes to things you’ve done before—you only get better at them.

Now that I possessed the Demon of Lightning, I could go a step further. If the lightning threads were embedded within, I could even control the movements of the body itself.

Of course, it only worked if the threads could actually reach inside.

And unless they were vampires, what kind of idiot would let something slip into their nervous system?

Even then, if Vladimir noticed and resisted, it would be over in an instant.

Vladimir clenched his right fist.

Just that motion alone was enough to sever every single thread I had planted inside him.

His arm, now freed, moved with ease as he rested his greatsword back onto his shoulder and turned to face me.

"Do you have a death wish?"

A chilling killing intent swept over me.

The sheer pressure of the strongest Elder radiating his full bloodlust made my very blood turn cold, as though it had stopped circulating altogether.

And yet, I still smiled.

"You can’t kill me."

Because I was under Tyrkanzyaka’s favor.

And I didn’t have to wait long.

Her voice rang out, soft but absolute.

"Vladimir. Restrain yourself."

There was no room for argument in that command.

Vladimir instantly bowed his head.

"As you wish, Progenitor."

His hostility vanished as if it had never existed.

As though every action up until now had been mere performance.

And in a way, it had been.

Every move he made—every word he spoke, even the bloodthirst he emitted—had been calculated.

If he had truly intended to kill me, he wouldn’t have needed a full second to do so.

The blood spread across the battlefield? He could have simply crushed my body with it, turning me into nothing but pulp inside an invisible vice.

Peru would have been no different.

Even if she had miraculously dodged one attack, she wasn’t yet attuned to the Thunder God. Against a relentless assault from an Elder Vampire, she wouldn’t have stood a chance.

The only reason we were still breathing was because Vladimir had chosen not to kill us.

Vladimir never moved without a purpose.

He had directed his killing intent at me to gauge Tyrkanzyaka’s reaction.

He had attacked Peru purely because he deemed her a threat.

And when he learned all he needed, he let it go, just like that.

He had genuinely intended to kill the Saintess—but the moment he realized it was impossible, he abandoned the idea without hesitation.

People say age makes one stubborn.

But perhaps, once you pass a certain threshold, you loop back around.

Vladimir’s ability to make swift, rational decisions was almost admirable.

He was exactly the kind of person I liked dealing with.

As long as I read his mood and played my cards right, I wouldn’t lose anything.

"Let’s all calm down a little, Tyrkanzyaka. There’s no need for us to be fighting each other, is there?"

Tyrkanzyaka’s expression remained unimpressed.

She didn’t hate Peru.

But if Peru ever sided with the Holy Crown Church, Tyrkanzyaka would kill her without hesitation.

And I—hadn’t just lent Peru the power of a Demon. I had protected her, too.

By her principles, she should have been able to kill me as well.

But she wasn’t allowing herself to think that way.

Because she didn’t want to.

"Hughes." Tyrkanzyaka’s voice was quiet. "You stand on their side?"

"Even you, who was cast aside by the world—who was abandoned by the Holy Crown Church?"

There was a deep bitterness in her words.

She resented that I had forced her into this moral dilemma.

Alright. I had pulled enough. Now it was time to push just a little.

A person’s emotions were like kite strings.

Pull too hard, and they crash.

Let go completely, and they drift away.

I had to keep the balance.

"I don’t know if I’m on their side," I said casually. "But I’ve certainly never sided with the Holy Crown Church. If anything, I’d much rather hinder them."

Tyrkanzyaka narrowed her eyes.

"Then why do you stop me?"

"Because the Holy Crown Church also wants them dead."

Vladimir, without being prompted, turned his gaze toward the Iron Saintess.

Not long ago, she had been hammering away at him without pause.

Yet at the most decisive moment, she had let go.

She had called no angels.

She had summoned no holy power.

Vladimir had already known the truth.

The Iron Saintess had no intention of saving anyone.

She wanted them all to die.

But since he was too loyal to say it aloud—

I did it for him.

"The Iron Saintess plans to martyr everyone here in the clouds!"