Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 405: Humans Die

When a superior suddenly arrives at their workplace, the first thing they should do to avoid unnecessary confusion is announce their presence. After all, it would be inconvenient if no one recognized them.

Some rulers with a twisted sense of amusement might hide their identity, watching their subordinates struggle before dramatically revealing themselves for their own satisfaction. Fortunately, Tyrkanzyaka wasn’t the type to toy with her subjects like that. In a way, it was a form of consideration. If anyone dared to make things difficult for the Progenitor of Vampires, survival would be impossible.

Besides, before regaining her heart, Tyr had been indifferent to such petty amusements. Instead of sneaking in, she had already announced her return before even stepping foot into the Duchy.

And the effect was undeniable.

In the distance, a massive fortress loomed. The colossal gates of crimson steel pulsed ominously with darkness. Tightly shut, they looked as if not even a meteor crashing into them could force them open.

The Twilight Fortress. Many bold kings had attempted to exterminate the vampires by storming its walls, yet not a single one had ever breached its gates.

Though the mist-covered lands beyond Claudia all belonged to the Duchy, it was only after passing through the fortress that one truly stepped onto vampire territory. Nothing beyond that point was ever spoken of in human lands. The Twilight Fortress didn’t just serve to protect the Duchy from outside invaders—it was also a pen, ensuring that the livestock under vampire rule never escaped.

That was why the fortress gates had long been a symbol of fear.

And now, at Tyrkanzyaka’s approach, those very gates rumbled open.

Beyond the arched entrance, a scarlet carpet stretched straight ahead, untouched, as if to ensure that nothing dared to obstruct the Progenitor’s path. Lined along either side, thousands knelt in reverence, their heads bowed. Not only vampires—there were humans among them as well.

This was a reception far grander than anything I was comfortable with. It didn’t suit me at all. Unlike Tyr, I did have a bit of a perverse enjoyment in keeping my identity hidden.

Just as I sighed and stepped past the gate, a booming voice rang out.

“Progenitor—! We have long awaited your return!”

A deep thud followed as a man in monk’s robes struck the ground with his knee. His skeletal frame peeked out between the folds of fabric, so thin and brittle-looking that a single push might shatter him.

But appearances were deceiving.

That frail body concealed immense strength and mastery—power that had only grown since he became a vampire.

Grandmaster Dogo.

A fallen martial monk. Once on the verge of ascension, he had forsaken the path of enlightenment to remain in the mortal world as an Elder.

Beside him, a noblewoman in an elegant, low-cut dress curtsied with perfect poise. Her practiced grace was so flawless that even the strictest chamberlain would find nothing to criticize. With a serene smile and a peculiar glint in her eyes, she greeted Tyr.

“I pray you have been well, my Progenitor. This humble one could ask for nothing more than the honor of paying you her respects.”

Countess Erzebeth.

A former patron, attendant, and tutor to the Progenitor.

A woman who had once drowned a royal court in blood.

There had been many Countesses before her. But now, there was only one. She had been so horrifyingly ruthless that the very title had become taboo—no one dared to claim it after her.

One by one, the Elders who had shaped history stood gathered, awaiting their Progenitor.

Tyrkanzyaka acknowledged them with a simple yet profound response.

“It has been a long time. Seeing your unchanged faces brings me joy.”

A fleeting ripple of unease flickered across some of their expressions, but Tyr was too preoccupied with the familiar shadow standing behind them to notice.

“Lalion. You arrived before me.”

A deep snort. The great beast shook its mane as it approached. Tyrkanzyaka smiled warmly, running her fingers through its fur.

I had sent Lalion toward the Duchy to throw off the Military State’s watchful eyes. At the time, Tyr hadn’t ordered it to return—only to continue ahead. It seemed Lalion had been waiting here for her ever since.

Countess Erzebeth proudly declared,

“The Blood Fiend Lalion heralded your return. After its arrival, all creatures of the Duchy have longed for this day and made preparations.”

“You have done well, Erzebeth.”

“Your grace is boundless, my Progenitor.”

They had been preparing all this time? Even though it had been quite a while since Lalion had been sent ahead?

Well, I supposed they had known Tyr would return. That was why Vladimir, Runken, and Kabilla had so readily rushed to Claudia.

“Would you like to rest and recover from your journey, or shall we proceed with affairs of state? Please command us, and we shall obey.”

“Before hearing of recent events... a moment.”

Tyrkanzyaka glanced at me, then took my hand and pulled me forward.

I had been quietly observing from behind, but now I was abruptly placed at her side—on display, as if she wanted to show me off.

The human Tyrkanzyaka had personally brought back.

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In that instant, every gaze locked onto me.

They weren’t just looking—they were memorizing me, committing my face to memory.

Especially Erzebeth, who covered her mouth with her hand as she scrutinized me with keen interest.

‘A human? The Progenitor, who has never kept humans close, has taken a consort?’

Great. My reputation was completely ruined.

It was clear Tyr had done this deliberately, placing me alongside her for everyone to see.

Then she issued her next command.

“There is one who is injured. I would have them treated immediately. Bring Ruskinia at once.”

Ruskinia. An Elder. And the greatest healer among the vampires.

Tyrkanzyaka was summoning him—for nothing more than treating her “consort.”

At the mention of Ruskinia’s name, a strange silence fell over the Elders.

Even the ones who had been startled by my presence—Dogo, Erzebeth, Runken, and Kabilla—all hesitated, stealing glances at each other.

A bizarre reaction.

No matter how surprised they were about me, if Tyrkanzyaka gave an order, they would obey it—even if it meant offering their own hearts.

And yet, they were hesitating.

Sensing something was amiss, Tyr narrowed her eyes.

“What is the matter? You need only obey.”

A voice answered her.

“Progenitor. There is... something you must be informed of first.”

Only one Elder had the standing to speak plainly to her.

Vladimir.

Whether representing all the Elders or simply speaking on behalf of those who could not, he was the one to deliver the somber news.

“Ruskinia has perished.”

For the first time since our arrival, Tyrkanzyaka’s expression hardened.

An Elder was dead.

The Mist Duchy had prepared for their Progenitor’s return perfectly.

The residence set up for Tyrkanzyaka was so extravagantly decorated that it hardly seemed temporary, and the warehouses were stocked with supplies fit for any possible scenario.

Even the transportation options in the back courtyard were extensive—five different carriages and palanquins, ready to accommodate any whim she might have.

Of course, they hadn’t expected her to bring back an injured human, so they hadn’t prepared a physician.

Seated comfortably as a guest of honor, I turned to Tyr and asked,

“Can Elders even die?”

Tyrkanzyaka, lost in thought, answered with a slow nod.

“...They can. But the last time an Elder perished was when I was still inexperienced and warring with the Holy Crown Church. Since founding the Duchy, not a single Elder has died.”

Even for her, it seemed the news was shocking.

Which made sense. If you’d spent centuries with your subordinates, wouldn’t you be shaken by their sudden death?

Especially if that subordinate was an Elder—who, like Runken, could be flattened by a juggernaut, struck by lightning, impaled by a spear, and still recover in a matter of minutes.

They were almost impossible to kill.

“It’s been over twenty years... His thralls remain, so it must have been an accident of some kind, but... I cannot even begin to imagine the circumstances.”

I was just as curious.

What kind of accident could possibly kill an Elder?

I asked,

“There are thirteen Elders in total, right?”

“Yes. However, seeing all thirteen at once is rare. Some slumber in deep sleep, while others wander the world. Aside from Lalion, who is always with me, usually only about half of them are active in the Duchy at any given time.”

“So, aside from Lalion, that would mean six... No, now only five Elders remain?”

“...No. Likely, there are still six.”

“...What?”

I just subtracted one from six. How did it still add up to six?

Was this some kind of vampiric miracle math?

Tyrkanzyaka, deep in thought, explained further.

“Ruskinia is dead, but his True Blood has been inherited by another vampire. As they have yet to be formally recognized by me, they cannot yet be called an Elder. But they must already wield power akin to one and command Ruskinia’s thralls.”

“So, basically, someone became a noble without your permission? How bold. The Progenitor is alive and well, yet they dare to take a seat without your blessing?”

“Indeed. Were they not there, that position could have been yours.”

“Ahaha. But wouldn’t a vampire who already was an Elder be a better fit? It’s always best to promote from within rather than parachute someone in. Good choice.”

That was my polite way of rejecting any potential "promotion" she might have had in mind.

Tyr, looking a little disappointed, replied,

“Regardless, this matter must be resolved first. I had intended to have Ruskinia examine your condition, but...”

I had nearly brushed past the gravity of the situation.

The death of an Elder wasn’t just an incident—it was a catastrophe.

Ruskinia, the Blood Doctor.

A martial scholar who had pioneered an entire discipline of blood-based qi cultivation and bodily refinement. He had once been a researcher, seeking the deepest, darkest truths of the body, and had willingly chosen to become a vampire to pursue his studies further.

It was said that no existing qi technique had remained untouched by his hand.

And Tyr had been planning to use him as a personal physician?

...Was this the privilege of those backed by the Progenitor?

Too bad he was already dead.

“Since Ruskinia is no longer with us, I shall find another physician.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m still young, so I recover quickly. I just need to rest.”

“Some of his thralls must be competent healers. I shall summon a few of them—”

“No need. If it were immediately after the injury, maybe, but now it’s more about post-care than emergency treatment. The more you mess with a wound that’s already healing, the worse it gets.”

I had already patched up the hole in my stomach with emergency measures.

Vampires, who literally removed their hearts at will, probably wouldn’t hesitate to perform major surgery on me if I let them.

But letting someone other than an Elder tinker with my insides?

Absolutely not.

...Ah, damn it. Thinking about it is making it hurt again.

I groaned and sprawled across the sofa.

Maybe I looked a little too pitiful because Tyrkanzyaka sat down beside me, gazing at me with concern.

Instead of the dark, unfamiliar ceiling, my vision was filled with the glow of her crimson eyes.

Her cool fingers brushed against my sweat-dampened forehead as she muttered,

“...If only you were a vampire, you wouldn’t be in pain from something like this.”

...She must have been more shaken by Ruskinia’s death than she let on.

If it were the old Tyr, she might have suggested turning me.

Now, she was actively trying to convince me.

Because she felt my pain as if it were her own.

Because she worried I might die.

She hadn’t been this sentimental before.

Was this yet another consequence of regaining her heart?

I appreciated the sentiment, but...

“Elders die too, don’t they? Just like today.”

One sentence. That was all it took to shut her down.

Her hand, which had been stroking my hair, stiffened.

“Something must have happened. Ruskinia... An Elder would not die without reason.”

“And humans don’t die without reason either. In that sense, Elders aren’t all that different from humans.”

The meaning was clear.

I wasn’t changing my mind.

Dissatisfied, Tyrkanzyaka ruffled my hair in protest.

Not that it made much difference—it was already a mess.

After playing with my hair for quite some time, she finally stood up, preparing to leave.

As she adjusted her parasol, she left me with parting words.

“They wish to report further details regarding Ruskinia’s death. Hughes, should you desire anything, ask freely. Erzebeth’s attendants shall provide for you without fail.”

“Thanks. My stomach still feels off, so I’ll eat later.”

“Very well. Rest easy.”

With her jet-black parasol draped over her shoulder, Tyrkanzyaka strode toward the door.

Just before stepping out, she spoke again, her voice softer.

“...If you ever change your mind, tell me at any time.”

...She was definitely trying to keep me in the Duchy for good.