Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 429: Those Who Have Nothing to Lose Are the Most Dangerous

There’s a saying: You don’t use a cow-killing knife to slaughter a chicken.

A critical mind might scoff at that and say, Why not?—as the younger generation often does—but that’s just ignorance talking. When handling small matters, smaller tools are simply more effective. Advising someone to butcher a chicken with a cleaver meant for cattle is the kind of thinking that views everything from the perspective of a weapon rather than a tool.

It’s the same in life.

Dealing with a single Ain wasn’t something I needed to ask Tyrkanzyaka for. Even if she, the Progenitor, personally summoned an Ain, it wouldn’t necessarily yield the results I wanted.

That’s why I asked Count Erthe, the one in charge of running the Castle of the Full Moon on a practical level.

...Though, technically, Count Erthe was significant enough to be considered the ruler of a domain in their own right.

Not bad, mistress. A stray rolling stone ends up giving orders to a lord—at this rate, the country might just topple.

Count Erthe disappeared for a short while before promptly returning.

“At this moment, only one of Lord Ruskinia’s remaining bloodline remains near the Castle of the Full Moon.”

“Only one? That’s a pretty low number.”

“The Ains of a slumbering Elder are often quite occupied. They must handle all the duties of their dormant master. Lord Ruskinia... did not keep many Ains, making this even more pronounced.”

Not many? More like he made Ains frequently and discarded them just as often—treating them like disposable tools, or test subjects.

As a mind reader, I had no trouble picking up the thoughts hidden between Count Erthe’s words.

The more I read, the more I wanted to know what kind of person that dead Elder really was. He wasn’t just insane—he was something far beyond that.

“I have sent word. Will you meet them?”

“Yes. Let’s.”

“...Understood.”

It doesn’t really matter, but at a time like this, why meet with the bloodline of a dead Elder...?

Though Count Erthe harbored a slight doubt, they obeyed without question. The Crimson Duke’s orders to serve me were absolute.

Had it been Vladimir instead of me, Erthe wouldn’t have even dared to entertain such a thought—acting as nothing more than an extension of his will.

If the Crimson Duke were to die like Ruskinia, what would happen to Count Erthe?

Seeing what became of Ruskinia’s Ain might just give me that answer.

From what I had gathered, Ruskinia had been an absolutely deranged lunatic—a vampire even other vampires shunned.

Yet Count Erthe led me to a hospital.

Third floor. Not tall, but spacious.

Unlike the Bloodcraft Workshop or the Castle of the Full Moon, which at least had some aesthetic appeal, this hospital was stark and purely functional.

And inside, ruled by the bloodline of that madman, was something unexpected—relief and joy.

The humans who had come here had suffered, but now that they were alive, they were grateful.

As I sat in a guest chamber with the faint scent of blood lingering in the air, a vampire entered under Count Erthe’s guidance.

“The Progenitor’s mistress? What brings you here? There are no Elders here, nor any pretenders like Yeiling, who once claimed this hospital for himself.”

The vampire wore a sleeveless gown—a rather peculiar choice of clothing.

His tone made it abundantly clear that my visit was nothing but a nuisance.

“Lutric. Mind your words. This is the human personally chosen by the Progenitor.”

“What, so just a pet? Livestock getting promoted to a pet doesn’t mean they can expect to be treated the same.”

“I have warned you. Watch your tongue...”

A subtle but dangerous aura began to rise from Count Erthe.

The thin scent of blood in the hospital responded to their Bloodcraft, shifting ominously.

And yet, in this moment of near-conflict, the first to step back... was Lutric.

“Tch. The indignity of being without an Elder rears its head even here.”

With a discontented sigh, Lutric nodded.

“...Apologies. Given our situation, we’ve been a bit touchy about mistresses. So, what does the mistress want?”

I wasn’t sure if just blurting out sorry after picking a fight made it all okay, but whatever.

Now that I had a bit of breathing room, I quietly read through Lutric’s thoughts.

Hmm. Ohh. Interesting.

Even if his master was a deranged Elder, even if he himself was one of his twisted servants, he was bold enough to call the Progenitor’s mistress a pet to her face.

You’d think he’d be more careful.

If I went crying to Tyrkanzyaka about it, he’d be in serious trouble.

Ains are merely the hands and feet of their Elders. The Progenitor is their ultimate master.

Just like Count Erthe, if we looked at hierarchy alone, I technically outranked Lutric.

And yet this guy immediately called me a pet without hesitation.

Has he forgotten his place?

That might be part of it. With his Elder gone, his chain of command had collapsed.

But was that all?

No. Lutric had chosen to act this way.

The Progenitor’s mistress came here herself? Heh. The tiger opens its maw, and a fool walks right in.

Behind his indifferent expression, a massive secret was lurking.

Thanks. You staying cooped up in the Castle of the Full Moon for days made things so much easier. Vladimir, the other Elders—they’ve all been too busy loitering near the castle to pay attention to us. Your presence has been helpful... Though I will kill you in front of the Progenitor one day. But for now, I’ll let you go.

Wow.

That was bold.

I’d never seen someone plan a coup so openly in their head before.

A rebellion, right under the Progenitor’s nose?

Either he was confident in his deception, or he was just that reckless.

Being a vampire, his face and body language showed no nervousness whatsoever.

That absence of emotion was unsettling in itself, but since he was a vampire, even that unnaturalness felt... natural.

I came here to investigate Ruskinia’s death, and yet I stumbled upon something far more interesting.

I wasn’t sure if that was good luck or bad luck.

But one thing was for sure—

I was pissed off.

“Mistress?”

“Hah. No, I just feel a little irritated.”

I scratched my head and gave a cold smile.

“The pet of the Progenitor? You must be kidding me. You’re a lowly servant of a servant, and not even one with an Elder anymore. A lizard’s severed tail. And you have the nerve to call me a pet? Have you grown too bold for your own good, or would you like me to dice you into paste and serve you as vampire roe?”

The one most startled by my harsh words wasn’t Lutric—it was Count Erthe.

Even though they had been defending me against Lutric’s disrespect, they now seemed visibly uncomfortable.

Vampire or not, Count Erthe had just encountered their greatest crisis—social awkwardness.

But Lutric?

He remained unfazed.

“...A provocation?”

“You provoked me first. I am the King of Humans. Even the Progenitor you worship is beneath me. I may not be your Elder or master, but I sure as hell won’t tolerate some puppet calling me a pet.”

Throughout history, mistresses had always wielded power through their influential partners.

Seeing me not just lash out but completely lose control, Lutric was both shocked and amused.

Now he had justification for whatever came next.

So I pushed him further.

“Do you want to die? I can make that happen. Another Ain already tried messing with me and ended up executed. I wouldn’t mind sending another one along.”

Count Erthe, unable to hold back any longer, finally shouted out.

“Mistress, that’s enough!”

“Oh? Count Erthe, weren’t you ordered by the Crimson Duke to serve me? Why are you telling me to stop?”

“This is for your own sake! You never act like this—why now, out of nowhere?!”

“Out of nowhere? Did that guy insult me in context? Does it make sense for him to speak like that to me, a guest personally invited by Tyrkanzyaka?”

As Count Erthe and I argued, Lutric’s mind was spinning rapidly.

I thought he understood his place since he’s been with the Progenitor... but he’s completely reckless. What should I do? Before the plan is executed, I need to keep the Progenitor unaware. But if I lay a hand on the Progenitor’s mistress here...

What’s with all the hesitation? I went out of my way to hand you an excuse.

The Elder is dead, and Tyrkanzyaka’s control has weakened.

The other vampires are still bound by their shackles, but Ruskinia’s servants have completely broken free from the bonds of blood.

Nothing is holding them back.

Not even dying here and now.

...But the mistress provoked me first, and Count Erthe witnessed it. Now that there’s a justifiable cause, I can attack her, and no one will question it. No matter the outcome, it won’t interfere with the main plan.

Oh, he just conveniently erased the part where he started it?

That’s annoying.

Thank you, Mistress. You turned the Progenitor’s gaze away, stripped away her control, and even gave me an excuse. The fact that we, who should have been crushed after our Elder’s death, now have the opportunity to be truly free... It’s all thanks to you. Even if you didn’t intend it.

...Well, since you’re thankful, I’ll let that slide.

Hurry up and make your move.

Because I did intend it.

“Even though we have lost our Elder... we have not lost our pride.”

Count Erthe sensed the shift in energy and shouted urgently.

“Lutric! Do not do anything foolish!”

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“The foolishness has already begun. The only question now is—how far are we willing to go?”

Lutric raised his arm.

The stitching on the shoulder of his sleeveless gown was torn.

It must have once been a fully sleeved robe, but someone had ripped the sleeves off with sheer force, turning it into a sleeveless garment.

And the reason for that became immediately clear.

The arm exposed beyond the sleeveless gown twisted unnaturally.

In an instant, it looked as if he had multiple joints—his right arm bending in eight places like a segmented whip.

With a smirk, Lutric stepped forward and lashed his arm like a whip.

Ruskinia had been a Bloodcraft Engineer—an Elder who specialized in researching the structure of the body itself.

His bloodline inherited his techniques, treating their bodies like tools.

Jazra had learned to manipulate her arms like wings.

Lutric had mastered using his entire body as a whip.

Breaking bones one by one, infusing his muscles with elastic tension through blood manipulation, and fusing Bloodcraft with martial arts—

This strike was the pinnacle of a technique that sacrificed the user’s body for destructive power.

The explosive force at the tip of his whip-like arm exceeded even Historia’s bullets.

The razor-sharp red claws at the end of his hand shot forward at a speed too fast to see.

If that hit, whether it was a rock or a wall, there would be no blocking it—no dodging it.

At that moment, a red line was drawn before my eyes.

Ssschhk.

A crimson flash.

And before I even realized what had happened—

Lutric’s arm had been severed into five pieces, each segment scattering into the air.

His severed fingers and grotesquely bent joints twitched and writhed midair.

Lutric muttered as his arm was cut off.

“Blood Silk...!”

Five taut, scarlet threads had intercepted his attack.

The strike he had launched with the intent to destroy himself if necessary had actually ended up wounding himself.

Count Erthe had predicted his attack and set up Blood Silk—cutting Lutric’s arm cleanly in response.

Lutric began regenerating his arm as he spoke.

“You’ve learned the techniques of another bloodline. Where’s your pride?”

“You dare attack the Progenitor’s Mistress? Have you lost your mind?”

Lutric’s provocation was problematic.

So was my response.

But none of that mattered anymore—

His attack had carried clear killing intent.

And that made Count Erthe deadly serious.

“This is treason, Lutric. As of this moment, Lutric of Ruskinia’s bloodline is a traitor. I will erase you from existence!”

“As of this moment?”

Lutric sneered.

“No, you’re wrong, Erthe.”

“The moment Lord Ruskinia died so meaninglessly, we were already traitors.”

He shook his shoulders, and from his severed stump, blood gushed out—

Stitching itself together like thread woven through a needle.

In an instant, his arm was fully regenerated.

And then, he lunged.

“DIE!”

“You’re not going anywhere!”

Count Erthe stabbed into their own body, unleashing Blood Silk in a wide net.

Scarlet spiderwebs expanded between Lutric and me, severing the space between us.

The Blood Silk was tough and sharp—if Lutric moved recklessly, he would be sliced apart.

But instead of being intimidated, Lutric just smirked.

“The more tightly stretched a thread is—

The easier it is to snap.”

There was no need to cut the entire web.

If just one section of a stretched thread was weakened, the entire structure would collapse.

And Blood Silk was crafted from blood.

Made from Count Erthe’s own blood, but that didn’t mean Lutric couldn’t manipulate it.

The drops of blood that had scattered from his severed arm had already soaked into the Blood Silk.

And with a subtle application of Bloodcraft, Lutric corroded the threads from the inside.

Count Erthe’s face twisted in shock.

“A Blood Leech...! You stole another bloodline’s techniques?!”

“Learning techniques isn’t exclusive to the Crimson Duke!”

CRACK.

Lutric couldn’t afford to lose another arm, so instead, he slammed his shoulder into the Blood Silk.

No matter how sturdy the Blood Silk was—

If it was being devoured by Blood Leech, there was no stopping it.

The threads snapped with only the faintest resistance.

Now, only a single table remained between Lutric and me.

Count Erthe reached out in a panic—but it was too late.

A life-threatening moment.

I flipped the table in desperation.

But Lutric’s whip-like arm ripped through it like paper—

And then—

A scarlet lightning bolt came crashing down toward me.