Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 455: The Bloom of Ten Days

Runken let out a deep, guttural laugh.

With a powerful leap, Lalion slammed his front hooves into Lahu Khan’s chest. The impact seared a hoof-shaped brand into Lahu Khan’s pectorals, but he endured the blow and thrust his spear forward. The weapon pierced straight through Lalion from head to tail, spiraling violently as it turned the vampire beast into a mist of blood.

Yet, in the blink of an eye, Lalion’s body regenerated. Shaking off the remnants of the attack, he charged again, ramming his massive frame into Lahu Khan. The centaur warrior held his ground and shouted,

“Lalion! You are the same as ever!”

Tyrkanzyaka’s first Elder, Lalion, was an Elder, yet not one. He was the last remnant of the young girl Tyr and the first creation of Progenitor Tyrkanzyaka. Unlike the other Elders who retained their individual egos, Lalion existed solely to reflect the Progenitor’s will. While the other Elders had once been human, Lalion was nothing more than an echo of an old friend brought to life through Tyrkanzyaka’s memories.

Even now, when Tyrkanzyaka had freed herself from the shackles of blood, Lalion remained unchanged. Loyal to the very end, he stood as an unyielding barrier against the betrayers. His overwhelming power alone was enough to be called a divine authority. Without any technique, without any deeper reasoning, Lalion crushed Lahu Khan with sheer brute strength.

The battle reached a stalemate.

Bakuta and Muri, after trading a few blows, ceased their aggression. Those two had always been creatures of whim, their anger flaring up impulsively once freed from the blood’s restraint, but lacking any deeper intent. Meanwhile, Erzebeth, the one vampire with true power to threaten Tyrkanzyaka, had been sent flying and was nowhere to be seen.

For Lahu Khan, this was an unappealing fight. His goal was the preservation of his kind—the centaurs. He had joined the rebellion against the Progenitor because the fractured power structure after the blood’s restraint had vanished made him uneasy. Had the rebellion failed, he had already resolved to flee into the jungle with his kin. With four legs beneath him, no one could match his speed.

For someone with an escape plan in mind, there was no reason to fight wholeheartedly. Even though he had the strength to break free of Lalion, Lahu Khan instead chose to wrestle with him while carefully observing the situation.

“Hahaha! Progenitor! You are far from finished!”

Ironically, the one filling the void left by Erzebeth was Runken. It was Runken himself who had given Tyrkanzyaka the opportunity to evolve by challenging her. And yet now, he was standing against her.

Tyrkanzyaka’s shadow moved, swinging an arm as if brushing off an insect. The massive limb shattered walls and floors as it slammed toward Runken.

Runken did not wield any unique divine authority. His only assets were his unbreakable body and his ceaseless fighting spirit. However, when overwhelming strength was combined with an indomitable will, that in itself became an unshakable force. Even the True Blood of the Progenitor could not suppress the primal hunger of the last boar beastman. His instincts drove him forward, no matter how strong his opponent.

“Hhrmph!”

Runken charged straight into the Progenitor’s shadow. The sheer size and density of the shadow dwarfed him. It moved with unnatural speed for its mass, bearing down on him like an onrushing war chariot.

The impact was catastrophic. Runken’s body was crushed from legs to skull. His head was driven into his own torso, but even then, his fists continued to strike forward.

Even as his knees ground against the stone floor, Runken gritted his teeth and unleashed a barrage of wild punches. Dozens—no, hundreds—of shockwaves erupted over the surface of the shadow. If one strike was not enough, then he would strike again, and again, without end.

Tyrkanzyaka’s shadow was intricately woven, but it was still an imitation of her true body. Unlike her original form, it was not invulnerable. As Runken targeted the same spot repeatedly, the darkness wavered. With a final, headbutt, he shattered a portion of the shadow and let out a triumphant roar, his body drenched in blood.

But it was only a single arm.

Two new arms sprouted instantly from the darkness. They seized Runken and hurled him skyward. A new hole was carved into the ceiling of the Midnight Castle as his howls faded into the distance.

Tyrkanzyaka did not care.

Her focus was elsewhere. Her voice was heavy, filled with quiet menace.

[...Where is Hugh?]

“If you’re talking about your little lover, he’s already fled. Abandoned you and ran.”

Cabilla, who had been watching the battle unfold from a distance, remained as composed as ever, despite how dire the situation had become. Tyrkanzyaka’s gaze sharpened as she turned toward Cabilla.

[He must have withdrawn temporarily, sensing danger.]

“It’s the same thing. When danger comes, he won’t be by your side. Or worse—being by your side will make him even more vulnerable.”

[He would be in danger?]

“Yes, sister. Just like now.”

Cabilla spread her arms wide, gesturing at the utter devastation surrounding them. Furniture and ornaments had been reduced to rubble. Walls and ceilings had crumbled. The castle, which had stood unshaken for over a thousand years, was collapsing under the weight of a battle between vampires.

Only the vampires remained.

Nothing else could withstand them.

“Look around. Only vampires remain. We alone are unchanged, eternal. But everything around us crumbles into dust. Too fragile, too weak to endure.”

Without pain, there was no fear.

With bodies that regenerated, there was no hesitation in destruction. Not just the Elders—Tyrkanzyaka herself was no different. Even when something new emerged, she would stand still, waiting to see if it could break her before acknowledging it.

“If you rule this land, then as long as you love him, he will be safe. But what if you stop being the Progenitor? What if someone takes him hostage? What if someone attacks him without knowing who he is? Or worse—what if someone kills him just to torment you? Would you, blinded by love, even notice in time?”

[You underestimate Hugh. Do you think he would fall so easily?]

“Oh, he would. He will. It’s the fate of the king of beasts.”

Cabilla declared with certainty.

“The role of beasts is to fall to the cunning of humans. The king of dogs wags its tail at man. The king of wolves dies in a hunter’s trap. The king of sheep gives up its wool to survive. And the king of humans? He will be abandoned by his own kind and left to die.”

[Abandoned...?]

“Before the first era, humanity ruled the surface, building the greatest empire the world had ever seen. And at its pinnacle was the King of Humans—the strongest among all beasts, the ruler possessing both might and wisdom. Do you know what happened to him?”

Even Tyrkanzyaka did not know.

She had lived through the age of the Five Sovereigns, watching as their numbers dwindled. The only history she knew revolved around those five.

The Saintess had once proclaimed that humanity had transcended all beasts, that there was no King of Humans.

Tyrkanzyaka had always rejected the Saintess’s words, but she had never given this particular claim much thought—until now.

Because Hugh existed.

And yet Cabilla spoke with the weight of ancient truth.

“Rebellion.”

She whispered like a prophet delivering an inevitable fate.

“The King of Humans ruled by the will of humanity. But rebellion—the very act of usurping a king’s power—is also part of human will. So when they chose to rebel, the King of Humans gave up his throne, his strength, and vanished.”

[Vanished...?]

“Yes. I don’t know why something that had never appeared before has now surfaced before you, sister. But he will not last. You, a living Progenitor, cannot protect him. The nation, the King of Humans, and even your own heart will all waver and crumble. I am telling you this for your own good. Please, make the wise choice. That fool Vladimir will surely support you without knowing anything, so before he arrives—”

Even if Cabilla did nothing, tragedy would inevitably strike.

She whispered like a prophet foretelling doom.

There had been no need to think of such ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) things when she ruled all. But now, the Grand Duchy was no longer moving according to Tyrkanzyaka’s will alone. The Elder rebellion was proof of that. As the darkness surrounding Tyrkanzyaka thickened, Cabilla glanced outside and murmured,

“Oh dear, he’s here.”

Boom!

Before her words had even faded, one of the castle walls came crashing down, and a gaunt old monk tumbled through, rolling across the ground before slamming into the debris.

Grandmaster Dogo, who had once denounced the Progenitor and left, had returned in a state no one had anticipated. He had clearly been beaten mercilessly. Glaring past the rubble, he let out a furious roar.

“You wretched fool—!”

Through the broken opening, Vladimir strode in without a care.

Unlike Dogo, he was completely unscathed, his stride confident and composed. He looked down at the fallen monk and spoke.

“Stand properly. The Progenitor’s safety is at stake.”

“A Progenitor who has abandoned her strength and authority for indulgence is no Progenitor at all! My retreat is over. I will leave this samsaric world behind!”

“Do as you wish. But leave the matter of your blood’s fate to the Progenitor.”

“No one shall decide my fate but myself!”

Dogo regained his stance and, like a flash of lightning, lunged at Vladimir.

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The venerable martial artist allowed no room for the greatsword to be swung, diving straight beneath Vladimir’s guard.

Boom!

His foot stomped down with such force that the entire castle trembled. He gathered his qi, unleashing a devastating surge of blood energy.

Blood Demon Fist Art: Cataclysm.

A vortex of murderous qi surged forth, aiming to rip Vladimir to shreds.

Vladimir met the attack by bending his arms inward.

With the slightest misalignment of their force axes, the tremendous energy twisted into itself, generating a massive rotational force.

Dogo’s strike, which should have torn Vladimir apart, narrowly missed, his arms wrapping awkwardly around his own momentum. Seizing the instant of imbalance, Vladimir grabbed both of Dogo’s arms.

Crack.

Dogo had exhausted all his strength in his attack. His arms, now devoid of any remaining power, were easily twisted and forced outward, snapping like brittle twigs.

Even with his qi, the only way to break free was through martial technique. So Vladimir responded in kind.

Before Dogo could even attempt to regenerate his mangled elbows, Vladimir swiftly swung his greatsword.

Dogo reacted just in time, slapping the flat of the blade away—but Vladimir didn’t aim to cut him. Instead, he rammed the hilt of the sword into the gaps of Dogo’s ribs.

For a vampire, it was a meaningless wound. But Vladimir’s purpose was not injury. It was to restrict movement.

Even a vampire would struggle to move freely with a greatsword wedged between their ribs. Removing it would take time, yet Vladimir was always a half-step ahead.

In physical strength, in skill, and even in control over the battlefield—Vladimir held a clear advantage.

He fought like a judge delivering punishment.

Every moment Dogo hesitated, Vladimir coldly extracted his due.

A severed arm. A shattered shoulder.

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Each attempt at regeneration was immediately followed by another devastating strike.

Though the fight lasted longer than expected given the gap in strength, it was over in an instant by vampire standards.

With his entire body battered and torn, Dogo collapsed at Vladimir’s feet, humiliated. And from below, he let out a final, shame-filled cry.

“Urgh...! You managed to break my technique?! When did you—?”

“When you watch something for nearly a thousand years, you inevitably come to understand it.”

Vladimir’s voice was as cold as ever. He did not need to ask. He already knew the answer.

Dogo had done nothing all this time.

All the Elders had once been legendary monsters of their era, warriors whose very names had shaken the world. Then, as vampires, they had preserved their peak strength and gained the immortality of undeath. That alone made them walking calamities.

And yet, they had stopped there.

Their techniques had already been perfected, and with their newfound power, each had obtained unique abilities. That was more than enough to serve the Progenitor’s will.

But Vladimir had been different. He had not been an Elder from the start. He had not inherited a legend. He had simply been someone who happened to encounter the Progenitor and received her blood.

So he had struggled to grow stronger.

Unlike the Elders, he had been granted nothing.

But he had time—endless time, and countless opportunities. And so, while the Elders had stagnated, Vladimir had studied. He had absorbed their techniques, honed himself, and surpassed them.

“You were left behind, Dogo.”

“Grrk...!”

“I do not blame you for your complacency. It is, after all, why you became a vampire in the first place. But you ended up like this because you stood in the way of the Progenitor’s path forward.”

With those quiet, merciless words, Vladimir stepped forward.

His foot came down.

Crunch.

Dogo’s sturdy, ascetic body collapsed beneath the crushing force of Vladimir’s Blood Mastery. The impact shattered his ribs and crushed his heart, driving him into the stone floor like a broken sandal.

Vladimir idly dusted off his hands and turned to Tyrkanzyaka.

[...Vladimir.]

“My apologies, Progenitor. I was delayed while executing the traitors.”

The shadowy presence before him writhed and trembled.

Darkness rippled, mirroring the chaos within Tyrkanzyaka’s heart.

Vladimir looked up at the swirling shadows.

‘So she has finally learned what it means to be wary.’

Vampires, by nature, lacked vigilance. They did not die, they felt no pain—what reason was there for them to be afraid?

But seeing Tyrkanzyaka’s wariness now, Vladimir felt something close to pride.

[Do you intend to oppose me as well? Do you resent that I have regained my heart?]

“Not at all. The path you walk is the path I follow.”

[The other Elders do not seem to share your sentiment.]

“They chose to remain stagnant. You chose to move forward. Naturally, they had to be left behind.”

[So you merely watched, testing me?]

“How could I dare? The ones I was testing were the Elders.”

Dullahan. Erzebeth. Dogo.

None of them had passed the test.

Vladimir reported to the Progenitor with chilling calm, as if executing Elders was nothing unusual.

Tyrkanzyaka looked at the unmoving Elders and finally understood.

[So Ruskinia did not choose death himself... I have been holding a meaningless trial all this time.]

“That is correct.”

Vladimir was loyal to the Progenitor, but he was never entirely obedient.

If something needed to be done for her sake, he did it—even if she had not ordered it.

Like a parent wishing for their child to grow, Vladimir always left something for the Progenitor to judge, to learn, to experience. Whether it was matters of state, knowledge that had to be studied, or rebels that needed to be dealt with.

Tyrkanzyaka, gazing at her strongest Elder, finally asked,

[You were the one who destroyed Ruskinia completely, weren’t you?]

“That is correc—”

Vladimir had been about to confirm it without hesitation.

But a thought suddenly struck him.

Vladimir had always acted for the Progenitor’s sake—not because he was her thrall, but because he had chosen to.

Even when he was on the brink of death, he had wanted to be of use to her.

Even after becoming an Elder, he had stayed true to that conviction.

That was why he had slain Ruskinia—because he had dared to suggest rebellion against the Progenitor.

Back then, Vladimir had been certain.

Ruskinia’s madness could not be stopped.

He had broken free from the shackles of blood on his own. He had become a true threat to the Progenitor.

It had been a logical, rational decision.

But now... having broken free from the same shackles, looking back, something felt wrong.

Why had Ruskinia come to Vladimir?

Why had he proposed rebellion to the one Elder who was unquestionably loyal to the Progenitor?

And why had he brought along his half-dead daughter?

Vladimir had been forced to kill Ruskinia.

It had been for the Progenitor, but it was not something he had wished to do.

If an Elder killed another Elder, chaos would spread through the nation.

Vladimir was not an Elder in the same sense as the others. He could kill them, but he could not rule them.

So he had poured the True Blood he obtained into Ruskinia’s daughter, Lir.

Vladimir possessed no special abilities, but it did not matter.

Lir was Ruskinia’s daughter and his rightful successor.

She had accepted the True Blood without any complications and became an Elder herself.

Vladimir had thought it a rational, pragmatic choice.

The Progenitor would eventually return.

When she did, he would tell her the truth.

Until then, Lir was the safest vessel to store the True Blood.

Of course, she could not be allowed to die before then.

So Vladimir had protected her in secret.

It had all seemed so reasonable at the time.

But now, as he looked at Tyrkanzyaka, a strange feeling crept over him.

What if... he had played right into Ruskinia’s hands?

Breaking free from the blood’s restraint had not erased his cold logic.

Ruskinia must have been just as calculating.

Would someone like that truly have attempted rebellion without reason?

Had he merely dismissed it as madness because he had not understood?

What if... it had not been madness at all?

What if, knowing that he would die, Ruskinia had deliberately set up his own execution—just to ensure his daughter would live?

The cycle of domination was the only way to break free from the shackles of blood.

Two could not exist at once.

Even Elders could not perform surgery on themselves.

Ruskinia must have needed someone to kill him.

Someone who could pass on the True Blood to his daughter.

Someone who could protect her until the Progenitor returned.

Vladimir had been the perfect tool.

He had unknowingly carried out Ruskinia’s will from beginning to end.

Vladimir felt the urge to smile—a very un-vampiric impulse.

Had he still been bound by the shackles, he might never have considered it.

But now, freed from those constraints, it seemed like the most logical conclusion.

Yet, he was not a mind-reader.

He could not know what Ruskinia had truly thought.

Even if he could go back in time, he would have made the same decision.

Because in the end, who did what was all that mattered.

So Vladimir simply gave his report.

“That is correct.

Ruskinia, having broken free from the shackles, attempted rebellion.

I slew him and passed his True Blood to Lir.”

At the end of it all, Vladimir was still the strongest Elder.

The rebellion had never stood a chance.

Lahu Khan had already fled.

The remaining traitors were subdued.

None of the other Elders had any will left to fight.

And the most powerful Elder of them all stood by the Progenitor’s side.

The rebellion had ended as suddenly as it had begun.

For all its urgency, the result was hollow.

Vladimir presented the defeated traitors to Tyrkanzyaka.

“Their fate is yours to decide, Progenitor. What shall you do?”

But Tyrkanzyaka’s attention was elsewhere.

She did not even spare the Elders a glance.

Instead, she asked,

[Does Hugh know that you killed Ruskinia?]

A trivial matter, perhaps.

But it was a razor-sharp question.

How honest had the King of Humans truly been with the Progenitor?

For the first time, tension flickered in Tyrkanzyaka’s voice.

Vladimir thought of Ruskinia for a fleeting moment, then brushed the thought away.

And answered honestly.

“Yes.”