#069. The Vampire is Too Kind (1)

#069. The Vampire is Too Kind (1)

Teresa was startled by the news Ian brought.

So startled, in fact, that Ian’s party arrived at the Church Headquarters from Sodom in less than half the time it should have been taken.

When she inquired about the secret to this speed, suspecting they had paid the coachman quadruple to drive like a madman, Hanyanya groaned, her face pale and drawn.

“They rode the monster’s back, nya.”

“Pardon?”

“Nya didn’t know, but if you break off one horn and grab the other, the monster will offer its back willingly, Nya…”

Teresa had assumed they were changing horses at every relay station, but instead, they had been swapping out wild steeds—no, wild monster’s.

The monster’s that could move that quickly on all fours were naturally large, and correspondingly powerful.

The notion of overpowering local chieftains, or their equivalent lackeys, and riding them into submission was frankly, almost enviable.

‘If one were to hone pure strength, they could control creatures without resorting to such vile brainwashing.’

Perhaps it wasn’t too late to ask Mom for a crash course in physical conditioning.

“Ian. Explain yourself. What exactly happened?”

“I said I would accept the subjugation of Lonowe in order to protect Maria.”

“…Do they even know Lonowe is your father?”

“They’re high-ranking members of the denomination, so I assume they already have access to such basic personal information.”

“I see. They’re even more trash than I imagined.”

Cecilia and Kasha were at a loss for words.

A denomination that solicits patricide.

Even by their own standards, it was an exceptionally heinous evil organization.

Anyone overhearing would think they were witnessing an assassin from an assassination order undergoing a coming of age where they kill their family to be a assassin.

“There’s no excuse I can offer. Forgive me for forcing you on this unjust journey.”

“Are you the woman who insisted on the Northern Territory?”

“…Yes. I am the Benevolent Saint Kasha, in charge of supporting the Northern Front.”

Kasha braced herself for a slap.

Drawing a sword would be a bit much, though.

Having driven her child into harm’s way, and with the support forces diminished because of her, he’d steeled himself to even draw his blade.

Behold Theresa’s visage.

Her dishevelled golden hair, like a furious lion’s mane. The pauldrons and cloak billowed in the wind, as if an enraged beast puffed out its fur.

More chilling still, this place was indoors, where not even a breath of wind stirred; this was a mana-born gust created solely by Theresa’s own rage.

“Go. The North… you said it was urgent.”

The reaction from such a terrifying Theresa was unexpected.

She… surprisingly, offered no reprisal.

“You… forgive me?”

“We’re each determined to save our own, from our own positions. There is no need for forgiveness, nor to be forgiven.”

“…!”

“Win glory. Achieve results so grand that they echo on other battlefields. That is the only honor you can show a comrade who walks the same path.”

“I think I understand now where Ian the Saint’s greatness stems from.”

Theresa was complete; as a mother, as a formidable swordsman, as the strongest in Sodom, as a teacher to a child, and as a worthy predecessor to the Saint.

It was because he grew up under such an exemplary mother that he could become the Saint he is today.

The clan members, who knew Theresa’s past, flinched. But seeing Ian’s pride in his mother, they all fell silent.

Not every truth must be revealed to the world.

Some truths, no one wishes to see brought to light.

Within the Theresa Clan and for Ian, Theresa’s dark past, her history as the Delinquent Mama, was one such truth.

* * *

Mama is, after all, a hidden Easter egg from the game’s early stages, planted for the sake of game攻略.

Otherwise, there’s no way she would understand the importance of the North in an instant, and so keenly perceive the judgment that averts a game-ending calamity.

The unconditional support declaration filled with a player’s sensibility eased my mind, and I nodded. The atmosphere around me grew remarkably warm.

A good party atmosphere can never hurt.

Especially now, on the cusp of the subjugation battle against the third act boss, Ronove.

“Ronove’s location?”

“Ah, yes. The Order has pinpointed it. The area around the ＜Bloodwood＞ forest, between Westwood and the Northern front.”

“…That’s bat-kin territory, isn’t it?”

In a society where most beastkin are looked down upon, ordinary kin can only survive by taking refuge under the Beastkin Federation.

But just as there is Mother Theresa, whose strength surpasses even monsters among humans, there are beings among beastkin who transcend the ordinary.

Nosferatu, the ancestor of the bat people, was one such being.

An ancestor isn’t necessarily the first kin of a race.

A forefather from long ago.

Among them, the most distinguished historical figure, or a being akin to a great king.

“That ancestor of theirs only left the world three hundred years ago! I’m so green with envy, nya!”

Hanyanya reacted dramatically to Mama’s words.

At this point, it was only polite to ask.

“How many years ago did the catkin’s ancestor leave this world?”

“No one’s known since over ten thousand years ago, nya!”

Ancestral beings generally exist on this kind of timescale.

These beastkin with deep-rooted histories and lineages tend to be popular with humans.

A cat, perhaps. Or a dog, maybe even a parrot.

In any case, it didn’t take long for humans capable of such a thought – of *doing* that with an animal – to appear.

Even with the thought, it was another matter entirely for a specific creature possessing the spiritual essence to receive it.

Therians were like hidden recipe combinations, manifesting only when a capable human and a spiritually gifted animal coexisted.

Bats were quite unlucky in this regard.

Unlike human civilization, or other therian races, which began millennia ago, it took a considerable amount of time for a bat possessing spiritual essence to be born.

And even longer for a human to appear, willing to commit to making it happen.

As a result, the birth of bat therians wasn’t such an old event, but the Nosferatu, displaying remarkable racial characteristics, quickly elevated the very pinnacle of their species.

The aristocrats of the night.

The nobility amongst therians.

Openly distancing themselves from the therians who clamored for equality under the Union’s name, they were aristocrats determined to reign over the alliance of commoners.

They were like a race that had seceded from the European Union.

Except their aftermath was different.

Unlike Britain, which floundered and sank, the bat therians experienced explosive growth, fueled by their uncanny charm, the power to extend lifespans, and the arrival of followers eager to receive that very blessing.

-Humans. We shall treat you not as blood bags, but as beings equal to us bat therians. In return, acknowledge our authority.

Opening channels of exchange with humans, and leveraging their refined manners, striking appearances, and the guaranteed success derived from their immense lifespans in antique businesses and finance, the bat therians achieved the remarkable feat of being officially registered as nobles of the kingdom.

And today, they had risen to the position of Grand Duke, ruling over the Bloodforest region, nestled between the Westwood and Northland territories.

-We shall supplement the kingdom’s finances. In return, supply us with our ‘delicacies’. Prisoners, slaves, anything. As long as the quantity is met, the price shall be generous.

Even the hitherto forbidden practice of turning humans into blood bags was becoming commonplace.

“All of you. Brace yourselves thoroughly for this subjugation. The current head of the bat therians is the ‘financial faction boss’ among the kingdom’s nobility.”

Their status was so high that Mother warned us sternly.

But having come this far, no one was turning back.

Even the atmosphere of the Bloodforest was gloomy.

An environment deliberately designed to block out sunlight.

The forest was so dense that no light penetrated.

The residential districts incorporated dome-shaped, cutting-edge architectural methods to prevent sunlight from reaching the pedestrian walkways.

The artificial lighting possessed a pale, unsettling quality, and even it failed to reach the depths of the darkness.

If there were a world composed of black and white, it was the residential district of the Bloodforest.

“Are you, perhaps, the Madone Cecilia of the Revolution Order, and Teresa of the Sodom Guild?”

“Who are you?”

“I am the Grand Duke’s herald. He requests that you accept an invitation, if you wish to conduct your search within his territory smoothly.”

As we tried to contact the Order’s local network after arriving at an unfamiliar town, an elderly butler in a tailcoat extended an invitation.

The Madone Cecilia spoke with a displeased expression.

“We must accept. The Grand Duke’s influence is strong in the Bloodforest. He’s like the King of this land, similar to the margrave.”

“…We’ll go.”

And so, we found ourselves heading to the Grand Duke’s castle.

“What if he’s colluding with Ronove and trying to kill us!”

“We’ll be imprisoned in the basement and have our blood sucked for the rest of our lives…”

“Eek. When someone with prison experience says that, it’s really scary, okay? Please refrain…!”

Herald Yuz recoiled in horror at Joseph’s ominous prognostication, the former prisoner and miner.

Everyone harbored fears of varying sorts, but I, in my own way, had a nagging concern.

The bat-people.

Or, to put it differently, vampires.

The people of this world focused solely on the vampires’ “blood-sucking,” but the wicked Enchanter paid attention to another aspect.

Enticement.

Allure.

Which is to say, mind control.

Indeed.

Vampires were of the Enchanter clan.

The reason the Order was stirring things up, and for me, a place teeming with Enchanters stronger than myself—a very dangerous place where the Holy Woman, with her vampire subjugation experience, might easily discern my true identity.