#079. My Father Is Too Kind (3)

#079. My Father Is Too Kind (3)

Ian’s compulsions unraveled.

What compulsions he had been subjected to.

How the Mind Weaver had twisted their hearts.

The truth surfaced, instinctive and clear.

Maria knew now.

The compulsions Ian had weaved.

Their content…

[I will stay by your side until the pain subsides.]

Comforting Shoa, afflicted by the side effects of the Function-Doping Pill, staying present with him.

[If you cannot trust anyone, trust the faith I hold in them.]

Persuading her, even as she enacted discrimination against the Black Frogkin, explaining the limitations of their race, forced to wear scant clothing due to their unique physiology.

[You are not a monster.]

Comforting Pinky, even as she had transformed into a Chimera, reassuring her that she was still human, accepting her.

Always, it had been this way.

Always.

Compulsions for the sake of others, not himself.

Compulsions that brought an end to someone’s tears, replaced with smiles.

Not a single strand of it was evil.

“No…”

Maria’s heart crumbled.

“Then, then what I did…!”

Even with the mind controller’s body, it was naught but a vile act that disturbed the ever-noble Ian.

Because they lacked faith.

Because their faith was insufficient.

They denied the boy who offered them a hand, and prevented his mother from stopping her own unworthy husband.

Maria’s descent into despair, sword fallen, went unpunished only because Teresa, too, was reeling from a similar shock.

But Teresa’s recovery was swift.

She passed Maria, who had lost her will to fight, but her gaze no longer lingered on her.

Only Ian.

It turned solely towards her son.

Maria could not stop her.

She could not restrain her.

-Kieeeeek!

-Kiaaak!

-Hurry! Drive the monsters up the spire. Count Dracula is under attack!

The countless minions of Dracula stormed the spire, past the single entry point Maria blocked.

‘I no longer have the right to desire a connection with him.’

This was the only place Maria could stand.

Guarding against the enemies who sought to harm Ian.

Blocking that path and enduring.

This was the penance she chose.

She may never approach him in her life, but she would dedicate herself to eliminating the enemies who threatened him from afar.

The right to remain by his side belonged to others.

“I knew it the moment I saw him. That boy is an angel. My instincts were right!”

“Damn it, Ian, that b*stard. He’s been giving people covert therapy with those shady powers of his. At this rate, I’ll be stuck as a lifetime member of the Teresa Clan!”

“So power depends on who wields it, huh.”

“The kindness of someone who welcomes even thieves without prejudice couldn’t be extinguished by an evil power like mind control, I wager!”

“Nyaaat! He was purely, genuinely a male genius without the mind control power, which makes his seductive flirting even more maddening, nya!”

“Hanyanya, don’t fall too hard, alright? I called dibs first.”

The faces of her comrades, loudly chattering, held encouragement for Ian, telling him to stand tall, free from guilt.

Ian, too, felt their unwavering support and steadfast trust.

“Is this a first and last gift from a father to his child? To grant me this meaningful moment, when I’ve always lacked the courage and only hid. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Are you… an idiot? You possess a power like mind control, and how much of it did you waste to ensure nobody could turn against you even after its existence was revealed?”

“It merely proves that you and I are different.”

Ronove felt nauseous.

Pure goodwill.

Trust in one another.

The joy of a moment where that trust was rewarded.

Even the silent sacrifice of someone who faltered, unable to join in that joy.

“There’s no use talking to trash like that. All that’s in the head of trash who classifies everyone as an experiment or an enemy is selfish desire!”

Pinky, consumed with betrayal towards Ronove, scrambled forward with her eight legs, unleashing a fearsome speed.

Teresa Clan, starting with Pinky, joined in one by one, easing Hensel’s burden.

Even the composure Ronoah had displayed just moments before vanished, and Ian saw him, using every ounce of his power to resist, as a candle burning down.

“I never even considered mind control.”

Ronoah, his feet bound by their combined attacks, unable to flee.

Teresa approached him, speaking as she walked.

“I thought that even trash like me would have some maternal instinct, and that’s what moved me.”

Teresa recalled the almost magical incantation that had protected her, that had allowed her to rise from those filthy back alleys.

“You are a mother who cares for children more than anyone else. It was mind control. Not my will, but Ian’s, nothing more than an engraved command.”

Teresa’s pace quickened.

The strength in her clenched fist grew.

“But I don’t care. You know why? Because I wanted it. I wanted to become that kind of person. And I will be, from now on. The beginning might not have been mine, but now it’s my will.”

Ronoah, feeling a greater threat from Teresa alone than from all the Clan members assailing him from every direction, unleashed magic like a carpet bombing.

His mana circuits overloaded, his body glowing a ghastly blue, blood gushing from his nose and mouth without cease.

[Self-Brainwashing]

[Command – I am a mother who cares for children more than anyone else.]

With a single stroke, Teresa’s blade severed Ronoah’s arm.

“aaagh!!”

Teresa was thrown back by the violent burst of magic from Ronoah.

But it was only a desperate, final act.

Teresa suffered no damage.

Ronoah’s desperate gaze fell upon the puppets he had created.

He needed time.

Time for anyone, for anything, to protect him from Teresa and the Teresa Clan.

“Stop them! I said stop them!!”

The doppelgangers turned, creaking, to face them.

Soldiers forged from clay of negativity and the murders of hosts.

The Teresa Clan tensed.

The magic that Ronoah had wielded, multiplying it many times over, was no longer so threatening.

There was a limit to the output Ronoah could handle.

But the puppets, collected from the tragic history of other vampires, possessed considerable combat power on their own.

Not quite Gretel, the masterpiece of the high-ranking vampire Marbas who had lived for seven hundred years, but formidable opponents nonetheless.

If a dozen such beings attacked simultaneously, victory was not guaranteed.

“Father is saying such pathetic things. There’s no way something like that is possible.”

Yet only one person, Ian, showed no sign of tension.

He knew the reason why this battle was as good as over.

“With all the mind control in the area dispelled, there’s no way a lesser charm could remain intact.”

The heads of the clay of negativity, of the doppelgangers, of Ronoah’s last soldiers turned.

Away from the Teresa Clan… towards Ronoah.

The emotion that surfaced in their eyes was rage.

The vampires’ collection.

How noble were these beings, truly.

What stories they held within them.

Even Ian could not know that.

Yet, he could surmise.

The ‘hosts’ who summoned them must have been dearly loved.

The doppelgangers who murdered those hosts must have felt a burning rage.

And now.

The reason they had to survive, even at the cost of their hosts, was revealed through the unbinding of the enchantment, the unveiled allure.

To become tools of Ronove.

All for the greed of a single human.

“Why are you still alive.”

“Someone like you shouldn’t be alive.”

“Die.”

“You who stole our precious ones.”

“You don’t deserve to live.”

“Die.”

“Just die.”

“If you won’t die on your own, we’ll kill you.”

Countless dolls, fueled by a clear and present will, joined the assault on Ronove.

Even this was karmic retribution.

If Ronove hadn’t abandoned Count Dracula and had stood by him until the very end.

He might have suppressed the dolls’ rebellion.

For vampire blood flowed even in the impure clay.

But Count Dracula died by Teresa’s hand.

It was Ronove’s ambition, to cut ties with Dracula and seize everything within the Blood Forest, that led to this disaster.

“Even with this imperfect body, it doesn’t matter. You forced my hand. I won’t hold back my trump card any longer.”

Ronove reached inside his white lab coat and pulled out a blood ampule filled with chilling, azure blood.

“The power all the Suin longed for. The most ancient power contained in the blood of vampires. The secret treasure of Ancestralization, I will consume ‘True Blood’!!”

Though it was brought out like a hidden phase, Ian didn’t stop him.

The final phase was already over.

Ronove, true to form when cornered in a game, had violated a taboo that should never have been broken.

[Ancestralization Initiated]

Ancestralization calls upon the most powerful ancient being.

How mighty is the power that being possesses?

Certainly, not the kind that can be handled by a weak modern human body.

The proper way to use Ancestralization.

Is to awaken one’s racial origins and develop a body equal to the conjectured ancestor.

Only a prepared body can contain the full power.

Dreaming of the vampire ancestor Nosferatu, the Ancestralization he consumed summoned the ancestor of humanity.

Long ago, in a bountiful primordial continent, the giant ＜Titan＞ who could even stand against the gods.

Ronoah’s form swelled, beyond all containment.

“No. No. No…!”

Ronoah’s flesh, unable to bear the Ancestor-induced growth, tore open with brute force.

One arm ballooned grotesquely in a desperate attempt to shunt blood to a single limb, severing it to save what was left of his life.

“Such trash, yet so stubborn. Just die already!”

“Let… let go!!”

“Never!”

Cecilia, her gauntlets near to bursting, tightened her grip on the wires, pulling with all her might.

Ronoah missed his chance to sever the trapped blood. His arm withered, then, as the concentrated true blood coursed throughout his body, his muscles convulsed uncontrollably.

Unable even to conjure his signature shadow magic, he bled from every pore, writhing in agony—a pitiful end beyond compare.

“I’ve longed for this day.”

“Theresa. I was wrong. We loved each other.”

“Loved?”

Theresa scoffed.

“That delusion shattered long before any mind control was lifted.”

With cold eyes, Theresa swung her sword at her lingering regret.

[Subjugated Ronoah, Boss of Act 3.]

A phrase that might appear in a game.

Imagining it, she gazed down at the head rolling at her feet.

Ronoah’s last expression was one of abject fear.

The long darkness of Theresa’s family…

Had begun to dissipate, along with the darkness of the Bloodwood.