Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 460: Escape from the Duchy No.2

In the depths of the Mist Duchy, within the darkest, most hidden chamber of the Castle of the Full Moon, the Progenitor sat alone.

She had left for the villa with her consort, yet returned alone. No one dared to ask what had happened to him. No one even considered doing so. The weight of Tyrkanzyaka’s chilling yet sorrowful presence was enough to silence any inquiry. They simply assumed—he had fled.

Draped in a fresh gown, Tyrkanzyaka sat upon her throne, her expression unreadable as she gazed upon the Elders gathered before her.

Erzebeth. Dogo. Dullahan.

These were all Elders who had either conspired in the rebellion or actively taken part in it. Though Vladimir had subdued them, their bodies had already regenerated—such was the nature of an Elder’s immortality. And now, these defeated remnants knelt before their Progenitor, awaiting judgment.

Despite their humiliation, both Dogo and Erzebeth were already calculating their next moves.

They had only been overpowered temporarily. They were Elders, after all—eternal, undying, tireless. The only reason they had lost was because they were taken by surprise, separated, and defeated individually. But now, if they worked together, perhaps they could still—

No.

[Bring him back.]

A voice, deep and absolute, reverberated through the chamber.

A shadow loomed behind Tyrkanzyaka—an ominous, towering darkness that pulsed with an immeasurable force.

Erzebeth felt its sheer power, the authority it radiated.

Tyrkanzyaka had poured all her knowledge, all her abilities into that entity.

The Progenitor, a being of absolute dominion, had never needed to wield her own strength before. That was the duty of her Elders, her Ains. They were her limbs, her enforcers, the ones who gathered power and experience in her name. All their hard-earned techniques and realizations were hers, stored within her being, even if she had never wielded them directly.

And now, she had forged a vessel to contain it all.

Instead of altering her own immutable body, she shaped a new form—woven from darkness, crafted through bloodcrafting. A body that held all her knowledge and power, an avatar of her will. A monster draped in shadow, capable of wielding the might of every Elder.

[Only the Elder who brings him back will be forgiven.]

Erzebeth shuddered as she realized it.

The Elders could no longer defeat Tyrkanzyaka.

Perhaps, if Vladimir—who had learned and mastered every Elder’s power—stood against her, he could contend with her for a time.

But Vladimir had no intention of betraying his Progenitor.

That left them with only one option.

Survival.

Obedience.

Erzebeth resigned herself, ready to submit—

“I refuse.”

A gauntlet flew through the air.

Dullahan had thrown it.

Launched with immense strength, it hurtled toward Tyrkanzyaka—only to stop, frozen midair before it could reach her. A shadow had caught it, its amorphous fingers playfully attempting to slip the glove onto its oversized hand.

Pfft.

The gauntlet burst apart like a balloon, unable to withstand the sheer force. The shadow inspected the tattered remnants with dejection.

Neither Dullahan nor Tyrkanzyaka paid it any mind. Their gazes remained locked on each other.

“I have not yet lost!” Dullahan declared, his voice defiant. “If not for Vladimir’s cowardly ambush, I would not have fallen so easily!”

He did not say he would have won.

That, at least, was a shred of honesty.

Even Vladimir had prioritized eliminating Dullahan before he could regroup with the others. That alone proved his threat.

Tyrkanzyaka regarded the knight who still refused to acknowledge his defeat.

[What is your will?]

“A duel, Progenitor.”

Dullahan lifted his severed head and set it back onto his neck. Like a broken statue being pieced together, he twisted and adjusted it until it sat properly.

A headless knight.

Dullahan had once fought with his head in hand, using it as a flail to compare his enemies' resilience to his own. To outsiders, it was a display of grotesque cruelty.

But in truth, it was his mercy.

Dullahan had imposed upon himself the handicap of a constantly shifting perspective.

And yet, that very handicap had gifted him something unexpected—power.

His ironclad belief in his method, combined with his natural battle instincts, had granted him an unparalleled sense of balance. No matter where his head was, no matter how twisted his field of view became, Dullahan could always tell where he and his opponent stood.

Even in death, he had been formidable. Now, with his newfound Elder abilities, he had reached a new height.

Only Vladimir had surpassed him.

[So this is your resolve?]

“Exactly. I do not fear annihilation! I have already died once—what is twice?”

Dullahan clenched his fists, bloodcraft gathering in his palms, taking shape.

A massive flail formed—hardened blood, forged from his very being.

Like Vladimir’s greatsword, a true warrior infused their weapon with qi, treating it as an extension of their own body.

A vampire warrior, in turn, created a weapon from their body.

Such weapons were as unyielding as a vampire’s immortal flesh.

“You are no man—but if you have even a shred of honor, accept my challenge!”

A second duel.

Dullahan had already been defeated once. There was no reason for Tyrkanzyaka to humor him.

Vladimir alone could have dealt with him.

But the Progenitor held up a hand, signaling Vladimir to stand down.

[Honor is of no concern to me. But I will respect your will.]

“...Whoever he is, he must have been a romantic fool.”

[And a barbarian, besides.]

Tyrkanzyaka let out a faint smile.

Dullahan slammed his two flails together, bloodcraft energy crackling.

“So? When will you rise? Surely you don’t intend to accept my challenge while seated on your throne?”

[That is acceptable.]

“What?”

Tyrkanzyaka did not move.

Instead, the shadow behind her did.

It surged forward, expanding, taking form. A hand reached out toward Dullahan, its fingers stretching ominously, like a child reaching for a toy.

Dullahan let out a grin, swinging his flail with all his might.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“A fine opponent to warm up against!”

—But the one warming up was the shadow.

Crunch. Crunch.

The shadow ate him.

A broken flail clattered to the ground. Severed limbs, torn asunder, twitched feebly, searching for their body. But if they wished to reunite, they would have to do so inside the shadow’s stomach.

Dullahan had fought valiantly.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

But the shadow was no longer an opponent Elders could face.

It was the culmination of the vampire race.

A ruler, bearing every ability and technique known to their kind.

The Progenitor who had once scattered her blood and darkness to create the Mist Duchy, to sustain the vampire race—

No longer.

The goddess was gone.

In her place, a tyrant sat upon the throne, ruling with fear and absolute might.

[Only after I gained a heart did I understand the need for an example.]

Tyrkanzyaka remained seated as the shadow devoured Dullahan.

Vampires felt no fear, no emotions. But they did not desire oblivion.

Dogo and Erzebeth, understanding this truth, remained silent.

Their pride meant nothing in the face of survival.

[With one less competitor, I suppose this is in your favor.]

And thus, the Progenitor had learned to wield fear.

As any ruler would.

[Bring Hughes back. If he chooses to run, I will not stop him. But he should pray that he never crosses my path again.]

The two remaining Elders, shamelessly, bowed their heads.

***

"Stop right there! I am Baron Jenryu, Ain of Sir Dullahan, guardian [N O V E L I G H T] of this gorge. Human, state your identity!"

"The Progenitor’s consort."

"...!"

Even Baron Jenryu, stationed at the border, had heard the rumors. The Progenitor had taken a consort. His sharp eyes scrutinized me, his mind clearly racing as he asked cautiously,

“...Where are you headed?”

“The Military Nation.”

“You have a passage permit, I presume?”

“I don’t.”

At my shameless response, Baron Jenryu’s face hardened. He barked,

“Without a permit from the Progenitor, you may not pass! I have no way to verify your claim, and even if you are the Progenitor’s consort, it makes no difference!”

It was an expected response—strict, logical.

To vampires, humans were livestock. To prevent their escape, checkpoints were established across the duchy. Humans were forbidden from leaving their assigned territories, and if they absolutely had to travel, they required a vampire-issued passage permit.

Tch. I was hoping to sneak through, but of course, he’s a vampire. Guarding the border day and night.

The only silver lining was that, during daylight, both the darkness and the mist had weakened.

And right now, his vision was at its dullest.

“Hilde! Now!”

“Yes, Father~.”

Baron Jenryu’s head was severed.

His face twisted in shock as his head tumbled to the ground. Even a loyal and diligent guardian like him hadn’t expected a soldier standing right behind him to suddenly strike him down.

A perfect ambush—only possible under the bright midday sun.

As Baron Jenryu collapsed, Hilde swiftly snatched his horse’s reins and reached out a hand.

“Father! Get on!”

Without hesitation, I kicked off the ground, leaping onto the horse behind her.

The moment I secured my grip, Hilde spurred the horse forward.

The beast, unaware that its master had changed, immediately galloped ahead at full speed.

To any onlooker, it would seem as if we had just murdered an official and stolen his horse in broad daylight.

But that was only true if the victim stayed dead.

“SEIZE THEM!”

Baron Jenryu, cradling his severed head in his arms, launched into pursuit.