Volume 4 Chapter 103 Parasite
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”Kian, regarding the enemy forces raiding Grass Island… I think I’ve identified them.”
It was shortly after Rita had launched her suicide blast to annihilate the sorcerers on the western side of Cyclops Island. Just as Kian prepared to charge the eastern flank of Mansoor’s remnants, Talia’s voice resonated within his mind.
”Who’s hitting the island?” Kian asked.
”Likely the Malc military. Shidarkan’s faction,” Talia replied. “General Isthbaran brought back the heads of several commanders; they were all Caucasians with sun-bronzed skin and dark hair. It’s the ethnicity found in the Kingdom of Castile and its vassal states in Malc. They are the ones sometimes referred to by the slur… Berbers¹.”
Kian turned his back on the northern base, which was currently sinking into a sea of flames, and sprinted down the military road toward the east.
”They still had that much strength left?” Kian muttered.
”I believe this is Shidarkan’s final gambit,” Talia said. “By my estimate, if you crush the fleet hiding on the western side, the Malc garrison stationed on Cyclops Island will be literally wiped out. If Gensou has indeed retreated, the only enemies left will be the Shakerdoust forces, who have already lost their supreme commander, Mansoor.”
”So, you’ve already won on your end?” Kian asked.
”Yes. General Isthbaran erased every last one of them. He’s standing right beside me,” Talia replied. “We’re going to requisition a few merchant ships and head your way as reinforcements. We can’t exactly use the captured enemy vessels… so you don’t mind if I send the bill to Merchant Guild Kian², do you?”
”I don’t care about that. But if the Shidarkan Army hit the coast of Grass Island, does that mean they broke through the Balinars’ blockade?” Kian asked.
”Perhaps,” Talia’s voice turned cold. “Or perhaps the Balinars mistook the enemy fleet for allies and let them pass right through.”
”You’re being suggestive,” Kian said. “You’re starting to feel certain he’s the traitor of Crete, aren’t you?”
”I don’t know yet,” Talia replied. “Regardless, the General and I will find a boat. I’ll keep providing support, but don’t be reckless.”
”Got it,” Kian said.
He severed the mental link. Kian’s hooves erupted in lightning as he leaped. At the apex of his arc through the sky, he deactivated his Asterios³ transformation. Reverting to his original form, his presence vanished instantly. It was the warrior monk technique: Shadow Hide⁴.
He suppressed the fluctuations of his mana with a precision that far outstripped the concealment skills of Crete’s warriors. Shifting from the form of a white bull back to a bronze-skinned Azraelian, Kian landed stark naked as his oversized toga fell away. Like an ill-omened black wind, he raced along the eastern coastline of Cyclops Island. He was silent, formless, and undetectable-yet he was about to bring certain death to Mansoor’s sorcerers.
He felt like a Reaper that even Azrael himself would fear.
(The thrill of the hunt… it really does feel good. I don’t know when I’ll get to savor a fight like this again, so I might as well enjoy this slaughter.)
The night coastline was bleak. Beyond the dark jagged rocks, he felt the heavy pressure of High Magic being cast. Mansoor’s sorcerers were anchored right in the shadow of that mountain.
”Heh…”
Kian coalesced into human form from the black mist, his canines bared as he stepped onto the sandy beach. His eyes glowed with a red phosphorus light, saliva dripping from his jaw. He pulled a black cloth from the wraith floating beside him to cover himself and materialized a sword in his right hand.
He leaped.
With a heavy thud, he left a crater in the sand and vanished. A heartbeat later, Kian landed on the wooden deck.
The floorboards shivered and groaned.
Aboard the thirty-meter vintage ship were sorcerers and their warrior monk guards. A guard standing nearby focused his every reflex on Kian, his eyes bloodshot as he tried to track the intruder’s movement. He failed. Kian decapitated him with a single stroke. Before the blood could even spray from the stump, Kian stepped forward, taking the heads of the other guards or ripping them apart with his bare left hand.
A sickening series of wet snaps followed as fresh blood painted the deck crimson. Only then did the sorcerers finishing their incantation realize what was happening.
”Intruder!” one screamed.
”Shh. Be quiet,” Kian whispered.
In a single stride, he moved from the edge of the deck to the center. Kian’s hand was already through the chest of the Azraelian sorcerer who appeared to be the commander. The man stared at Kian’s face, his spark of life flickering out before he even understood why he was dying.
There were thirty high-level sorcerers in total. They were supposed to be veteran warrior monks, and all of them had instinctively deployed Walls of condensed Qi⁵, but Kian’s brute strength simply shattered their necks through their invisible defenses.
”A demon…!” a voice cried out.
A tiger beastman, likely a Shakerdoust specialist in close-quarters combat, swung a greatsword from behind. Kian dissolved into mist, letting the scimitar pass through him, then solidified to cave the man’s face in with a single punch. With a whistle of air, he hurled his stone sword, skewering five warrior monks at once. Their corpses were blown back, pinned to the mast like a grotesque centerpiece.
”You monster!” “Cut him down!” “Kill him!”
”Hehehe…”
In an instant, black blades converged on him from three sides. Their paths were well-honed, certain even in the dark, showing the cold discipline of men who knew how to avoid hitting their own. Kian’s red eyes darted, tracking the blades aimed for his neck, his heart, and his knee with supernatural clarity.
He didn’t even need Physical Enhancement. His body was already iron-hard, and even if he were cut, he would regenerate instantly. There was no reason to fear even the world’s finest blades.
Two metallic clangs rang out.
He parried the scimitars aimed for his vitals with the bones of his fists. Simultaneously, he snapped his right leg up, his heel catching the chin of the man sweeping for his legs. The man’s head burst like a dropped melon, brains splattering across the deck.
One of the men in black robes stared in shock as his blade was deflected. Kian twisted, his left instep shearing the man’s head clean off. Another explosion of red. Using the momentum, he drove his right foot into the final man’s abdomen.
It didn’t pierce him. Instead, the man was launched, his spine and ribs pulverized, his internal organs rupturing into a blooming bouquet of gore as he slammed into the ship’s railing and died.
”…” “Ah… ah…”
Mansoor’s monks stood frozen, as if time had stopped. They couldn’t move. Their instincts told them that the moment they twitched, they were next.
(I’m not leaving any of you alive, whether you move or not.)
Kian’s powerful arm creaked as he flexed it beneath his black shroud.
Now, who should I devour next-.
”Hm?”
As Kian licked his lips at the trembling monks, he felt a powerful presence fly in from another ship. It landed soundlessly on the blood-soaked deck, drawing a black scimitar.
”Sir Selkei!” one of the survivors gasped.
”Fall back, all of you,” the monk said, his face wrapped in cursed cloth. He sounded like a man in his mid-forties. Two more monks appeared behind him, drawing their shamshirs.
Kian licked the blood off his knuckles. “Interesting. Are you planning to buy time so the sorcerers can hit me with a big spell?”
The monk said nothing.
”Sir Selkei, Sir Alpcan, General Ali!” the survivors shouted in relief.
”Go! Run! We’ll hold the line!” Ali shouted.
”We’ll deal with this fiend. Get out of here!” Selkei added.
The moment the eldest, Ali, gave the order, the youngest of the three-Alpcan-lunged forward. Using the secret technique Shadow Pursuit⁶, he aimed for Kian’s throat. Kian deflected it with his left fist and countered with a lethal palm-strike to the neck.
(Huh…)
But before the blow could land, the man’s body contorted like rubber. He went into a side-flip, a hidden blade in his boot aiming for Kian’s eyes. Kian dodged and unleashed a roundhouse kick, but the man coiled like a snake to avoid it, pressing his shamshir against Kian’s femoral artery. Kian caught the man’s wrist before he could pull the blade. He tried to crush the man’s face with an elbow, but the strike was parried by a hand reinforced with Impact before it reached full speed.
”Haha! You’re a bit slow, but you’ve got skill!” Kian laughed.
Kian surged toward the young monk, who was trying to regain his stance.
”Ngh…!” Alpcan grunted.
The boy’s Qi was refining at an incredible rate-comparable to Sarah, though lacking her raw power. But the talent was there. It was fun, realizing that the vast Azraelian Empire could just produce warriors of this caliber as common soldiers.
Kian planted his feet and unleashed a ten-hit gatling of punches. The boy parried every single one with the precision of a master, though his eyes strained against Kian’s monstrous strength. Then, he actually managed to slice Kian’s right arm off.
”No, Alpcan! Get back!” Selkei screamed.
”Wait-” Alpcan started.
But it was over.
Kian’s arm regenerated in a literal blink. He threw a right hook as if nothing had happened. The young monk desperately reinforced his arm with a Wall to block, but against the raw power of a vampire⁷, it was like paper.
”Aaa-AAAAAAAAAGH!”
The monk’s right arm was obliterated, the shockwave shattering his collarbone. Selkei and Ali tried to dive in to save him, but Talia-operating on her own-blew them back with her secret technique Heavenfall⁸. The fact that they could even get their blades up against her invisible Qi-blades proved they were elites-perhaps even superior to Mansoor in technique.
But in the end, they were just human.
Kian walked up to the mangled, staggering boy. He caught the desperate final swing with his left palm. The blade went through his hand, but Kian just basked in the sweet pain as he twisted the shamshir with his bare hand until it snapped.
Checkmate.
He swung his right hand.
With a sickening crunch, the boy’s head spun five hundred and forty degrees. Kian opened his mouth wide and tore into the man’s left shoulder, stepping on his legs to pull the torso apart. He shook his head like a crocodile, spraying blood and entrails everywhere. Then, he pummeled the remains in mid-air to ensure total annihilation. Even a vampire wouldn’t be able to recover from that. There was nothing left but his feet.
”Hahaha.”
Next. Kian swept his bulging, blood-red eyes across the “slow-pokes” around him, men too paralyzed by fear to even flinch.
”Star’s Song⁹…!”
”This is bad! Jump, nowww!” one shouted.
(‘Threads’)
He flung both hands outward. Invisible threads of qi erupted from his ten fingertips, blanketing the sky above the massive vessel. Anyone capable of sensing the flow of energy would have realized in that instant that they were hemmed in by a web of razor-thin death.
But realization offered no salvation. Kian jerked the threads taut. In a heartbeat, he reduced the warrior monks-and the ship’s rigging itself-to uniform cubes of raw meat.
”You… you’re no human,” a voice gasped.
General Ali was dead. However, a warrior monk named Selkei was somehow parrying the threads, even as his entire body was being shredded into ribbons. Kian took a single, effortless step, balancing his toes on a shard of wood splintering in mid-air. He reached out and seized Selkei’s face in a crushing grip.
”Does that even matter?” Kian asked.
He crushed the man’s skull.
Without pausing, he followed through with a series of hand-blade strikes, hacking the man’s remaining limbs into equal portions. Kian was the type who preferred his meat and vegetables cut to the exact same size; after all, uneven ingredients never cooked consistently.
”You and I… we’re both just Shuras¹⁰ who live for the fight, aren’t we?” Kian whispered.
Leaving the words to hang in the air, he leapt toward the next ship. Panic was spreading across the deck like a plague, and Kian pounced into the center of it with a sadistic grin plastered on his face.
* * *
The act of slaughtering the soldiers of her second homeland-the country that had raised her-to protect her loved ones was gouging Rita’s soul more deeply than she had ever imagined.
”Ugh…” “Ah…” “Gack…”
Under the cover of darkness, she leapt silently onto the vessels, deploying handmade toxic smoke. The poison was mild, designed only to inflame the membranes of the throat and trigger uncontrollable coughing. Between the physical distress and the thick white haze, the soldiers could neither track her position nor catch her scent.
The warrior monk techniques she had supposedly sealed away for three years were sharper than ever, as if the loss of her memories had never happened. Rita ghosted through the white-out, murdering the bewildered Malc warrior monks from behind, one by one.
A single thrust to the heart from the rear.
A flash of steel across the throat.
She took their lives with clinical precision, trying to grant them whatever mercy a quick death allowed.
(It’s so Guria and the others can live. Forgive me, my former brothers-in-arms…)
Some emotions could not be severed. Rita spotted nearly thirty magicians attempting to halt their Great Magic incantations to conjure a counter-wind. In a literal flash, she was among them. With a single strike of her ‘Drawing Art¹¹: Wind-Djinn Gale Shaitan’, she took every head in the circle simultaneously.
These were elite warrior monks. Most had reached this rank only because they weren’t born into poverty and had the backing of powerful guardians. These were men with status, wealth, and families waiting for them back in Azrael.
Rita ended them in a heartbeat, yet every one of them possessed a history. A life. It felt fundamentally wrong for it to end so senselessly. The fact that they were killers who had stepped onto the battlefield was no excuse for her.
Every life was precious.
(Damn it… damn it!)
Cloaked in smoke, her body continued to kill with a chilling lack of emotion. Rita plunged her blade into the heart of a female warrior monk who looked to be her own age, perhaps a little older. She felt the life drain out of the girl as she collapsed.
This girl, too, was a flower that should never have been plucked. And here I am, trampling them all under my muddy boots.
Me. No one else but me.
(For what?)
”You know why!” she hissed to herself. “It’s for Guria and the others!”
”You-! Gack-“
She moved to the next ship. Leap, kill, repeat. The blood spray was so thick it soaked the cloth covering Rita’s mouth, staining her face a visceral crimson.
(Nizaam, is this what you wanted?)
”Gugyah!” “Agh-aaaaaah!” “Higyi!?”
(Eirene… that daughter you starved yourself to raise? She only knows how to kill now. She’s become a perfect little monster.)
”Guh!?” “Hi-no, I don’t want to die, I-” “Gyaaaaaah!”
She was a hollow ghost, a phantom killing in the name of protection. The realization that this was all she had become was heartbreaking. But it was her own weakness that had led her here. She hadn’t fought fate; she had simply drifted with the current. That was Rita’s true sin. She didn’t deserve God Azrael’s pity. She deserved his judgment.
”…Ri… Rita? Is that you?” a voice asked.
Rita said nothing.
She had reached the end of her path.
Shidarkan’s flagship.
She had dismantled the fleet ship by ship. This was the fifth. Behind her, the four large vessels she had set ablaze illuminated the sky in a violent, searing orange.
Ahead of her stood a plain, middle-aged magician, shielded by five veteran warrior monks-the ‘Shield of the Twelve Divine Generals¹²‘. Rita stood by the mast. Shidarkan was at the rear of the flagship, standing before the Chair of the Twelve Divine Generals on an elevated deck. From the center of the ship, Rita looked up at him.
Ten warrior monks lunged at her from both sides. With a single, lightning-fast draw, she decapitated them all. They were strong, but they were nothing compared to Rita-Nizaam’s “masterpiece.” He had scouted her because he knew she would eventually surpass even his own prime. His eye for talent had been flawless.
”Lord Shidarkan, please flee!” one guard shouted.
”We’ll hold her!” said another.
”Yeah,” Shidarkan replied quietly.
”Relax,” Rita said, her voice cold. “I’m not going to kill General Shidarkan.”
”What?” the General asked.
She sensed the buildup of magic from the ships further back. In one minute, meteors would rain from the heavens.
”I only want the heads of the magicians,” Rita explained. “I don’t want to kill any more warrior monks who can’t use Great Magic if I can help it.”
”You’ve already sunk four ships, Rita!” Khaldun snapped. “How can you say that now?”
”Professor Khaldun… I don’t care if you don’t believe me. But you, I will kill. Though, I am grateful you taught me my letters.”
”……!”
”Ri… Rita, what do you want?” Shidarkan asked.
The General pushed past the elderly warrior monk to the front. The other three tried to stop him, but he signaled them to stand down.
”As the commander of Malc, I have to bring as many of my men home as I can,” Shidarkan said. “The fact that you’re talking to me means you’re not just here for a slaughter. What will it take for you to stop?”
”Stop the magic attacks. Withdraw immediately,” Rita said. Her eyes scanned the warrior monks swarming onto the flagship from the other vessels. “If you retreat, I won’t kill any more magicians. But if you fight to the end, General Shidarkan… I will kill everyone on this ship but you.”
Rita released a sudden, crushing wave of magic power. It felt as if a spiritual vein had detonated. The sheer pressure sent the surrounding soldiers stumbling back.
”The current me is likely stronger than Master Nizaam was in his prime,” she stated. “You won’t finish that Great Magic in time. Now that I’m this close, it’s checkmate for your guards. I can kill everyone here in the blink of an eye. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
”…Fine. We’ll withdraw,” Shidarkan said.
”Lord Shidarkan!” the guards cried.
”If we fight her, I’ll lose you all,” Shidarkan replied. “I can’t keep losing the men who built this country. If Malc runs out of people, we’ll just be swallowed whole by Lord Gensou.”
”Withdraw! All units, retreat!” Shidarkan bellowed to his fleet. “Tell them to stop the Great Magic!”
Rita realized it was the first time she had ever heard the quiet, mumbling man raise his voice.
”Ah-no, no, no! Why would you ever retreat, General Shidarkan?” a new voice chimed in.
”You!” Shidarkan gasped.
Rita looked up. Shidarkan and the guards followed suit, staring into the starry sky.
In the distance, a horn gave a long, low drone. A gong clanged-the signal for a full-on charge.
A moment later, Rita’s senses picked up the approach of countless massive Magical Vessels surging from the southern horizon.
”Geh… Lord Gensou…” the middle-aged warrior monk muttered.
At the center of everyone’s gaze, a black-haired man descended from the sky as if walking down invisible stairs. He acted as though he were here to end the war single-handedly. He was dressed in his usual messy clothes-a shirt hanging open at the chest and black pants. Shrouded in a faint glow, he hopped down right next to Shidarkan.
”Hey there, Old Man Nizaam’s ‘orphan.’ Guess we meet in a dream again,” Gensou said.
”…Get lost,” Rita replied. “Or I’ll kill you.”
”Whoa, easy! That’s a bit much, isn’t it?” Gensou laughed. “Look, I’m terrible at reading the room, so I’ve gotta ask… were you and the General having a private moment? If so, truly, my bad! Ahahaha!”
”Lord Gensou,” Shidarkan stepped forward, hesitating for a moment before looking up at the young Eastern General. “We are withdrawing. You withdrew earlier, so you shouldn’t have any complaints.”
”What are you talking about? What are you talking about? Can’t you hear the horns?” Gensou asked, his grin widening. “That ‘retreat’ was obviously a feint. Besides, why quit now? You’re about to win!”
”General Gensou, your little stunt of pulling back your troops put us through hell!” Khaldun snapped. “General Jibril is badly hurt, and Lord Mansoor’s magic has vanished. We can’t keep fighting!”
”Right, right. Sorry about that,” Gensou said flippantly. “That’s why I’m apologizing, see?”
”Apologizing doesn’t fix this!” Khaldun yelled.
”Look, Lord Gensou…” Shidarkan said, firm despite his nerves. “If the war continues, we were the ones who broke their main force. Even if you’re the one who finishes Crete off, we expect our fair share of the spoils.”
”Why should I give spoils to someone who won’t fight?” Gensou asked. “If you want the loot, stay in the game, you useless hack.”
”General Gensou!” “What did you say?!” “How dare you!” the guards shouted.
”Rita,” Shidarkan said, glancing at her. “Help me take down Lord Gensou. Do that, and I’ll take my men and leave, just like I promised.”
”An alliance of convenience? Fine,” Rita replied. “If it means getting rid of the rot in Crete, I have no objections. I’ll help you eliminate him.”
Rita lowered her stance, facing Gensou. The last time she had cut him, it had felt like hitting air. He was definitely using a magic tool. There was likely a real body somewhere else while he let people slash at his shadows. She had to sharpen her senses and find the truth.
”I see,” Gensou said, his smug grin never wavering despite the blades turned against him. “So, General Shidarkan, you’re really going to pick a fight with me?”
”Fine by me,” Gensou said with a shrug. “You were going to get rid of me anyway. Besides, looking at that gloomy mug of yours is enough to make me lose my appetite. Lady Flora was a beauty, but you… ugh. You’re physically revolting. Heh… heh heh heh.”
”……”
”Oh, right,” Gensou continued. “As you all know, this isn’t my actual body you’re looking at, so cutting it is a total waste of time. In fact, you’ll burn to a crisp if you touch me, so be careful. Basically, you’ve all got to find the real me while dodging my attacks… but before you all get scattered to the winds, let me show you something fun. ──Now, what do we have here?”
Gensou held out his right hand. Resting on his palm was a creature resembling a giant, winged shrimp.
”A Vahid family parasite…” Shidarkan muttered, his face paling. “A biological weapon that assimilates the human nervous system to puppet the host. Those were supposed to be outlawed, Lord Gensou-sama.”
”Too bad for you, Gensou,” one of the monks shouted. “We’ve already checked. None of us among the Malc warriors are being controlled by your parasites!”
”Oh, sure. Not among you Malc-sama,” Gensou replied, his dark eyes locking onto the group. “But…”
Rita felt a cold sweat break across her skin. Her back… deep inside, something was gouging through her meat, thrashing violently. Her arms began to convulse, and her vision flickered and strobed.
”N-No way… Rita?”
”Ahahahaaa! Exactly that ‘no way,’ Lord Shidarkan!”
Gensou’s voice felt like a persistent, oily whisper from a great distance. Suddenly, a low, metallic hum echoed from the sky-the sound of countless wings.
”Tufayli,” Gensou declared.
He spread his arms wide as swarms of the insect-monsters hovered around him. The screeching, mechanical drone was deafening. Shidarkan and his men recoiled, driven back by the sheer pressure emanating from the Eastern youth.
”General Jibril planted these lovely little things in my subordinates. Now, as you can see, I’ve simply… repurposed them.”
”Ugh… ah… gaah…”
Rita felt something trying to tear its way out of her throat. A thick, wet spray of blood filled her mouth. The Malc warrior monks froze, their eyes fixed on the white-fox swordswoman as she staggered, surrounded by a murderous aura.
”When a Tufayli egg is injected into a human,” Gensou explained calmly, “it spends a long incubation period merging with the host’s central nervous system. Once the takeover is complete, the host is puppeted by a ‘Master Tufayli’ – one of these disgusting winged vermin that emits specific pheromones and frequencies. The host keeps their intelligence, you see. It’s not a mindless doll; it’s a puppet that retains every bit of the killing intent and skill they’ve spent years honing. Isn’t it brilliant? I think the Umar who designed this was a total genius.”
Gensou released a distinct ripple of magical energy from his body – a specific frequency he had trained the parasites to recognize.
That thought was the last spark of Rita’s consciousness.
”AAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
Rita’s body buckled and thrashed before snapping into a rigid, unnatural stillness. She looked up at the sky, her yellow eyes glazing over with a milky, fungal white.
A red tentacle tore through the flesh of her throat, slick and wet as it lanced out from between her beautiful lips – before sliding back into her gullet with a sickening squelch. Rita swayed as if being jerked by invisible strings, then planted her feet and let her head hang limp.
”Ri… Rita…” Shidarkan called out, his voice trembling.
Rita snapped her head up. Thin tentacles leaked from her mouth, and more burst from her nostrils. The growths from her nose coiled around her lips, wrenching them upward into a grotesque, mocking smile.
”Kill them all, Rita.”
”Lord Gensou, you-!” the Bodyguard barked. “May Azrael judge your soul!”
Gensou merely scoffed. “There is no God,” he said, his face twisting into a hideous mask of ambition. “There is only the ‘Gensou’ we create to lead the masses. ──Do it, Rita.”
”…Final Draw: Searing Sand, Smokeless Wraith… Ifrit’s Edge!”
”Gensou, you bastard!”
”General Jibril will have your head for this!”
”…Ifrit…”
Rita’s form became a blur. Black lightning lanced across the deck. In the next heartbeat, every warrior monk on the ship was obliterated, erupting into a fine mist of crimson.
Shidarkan, too.
In a single stroke, everyone was reduced to jagged meat and spray, splattered across the flagship’s deck like common filth.
”Haha! Incredible! It really does keep the technique intact! This bio-weapon is insane!”
Gensou strolled over to Rita, laughing with childlike glee. She had moved with surgical precision, avoiding Gensou and the airborne parasites to strike only the ‘enemies.’ Standing before the beautiful girl as she leaked tentacles from her mouth, Gensou looked down at her.
”Can you still use magic? Burn this ship to the waterline.”
”……”
Rita gave a stiff, jerky nod and began the incantation for a high-tier fire spell. Gensou nodded, satisfied. He looked back at the remains of Shidarkan and his men, his lip curling into a sneer.
”General Jibril won’t forgive me? The man is already dead, killed by Kian. Right when his enemies were closing in, he vanished along with his inner circle. I suppose it was just a cruel prank of fate.”
Flames began to lick at the deck. Amidst the rising heat, Gensou spread his arms over the kneeling Rita.
”It’s starting! Right here, right now! My era! My world! The Great Empire I’ve dreamed of… with me at its head! Gensou is finally a reality!”
A war horn blared in the distance. On a battlefield where the armies of Crete, Malc, and Shakerdoust had all been put to the sword, only one power remained.
”The winner,” Gensou screamed into the smoke, “is me!”
—
Summary:
Kian receives intelligence from Talia identifying the ‘Grass Island’ attackers as the Malc military. He transitions into his Azraelian form and infiltrates an enemy ship using ‘Shadow Hide’ to slaughter Mansoor’s sorcerers and guards. The chapter concludes with Kian revealing his vampiric nature as he brutally executes Alpcan, a talented young warrior monk, despite the intervention of other elite guards.
Rita dismantles the Malc fleet to protect Guria, confronting her own guilt as a ‘murderer.’ She reaches Shidarkan’s flagship and forces a retreat through a display of overwhelming magic power. However, the arrogant General Gensou intervenes, revealing the retreat was a feint and provoking an unlikely alliance between Rita and Shidarkan against him.
Gensou reveals his mastery over the Tufayli biological parasites, which have secretly infested his subordinate Rita. Using a specific magical frequency, he triggers the parasite to take full control of her body, preserving her elite swordsmanship. Rita then obliterates Shidarkan and his entire Malc warrior escort in a single, lightning-fast technique, leaving Gensou as the sole victor of the conflict.
—
Trivia:
- Kian is operating stark naked for a period after his transformation to maintain stealth.
- Talia’s ‘Independent Thinking’ allows her to support Kian even when he is mentally occupied with ‘the hunt’.
- The ‘Berber’ slur implies a specific historical/cultural tension within the Castile/Malc territories.
- Kian’s regeneration is nearly instantaneous, a key trait of his vampire status.
- Balinars is heavily suspected of being a traitor by Talia and Kian.
- Kian is also attacking the fleet simultaneously but in a much more sadistic manner.
- Rita was a student of Khaldun, who taught her linguistics.
- Shidarkan’s ‘mumbling’ habit is a character trait that breaks when he is desperate.
- Gensou’s appearance is deliberately casual and modern compared to the fantasy setting.
- Nizaam is the one who scouted Rita and is considered a legendary figure in her past
- Gensou is currently appearing as a magical body double/decoy, not his physical self.
- The Tufayli parasites were originally created by General Jibril, but Gensou has ‘repurposed’ them.
- The parasites maintain the host’s killing techniques and intelligence while stripping away their will.
- General Jibril is confirmed dead, killed by a character named Kian.
- The ‘Gensou’ name is a pun on the word for ‘illusion’ or ‘fantasy’
—
Character Insight:
Kian is fully embracing his predatory instincts, showing a sadistic ‘high’ during combat. His disregard for human life and enjoyment of ‘sweet pain’ highlights his departure from traditional monk values as he leans into his vampiric identity.
Rita is undergoing a psychological crisis, viewing herself as an ’empty ghost’ and a monster, yet her resolve to protect Guria keeps her blade moving. Shidarkan shows hidden leadership qualities by prioritizing his soldiers’ lives over glory. Gensou is established as a chaotic, high-level antagonist with little respect for his allies.
—
Behind the Scenes:
The author uses ‘540 degrees’ to emphasize the supernatural and impossible nature of Kian’s strength, moving beyond standard ‘human’ limits seen in other characters.
The author uses ‘Shura’ to emphasize a character who has lost their humanity to the path of war, a common trope in Seinen fantasy.
—
TL Notes:
Notes:
• Mansoor – Crimson-eyed elder monk and Azrael’s Divine General from the Shakerdoust domain near Dacia. Wielding mist form, blood-drinking, rapid healing. He ties to allies like Ryoma and Hanami Tsai. First appearing in Vol. 4 Ch. 25. Quick tag: vampiric red-eyed grandpa-general who mist-forms and drinks blood, obsessed with rescuing his captured son unlike other human monks.
• Talia – A high-ranking vampire spirit currently possessing the body of Lyritisse. In this form, she has flaxen hair, blue eyes, and thick lips.
• Rita – Female warrior monk with fox ears, last direct disciple of Nizaam, wears a fox-ear hooded jacket. A ‘killing doll’ beastman created by Nizaam.
• Isthbaran – The High Warlord of the ‘Storm Herd.’
• Shidarkan – Gloomy, bearded son-in-law of the Malc family (Flora’s clan); once a modest Malc magician, ordinary next to Shajar’s elites. Attends the Cyclops Island war council after losing his wife, Flora, and sisters-in-law in the northern base’s destruction. First appears Vol. 4 Ch. 45. Reminder: bereaved Malc son-in-law—sober, doubtful, and dim but dutiful.
• Gensou – Eccentric young Eastern monk-general in Azrael’s army, playful yet ambitious. Wields sun-like magic, swordsmanship, and assassination tactics. Linked to three masked wives—Seishi, Oushoukun, and Yougyokukan (Head Magician). Ally of Mansoor and Oji, serves under Jibril, proposes Operation Assassination. First appears Vol. 4 Ch. 45. Reminder: playful Eastern general with masked harem wives, always late but magically explosive, contrasting serious monks with his bathrobe vibe and schemes.
• Mag – The wolfwoman under Yelmar—the one who was caught by Kian’s group earlier.
• Selkei – A mid-forties warrior monk wrapped in cursed cloth. A commander/elite in Mansoor’s forces.
• Alpcan – A young, talented warrior monk serving the Azraelian/Mansoor forces. He is described as the youngest of a trio of elites. He is killed by Kian.
• Ali – The oldest of the elite warrior monk trio, referred to as General Ali.
• Nizaam – A former member of Azrael’s Twelve Divine Generals and the current head of the Malc family, though he has passed both titles to his daughter to return to the battlefield. He is a prominent warrior noble in Azrael, known for his love of beautiful boys and fierce battles.
• Eirene – A white-haired fox-woman beastman. Rita’s mother. Her beauty fades over the course of the dream-shift due to her environment.
• Khaldun – An elderly warrior monk and Rita’s former linguistics teacher. He is protective of Shidarkan.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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