Volume 4 Chapter 114 New Companions ②
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
From high above, the northern reaches of Cyclops Island were a void. Not a single spark of light broke the darkness.
During his first visit, the island had been a front for pirates, serving as a hidden forward base for Azrael¹. Back then, the air had been thick with the stirrings of men and the gritty haze of dust kicked up by the restless neighing of war-beasts. Now, it was a ghost town.
The sharp tang of sea salt was choked by the rising stench of ash. It was a silent reminder: the place was useless as a military outpost until the ruins were leveled and the earth reclaimed.
(“The harbor is a graveyard for Crete’s fleet. They’ll never get a heavy vessel in here without a massive salvage operation first,”) Kian thought as he scanned the northern coastline.
”The north looks clear for a landing, sir. I’m not picking up any traces of a barrier,” Isthbaran said.
”It’ll keep us dry, but we’ll have to trek all the way around the mountain,” Kian replied.
”If we’re staying off the radar, how long to reach the southern base?”
”We can’t exactly cut across the peak. The long way around is over a hundred kilometers. If we can’t use [Leap]² or our flashier physical buffs, we’re looking at a five-hour slog at best,” Kian said.
”Then we circle south. Back to the plan-a high-altitude dive into the surf. Great. Tropical or not, the ocean in January still bites,” Isthbaran muttered.
”You’re wearing [Silver Ice]. Your core temp will be fine. I’d be more worried about whether that heavy armor lets you float back to the surface,” Kian said.
Kian, by contrast, wore only his usual shirt and trousers. His boots were rugged Salamander leather, but their defense was nothing compared to a full set of [Silver Ice]. He didn’t care. He had begun to realize that his body-this vessel slowly awakening to its vampiric nature-was the only armor and weapon he would ever truly need.
[Magic Eye of Charm], the creation of thralls, high-speed regeneration, sorcery eating, and the unnatural physicality of a vampire-Kian had mastered these, yet compared to Lady Camilla, he was a novice. A half-baked pretender.
There were other powers he hadn’t touched yet: metabolic control to weaponize his hair and claws, the [Restoration Curse], and unique Blood Arts. He was lagging, especially with the claw and hair techniques. Regarding his hair, a lingering, human vanity about his hairline made him hesitant to experiment with its growth.
Still, Kian knew he needed to evolve. If he could master these innate weapons, a blade might become redundant. If a claw shattered, his regeneration meant he had an infinite armory.
Using the precise, ki-heavy techniques of a warrior monk required immense mental focus. It was easier-and far more lethal-to simply close the gap with inhuman speed and strike with the raw power of a monster. He’d learned this while fighting in his Asterios form. When you aren’t wasting mental energy on the complex requirements of a “technique,” you can spend that focus observing the enemy and calculating the most brutal way to break them.
Simplicity was strength.
Warrior monk techniques were framed today as the ultimate counter to sorcerers, but the nameless founder had a different goal: to give a mere human the tools to survive against monsters. They were a way to force a fragile body to produce supernatural results. But for Kian, who already possessed the strength of a monster, they were becoming obsolete.
Not all of them, of course. [Leap], [Secret Sword: Heavenfall], and the evasive [Mist Crow] were still too useful to discard. But evolution demanded sacrifice. Eventually, they would be replaced. He had to evolve, or he would stagnate. He would lose his purpose in the party. Now that he was focusing on building a stable of powerful thralls, the reality of that shift was settling in.
”Alright. We’ve cleared a third of Gorgon Mountain,” Kian said.
”We’re over the southwest coast,” Isthbaran replied.
”We’re dropping. Don’t you dare use magic to cushion the impact. Once we lose altitude, we’ll be right in the teeth of their detection barrier.”
”Loud and clear. What about the spirit form?”
’Brat. I will allow you to carry me. If you see a body worth inhabiting on the way down, stop,’ Ukuba said.
”I’ve got Ukuba. You handle Satori and the Conquistador,” Kian said.
Kian signaled the wyvern golem to begin a shallow glide. He snatched up Ukuba’s birdcage and stepped off into the void.
For a heartbeat, the air resisted. Then, gravity claimed him. The world inverted, and his stomach lurched as the ground rushed up to meet him.
’…Hmph!’
In the middle of the freefall, Kian felt a sudden, violent surge of energy from within the cage. In the span of a millisecond, countless shimmering threads erupted from the spider-man’s spirit form. They wove through the air in a complex web, plummeting toward the detection barrier below.
”What are you doing?!” Kian shouted.
’Hush, boy. Just watch.’
The webs Ukuba had fired struck the hemispherical barrier and seemed to melt into it. Lines raced across its surface like glowing veins, rewriting its very essence.
”[Puppet Thread],” Ukuba hissed.
’It’s a thread used to strip a target’s structure bare-to manipulate, to bind. I didn’t fancy scraping your insides off the waves; suturing is such a chore. Use your magic now, brat. We’re invisible.’
Kian had intended to use [Mist Form] to survive the impact anyway, but having the barrier subverted was a godsend. It meant he could use his power without risking a single ripple of detection. Kian dissolved into a dark fog, deploying his [Domain] to wrench his momentum from a vertical plummet into a horizontal glide. He and the cage skimmed across the surface of the ocean like a shadow.
’Sentries on the shoreline. Female warrior monks,’ Ukuba’s voice was a rasping whisper. Through Kian’s [Vampire Sight], three distinct pulses of heat and blood throbbed against the dark sand.
’Their discipline is high. They’ll scent us if we get closer. Do you have a plan?’
”I’ll go around,” Kian said.
’Don’t bother. I’ll handle it. Keep moving.’
Before Kian could protest, Ukuba had already finished his work. He wove a fresh set of threads, casting them over the shadows on the beach. There was only a microscopic flicker of power. The invisible threads, masked by high-level concealment, settled onto the women’s heads and slid effortlessly into their ears and nostrils. Their bodies seized for a fraction of a second, then went limp. Then, they jerked back upright, standing with the stiff, mechanical gait of marionettes.
”Is that the [Puppet Thread] too?” Kian asked.
He materialized, his boots hitting the sand with a dull crunch. He looked at the women staring vacantly into the night. Their skin tone suggested they were of the same race as him. “That’s a terrifying power.”
’I’m flattered. But it’s not perfect. Someone with sharp enough instincts will feel it coming, and a truly strong warrior will just blow the threads away before I can take hold.’
Kian walked across the sand toward the hard ground of the interior. Behind him, Isthbaran hit the water with a suppressed splash.
’It’s a trick I perfected back when I was weak. In a perfect world, such things wouldn’t be necessary. Diversity is the true strength of humanity, after all. But… it is convenient.’
”Can you do that to every sentry on this island?”
’It goes against my principles. This was a one-time courtesy.’
”Fine,” Kian said. He reached the three women. With three dull cracks, he snapped their necks. Using his own threads, he reduced the remains to grisly ribbons of meat before sinking them deep into the earth with a burst of soil sorcery.
’I have a question of my own. I permit you to answer.’
”We’re not on a picnic. Keep the chatter to a minimum,” Kian said. He caught Isthbaran’s eye as the armored man emerged from the surf. Together, they began a silent, rapid trot down the military road leading northeast.
’Don’t be like that. This is the first time I’ve had a proper conversation with a human in a century. I silenced the barrier and the guards; the least you can do is indulge me.’
”If we’re busy talking and miss a patrol, we’re dead.”
'[Listening Thread].’
The man extended his ring finger, and a web of shimmering lines fanned out ahead of them.
”What did you do?”
’Sensory expansion. Now we can chat without worrying about anyone sneaking up on us.’
The spider-man drifted alongside Kian. ‘Brat… you’re a warrior monk. I can see it in your form. You must have spent every waking hour swinging a stick like a man possessed, didn’t you?’
’And yet… you are a vampire.’
The eight eyes on his patch swiveled in unison, pinning Kian with a predatory gaze.
”I used [Mist Form] earlier. You aren’t blind.”
’A wraith can use Mist Form. No, I smell the mark of Cain on you. I smell it on that spirit-user, Talia, as well. That bloodline evolved in the briars and snow of the western mountains. I understand her… but you? Why does the blood of Cain run through someone with your skin?’
”I absorbed the factor. If you ever find yourself in a tavern in a port city, you’ll hear the stories. I am the one who hunted down the Demon of Briars.”
’Ahhh…’ Ukuba’s grin split his face wide, and a dry, rasping chuckle bubbled in his throat.
”However, you aren’t just playing host to the Factor³,” Ukuba said. “You’ve completely mutated, reshaped by its shadow influence. Even these mutated cells fall outside any definition of a vampire I’ve ever known. You aren’t weak to sunlight, and you likely won’t be crippled by silver.”
”What makes you think I’m not weak to sunlight?” Kian asked. “Or that silver won’t weaken me?”
”A foolish question. You are in Crete, are you not? And you carry silver coins in your wallet. A vampire wouldn’t touch silver currency. The only things ever excavated from the ruins of the Empire of Night⁴ are copper, gold, or gemstones.”
”I see. Mind if I ask a question of my own?” Kian said.
Kian asked this while running single-mindedly down the dark road. They were moving at a significant clip; already, the steep, snow-dusted slopes were coming into view on his left. That was Gorgon Mountain, home to the Gorgon Temple he had conquered alongside Guria.
”Go ahead,” Ukuba replied. “As long as it’s not about my origins, I’ll answer.”
”You said it’s been a hundred years since you’ve had a conversation. Were you sealed away a century ago?”
”Roughly then,” Ukuba said.
”Then, do you know of Lady Aliona?” Kian asked.
”There are few nobles in the cities surrounding this inland sea who don’t know the name Aliona Gouldrin,” Ukuba said. “At least, that was true in my time.”
The spider-man continued.
”She is a High Elf from a noble house of mages in the northern forest domain. Aliona Gouldrin sold her home village to a pack of elf-hunting rogues and used the blood money to buy her way into human society. Gifted with a talent rare even among elves, she rose to become the chief advisor to the Franz King of that era, Pepin II. She systematically eliminated her political rivals through hexes, poison, and manufactured executions, while simultaneously annihilating external threats with her massive magical power. The King was powerless to oppose her. But when the King died and his son took the throne, Aliona fell from grace and retired to the Frontier.”
”You’re well-informed,” Kian noted.
”That was about twenty years before I earned my own title in Crete,” Ukuba said. “But here in the West, where they don’t record history in writing, her name eventually faded. Asterios, with his bronze statue, is the lone exception.”
”You’re an exception too,” Kian said. “Your infamy still carries weight in Crete, you know.”
”I’m glad to hear it,” Ukuba replied with a dry snicker. “Whether it’s infamy or honor, the fact that a name survives to the next generation means it stood for something. Though it seems I wasn’t famous enough to attract any visitors to the Sea Prison besides you.”
Ukuba cut his words short. He pointed into the darkness ahead. “Hey. Enemies.”
The single road hugging the mountain slope looked empty, with no shadows in sight. But when Kian sharpened his hunter’s instinct at Ukuba’s prompting, he caught the presence of female warrior monks about three kilometers out.
There were a lot of them. A camp had to be nearby.
Isthbaran, who had been carrying the map Talia entrusted to him, caught up from behind.
”My Lord, if we keep going this way, we’ll run straight into the enemy camp,” Isthbaran warned.
”We’ll veer off the road to the left and take the slope,” Kian decided. “If we maintain a gentle curve, we should still hit the target ancient cavern⁵, right?”
”Yes, my lord,” Isthbaran replied.
Isthbaran’s light-blue eyes flashed from behind the slit in his helmet. He shot a quick, piercing look at Ukuba, who was running alongside them. Ukuba didn’t flinch; he just kept his hands in his pockets, his lips curled into a smirk.
”Are you not giving that man a bit too much slack?” Isthbaran asked quietly.
”He’s done nothing but be useful so far,” Kian said. “As long as he’s helping the business, I have no reason to rein him in.”
”If you say so, Sir Kian… Hey, Ukuba,” Isthbaran called out.
”What?” Ukuba replied in the common tongue, sounding bored.
”Watch your tongue,” Isthbaran growled. “If Merchant Guild Kian⁶ is to become a military power, we will require discipline. If you continue to slight Sir Kian in front of the men, I will not tolerate it, even if he chooses to look the other way.”
”I’m more socialized than I look. I did earn a peerage in Crete, after all,” Ukuba said. “I understand discipline perfectly. Laws and mandates are necessary to bind the common rabble. And the rulers themselves, for that matter.”
The half-elf spider-man continued.
”Even for one who masters the martial path, self-discipline is vital. Without it, you can’t forge a body optimized for combat. Likewise, a military-especially one without a hierarchy-lacks the constitution to move swiftly on the battlefield. If I’m to cooperate with this venture, I’ll do what’s required.”
”See that you don’t go back on your word,” Isthbaran said.
”I have an excellent memory. Don’t worry,” Ukuba replied.
Ukuba gave a dry, rattling laugh, then masked his presence and retreated back into the birdcage.
* * *
They had killed three warrior monks back at the Sandy Beach. Apparently, someone had noticed the lack of contact and mobilized a search party; the lights of countless mana lamps were already pouring out from the southern base.
Fortunately, this meant all eyes were diverted away from the ancient cavern on the slope ahead.
Kian and Isthbaran efficiently slaughtered the monks guarding the cavern entrance, buried the remains in the earth, and slipped inside.
The interior was piercingly cold, matching the snow-dusted air outside. There was almost no scent of decay. The target corpses had been laid out in a row deep within the cavern.
Shidarkan’s remains were a grizzly sight. The flesh had been stitched back together, but the man had clearly been hacked to pieces.
Peeling back the mummy-like wrappings from the face, neck, and shoulders revealed a body sliced into neat rounds. It was as if someone had forcibly severed the limbs without any regard for joints. It was Rita’s handiwork, and there wasn’t a trace of mercy to be found. She had gone in with the explicit intent of creating a brutal, disjointed mess.
Kian knew exactly what the killer had been thinking just by looking at the remains.
”Satori will take Shidarkan,” Kian whispered, his breath echoing in the hollow space. He turned back toward the birdcage containing Ukuba and the Conquistador. “You two pick whichever bodies you want. If the flesh is a bit damaged, I can patch it up with my Factor, so it’s not an issue. The scars will vanish, and your physical functions will be boosted to my level. You won’t be limited.”
Even a quick glance showed a variety of options. Men, women, the elderly, and teenagers. Some were likely from the Malc territory; others were from the Shakerdoust army Kian had destroyed.
However, the bodies Kian had produced were mostly beyond repair-either pulverized by blunt force or shredded into mincemeat by his threads.
The bodies Rita had left behind were much higher quality. Most of her kills had been achieved with a single, surgical strike to a vital point with a sharp blade.
”(Gensou… I hate to think it, but you killed your own allies,)” Kian thought.
And then she had abandoned the ones who surrendered to guard the front lines on Cyclops Island. She felt nothing for her compatriots. It was the logic of a cold-blooded killer.
While Kian hunkered down in front of the cleaner corpses, the Conquistador moved toward the body of a giant man lying next to Shidarkan. The giant had likely been Shidarkan’s aide. Judging by the ornaments on his person, he was a sorcerer.
For the purpose of seizing a country, this was an ideal choice.
Kian couldn’t tell if the Conquistador was being considerate of his plans or simply following his own desires. If one no longer had to worry about aging or physical frailty, it made sense to choose a body that came with status, wealth, and fame.
Either way, Kian had no reason to complain.
”Ukuba, what about you?” Kian asked.
”I’ll take this one,” Ukuba said.
The spider-man’s shadow pointed to the corpse of a half-dark elf. He looked like the result of some desert warlord hunting elves and impregnating a captive.
Being a half-elf meant he was sterile, but in this line of work, that was often a convenience. And because of his elven blood, his magical capacity and physical potential were high. His human traits also meant he wouldn’t be instantly killed by mineral poisons.
”He looks like he’s in his late twenties, but there’s no telling his real age,” Kian noted.
Kian crouched by the body Ukuba had chosen. It was dressed in the simple robes of a rank-and-file warrior monk. The scimitar had been stripped away. There were no ornaments or enchanted cloths, suggesting the man hadn’t held any real status.
His magical reserves were an unknown until he was resurrected, but physically, even accounting for the elven frame, he lacked muscle. Compared to the Conquistador’s high-performance pick, Ukuba’s choice seemed irrational.
”We have a little more time. Are you sure about this?” Kian asked.
”Yeah,” Ukuba replied.
”I don’t mean anything by it, but… this body doesn’t exactly smell of money, and he’s hardly a peak specimen,” Kian said. “Plus, you won’t be able to leave any descendants.”
”You’re nagging. I’m well aware of all that,” Ukuba said.
Kian didn’t know what the spider was plotting, but since he insisted, he began re-wrapping the bandages to prepare the body for transport. Behind him, Isthbaran was doing the same for the bodies chosen for Shidarkan and the Conquistador.
”I can feel a powerful resentment clinging to this corpse,” Ukuba said, watching the work with his arms crossed. “A grudge against the very land that gave him life. Besides, if it’s a country you’re looking to steal, you’ve got a professional priest for that. And that pirate over there is starving for wealth, women, and power.”
”Is that a crime?” the Conquistador’s voice boomed.
Back when they fought, he had only screamed his own name, so Kian had assumed that was his only mode of speech.
”Gold, women, fine wine, and vast estates! These are the essential ingredients for enjoying life!” the Conquistador shouted.
”So you picked a body that already has those things,” Ukuba said. “I won’t knock it. When gods or men see an opportunity to rule, they rarely let it slip.”
”Aha! Thucydides! You’re a fan of war history too, then?” the Conquistador asked. “I love the stuff! It makes the heart race!”
”Keep your voices down,” Kian interjected. “The quieter you are, the faster we can get this incarnation over with.”
Kian finished securing the half-elf’s bandages with a few pins. He helped Isthbaran finish the rest, then shouldered the bodies.
”Any fluids leaking?” Kian asked.
”They’re frozen solid. We’re good,” Isthbaran replied.
”Right. Let’s get out of here,” Kian said. “It’s going to be a hell of a hike, but we’re heading up toward the Gorgon Temple.”
”It’s a hornet’s nest down there. Word of Sir Kian slaughtering the patrol has the whole place in an uproar,” Isthbaran replied again.
”I butchered the corpses and buried them,” Kian said. “Unless some freak with a fetish for blood starts digging up Sandy Beach, they won’t find a trace.”
They ended the conversation there and vaulted out of the ancient cavern⁷.
Moving like ghosts, they relied on their raw physical Ability⁸ to scramble up the mountainside like mountain leeches, leaping from rock to jagged rock.
The cavern sat midway up the slope, but as they reached the same ridge as the Gorgon Temple⁹ at the summit, the temperature plummeted. It was a soul-crushing cold, enough to freeze the moisture on their eyelashes.
Kian remembered an open flat before the Gorgon Temple, and they pushed toward it with haste.
Arriving before the ancient temple, where dozens of crumbling stone pillars stood like sentinels, Kian and Isthbaran finally [Stopped]¹⁰. They unceremoniously dumped the corpses they had been hauling.
”You’re performing the Incarnation¹¹ here?” Isthbaran asked.
”Yeah,” Kian replied. “Ukuba and the others have been chomping at the bit. Besides, if we keep lugging Shidarkan and that sorcerer around, they’ll fall apart in their bandages. Or worse, your body heat will melt them into a pile of stinking sludge.”
”If that happens, I’m soaking in a bath for three days,” Isthbaran grumbled. “Once that stench gets in your nose, you can’t taste your damn dinner.”
”Unwrap them. We’ll go in order: Shidarkan, the sorcerer, and then the half-elf Ukuba picked out. That’s the priority for the business ahead.”
’……”────”Heh… heh heh heh…‘
Satori’s human shadow-which had looked like a monkey inside the barrier but now held a human shape-remained silent. The Conquistador followed suit. Ukuba leaned his back against a pillar of the Gorgon Temple, crossing his six arms with a low, mocking laugh.
Without warning, Kian reached out and [Severed]¹² his own right arm.
Gush. Squelch. A rhythmic, heavy splat. A fountain of hot, pressurized gore erupted from the stump.
”Step right up, folks! Everything must go-blood included!”
’Oh! What magnificent bloodletting!’ the Conquistador bellowed. ‘I have never seen a mortal fountain so much life and remain standing! Spectacular!’
’Don’t overdo it and die yet, brat,’ Ukuba hissed. ‘If you’re going to kick the bucket, do it after you’ve let me Incarnate.’
”Sir Kian, that’s probably enough…” Isthbaran said quietly.
”Yeah. Good point.”
Kian [Stopped] the flow and jammed his arm back into place.
Manipulating the defiled fluids, he forced the sludge of blood and essence into Shidarkan’s corpse. Simultaneously, Satori’s spirit form¹³ dove into the vessel. Kian worked the mess like a sculptor kneading wet clay, blending spirit and rot-and soon, the body began to regenerate on its own. A heart gave a wet, heavy thud. Cells screamed back to life.
Witnessing this twisted, demonic miracle, the Conquistador let out a jagged shriek of delight.
”Wake up,” Kian commanded.
”────”
Crimson eyes ignited.
The bandages unspooled as if caught in a phantom wind. The body of the plain Azraelite¹⁴ man rose, his limbs moving with a stiff, unnatural grace as his joints locked into place.
Shidarkan was bone-naked.
Suture marks writhed like maggots under his skin before vanishing entirely.
The now-fleshed Satori-Shidarkan-clenched and unclenched his fists, testing the weight of his new reality. He looked down at his body with eyes like twin voids of black ink.
”────”
He said nothing. He simply snapped his fingers, conjuring a chair out of thin air, and sat down with a casual, predatory elegance, crossing his legs.
As a corpse, he had looked like a pathetic, middle-aged nobody. Now, his gaze held a terrifying, magnetic weight. He stroked his fingers over his face, neatly grooming his beard, before fixing Kian with a thin, inscrutable smile.
”Right. Conquistador, you’re up.”
Kian [Severed] his left arm this time, letting the blood spray in rhythmic pulses.
He repeated the process, binding the Conquistador’s spirit form into the waiting meat.
”Hah! Hahaha! CONQUISTADOOOOOR! Flesh! I can feel the wind! God, it’s freezing! I love it! World, take note-I HAVE RETURNED!”
The Conquistador’s spirit had been a bloated thing, and the body he possessed was no different-an older man with a prominent gut. Yet, the limbs were corded with the dense, explosive muscle of a veteran warrior monk. With Kian’s factor¹⁵ surging through him, his physical limits had been shattered.
”And finally… you.”
Kian turned away from the Conquistador, who was still grinning like a madman under his mustache.
Ukuba flickered, vanishing from his pillar and reappearing instantly beside Kian, staring down at the half-elf’s corpse.
”I’ll warn you again,” Kian said. “There might be some… equipment issues downstairs. You sure about this?”
’How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t care,’ Ukuba growled. ‘If I need a prick later, I’ll sew one on. Now quit stalling and bring me back.’
Kian nodded. He used his ‘Threads’¹⁶ to lop off both arms this time, drenching the clearing in a sea of blood.
Being a half-elf, the vessel was sturdy; it could handle the massive influx of power without detonating. Kian pumped nearly ten liters of his essence into the body, twisting and warping the anatomy as he went.
Ukuba slid into the shell, his entry marked by the sickening crack-pop of bone realigning.
The once-slender half-elf youth began to distort, his frame swelling with unnatural muscle until he was built like a silver-haired gorilla. Without Kian even trying, Ukuba began to manifest his own changes-complex sorcery sigils burned themselves into his bare chest like glowing, obsidian tattoos.
The patterns were jagged, alien, and completely different from the marks on Kian’s own arm.
”Wake up.”
”Ggg-hhaaa…”
With a series of violent, metallic-sounding cracks, the half-elf-now standing as tall as Kian-rose to his feet. He threw his arms wide and inhaled the mountain air with a rasping shudder.
”Air… after all these centuries. This cold in my lungs… this is what it means to be alive.”
He flicked his thumbs, and obsidian ‘Threads’ hissed into existence.
”Suture threads.”
While Kian, Isthbaran, Satori, and the Conquistador watched, Ukuba calmly sewed his own eyelids shut. He reached out, alchemizing the discarded bandages into a strip of black, cursed cloth, and tied it firmly over his blinded eyes.
”Not bad, kid,” Ukuba said.
”Yeah. Everyone’s parts working?” Kian asked.
”They’ll do.”
Before Satori or the Conquistador could chime in, Ukuba turned his back on Kian.
”I’m going to go see what the world has to offer. Follow me if you want, kid, but get in my way and I’ll put you back in the ground.”
—
Summary:
Kian and Isthbaran infiltrate Cyclops Island via a high‑altitude dive, with the spider‑spirit Ukuba subverting the enemy’s detection barrier so they land undetected; Kian then ruthlessly eliminates sentries while reflecting on his vampiric nature and Cain‑linked lineage.
The group raids an ancient cavern on Gorgon Mountain to retrieve corpses for the spirits in Kian’s birdcage, during which Ukuba divulges secrets about Aliona Gouldrin and the West’s political landscape before they choose bodies for herself and the Conquistador to possess.
Atop the Gorgon Temple summit, Kian uses his immense blood reserves and regeneration to serve as the vessel in a resurrection ritual, successfully returning Satori (Shidarkan), the Conquistador, and Ukuba to the physical world in mutated, greatly enhanced forms.
—
Trivia:
- The mention of Crete’s sunken fleet in the harbor as a strategic obstacle.
- Kian’s self-consciousness about his hairline hindering certain metabolic ability training.
- The fact that Ukuba silenced the barrier by rewriting its code, not just bypassing it.
- Kian’s shift away from Warrior Monk techniques toward raw vampiric physicality.
- The specific skin-tone comparison between Kian and the sentries he killed.
- Kian is not weak to silver or sunlight because of his mutation.
- Vampires in this world do not use silver coins.
- Aliona Gouldrin sold her own village to rogues.
- The West lacks a tradition of written historical records.
- Rita (Gensou) killed her own allies to create the corpses in the cavern.
- The Conquistador’s speech was previously limited to shouting his name.
- Ukuba chose a half-elf corpse specifically for its ‘lingering resentment’.
- Kian’s blood has a ‘factor’ that causes biological mutations in the vessels.
- Ukuba has six arms in his spirit form but inhabits a two-armed half-elf body.
- The ritual temperature is extreme enough to freeze eyelashes.
- Shidarkan’s vessel was a ‘featureless’ Azraelite male before resurrection.
- Ukuba sews his own eyes shut immediately after awakening
—
Character Insight:
Kian is becoming increasingly detached and pragmatic, viewing his human techniques as obsolete tools compared to his monster-like efficiency. His cold execution of sentries and ‘dicing’ them highlights his darkening moral compass.
Kian shows a high level of pragmatic ruthlessness, even suspecting his ally Rita of killing her own men, yet he continues his business venture. Ukuba shows a preference for emotional depth (resentment) over raw power when choosing a new body.
Kian displays a reckless disregard for his own physical integrity to achieve his goals, treating his limbs as disposable tools. Ukuba shows immediate independence and a threatening demeanor toward his savior, establishing a fragile alliance.
—
Behind the Scenes:
The ‘Demon of Briars’ refers to a significant past conquest that gave Kian his Cain-lineage factors, a core plot point in the series’ world-building regarding bloodlines.
The mention of Thucydides highlights the author’s use of real-world classical historians to anchor the intellectual interests of the spirits.
The term ‘Incarnation’ (Juniku) carries heavy theological weight in Japanese, often referring to a spirit taking on flesh, fitting the dark fantasy setting.
—
TL Notes:
Notes:
• Kian – The protagonist—a vampire exile from Azrael with super-hearing, now Chairman of the Kian Merchant Guild. A pragmatic wanderer in poverty for a decade, he mediates between the Western Church and Crete. High-minded warrior to some, threat to others; accompanied by Priscilla and Homolka, dressed simply in black coat over plain clothes.
• Isthbaran – The High Warlord of the ‘Storm Herd.’ Now, a companion equipped with Silver Ice heavy armor. Accompanies Kian during the high-altitude infiltration. A loyal knight/warrior serving under Kian. Wears a helmet with a slit revealing light-blue eyes. Highly disciplined and protective of Kian’s authority. Kian’s companion who assists in transporting corpses. Concerned with hygiene and the practicalities of the journey.
• Camilla – A woman; the subject of the chapter; her body was used to seal Erynys’ soul.
• Mag – The wolfwoman under Yelmar—the one who was caught by Kian’s group earlier.
• Ukuba – An “Evil Spirit” and non‑ordinary half‑elf with mixed blood, he now dwells in a birdcage replica as a six‑armed spider‑man spirit, taking over a half‑elf youth whose body has warped into a muscular, gorilla‑like frame covered in obsidian sorcery tattoos. He sews his own eyes shut but wears an eyepatch with eight swiveling eyes, speaks in death threats, and exercises a heavy, oppressive presence, wielding Puppet Threads and Listening Threads to control and spy as a cynical, history‑wise being seething with resentment.
• Conquistador – A spirit possessing the body of an elderly, overweight man. Despite his gut, he has the explosive muscles of a veteran warrior monk.
• Satori – A spirit previously in the form of an ape within a barrier, now stabilized into a featureless Azraelite male body named Shidarkan. Has pitch-black eyes.
• Talia – A high-ranking vampire spirit currently possessing the body of Lyritisse. In this form, she has flaxen hair, blue eyes, and thick lips.
• Guria – Princess of Crete. Tall silhouette. Wears a white dress with exposed shoulders and cleavage, and a laurel wreath. Defensive of Kian.
• Ali – The oldest of the elite warrior monk trio, referred to as General Ali.
• 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.
• 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.
• 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.
Please bookmark this series and rate ☆☆☆☆☆ on here!
Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
Leave a Reply