Volume 4 Chapter 76 Blood Art Magic Armor
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”How many warrior monks¹ constitute the core of the enemy’s strength?”
Once the resonance of Asterios’s—or rather, Kian’s—buffoonish voice subsided, Lady Priscilla spoke, her lips drawn tight as she fought back a laugh. To Sir Scipio and the others, who remained oblivious to the truth, her gesture appeared to be a stern, imposing expression.
Scipio’s countenance shifted from irritation to a mask of formal sobriety as he turned toward Lady Priscilla with practiced courtesy.
”I must offer my deepest apologies. I cannot provide an exact count at this time,” Scipio said. “The difficulty lies in the fact that our intelligence operatives cannot distinguish between veteran warrior monks who have undergone orthodox training at the monastery and those who are mere makeshift recruits based on external observation alone. However, regarding the number of regular warrior monks, we can deduce a reliable estimate from the records of Azrael war history².”
The ‘bespectacled’ half-elf distributed high-quality parchment documents, which he seemed to have prepared in advance, to Kian and Lady Priscilla. The papers meticulously detailed various famous historical wars waged by the likes of Umar, Mansoor, and Nizaam.
(I’m stunned. He has an incredibly precise grasp of Azrael’s military annals…)
’Can you tell?’
A telepathic query reached him from Talia, who sat motionless beside him. While she held the capacity to dredge up Kian’s memories, she respected his feelings enough to avoid his cringeworthy childhood secrets whenever possible.
(Yeah. It almost perfectly aligns with what I studied at the monastery. He truly lives up to his reputation as a graduate of the Nile Academy³. Whatever his practical abilities may be, Scipio is a remarkably diligent man.)
”Shall I grant you some time to peruse these materials, Lady Priscilla?” Scipio asked.
”I am already well-versed in Azrael’s war history. After all, the history of our Chatillon Count’s House is synonymous with the history of our struggle against Azrael.”
”If I recall correctly, was the very inception of Chatillon not intertwined with Azrael’s acts of piracy?”
”Indeed. My late father amassed a colossal fortune by procuring blood-stained goods from Azrael warships at rock-bottom prices and brokering them to the Western nations… but well, that is a tale for another time,” Lady Priscilla said with a wry smile, pushing the documents back toward the center of the table.
”So, what say you? Do you believe, as the records claim, that regular warrior monks constitute a full third of their forces, Sir Scipio?”
”Precisely.” Scipio pointed toward Cyclops Island on the map. “Nile possesses ten thousand. Shidarkan, eight thousand. The remnants of Mansoor and Vahid’s forces combined total roughly five thousand.”
”Is that not a bit excessive?” Lady Priscilla asked, her brow furrowing slightly. “I find it hard to credit that there are so many graduates from Azrael’s ‘Hidden Monastery’…”
”I suspect the total number of regular warrior monks accumulated over several decades is quite substantial. However, as you have correctly observed, the number of those capable of completing the full monastery curriculum in a single year is minuscule. Consequently… Snap! Once we annihilate the enemy’s core warrior monks, there will be no chance for recovery.”
Scipio clapped his hands together sharply while gripping his pointer.
”General Asterios bestows the lightning of Zeus upon the Order of the Lightning Knights⁴. Clad in the thunder of Zeus, the warriors of our army are matchless; upon a rain-slicked deck, they are unrivaled under the heavens. A single man is capable of incinerating an entire enemy warship. If you desire, I can demonstrate the power of Asterios at the training grounds.”
”Ah, another glass of grape juice, please… Eh? Me too, mo?”
’It’s “I,” not “Me,” you pig.’
(I’m a bull, you know.)
”Pfft, haha, ha…”
”Lady Priscilla?” Scipio asked, appearing bewildered.
”No, no… I do not doubt the prowess of a hero from myth,” Lady Priscilla said, masking her amusement. “I actually observed the invasion of ‘Fire Island’ over a decade ago with my brother, Count Guy. It happened to be during the break for the Royal Capital Academy.”
”Oh, is that so! In truth, I also attended the Franz Royal Capital Academy. Could it be that you are my senior…?”
”It would seem so. I believe our periods of enrollment overlapped to some extent.”
Lady Priscilla’s eyes, as dark and deep as the abyss of the sea, widened as sharp fangs peeked out from lips painted a blood-red hue.
”The truth is, I have had my eye on General Asterios since that very time. I thought his power was truly magnificent. My brother was captivated by the General’s armaments, while I… I was enchanted by his immortal, valiant heart.”
”Huh…? Hahaha, well, I suppose the sight of heroic blue lightning seen in one’s youth does tend to linger in the heart,” Scipio said.
”With the strength of General Asterios, Crete shall enjoy eternal peace. I am certain it will never be swallowed by any rival power. Chatillon shall place its stakes upon your victory.”
Lady Priscilla offered a brief disclaimer—”Forgive me, my skin is quite delicate, so I cannot remove my gloves”—before shaking hands with Scipio.
”I wish you the very best in your endeavors. However… I beg of you, do not lose the opening battle. The Western Church will undoubtedly withdraw its support if Crete collapses at the first hurdle.”
”…Where did you hear such a thing?”
”Guy’s wife is the daughter of a cardinal. Besides, I have numerous other channels of information.”
”────”
”Lady Priscilla, Sir Scipio, it is nearly noon. We have prepared a banquet in the adjoining chamber. If you would care to quench your thirst with some Crete wine, we can continue our discussion during the festivities,” Official Balinars said, interjecting with a cheerful smile as he stepped in beside the visibly shaken Scipio.
It is a truly frightening realization how a meeting can devour time until the lunch hour arrives, even when nothing of substance has been said.
Kian, forced by Asterios’s personality to boisterously cheer, “Mo! Grub, grub! Banquet time!” sighed inwardly, desperate to return home as quickly as possible.
* * *
Kian did not remain until the conclusion of the dinner in his Asterios form. As they had arranged, he provided Scipio with a vague excuse midway through and slipped away from the banquet hall alongside Talia.
Since even more critical discussions regarding Crete’s strategy were to follow the feast, Talia, Kian’s confidante, and the supposedly disruptive Asterios were destined to be shut out regardless. Departing of their own accord was more efficient and prevented them from being held back by the Crete faction. Had they remained passive, there was even a chance that Guria, who was assisting with the assembly of combat golems on ‘Grass Island’, might have been summoned as well.
”General Asterios.”
As the girls of the Order of the Lightning Knights were escorting Kian and Talia to the outer corridor of the castle, Lady Priscilla called out from behind, having apparently hurried to catch up with them.
”I’d like to speak with the two of you in private for a moment, if that’s alright?” Lady Priscilla asked.
”I don’t mind, mo. You female bodyguards, it’s fine, mo. I’m not the type to fly into a rage and murder an envoy, nmo. Look into these eyes and see the light of reason, mo-u!”
”The balcony over there is vacant,” a dwarf knight girl said, gesturing toward the end of the white marble corridor.
Deep purple tropical blossoms were planted in costly-looking Eastern pots, swaying in the breeze that billowed through the open balcony.
”General Asterios, it is chilly outside. Your cloak,” Talia said.
”Unnecessary. We’ll be back in a flash, so stay here and wait, Talia. …Lady Priscilla, over here, mo-u.”
”Pfft, hehehe… Yes, yes.”
Kian stepped onto the balcony with Lady Priscilla, who had draped a fur coat over her dress. After verifying that Talia was making idle conversation with the bodyguard girls, he turned back to the white-haired witch.
”What is your business with me, mo?”
”I’m sorry to bother you when you’re so busy. I simply wanted to express my gratitude.”
”Oh.”
Lady Priscilla brushed past Kian and leaned her elbows on the balcony railing, gazing out at the Crete town or street scape illuminated by the brilliant sunlight.
”Thank you for staying by my side without saying a word.”
”No… Adventurers live by an ironclad code. One of those rules is not prying into a client’s personal affairs, nmo.”
”If Crete loses, the responsibility is mine. It isn’t Lord Kian’s fault. If I’m forcing you into a situation where you have to desperately clean up my mess, that isn’t what I intended. I want you to feel free to escape without a second thought. I’ll shoulder all the infamy myself,” Lady Priscilla said.
”I cannot allow that. Besides, my reputation has grown far too large for me to simply vanish.”
”I’m sorry.” Lady Priscilla bit her lip, her eyes darting with uncertainty.
Judging by the circumstantial evidence, she was likely attempting to resurrect Renaud. She seemed painfully aware that her wish—one that defied the laws of nature—was causing distress to those around her. Initially, the burden had fallen only on her kin like Count Guy and Fhana, but now the shadow of her selfish actions was impacting Kian, an outsider. Having left her laboratory to actually interact with the people she was manipulating, she was clearly plagued by the fear that what she was doing was fundamentally wrong.
”No matter what happens, I am your ally, Lady Priscilla, nmo.”
”Eh…”
Kian peered down at Lady Priscilla with a serious bull-like expression and repeated himself. “No matter what happens, I will help you, Lady Priscilla.”
”Lo… Lord Kian…”
She was isolated now, the inevitable result of her fixation on the deceased Renaud. Her loved ones were trying to support her, but because she harbored such dark thoughts, an impassable wall had been erected. In all likelihood, only Kian—someone who knew just enough of the situation but wasn’t as close as Guy, Fhana, or Louis—could stand by her, even if only for a moment.
That was why he felt the urge to save her heart before overthinking the consequences.
”Thank you… sniff… thank you…”
”It’s quite alright. I cannot truly share the burden of your feelings, but even so, please don’t forget that you have a man named Kian you can rely on, nmo.”
”Yeah… yeah…”
”You’ll ruin your lovely makeup. Please, do not cry. Let me see that charming smile of yours.”
”Okay…”
Kian closed the distance to Lady Priscilla and pulled her into an embrace without a moment’s hesitation. Then, bull mask notwithstanding, he pressed his lips to hers. Lady Priscilla did not pull away; she met his kiss and responded.
(A kiss with Lady Priscilla tastes of lemons. It’s a completely different sensation from Ms. Aliona or Lyritisse. The citrus freshness completely masks the scent of her saliva. A marvelous harmony.)
He felt as though his lower half was about to become rock-hard.
”Thank you for everything. I know I’m the one in the wrong here, and I shouldn’t be trying to win your sympathy like this… but the truth is, I haven’t been able to truly smile for the past six months,” Lady Priscilla said.
”Is that so?”
”But today, seeing Lord Kian’s shameful display… it was the first time in forever I laughed from the bottom of my heart. Thank you. …I love you, Lord Kian.”
Lady Priscilla squeezed Kian in a powerful hug.
Realizing they were within the castle of Crete, the fear of being discovered made his heart—and his p*nis—throb. It was as if a new fetish for public exposure was being awakened within him.
”Mwah, mwah, mwah. Love you! Love you! Love you! I love you so much! Let’s get married!”
”I love you as well. If you are willing to abandon Chatillon Count’s House, I wouldn’t mind marrying you.”
”Ahaha~ that’s impossible!” Lady Priscilla gave him a mischievous wink and then pulled away from Kian with a look of lingering regret.
”General Asterios.”
”Gah.”
A voice colder than absolute zero drifted from behind Lady Priscilla. Lifting his gaze from her lovely face, he saw the expressionless Talia standing in the balcony doorway.
”Ah… uh, well…”
Lady Priscilla shyly wiped a smear of rouge from her lips with her thumb. She then used a perfume-scented handkerchief to gently dab the mouth of the bull mask.
”Talia, I thought I told you to wait?” Kian asked.
”I did, but Lord Blumer came out searching for Lady Priscilla,” Talia said, gesturing behind her with her thumb. Since the balcony was enclosed by white walls rather than glass like Oswald’s manor in Ramsey, the outer corridor was hidden from view, but the pulsing magic power of that gloomy seaweed-headed man was unmistakable.
”Ah… Sorry, I have to get back now.”
”Take care, nmo, Lady Priscilla.”
”Who are you even saying that to? For that matter, what am I supposed to be taking care of?”
’Of the forbidden necromancy you’re dabbling in,’ he wanted to say, but he swallowed the words.
Returning to the corridor, Kian and Talia watched Lady Priscilla’s retreating figure as she hurriedly followed Blumer back to the reception chamber.
”Uh, Talia?”
”What?”
”…Did you see?”
Because of the white wall, Talia, who had been waiting in the corridor, shouldn’t have been able to see what Kian and Lady Priscilla were doing. However, he asked anyway, sensing something ominous in the air. Talia tilted her head, her expression blank.
”See what, exactly?”
”No… if you didn’t see anything, then never mind.”
(Thank goodness. It seems my cheating wasn’t discovered. …Cheating? Talia is one of my wives, and Priscilla is a mistress… ah, yeah, that’s definitely cheating. That was a close call. Safe, safe.)
Talia exchanged a glance with the girl knights waiting nearby, then bowed formally to Kian and gestured toward the path leading out of the castle.
Every one of her movements was remarkably elegant and refined, lending credibility to the idea that she was the magician charged with managing Asterios.
* * *
Kian used a vague excuse to decline the offer from the Order of the Lightning Knights to escort them back to ‘Grass Island’. Talia was the one who handled the actual persuasion. Kian, who remained in character as Asterios by waiting haughtily at a scenic overlook on the bridge, had no idea what she had said to convince them. Regardless, for some reason, the knight girls agreed to let the dangerous Asterios roam free outside the castle.
It was truly the work of Talia Magic.
”Chairman, do you require some medicine to clear your head?”
”No, I’m fine.”
In a narrow back alley tucked away from the main thoroughfare in front of the castle, Kian replied to the secretary-mode Talia’s mechanical voice and cast aside his toga.
Asterios has a powerful body odor, so even with the toga scented with flowers, it would become quite pungent after just an hour of wear. He received fresh undergarments and a new toga from Talia and changed with haste.
”Our next stop is Ms. Rita’s apartment to finalize the mercenary contract. The carriage is already waiting. Once that is done, shall we send her ahead to ‘Grass Island’…?”
”Yeah. Let’s provide her with the boat fare and have her take the evening ferry over. We have to perform Astrology tonight, so we can’t bring her back with us on the Chin-Chin⁵.”
”Understood.”
”…Hey, why is your tone still so formal? There’s nobody watching us.”
Kian scanned the early afternoon alleyway, finding it devoid of even a single cat. The gap between the high white walls was barely a meter wide. While the property on either side was private, there was no sign of human presence. Talia continued to alternate between launching bird-shaped golems and letting them land on her hand as she gave a curt response.
”It doesn’t matter. I am free to speak in whatever manner I choose.”
”Well, yes, but it makes things difficult for me.”
”Someone might be listening. You simply need to endure it.”
”────”
She was cold. But Talia’s coldness toward Kian was nothing new. Feeling a twinge of sadness, Kian gave a nod. “I understand.”
”……. …Haaaa. My apologies. I’ll stop. This is far too childish of me. So please, don’t look so miserable.”
”I don’t look miserable.”
”Of course not. In that case, I’ll speak more informally to help you cheer up.” Talia gave a wry smile and raised her empty right hand. “Wait. I’m out of birds. …Honestly, this emotion is quite pleasant, but it’s dulling my efficiency…”
”WHAAAT!?”
”What is it, you pig-shlong. Don’t suddenly shriek in my ear, it’s deafening,” Talia said, looking at him with suspicion. Meanwhile, Kian was staring in disbelief at the scene that had just unfolded.
Incredibly—Talia had just synthesized the bird-type golem she always kept by her side from the gravel on the ground in less than a second.
(No way… I distinctly remember when we fought the beastmen legion in Ramsey, even a specialist like Sarah couldn’t produce golems at all, and we were left short-handed.)
Each one was typically handmade. Even a single beetle would take at least several hours to complete. Yet, Talia had produced a bird golem—which surely required intricate magic circuits for flight—instantly, without even appearing to concentrate.
It was as if she were merely conjuring a ‘Stone Spear’.
He had noticed her synthesizing whatever tools she needed from thin air before, but this was on a different level entirely. It wasn’t just a matter of being faster at constructing circuits; it was a fundamental difference in scale. Kian watched in a daze as the bird golem took flight into the blue sky like a living creature.
”I thought the number of those birds was growing on its own… but you were making them on the spot!?” Kian asked.
”What else could it have been…”
”No, but. I was under the impression it took Sarah five hours just to build one beetle golem.”
”A beetle? You mean this?” Talia snapped her fingers.
Instantly, the soil behind her surged upward, and Sarah’s beetle golem—a sight he hadn’t seen in ages—burst into existence with a thud.
”……!?!?!?”
”Our kind hones their own unique special abilities over their long lifespans. You’ve already heard this from that girl, haven’t you?”
”Ah, yeah.” Kian gave a nod, staring in shock as the massive beetle collapsed back into gravel. “An ‘Authority’, was it?”
”Exactly. You are aware that everyone of our race can use basic abilities like manipulating their hair, transforming claws into blades, or using sound waves from the mouth to command specific animals.”
”Yeah.”
Talia rested her hands on her slender hips and continued in a level voice. “When you spend a hundred or two hundred years by your calendar refining those abilities, they sublimate into ‘special abilities’ that are indistinguishable from high-level magic—or even surpass it. That is what we collectively refer to as Blood Art⁶, a unique authority.”
”So manipulating hair or claws is a common ‘authority’ anyone of the race can use…”
”Yes. Creating a servant by infusing them with body fluids is also one of those.”
”And the ones that are polished from those basic ‘authorities’ over centuries…”
”Those are the Blood Arts. Unique authorities that only long-lived individuals can wield.”
Kian tapped his chin. “Wait. Now that I think about it, ‘Glasses’ pulled out spirit weapons like ‘Water Moon’ and called them ‘Blood Art Armaments’.”
”Mm. My soul was used to give that girl existence, and her body was formed from blood my father took directly from me. It wouldn’t be surprising if she could use abilities akin to mine.”
”Then what is your specific ability?”
”My authority is to analyze the structure of anything I observe or experience and record it within my blood. And then, to replicate it at will. Among my own kind, it was known as Blood Art Magic Armor⁷.”
”—!!”
”Yes. To put it in more casual terms, it’s a copy ability.” She pointed toward a vine trailing down a house wall. The plant unraveled into fibers like thread being pulled apart and was woven together at high speed, transforming into a high-quality white handkerchief. It looked identical to the one she had used to wipe Elder Gaius’s face that morning. “However, I cannot replicate things perfectly. Depending on the material available or my own interpretation during the process, the performance can be significantly inferior to the original.”
”Hmm…? Hmm? Somehow, that disclaimer makes it hard to tell if this is an incredible ability or not.”
”Every ability depends on its wielder. I have no interest in how others choose to judge it.” Talia spoke with quiet dignity as she used magic to tear the handkerchief into pieces. “If you compare it to the other members of our race you’ve met, maybe you’ll understand if it’s impressive or not?”
”Well, for instance, Mr. Owl was commanding a vast number of Cain-type monsters. He used sound waves to do it. I saw him in the outskirts of Chatillon.”
”Tobal Cain isn’t strictly of our race. Therefore, he technically falls outside the narrow definition of Blood Art.” Talia took Kian’s hand and started walking toward the main street. “But in the broader sense, it is Blood Art. Tobal Cain specialized in the ability to manipulate low-intelligence creatures with sound. By honing that over several centuries, he sublimated it into the ability to command an entire legion of lower-rank bloodsucking kind.”
”I see.” Kian nodded, intrigued. “So, for example, if I were to spend the next century obsessively practicing the fine mincing of onions, is there a chance it could become a Blood Art in the broad sense?”
”What kind of bizarre example is that? …Pfft, …Hehe… Wait, stop. I’m actually starting to picture it. Minced onions appearing in an instant the moment someone hands you an onion… Hehehe.”
”Am I wrong?”
”No, no. Hehehe.” Talia shook her head, her laughter turning into a soft giggle. “The basic nuance is something like that. They’re given impressive names like Blood Art or Authority, but in the end, it’s just a matter of someone spending a long time on something until their specialty becomes an ‘ultra-specialty’. Our ancestors likely spread those grand-sounding names just to boast of their superiority over other races.” She then looked up at Kian with a wide, radiant smile. “Anyone who focuses their Blood Art purely on combat is either a complete lunatic or comes from a broken home. Minced onions… I like it. I think peaceful special skills like that are wonderful.”
”I only said it as an example.”
”I love that you even come up with things like that,” Talia said, suddenly pivoting on her heel and stealing a kiss from his lips. It happened to be the exact spot where Lady Priscilla’s lips had been lingering so persistently.
(It tastes like strawberries!)
”…Once we’re in the carriage, I’m going to give your promiscuous junk a good kicking. If you finish, you’ll have to meet Rita smelling like a total mess. Try your best to hold it in, you pig.”
”—-!!”
She whispered the sweet words directly into his ear. He hadn’t been particularly aroused before, but her whisper caused a distinct bulge in his crotch.
In the end, Kian, who was utterly defenseless against the stimulation of her tights-clad feet, had Talia perform oral sex on him in the carriage to settle matters.
* * *
They arrived at the apartment building where Rita lived and stepped out of the carriage. By that time, the sun had already begun to take on a rich, deep amber hue. In front of the weathered two-story apartment, which appeared to be at least twenty years old, a large group of the Order of the Lightning Knights members in civilian attire was gathered.
In the center of the throng was Rita, the fox beastman, also dressed in civilian clothes. Her white ears were drooping dejectedly, and she appeared to be at a complete loss.
”—Lord Kian.”
”Good afternoon, Ms. Rita.”
”I received your letter. I have no objections to relocating to your base. I have already packed my essential belongings.”
”Wait a second, Lord Kian. Can’t you wait a bit before taking Rita away?” a girl knight with a short haircut, an old acquaintance, called out as she strode forward and glared up at Kian. “We haven’t even had a proper chance to say goodbye. And now we hear she’s going to be fighting on the front lines as your mercenary!”
”…Master Kian, is it true that you intend to use Rita as nothing more than a disposable pawn?”
”Ms. Amora.”
Kian looked down at the girl from the Steel Tiger Tribe, whose lower body was wrapped in thick bandages. Having sustained grave injuries during Mansoor’s raid, she was apparently unable to walk and was confined to a wheelchair. He recalled that her family was quite wealthy; her expensive-looking wheelchair was being pushed by a girl who appeared to be an attendant. This girl also possessed the refined air of a ‘well-bred young lady’.
”I will not treat her as a pawn. However… she will be charged with the task of blunting the enemy’s initial momentum on the beaches of ‘Underworld Island’, where the Shidarkan forces are expected to make their first landing.”
”That’s exactly what a pawn is!”
”Lord Kian, that’s terrible. You’re the worst.”
”Uh, well…” (I’ll be fighting right alongside her, so she isn’t a pawn.)
”Everyone, please stop attacking Lord Kian. This is what I requested,” Rita said, quietly nudging aside the short-haired girl knights and stepping in front of Kian. “I am a traitor. I was under Azrael’s influence. This is a just conclusion.”
”What do you mean, traitor? What exactly did you even do?!”
”Vice-Commander Medea and the others are just saying whatever they want!”
”Does your past even matter? Rita, you’ve saved my life more times than I can count. You’re one of our comrades!”
”You are no longer my comrades.” Rita spat the words out with icy finality. “I am no longer a member of the Order. I am a stranger to you now. Please leave me be.”
”────”
”……!?”
Amora, clutching the blood-stained bandages on her lower abdomen, spoke with a strained voice. The rowdy crowd instantly fell silent. “Then… why… why are you standing on Crete’s side to fight on the front lines?”
”It is for the Princess. And to repay Crete for the kindness they have shown me.”
”It’s more than just kindness! How many years have we spent together?!”
”Hey, Rita? I understand your feelings. And I know we can’t stop you.” Amora reached out and gripped Rita’s sleeve as if clinging to it for support. Seeing this, Rita seemed to be struck by a memory; her eyes widened, and then tears slowly began to pool in them. “But at the very least, could you let us see you off one last time? You haven’t actually signed the mercenary contract yet, have you?”
”Chairman, now that I think about it, we have other matters to attend to,” Talia said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I believe it would be fine to pick up Ms. Rita tomorrow instead.”
”True.”
”Lord Kian… is it alright?”
”I can’t very well say no after seeing this. Please, enjoy your final night together with everyone.”
”…I am deeply grateful.”
(I’m definitely the villain here…) Kian looked at the group embracing Rita with a thoroughly troubled expression. Residents passing by on the street were staring as if wondering what the commotion was about, and he worried that strange rumors might start to spread.
”Hey, Talia. Maybe hiring Rita was a mistake.”
”Do you want to cancel, then?” they whispered to one another, stepping away from the circle of girls. If he said he was canceling now, Rita would probably be the one to snap—just as he was thinking this, Amora, the tiger beastman girl in the wheelchair, approached them.
”Ms. Amora, I’m glad to see you’re able to be out and about.”
”Truly, I am only able to be out and about.”
They shared a history of having raped and been raped. However, whether Amora felt no sense of debt to Kian for the incident or not, she didn’t mention it and simply gave a bow. “I’m sorry for taking your time. Thank you.”
”No, no. It’s quite alright. More importantly, I happened to meet your husband this morning. Even though his wife is going through such a difficult time, why is he still at work?” He had started the conversation with what he intended as casual small talk, but it seemed he had stepped squarely on a landmine; Amora’s face contorted significantly, quite apart from the pain of her wounds.
”Ah… eh?”
”He… Sir Scipio is no longer my fiancé.”
”My lady.”
”It’s alright.” Gently waving off her servant who was pushing the wheelchair, she stroked her own lower abdomen with a look of despair so deep she seemed as if she might commit suicide at any moment. “I have no sensation from the waist down. And… I have lost the ability to conceive a child. I can no longer be of any use to that man. Therefore, I requested to dissolve the engagement myself.”
”What…”
Bewilderment upon bewilderment. Talia let out a heavy sigh behind Kian, who had done nothing but step on landmines all day long.
—
Summary:
Following a strategic meeting, Kian and Lady Priscilla share an intimate moment on a balcony where she confesses her love. Talia demonstrates her unique ‘Blood Art Magic Armor’ by synthesizing golems and objects instantly from ambient materials. The recruitment of Rita as a mercenary is complicated by an emotional farewell from her former knight comrades. Kian learns of the tragic dissolution of Amora’s engagement to Sir Scipio due to her debilitating injuries.
—
Character Insight:
Lady Priscilla displays a fragile vulnerability, seeing Kian as her only true confidant amidst her dark secrets. Talia reveals a dual nature: her immense, ancient power as a long-lived being contrasted with her petty, human-like jealousy. Amora shows a heartbreaking stoicism, prioritizing Scipio’s career and social standing over her own heart by severing their bond after her physical ‘utility’ is lost.
—
T/L:
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.
• 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.
• Talia – A high-ranking vampire spirit currently possessing the body of Lyritisse. In this form, she has flaxen hair, blue eyes, and thick lips.
• 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.
• Louis – Trusted subordinates from the Châtillon family, part of Guy’s elite force.
• Mag – The wolfwoman under Yelmar—the one who was caught by Kian’s group earlier.
• Amora – Scipio’s fiance, and the knight of crete.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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