WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Hydrogen B

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 438: Heaven-Defying Trial - 6

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Just before the Church of the Earth Mother fell and the Sanctum's faith spread far and wide, countless beliefs existed throughout the world. Beliefs that sought to move toward a radiant future.

Then, amid war, belief turned to cynicism.

No belief saved them.

No prayer eased their pain.

No teaching gave them an answer.

The monks, once considered a branch of the Church of the Earth Mother but in truth barely related to it, looked upon the world and groaned. Some chose to turn their backs on that filthy secular world and live in seclusion. Others could not stand by and entered the world to ease suffering. They preached their teachings and guided those weary with pain.

...But war did not spare the ascetics either. Monks who lived by principles and doctrines different from those of the secular world clashed with people wherever they went. If not for martial monks trained over many years, they would have become no different from the common folk consumed by the flames of war.

The secular world was filthy and cruel. The ascetics who had descended with great ambitions became disillusioned and despairing. Some returned to the mountains, while others were stained by the secular world and built up influence for themselves. They had come from the same root but split into two factions. Their paths differed so greatly that condemning one another was inevitable.

The martial monks, who had once stood together and endured hardship, gradually weakened as they fought one another as enemies. One side condemned those stained by the secular world as fallen monks, while the secular world called the others hypocrites who merely stood aside and pretended to be noble. The friction between the two factions steadily grew.

Unlike their united faith, their pain and worries only multiplied.

"To treat a disaster bearing Tyrkanzyaka's name that way simply because she looks like a young girl is the folly of one who turns away from the essence. This humble monk will break the precepts and tell you this."

Dogo, once one of the fallen monks stained by the secular world, grew skeptical of teachings that had lost their meaning and decided to cast himself into even greater anguish.

"Progenitor Tyrkanzyaka. This humble monk does not know what you are. But it is said that vampires feel neither pain nor worry. By the sound of it, that is the state of liberation we seek."

He decided to devote himself to the Night Nobles, the vampires.

"I do not know whether liberation granted without anguish, contemplation, asceticism, or training has any value. Yet that too may be an ordeal. This humble monk wishes to enter an even greater trial through this body."

Every Elder was a thrall of the Progenitor. That did not necessarily mean they all shared the Progenitor's will.

"Make this humble monk a vampire. In return, I shall offer you this lowly body."

Some did it for revenge. Some for life. Some from curiosity. Some from duty.

Some for ambition. Some for immortality. Some from recklessness. Some from competitiveness.

Some for faith. Some for their race. Some from fear. Some simply stumbled into it.

Their reasons were all different, but after becoming the Progenitor's thralls, they became Elders.

What had Dogo felt?

Or had he felt nothing at all?

Tyrkanzyaka was speechless at a situation she had never experienced before. Until then, every Elder had acted as Tyr wished. They shared Tyr's emotions. Even Dogo, who would not exchange so much as words with women, would punch someone in the chest without the slightest hesitation if they believed in the Celestial God.

The furious martial monk's fists did not discriminate by gender or age.

They only discriminated by faith.

Dogo had also been a remarkably faithful Elder. It was only natural, since he sent his faith in the Way to the Progenitor.

Yet Dogo had now turned against the Progenitor.

"...Are you in your right mind? You want to put me on trial?"

"Not only Luscinia's daughter. All of us must undergo a trial. Progenitor, you will be the beginning."

He had a gaunt body, but his eyes shone brightly. Blood Monk Dogo. His bloodline willingly embraced pain and barely craved human blood, earning the respect of many humans. Dogo's thralls were upright in the best sense and rigid in the worst. They handled matters of law and morality in the Duchy.

And he had stepped forward to denounce the Progenitor.

"Progenitor. The reverence this humble monk offers you was not inborn. I became a vampire to cast aside all suffering and worry and reach the state of liberation. Until now, we have each faithfully fulfilled our roles. But."

Dogo looked at Tyrkanzyaka with the faintest trace of contempt in his eyes.

"Having lost your dominion, keeping a man in your room, and living indulged in lust, I can feel no reverence for you."

He neither exchanged fists nor words with women. They disrupted cultivation and threw the mind into confusion. It was an outdated doctrine, but Dogo had been an outdated man, and he followed that belief.

Now that the shackle was gone, Dogo began to weigh the Progenitor against his doctrine.

The emotion Tyrkanzyaka felt toward Dogo's rebellion and defiance of Heaven was...

"...Huh?"

More than anything, confusion.

Tyrkanzyaka had possessed neither sensation nor emotion. The other Elders were ruled by the power of bloodcraft and at least resonated with it, but Tyrkanzyaka, the Progenitor of all vampires, felt nothing no matter what she saw. No scent or flavor could move her heart. Only her hatred for the Sanctum remained, making Tyrkanzyaka cling to it with greater blindness.

Yet revenge alone could not quench the thirst in her heart. That was why Tyrkanzyaka wanted her heart to return to life. She wanted to melt into the world, restore her blurred body, and become capable of feeling something.

Still, she had never seriously considered what might happen during that process, or what would become of the vampires she had kept as her thralls.

For over a thousand years, every vampire had been Tyrkanzyaka's thrall and limb. They were beings she could handle as she pleased.

Tyrkanzyaka had been the Progenitor from the beginning. Whatever story they came with, those who received her blood became her thralls. Tyrkanzyaka felt nothing about that fact. She only thought that she had gained another usable limb.

Rebellion and defiance of Heaven had never been among Tyrkanzyaka's possibilities.

"Are you serious, Dogo?"

"I am."

"...Is that your thought alone?"

"How could this lowly monk know all things under heaven? Even these eyes cannot pierce through the murky hearts of others. Now that the shackle has vanished, their hearts, as foul and muddy as stagnant water, must be churning as well..."

Dogo suddenly looked around at the Elders seated beside him. Lungken, Cabilah, Erjebeut. They watched the situation unfold even in the face of defiance of Heaven.

The Elders' rebellion was not Dogo's idea alone.

For the briefest moment, Tyrkanzyaka felt as though her heart had dropped.

It felt as if her limbs had torn themselves away and were pointing accusing fingers at her. Something that had never happened and could never have happened was unfolding before her eyes, leaving her speechless.

It was not that she felt threatened. She was simply startled by the unexpected situation. Fear and confusion were both unfamiliar emotions to Tyrkanzyaka, who had never possessed a heart to begin with.

Her confusion soon turned to anger. Tyrkanzyaka glared at Dogo, who had dared to defy Heaven, with terrifying eyes.

"Your true blood came from me. Can you bear it?"

"This humble monk would ask the same."

Blood Monk Dogo.

A martial monk more worldly and human than anyone. A fallen monk more corrupt than anyone, who had killed countless people. The ascetic whose fists never had a day to dry of blood looked up at the girl and murmured.

"Can the Progenitor bear this humble monk?"

"You...!"

She understood the situation well enough. Now it was time to be angry. The Progenitor slowly descended and stopped before the gaunt old monk.

"Even if I restored my heart and drew a boundary between myself and you, I am still your Progenitor. Do you think I cannot subdue you?"

"...I do."

"I hope you do not regret those words."

Tyrkanzyaka clenched her small fist. It was a fist that could not properly wound anyone, yet it tightened. Tyrkanzyaka faced Dogo, who stood straight, and drew her fist back. Bloodcraft, the art of handling blood, moved Tyrkanzyaka's body.

Knowing the ascetic Dogo would not evade the blow, Tyrkanzyaka threw her fist with all her strength.

Dogo did not dodge.

Just as always.

The Duchy shook briefly.

Neither Tyrkanzyaka's fist nor Dogo's body could be seen. The Castle of the Full Moon trembled, and shattered cliff walls collapsed a moment later. A straight passage appeared through the Castle of the Full Moon, an ancient fortress hardened and woven from blood. The wind created by a human body shook the castle.

The power had not disappeared. It had only changed. Every vampire had known that in their heads, but now they felt it firsthand.

Only one person, Tyrkanzyaka herself, felt something slightly lacking.

'...It hurts?'

Since she had never felt pain, she had been able to use even her own body as a tool. She could regenerate anyway. Trusting in her powerful regeneration, she had used all her strength solely to crush her enemies.

But after spending several days restoring her senses, Tyrkanzyaka had become sensitive to pain as well as pleasure. As her overflowing strength surged forward and destroyed her arm, a dull ache seized it. She should have been faster and stronger.

Tyrkanzyaka had displayed overwhelming might, yet felt something strange.

"...Was that your full strength?"

She was not the only one who felt something strange. A vampire could not be killed through a simple blow. No matter how terrifying the force, that remained true. Dogo had been half-crushed by unimaginable strength in an instant, but he had begun regenerating from the moment he collided with the first wall.

Hardships and Storms.

A qi art the ascetic had learned long ago, now called blood demon combat arts.

Pain and suffering were not avoided, but endured as they were. The swaying body did not resist wind and waves, but was swept along by them. It did not evade blows, but endured them. The ascetic's qi art had the peculiar purpose of saying injury and pain did not matter as long as one did not die, and it had grown even stronger after he became a vampire.

Though overwhelmed by strength, Dogo endured and walked toward her with steady steps.

"A child's brawl without mystery or authority. Is this your enlightenment?"

"You dare speak without knowing your place!"

Her dominion remained intact. It simply could not be applied outside her body now that she felt pain and recognized the boundary of her own body.

Then the method was simple.

She only needed to touch Dogo's blood. If she touched his true blood, even briefly, she could reclaim the power that had made Dogo an Elder.

It might have been the first time in her life that Tyrkanzyaka had thought through how to fight. It seemed slightly wasteful to kill an Elder she had spent all this time with over such a matter, but Tyrkanzyaka, consumed by rage, decided to accept it.

Scrape.

She drew her nail across her skin. It hurt, but she could endure this much. As she had before, Tyrkanzyaka decided to attack Dogo by scattering her own blood. If the wave of blood caused even a scratch on Dogo's body, the true blood mixed within it would return to Tyrkanzyaka.

Tyrkanzyaka flicked her finger toward the approaching Dogo and scattered blood. The blood wave surged in an instant and swept over Dogo. The corridor filled with red light...

But the ascetic allowed only a single blow.

Dogo was an Elder, one who had immersed his body in authority. At the same time, he had been a renowned martial artist even in life. Sensing Tyrkanzyaka's movements and the flow of her blood, he moved, leaving a crimson trail behind him.

Adversity.

He angled himself against the incoming force. He endured the impact entirely with his body. Even broken bones and torn muscles were part of asceticism. He moved his body with bloodcraft, floating through the blood wave like duckweed.

It was the very height of martial arts. Dogo's fist, having overcome the disaster, was about to strike Tyrkanzyaka's jaw when it hesitated.

Tyrkanzyaka did not try to block it. That was not the vampire way. Instead, she tried to seize Dogo with the hand she had pulled back.

Predicament.

Bang!

A massive shock wave erupted and pushed Dogo and Tyrkanzyaka away from each other. It was a simple application of the Heaven and Earth Qi Arts, but combining blood energy with an opponent's force and twisting its direction outward was not something just anyone could do. Especially not when that force was enormous.

Dogo put distance between them in an instant, then closed his eyes, pressed his palms together, and reached his conclusion.

"This humble monk has finished his business."

"Who says you can end this whenever you want!"

Tyrkanzyaka shouted furiously, but Dogo did not answer. He did not exchange fists or words with women. To Dogo, women were only beings who bore children and offered no help whatsoever in cultivation, so he treated them as though they did not exist. The kindness Dogo showed women did not come from gentleness, but contempt.

The Progenitor who had lost her dominion was no longer the being who had allowed Dogo to attain liberation. She was merely a female who had devoted body and mind to a beloved concubine, blinded by him. Dogo withdrew as if Tyrkanzyaka were not even worth his attention.

"...You!"

Just as the enraged Tyrkanzyaka tried to gather darkness, something chilling brushed past her arm and neck.

For a moment, the Progenitor's arms and legs dangled loose. It lasted only an instant, and her body quickly reattached itself, but the pain she felt made her body falter.

Taking advantage of that opening, a languid voice full of playful coquettishness rang out.

"Pii-. Progenitor, a blade is going into your body, you know-? Why- is that?"

A shadow with smooth curves rippled in the darkness.

She was a dancer who bared her navel and underarms. She held rounded daggers in both hands and stood lightly upon the darkness with bare feet. The dancer looked at the daggers that had just lightly cut into Tyrkanzyaka's body, then licked the blades like candy.

"Meurie...?"

"Something that must never happen. Our taboo. Why does it work when I try it-? Why can't you punish my insolence-?"

The enforcer of darkness. The assassin of silence. The recreator of a false idol who had finally obtained the darkness that only the Progenitor could wield.

The ghost dancer, Meurie of the Dark Moon.

Before her appearance had even finished, a clattering sound echoed through the hall. It was the common sound of hoofbeats... yet within its strangely measured rhythm was an intelligence a horse could hardly possess.

A horse-human beastkin, a centaur, slowly revealed himself.

In ancient times, horses were wealth, power, and weapons to humans. Before qi arts had developed so far, a human riding a horse could exert several times the strength of an ordinary person. That category of "strength" included many elements, including physical strength, combat power, mobility, and carrying capacity. Horses themselves were strategic resources and weapons.

Then a certain royal family, which violated the taboo of coupling as casually as eating meals, attempted to combine that weapon with humans and succeeded. A human upper body and horse lower body. Beastkin born with the strength of cavalry displayed exceptional "strength" and swept through war after war.

...Still, like everything the Agartha royal family mixed with their own bodies, they were built in a way that made it extremely difficult to leave descendants. They were fated to vanish naturally.

One centaur descended from great blood made an extreme choice to protect the few remaining members of his tribe. He entrusted his body to vampires to preserve his race.

"Clan Chief. Is this betrayal? Have you truly forsaken the tribe?"

The bastion of savagery. Lord of the wilderness. A destroyer of civilization who had swept through every nation and drenched them in blood until he fell, a descendant of Khan, the one called the King of Savages.

Rahu Khan, the Watcher, approached with a spear slung diagonally across his back.

Crunch. Crunch.

Someone was chewing stones.

The Castle of the Full Moon was built from bricks hardened with blood. Vampire authority strengthened and supported the walls. As if the Castle of the Full Moon itself were a massive vampire, it restored itself even after being destroyed. The walls Dogo had broken while flying through them were slowly returning to their original state.

Yet one section did not recover, as though it had been bitten away.

"I'm hungry. I can feel hunger. How long has it been?"

The boy who had been chewing stones rose with a sorrowful murmur. Split fragments of stone tore his throat as they went down into his stomach, but he did not care. As long as he could fill his empty stomach, it did not matter what it was.

"I became a vampire to get rid of hunger. Then I..."

The boy, who looked as though he could barely drink water, much less eat stones, sadly threw away the stone he had not finished eating.

Gluttony was a human instinct. The hungry ate and swallowed anything.

Sometimes, among humans who did not recognize taboos as taboos, there were those who used other humans as food. Eating a corpse was a grave crime, while killing and eating the living was a taboo beyond taboo.

When word spread that someone had committed cannibalism, the people around them tried to kill them first. If that failed, soldiers came to capture them. If even that proved impossible, a subjugation force was formed. Eventually, the Sanctum's enforcers came bearing fate on their backs.

Most were subjugated and killed, but a few gluttons who survived only grew stronger. Or perhaps they survived because they were strong. Either way, gluttons who won a gamble with their lives devoured every enemy and became that much stronger.

A glutton who survived as a savage without parents, country, or even letters. One who carried an entire village in his stomach. The maw of the deep marsh. A man-eater.

Bakuta the Blood Leech.

They were monsters who had dominated an era even in life. After becoming vampires, they became legends who lived through every age. That was what an Elder was.

Elders believed to be asleep had broken their long silence and appeared after hearing news of the Progenitor.

Lir was an Elder. No matter how experienced and powerful an ain she was, she stood no chance against an Elder. That was why those vampires had intended to watch Lir and me in preparation for any possibility.

But Hilde, who had infiltrated ahead of them, somehow managed to find me first.

"Father. I'll report."

With the smile gone from her face, Hilde gave her report clearly.

"Luscinia's ain are going around waking the sleeping Elders. They're stirring them up by saying that the Progenitor abandoned them."

Footnotes:

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