WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Hydrogen B

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 52: The Blood Lord and the Thrall

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Apparently, the intruder had not put his parachute on properly. The flashing light was still drawing closer when a heavy thud sounded before it arrived. Something like blood splattered a few steps away and struck my foot.

Neither the vampire nor I was worried. If he was what I thought he was, an injury like that barely counted as a wound.

He was a vampire, an immortal being who could not gather up spilled water but could return spilled blood exactly where it belonged.

Even if his head had split open and blood was pouring out, he would recover in no time and get back up...

I waited for him to rise.

"Huh? Why isn't he getting up? He hasn't regained consciousness."

"Ah. I forgot for a moment."

The vampire waved her hand. The blood that had been slowly creeping toward her was pushed back toward the intruder.

Her control over blood was so vastly superior that the force drawing it toward her overcame even the intruder's instinct for survival. Since she was already at it, the vampire returned all the blood to his body and sealed the wound as well.

Having recovered his blood, the intruder regained consciousness. Then, soon after...

"This pull of blood, it must be!"

With a loud cry, the intruder lifted his head. Beyond the darkness, red light flashed, though it was slightly murkier than the vampire's.

Joy, reverence, worship, rapture.

Violent emotions surged like waves. The intruder's eyes widened as he rushed over, nearly crawling across the ground, and prostrated himself before the vampire.

"Progenitor!"

The vampire must have been used to strangers suddenly approaching and kneeling before her. She showed not the slightest reaction. As she watched quietly, the intruder pleaded.

"Progenitor! This unworthy Finlay has come to see you. Please forgive me for disturbing your seclusion!"

Finlay slammed his head against the ground. Blood flowed from the torn skin toward the vampire, but when she cast it a brief glance, it rushed back to its owner as though startled.

The vampire looked coldly at the prostrate Finlay and commanded him.

"Finlay. Explain yourself."

Higher blood.

Greater authority.

Before the Progenitor, a vampire who was not the Progenitor was truly nothing. All their control over blood originated from her.

Moving blood, speaking, living, all of it happened under the Progenitor's unspoken permission. With a single gesture, she could strip them of all control over their own blood and turn them into no more than a snack.

That was why the Progenitor was something beyond a god to vampires.

The Progenitor had spoken lightly, but to Finlay, her words were a royal command. No, they were a revelation. Finlay immediately raised his voice.

"Yes. Count Erte, who made me her thrall, is of His Highness Crimson Duke Valdamir's direct line. While gathering information under the Fog Duchy's orders, I heard news from someone and came here with a request for the Progenitor."

Crimson Duke Valdamir.

The ruler of the Fog Duchy, the only vampire whose identity and whereabouts were both known. The Sanctum's chief enemy. And the noblest Elder.

He was such a towering figure that his name was practically synonymous with vampires themselves.

"Valdamir. That child. It has been a long time since I heard that name."

The Progenitor spoke of someone like that as if addressing a child, then gazed into the distance and asked.

"Yes. Is that child well? Is he still so absorbed in playing king?"

To some, he was a king, an absolute monarch, a ruler.

Yet to the Progenitor, who had watched him when he was once a young man full of dreams, he remained just as he had been then.

For a moment, Finlay could not accept that gap and stammered.

"Y-You call His Highness the Duke of Crimson Blood... a child..."

'No, the Progenitor personally made His Highness the Duke of Crimson Blood into her thrall. I am standing before legend, before myth. Get a hold of yourself, Finlay! I can't show such a foolish side of myself in this glorious place!'

Having urged himself on, Finlay composed himself and bowed again.

"Yes! He is well. The Duke of Crimson Blood, the true king of the Fog Duchy in every sense, has risen to a position more glorious than ever before!"

"It seems he worked hard. The Sanctum could not have simply stood by."

Who could dismiss the Duke of Crimson Blood's achievement as mere hard work? He had declared that he would establish a nation truly his own in this world, then accomplished it through heroic deeds. Had an ordinary person said that, they would have been rebuked for disrespect.

But only the Progenitor, who had gone through the same war, lived through the same years, and once dreamed the same dreams, could judge him that way.

Newly aware of that, Finlay wet his dry lips.

'Yes. She is an absolute being. She created us, fulfilled our deepest wish, and will gather us as one and lead us to glory! I am standing before such a being! I can't let this chance slip away!'

Finlay's Adam's apple bobbed as though he were trying to swallow. It was a habit left over from when he had been human, despite having no saliva.

That was how tense and expectant Finlay was when he opened his mouth.

"Progenitor! The Sanctum's influence is not what it once was."

At last, the main point. The reason Finlay had endured every hardship to fall into this place.

Looking at the ground, Finlay cried out.

"Mystery has cast off its veil, and divinity has faded. The Sanctum has become consumed by arrogance and made enemies everywhere. The Celestial God has truly abandoned them. Or perhaps that wretched false god never existed in the first place."

Hatred that had not been properly concealed bared its thorns.

Though his hatred was directed elsewhere, Finlay realized he had become too emotional before the Progenitor and quickly composed himself.

"In any case, they have spread themselves too thin, and now it is time for them to bear the consequences they have accumulated. Naturally, it is only right that we nobles of the night take on one part of that task. We must prepare to collect our blood debt for the coming day, to wage a blood war."

"War."

A brief thought passed through her.

Sorrow, reluctance, unease, weariness.

Heavy, gloomy emotions, the complete opposite of Finlay's excitement.

Though it was not outwardly visible at all, the difference between them felt like the gap between a generation that knew only the aftermath of war and one that had lived through it.

The vampire's lips moved slightly.

"Is that what all my children want? Does everyone desire war?"

For a brief moment, Finlay hesitated. Should he add a little self-interest to words that were not a lie, or should he tell the truth as it was?

But the hierarchy among vampires surpassed even that of kings and rulers. A vampire could not resist another vampire of higher rank. The gulf that decided life and death might have been wider than that between a believer and a god.

Gods did not give birth to humans, nor could they control them. They could not take a life in an instant as though turning off a switch.

Yet the Progenitor could do all those things. She created vampires, could move them as she pleased, and could erase them with a single gesture.

In the end, Finlay bowed his head and revealed the truth.

"No. The other Elders, including the Duke of Crimson Blood, have made it clear that they cannot wage war unless the Progenitor permits it."

Then Finlay added quietly, smiling with eager anticipation.

"That said, if the Progenitor says but one word, we will prepare for war."

The vampire's expression stiffened.

That meant their preparations for war were nearly complete.

Weapons, strength, soldiers, resolve.

Even the enemy they would wage war against was ready. It meant that as soon as the Progenitor granted permission, they would sound the horn at once.

"That is the age we live in. A time when everyone amasses strength, prepares weapons, steels their minds, and cultivates hatred for one another. Everything is ready. If you return, Progenitor. We who have no single center need you."

Having finished, Finlay reverently bowed his head and waited for her answer.

The vampire said nothing. Silence descended over the Abyss once more. The two vampires, who needed neither breath to live, saliva to swallow food, nor a heartbeat to circulate blood, stood frozen in place. They looked so still that I would have believed someone had cut them from a photograph.

A silence as heavy as darkness.

The only sound there was...

『Actively stop this.』

The golem pressed a microphone to my ear and delivered the order in a tiny voice.

『It is not yet time to start a war. The Progenitor must not rise yet. I request that you actively stop this.』

Not yet, huh. That was an interesting choice of words.

More importantly, they wanted me to interrupt while two vampires were talking. Wasn't that asking too much of an ordinary laborer?

I had not intended to listen, but things were not going badly right now.

"All right. That's enough."

I stepped forward boldly.

Footnotes:

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