The Lava Castle, an ancient bastion standing at the heart of the Spurk Clan’s territory, has been the nerve center of the clan for countless generations. For millennia, it remained the unchanging heart from which each successive chieftain ruled.
Chieftain Habs returned to the clan after the Duke, and never built a new fortress for himself. Therefore, the heart of the clan became synonymous with his private residence.
At this moment, however, the once proudly waving banners of the chieftain were being slowly lowered, their emblems of flaming crowns now hidden within the folds of fine silks. Yet, there was no smoke of battle, no roar of cannons; even the blades arrayed around did not bear a drop of blood.
Council warriors moved with purpose, methodically removing the Spurk banners, folding them with reverence, and replacing them with the insignia of the Council. On either side of the castle’s streets, countless vampires gathered—some clustering at street corners, others peeking through windows and doors—watching the scene in silence.
Among the onlookers, many were powerful, even including Counts and Marquises. But their faces were pale, devoid of any intent to resist. The occupation and flag replacement proceeded in quiet order, with no excesses from the occupying forces and no outbursts from the vampires.
In contrast to the numerous battles that had raged across the Twilight Continent, this scene was decidedly different.
On the topmost terrace of the castle, blessed with the most spectacular view, stood a man of graceful demeanor, clad in formal attire styled after the Netherkin. His face was flawless, a visage of perfection.
No one else was present on the terrace or anywhere on the top level. This highest point belonged solely to him.
From the distant horizon, the air rippled like water, and a figure emerged. It paused in midair for a moment before taking a step, causing a similar ripple near the terrace. Habs stepped out.
His crimson armor had been removed, replaced by a black jacket adorned with the Council’s emblem. Yet, a faint, darker hue still lingered over his chest and ribs—a sign of wounds that had yet to fully heal. Qin Di’s Origin Power, though not as scorching as typical Dawn Origin Power, seeped deep into the flesh, making it more difficult to purge.
Habs landed on the terrace, gazing at the Demon Emperor without bowing, and said quietly, “I am deeply honored that Your Majesty would personally come to such a humble place.”
Habs had seen the fleets of Great Dukes blockading the sky, and the flames of war that still burned on the lands of neighboring clans. In stark contrast, the core territory of the Spurk was eerily calm and orderly. It was no surprise; with the presence of the Demon Emperor, even a Duke would find it impossible to resist his imposing will.
The Demon Emperor turned, smiling. “Sir Habs, you arrived faster than I expected. I thought you might have hesitated.”
Habs replied indifferently, “This is my clan, my people. If I do not return, this land may well become a grave for all of us.”
Without even needing the Council’s forces, the Demon Emperor’s domain could encompass the entire core territory, extinguishing all life within its darkness. If he so wished, he could even ensure that their souls would be lost forever in the dark, unable to return to the Crimson River.
The Demon Emperor made no comment, instead saying, “I know that the vampires have always believed that the Primogeniture Bloodline is above all. As a Crowned Prince, your value should outweigh the combined worth of all the Spurk.”
“That is only the view of some. As a strong one, if I cannot protect my kin, what use am I?”
The Demon Emperor smiled. “Yet, you must know that the Night Queen can no longer shield you. Returning here changes nothing. It seems something in this castle is more important to you than your own life.”
Facing the piercing gaze of the Demon Emperor, Habs replied, “Under your might, are you not already fully aware of everything here? If you wish to take it, who could stop you? And I, I simply do what I believe I should, when and where I should.”
The Demon Emperor sighed. “I do not know how to interpret you—should I praise you, or call you foolish?”
Habs replied, “If Metatron were as foolish as me, you would not have achieved your current progress on the Twilight Continent.”
“Metatron believes he is the wisest, and our Great Princes share that view.”
“I said, that is only the view of some.”
The Demon Emperor nodded. “Then, Sir Habs, do you know why I have initiated this war?”
Habs stood, looking into the eyes of the man before him, seeing no trace of emotion, as if the matter discussed were of no great importance.
Reflecting on it, the Supreme seemed always to maintain this tranquil demeanor, undisturbed even by the greatest disrespect. This gave the impression of a mild and gentle nature, even as his words carried the power to shake the Eternal Night.
Suddenly, Habs felt he had perhaps underestimated the Demon Emperor all along. Or, perhaps, the entire world of the Eternal Night had.
The Night Queen, in her regal majesty, surpassed all in lineage, power, and grace. Her prestige transcended racial bounds. Compared to her, both the Demon Emperor and the Spider Queen, even the ancient Supremes, paled in comparison.
Perhaps it was because under the moon, there is always shadow, that people forgot how the Demon Emperor, once a common young warrior, rose to become the supreme ruler of the Netherkin.
Among the three Supremes, the Demon Emperor was the most approachable, the youngest and thus the most active. No one had foreseen that his activity would lead to such far-reaching strategies.
Habs had been absent from the Twilight Continent for only three days, and based on the information from Linard, the outbreak of war here could not have exceeded two days. The overwhelming defeat of the vampire stronghold was due partly to Medanzo’s betrayal, but that was not the only cause.
For a thousand years, the old and new factions within the vampire society had struggled, and Medanzo had his opponents. He could not control everything. Within the Council, while the Holy War had existed for ten thousand years, this full-scale conflict against the vampires was not part of it. Werewolves and Spider Demons were not foolish and did not suddenly side with the Netherkin overnight.
It was a meticulously planned, long-term strategy.
But the war had already begun, and the Netherkin had secured an early, decisive advantage. At this point, the reasons for the war mattered less.
Habs did not understand why the Demon Emperor took the time to explain.
The Demon Emperor said, “In fact, Sir Habs, there is no need to be so hostile. This war is not about eradicating the vampires.”
Habs snorted, “Not to eradicate the vampires? With Medanzo’s betrayal, the Blue King likely perished, and the Dark Gospel is in dire straits. If I am not mistaken, the other sleeping ancestors also have no hope of awakening. As for me, since I returned, I have no intention of leaving alive. Without the Primogeniture Bloodline, are we still vampires?”
The Demon Emperor patiently replied, “I am not here to eliminate the Primogeniture Bloodline, but to purify it.”
“Purify?” Habs continued to scoff.
The Demon Emperor said slowly, “Sir Habs, what are your thoughts on the departure of the Crimson River?”
Habs frowned, though he knew the matter could not be kept secret from the Demon Emperor. Still, hearing it asked directly was disconcerting. To all high-ranking vampires, the departure of the Crimson River was the truest threat, rendering even this full-scale war of lesser importance.
“If even Her Majesty does not know the reason for the Crimson River’s departure, have you found it?”
“Not found, but speculated.” The Demon Emperor looked up, as if he could see through the barriers of the world to the river known as the Dark Artery. “The departure began with the appearance of humans in our world.”
Habs frowned deeper. “That is mere coincidence. When the Dawn appeared in the power spectrum, there were more than just humans.”
“Coincidence? When humans entered the vampire diet, the mark of the Thirteenth Clan disappeared, did it not?”
“There seems no connection between these events.”
The Demon Emperor smiled, not arguing further. “The Thirteenth Clan’s mark should be the closest to the source of darkness among all the marks, even purer than your Black Flame, whose core still retains the semblance of blood.”
Habs was taken aback. All the ancestors had lost memory of the Thirteenth Clan, and as a new ancestor, he lacked that knowledge. A sense of unease grew, whether from the secrets revealed or the coming revelations.
The Demon Emperor continued, “Humans are natural Dawn beings. When they entered the vampire diet, their bloodlines became polluted by Dawn Origin Power. The Thirteenth Clan perished as a result.”
“Only… speculation.”
“Perhaps. Our world is dark, but true Eternal Night has gradually faded since the appearance of humans. Initially, their existence was no different from other animals and plants. Even when new powers appeared, no one made the connection.”
“Over time, Dawn Origin Power increased in our world, polluting the dark sources, gradually erasing their true nature. More than a thousand years ago, the cumulative corruption surpassed a critical point, leading to the Dawn Rebellion. The vampires, as the first protectors of humans, suffered the consequence—the departure of the Crimson River.”
Habs’ face grew grim. “You suggest that Dawn Origin Power caused the departure of the Crimson River?”
“That is my speculation.”
Given the Demon Emperor’s status, voicing this speculation suggested considerable certainty. Habs, though initially shocked, soon regained composure. “Regardless, I am a vampire. This war is my war too.”
The Demon Emperor showed no sign of aggression. “Sir Habs, I do not seek the destruction of the vampires, but a return to the purity of ancient times. Those purified are the corrupted, and there is no reversal. I have not acted against all vampires; the scope of my actions outside the Twilight Continent is minimal.”
“The war has come too far. I cannot trust your words.”
“In fact, you are the only vampire to whom I have revealed this. Do you know how Medanzo and his followers were persuaded?”
Habs responded coldly, “Not bribed, then?”
The Demon Emperor chuckled, “If persuasion were not enough, would bribery alone suffice?”
Unexpectedly, Habs answered, “I do not want to know.” He raised his hand, blood energy swirling around his wrist, his crimson armor reappearing.
The Demon Emperor sighed, his hands behind his back, motionless, yet his pressure enveloped the terrace, forcing Habs’ armor to recede. “Metatron, my dear old friend, you remain stubborn.”
Habs’ back hit the stone wall, his already pale face flushed with an unnatural red. Hearing that name, he stiffened, then straightened. “I am not an Awakened One.”
The Demon Emperor said, “Nightingale does not seem truly Awakened either. Do you not think these issues stem from your Sacred River?”
Habs, caught off guard, could not refute.
“Metatron, you are my last friend from the adventurer days.” The Demon Emperor’s voice was soft, like a conversation in a spring garden, as if the recent hostility had never happened.
When the Demon Emperor was an adventurer, he was just a common warrior, occasionally a wandering bard. The elder Spurk twin, Habs, was known only for his musical talent. Kane and Metatron met at a noble lady’s salon in a neutral territory.
Habs, after a moment of silence, said, “Do not call me by that name.”
The Demon Emperor readily agreed, “Habs, if you do not wish to discuss the past, can the results from that laboratory on the Fuego Continent not convince you?”
Habs replied, “Regardless, I have never considered betraying the Crimson River.”
The Demon Emperor said, “But can you truly accept it? Twins with the same potential, brothers by blood, yet only one path open, an either-or. The worst part is, your shared excellence leads to tragedy, not a simple candy dispute, but that the one who wishes to possess the complete mark must consume his brother.”
Habs’ face darkened, his body swaying with fatigue and injury.
The Demon Emperor sighed. “When I heard you went into slumber at only two hundred years, I knew you would not awaken. But now, it seems you have, which means Samael merged his power with yours.”
Habs spoke slowly, “Kane, you see through the hearts of men, but…”
The Demon Emperor, for the first time, cut Habs off, “If the Crimson River returns to its ancient state, such tragedies will not occur.”
Habs could guess how the Demon Emperor convinced the traitors. Though no one knew if the restoration of the Crimson River would solve all problems, the thousand-year silence was too long, and occasional successes brought despair rather than hope.
After a moment, Habs said, “Your arguments are indeed convincing. But you and I both know that the reason for the Crimson River’s departure is only speculation. I do not believe it justifies my betrayal.”
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