Noon.
The sun in Moon Phase City was so fierce it felt like fire was raining down. For the Blood Race, this was the time of day closest to death. Normally, the entire city would be as silent as a grave at this hour; every window would be covered with heavy black velvet curtains, and not even a mouse would dare to scurry across the streets.
But today, the central plaza was bursting with crowds.
The human vendors didn't fear the heat, pushing carts filled with iced blood plasma drinks through the throngs. Commoner vampires wore specially made heavy cloaks, wrapping themselves up like cocoons with only their eyes exposed, staring fixedly at the towering black obsidian platform in the center of the plaza.
They were waiting for a miracle.
“Is everyone crazy?” Leon huddled under the awning of a shop, nearly snapping the folding fan he was using as a disguise. “Holding a speech at high noon? Is this bunch of vampires tired of living and planning a mass suicide?”
The disguise technique on Margaret’s face was still active, making her sickly pale noblewoman’s appearance look somewhat eerie under the refracted sunlight. She narrowed her eyes, her gaze piercing through the boiling crowd to land on the ten empty chairs surrounding the high platform.
“It’s not suicide,” Margaret said, her voice kept very low.
Tia stood behind the two of them, her hood pulled down extremely low. Her hand remained pressed against the spatial bag at her waist, which contained enough alchemical bombs to level half the plaza.
“They’re here,” Tia suddenly spoke.
There were no bugles, no ceremonial cannons.
Only a synchronized, grating sound of friction.
All at once, the massive black curtains that had been shielding the platform from the sun were pulled down.
Blinding sunlight poured onto the platform like a golden waterfall.
A figure stood there, completely exposed in the center of the light.
No cloak.
No parasol.
Not even a hint of sunblock.
Lilian wore an incredibly intricate crimson gown, with thousands of rubies embedded in the hem reflecting light so brilliant it was blinding. She held her head high, and her face—which had once always been full of cowardice and sycophancy—was now as cold as a divine statue.
The sunlight spilled over her bare shoulders and collarbones.
There was no charring.
There was no smoke.
Instead, her skin seemed to glow like the finest mutton-fat jade, radiating a healthy, vibrant pink hue.
The sound of thousands of sharp intakes of breath echoed across the plaza.
The vampires hiding inside their cloaks looked as if their eyes were about to pop out. This was a scene they hadn't even dared to dream of. It was a taboo etched into their very genes, yet it was being trampled underfoot like trash.
“A Daywalker...”
No one knew who shouted it first.
Immediately following, a wave of sound erupted like a tsunami.
“Long live Her Majesty!”
“Long live the Daywalker!”
The vampires went wild. Some even excitedly tore off their cloaks in an attempt to embrace the sunlight, only to end up howling in pain the next second as they were burned, but this did nothing to dampen their fanaticism.
Leon felt like his brain wasn't quite keeping up.
He stared fixedly at the woman on the stage.
That was Lilian?
The slave who used to follow Bell around like a shadow at the academy?
Was this Queen with the towering presence and eyes that could kill really the same person as that useless girl?
...
Before the crowd could finish processing the shock, Lilian moved.
She slowly raised her hand, pointing toward one side of the platform.
There stood the shadow corridor leading to the Night Rose Palace.
Ten figures slowly walked out.
The entire plaza fell into an instant, deathly silence.
Those were the ten ancestors.
The oldest and most powerful beings in the world, and also the ones who feared the sun the most.
Yet at this moment, they actually walked out.
Ed walked at the very front, still holding a glass of red wine. The moment the sunlight hit his face, his brow instinctively furrowed, and his body tensed slightly.
But he didn't burn.
Only a faint, almost invisible blood-red film covered the surface of his skin, isolating all the lethal ultraviolet rays.
Though this film was being consumed at a visible rate under the sun, this was indeed, in the truest sense—facing the sunlight.
“Hah...”
Ed took a deep breath of the hot air, a look of extreme enjoyment and a hint of a twisted smile appearing on his face.
He turned his head to look at the other ancestors behind him.
Betty was so excited she wanted to dance, but her head was held down by a serious-looking Leila.
The ten ancestors walked onto the high platform with great fanfare, standing behind Lilian.
Even though they just stood there, and even though they only dared to stay in the sun for a few minutes.
It was enough.
It represented a form of submission.
The posture of the overlords of the old era bowing to the miracle of the new era.
Lilian looked down at the dark mass of subjects kneeling before her.
Her heart was pounding violently.
This was the taste of power.
This was the feeling of trampling everyone beneath her feet.
But her gaze involuntarily drifted toward a bell tower at the corner of the plaza.
There was a half-open window there.
She knew that man was watching from there.
Watching her perform.
Watching her perfectly execute the script he had written, like a marionette.
Lilian took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the inexplicable bitterness in her heart. She raised the scepter in her hand, her voice amplified by magic as it resounded throughout Moon Phase City.
“My subjects.”
“The era of darkness has ended.”
“Sooner or later, we will no longer hide in the gutters, no longer fear the light.”
“We shall stand as equals with humans and share this sky!”
The cheers were loud enough to nearly collapse the surrounding buildings.
Amidst this wave of fanaticism, Tia’s face grew paler and paler.
She didn't look at Lilian, nor did she look at the ancestors.
Her gaze was locked onto the blood-red film covering the ancestors.
That was...
That was Bell’s mana circuit style.
That unique mana structure, interlocking like precision machinery—no one else in this world but Bell could create it.
“He’s helping her.”
Tia’s voice was trembling, carrying a sense of abandoned despair.
Margaret turned sharply, looking at Tia’s eyes, which looked like they were on the verge of tears.
“Are you saying Bell is the one behind all this?”
“Something’s not right.”
Margaret suddenly frowned.
“If Bell is really being given such an important role, why hasn't he shown himself?”
“With Lilian’s current arrogant attitude, if Bell were truly her benefactor, she should be itching to drag him out to show him off.”
“Unless...”
Margaret’s gaze swept over Lilian’s face—which, though proud, held a sliver of hidden fear in the depths of her eyes.
“Unless Bell isn't doing this voluntarily.”
“Or perhaps he’s being controlled by something and can only provide technical support from behind the scenes.”
Leon gave a cold laugh. “Are you saying that slave girl returned kindness with ingratitude and locked her master up to use him as a laborer?”
“It’s very likely.” Margaret’s gaze turned cold.
Just then.
Lilian spoke again from the platform.
This time, her voice carried a trace of an imperceptible tremor.
“To celebrate this great moment.”
“Tonight, a grand victory banquet will be held at the Night Rose Palace.”
“At that time, I will introduce to everyone a... special guest.”
“It is he who has granted us all of this.”
A special guest.
As soon as those three words were spoken, the atmosphere in the plaza became subtle.
The vampires looked at one another.
The person who granted all of this? Wasn't it Her Majesty herself?
And in the shadows.
Tia suddenly raised her head.
A special guest.
Who else could it be but Bell?
“Tonight.”
Tia’s fingers gripped her staff tightly, her knuckles turning white.
“We must get in tonight.”
“Whether we force our way in or use a trick.”
“I want to see with my own eyes exactly what that woman has done to Bell.”
...
The top floor of the bell tower.
Bell leaned against the window, holding a half-eaten apple.
He watched the grand farce below, his expression as flat as if he were watching a boring circus act.
Behind him, Leila was kneeling on the floor, holding a precision carving knife, carefully engraving something onto a Mithril plate.
“Teacher.”
Leila didn't even look up, her voice filled with a fanatical focus.
Bell looked out the window again.
His gaze pierced through the crowd, landing precisely on the three suspicious figures.
It was Margaret, the Headmistress of the Ventus Branch.
Leon.
And... Tia.
The moment he saw the silver-haired girl, Bell’s originally cold and hard gaze softened for an instant.
“Silly girl,” he whispered softly.
“I told you not to come, yet you just had to jump into this lion's den.”
The corners of Bell’s mouth curled up slightly.
He turned, walked to the desk, picked up a quill, and wrote a line of words on a gold-stamped invitation in a fluid, elegant hand.
“Leila.”
“I am here.”
“Help me deliver a message.”
Bell handed the invitation over.
“To that silver-haired girl hiding under the awning.”
“Tell her.”
“To dress up nicely tonight.”
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