A secret chamber at the bottom of the Night Rose Palace.
Dark red liquid flowed through grooves in the four walls.
The air was thick with the scent of rust, and the oxygen level was extremely low.
Bell stood on the left, while Leila stood on the right.
From outside the door came the thud of Grant’s heavy sword striking the floor.
Lilian pressed her right hand onto the black obsidian altar.
The surface of the altar was covered in complex ancient runes.
In the central depression, a cluster of dark red patterns began to squirm.
This was the Blood Dance Tattoo, the proof of inheritance for generations of vampire royalty.
The patterns exhibited autonomous movement, crawling up the surface of the stone.
The dark red lines detached from the altar, hovering in mid-air.
They extended toward the back of Lilian’s hand.
They were less than a finger's width from her skin.
The patterns suddenly froze.
The dark red lines rapidly decomposed, turning into fine red dust.
The dust dissipated into the air.
Lilian did not move.
She pressed her palm down again, injecting a massive amount of mana into the altar.
The altar lit up once more with a piercing red light.
The patterns condensed and crawled again.
Then, at the exact same distance, they disintegrated once more.
A third time.
The red dust fell onto the back of Lilian’s hand, leaving no mark behind.
Lilian withdrew her hand.
Her fingers curled into a fist.
The color drained from her face.
The Crown of Thorns cast a shadow over her in the dim light.
“It is because of Cecilia.”
These words were squeezed from her throat, punctuated by a clear hesitation.
Bell looked at her.
“The true royal bloodline is a mirror.”
Lilian turned around, looking directly at Bell.
“It has reflected the deepest parts of me.”
“I have never overcome the fear she caused.”
“That shadow has always been there.”
Bell’s brain quickly processed the information he had gathered over the past few days.
His earth element perception allowed him to clearly capture the trajectory of the energy loss just now.
The logic didn't add up.
“Your judgment is wrong,” Bell said, his voice steady.
Lilian looked up.
“If you were truly afraid, you would choose to flee.”
“Or you would hide under the protection of the ancestors and never leave Moon Phase City.”
Bell pointed toward the door.
“But you intend to hunt her down personally.”
“A person in fear doesn't stand in place sharpening their blade.”
Bell walked to the altar and touched a bit of the residual red dust with his finger.
The dust turned into pure mana at his fingertip and vanished.
“The tattoo is rejecting you for other, systematic reasons.”
Leila stood in the shadows.
She said nothing.
Her red eyes stared at the residual mana fluctuations above the altar.
That was not the reaction of someone confused.
Her muscles were slightly tensed.
It was a defensive posture.
Bell turned his head.
“What did you see?”
Leila withdrew her gaze and turned toward the chamber door.
She pushed open the heavy stone door.
Without pausing, she walked straight out.
...
Moon Phase City, on a rooftop in the East District.
Tia crouched behind a chimney.
Her long silver-white hair fluttered in the night wind.
Her Mithril skeleton maintained an absolute constant temperature.
She activated the runes on her retinas.
Her field of vision turned a ghostly blue.
The sonar system filtered out the noise of the vampire commoners on the streets.
It locked directly onto the structural layout of the Night Rose Palace.
From a gap in a window in the side wing, several strands of peculiar mana ripples seeped out.
The heaviness of the earth element was mixed with a new, dark red fluctuation full of vitality.
This was Bell’s unique mana frequency.
The mana ripples were steady.
There was none of the chaos that would signal a battle.
Tia’s fingers gripped the blue bricks of the roof ridge.
The liquid Mithril sliced a smooth crack into the edge of the brick.
A few fragments fell onto the tiles.
She had to obey Bell’s orders and remain on the periphery on standby.
But her bodily functions remained at a critical point, ready to explode into action at any moment.
Three blocks away from Tia.
Leon leaned against the mossy wall of a dark alley.
Ice mana condensed at his fingertips into a snowflake in the shape of a hexagram.
The snowflake melted, then froze again.
He watched the corner of the street.
Margaret had left under the pretext of "purchasing supplies."
The headmaster of Ventus Branch was walking a bit faster than usual tonight.
Leon ran through possible conflict scenarios in his mind.
If Margaret encountered danger, he would need three seconds to break through the street blockade.
Margaret crossed three bustling streets.
She stopped in front of a shop with a wooden sign that read "Closed."
It was a flower shop.
The wooden door made a piercing grinding sound as it was pushed open.
The hinges were rusted.
After Margaret entered, she reached back and closed the door.
It shut out the noise of the street outside.
There was no fragrance of plants inside, only the heavy scent of dust.
There were no flowers in the shop.
Only a single wooden chair by the window.
Ed sat in that chair.
The moonlight stretched his shadow very long.
He held a glass of dark red wine in his hand.
Ed turned his head.
The gentlemanly smile on his face had vanished.
The two of them were three meters apart.
The air stopped moving.
There were three seconds of absolute silence.
“You came looking for me because of him?”
Ed spoke first.
His volume was several decibels lower than usual.
Margaret took two steps forward.
A bit of mud from the dark alley clung to her skirt.
She sat on a dilapidated wooden stool opposite Ed.
She placed her hands flat on her knees, fingers interlaced.
“No.”
“For myself.”
The wine glass in Ed’s hand stopped mid-air.
The red liquid sloshed against the glass walls.
“One hundred years ago, at the Seventh Camp of the West Border Frontier Army.”
Margaret stated a location.
Her tone was steady, without any fluctuation.
She enunciated every word clearly.
“When I went back with supplies, all I saw was an empty campfire.”
“And ashes all over the ground.”
Ed’s eyes darkened.
It was a look of pure heaviness.
“Ed, you owe me an explanation.”
“You’ve owed it to me for a hundred years.”
Margaret looked at him.
Ed placed the wine glass on the windowsill beside him.
The glass base hit the wood with a dull thud.
He was silent for a long time.
“Do you really want to know?”
Margaret did not look away.
“I have always wanted to know.”
...
Deep within the Eternal Fertile Forest.
The elven territory, once full of life, was now covered in a layer of grayish-white deathly aura.
The massive canopy of the World Tree had turned completely yellow and withered.
Large swathes of leaves drifted through the air.
Thick vines snapped.
Green sap flowed into the soil, rapidly turning black.
Several Wood Elf guards lay in the grass in the distance.
There were no wounds on their bodies.
But their life signs had completely vanished.
Cecilia stepped barefoot onto the dry, fallen leaves.
The leaves made a crisp cracking sound.
She wore her pure white dress, though several drops of startling blood stained the hem.
In her left hand, she cradled a massive sphere that emitted a green fluorescent glow.
The surface of the sphere was covered in veins.
It was contracting and expanding rhythmically.
It made a dull, thumping sound.
This was the World Tree Heart.
The surrounding withered wood grew new buds upon contact with this green light.
But the buds withered again after a few seconds.
Cecilia tilted her head.
She looked at the beating heart in her hand.
She hummed an unknown nursery rhyme.
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