The heavy doors of the Council Chamber slammed shut, sealing away the heat and the clamor of the plaza that felt intense enough to roast a person alive.
Lilian, holding up her heavy, gem-encrusted hem, walked quickly to the head of the long table and sat down. Though she had been basking in infinite glory outside just moments ago, facing this room full of old monsters now made her spine instinctively stiffen, her fingers gripping the armrests tightly.
Bell followed leisurely behind, as if strolling through his own back garden. He pulled out a chair to Lilian's left—the seat that originally belonged to the First Ancestor—and sat down with a thud.
The air froze instantly.
Slap!
A pale, small hand slammed heavily onto the tabletop.
A blonde boy sitting at the far end of the long table jumped up. This was the Seventh Ancestor, Grant. He looked only twelve or thirteen years old, wearing a sophisticated little suit with a bow tie around his neck.
“Lilian! Has the sun melted your brain?” Grant pointed at Bell, his voice sharp and childish, yet his tone was incredibly arrogant. “What we are about to discuss is the inheritance sequence of the Blood Dance Tattoo! This is the highest secret of the Blood Race! And you’re letting a human sit here? In Big Sister Leila’s seat, no less?”
Lilian’s expression stiffened. She was about to explain that he was her Chief Advisor.
“He may sit there.”
Leila’s cold voice rang out.
The First Ancestor walked up behind Bell. She didn't try to reclaim the seat; instead, she stood behind the back of Bell’s chair with extreme naturalness, like a dutiful personal bodyguard.
“Furthermore, if not for him, you old relics could lie in your coffins until you rotted and still never see today’s sun.”
Grant’s eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost.
Leila was standing guard for someone?
This was more terrifying than the sun rising from the west.
“I don’t see a problem with it either.” Betty sat on the table, swinging her legs while chewing on some beef jerky she had swiped from the banquet. “Anyway, this guy is pretty interesting. He’s much better than you bunch of lifeless old antiques.”
Grant turned red with anger.
He looked toward the other ancestors.
The Third, Fifth, Eighth, and Ninth Ancestors all remained studiously detached, wearing expressions that said, “I’m just here for the air conditioning.”
The Sixth Ancestor, Vedenia, a woman dressed in a black nun’s habit, glanced at Betty—who was closely associated with Ed—and silently swallowed the words she had been about to say. She shot Grant a “shut up if you want to live” look.
But this did nothing to ease the situation.
Instead, it ignited another powder keg.
Sitting opposite Grant, the Fourth Ancestor, Elizabeth, suddenly let out a sneer.
She wore a pink Lolita-style dress and clutched a tattered, one-eyed plush bear in her arms. Malicious light flickered in her large eyes.
“Oh my, Sister Leila.”
Elizabeth tilted her head, her fingers digging forcefully into the plush bear’s eyeball. “Have your tastes changed? You haven't looked for a man for thousands of years, and now you find one so frail?”
Her malicious eyes turned toward Bell, as if looking at a monkey waiting to be slaughtered.
“Hey, human. Sister Leila has trained you well, hasn't she? You don't even have to kneel when you see an ancestor?”
Leila’s gaze turned cold instantly, a ball of pitch-black mana already condensing in her hand.
“Elizabeth, do you want to die?”
“I want to die?” Elizabeth stood up abruptly and slammed the plush bear onto the table. “I just can’t stand this pathetic, debased display of yours! For the sake of a man, you’ve even thrown away the dignity of an ancestor? Since you’re so protective of him, I simply must taste what his blood is like!”
As she spoke, she stuck out her tongue and licked her lips. Ten transparent threads instantly shot from her fingertips, emitting sharp, slicing sounds in the air.
The atmosphere in the hall was at a breaking point.
Lilian was so frightened she shrank into her chair, not daring to speak.
Just then.
Bell, who had been silent all this time, finally spoke.
“That bear.”
Bell’s voice wasn't loud and lacked any fluctuation, yet it pierced clearly into everyone’s ears.
He leaned back against the chair, not even glancing at Elizabeth. His gaze merely fell flatly on the plush bear that had been slammed onto the table.
“Its left leg has been mended three times, using threads of different materials.”
Elizabeth’s movements jerked to a halt.
The ten threads hung in mid-air, trembling slightly.
“What are you trying to say?” Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, a hint of danger in her voice.
Bell lifted his eyelids. There was no fear in those deep black eyes, only a bone-chilling calmness.
It was like a doctor looking at a medical chart.
“When you hold it, you always use your right hand to choke its neck and your left hand to support its bottom.”
Bell extended a finger and traced an imaginary shape in the air.
“That is a classic defensive posture.”
“You’re afraid of it running away.”
Elizabeth’s expression changed.
The malicious fake smile that had been plastered on her face began to crack, piece by piece.
“Shut up!” she shrieked.
But Bell did not stop.
“This bear is very old, at least several centuries. It’s missing an eye, but you haven't replaced it because that is how it originally looked.”
Bell’s gaze finally shifted to Elizabeth’s face.
“You are using this defect to maintain a connection to a certain memory.”
“Let me guess.”
The corners of Bell’s mouth curled up slightly into an arc that held no warmth.
“Who was the one who locked you in that narrow, dark, moldy closet?”
Boom.
Elizabeth’s pupils instantly contracted to the size of needle points.
Her breathing became rapid, her chest heaving violently. Her originally pink cheeks were now as pale as paper.
The surrounding ancestors were all stunned.
A closet?
What closet?
“Was it your father? Or your mother?”
“They were arguing outside, breaking things, or perhaps... killing people?”
“And you could only hold this bear, huddled in the corner of the closet, praying they wouldn't find you.”
“That fear is etched into your very bones.”
Bell leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table, his gaze both pitying and mocking.
“That’s why you became what you are now.”
“You need to control everything. You need to turn everything into dolls, because only dolls won't hurt you, won't abandon you.”
“Fourth Ancestor Elizabeth?”
Bell gave a soft laugh.
“No.”
“You’re just a terrified little girl who hasn't walked out of that closet yet.”
Silence.
The entire Council Chamber fell into a deathly silence.
Even Betty forgot to chew the beef jerky in her mouth, staring at Bell with wide eyes.
Did this guy’s mouth get blessed or something?
Elizabeth stood there, her whole body trembling.
Her eyes were bloodshot. The shame of being exposed, the anger, and the awakened childhood trauma instantly crushed her rationality.
“Aaaaaaaah!”
A shrill scream echoed through the hall.
Elizabeth’s hair moved on its own, and a terrifying mana fluctuation erupted like a tsunami.
“I’m going to kill you! I’m going to tear you to shreds! I’ll turn you into the ugliest doll of all!”
Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!
Countless transparent threads, carrying a sharp aura capable of slicing through space, swarmed toward Bell to slaughter him.
That was the Fourth Ancestor’s rage-filled strike.
Even a dragon would be sliced into mincemeat in an instant.
Lilian shrieked in terror and dove under the table, clutching her head.
Bell sat in his chair, unmoving.
He didn't even blink.
Because someone else had moved.
Boom!
A black blur instantly appeared in front of Bell.
Leila held out a hand.
A mana shield wall, pitch-black as ink, materialized out of thin air, blocking every single thread capable of shredding steel.
Sparks flew in all directions.
The marble floor was shattered by the aftershocks.
Leila stood before Bell, her long silver hair flying in the violent currents of air.
She looked up, killing intent boiling in her crimson eyes.
“I said.”
Leila’s voice was bone-chillingly cold, each word sounding as if it were squeezed through her teeth.
“If you want to die, I will fulfill that wish.”
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