The pain of the blade cutting through the surface of his skin crawled up his spine and into his brain.
A chill seeped into his marrow along the metal.
Bell lay prone on the cold floor tiles, the jagged edges of the shattered marble pressing against his chest.
Every throb from the broken bone in his left arm brought a piercing, agonizing pain.
He could feel blood flowing down his neck, soaking the collar of his shirt.
Grant stood over him, the tip of his sword as steady as a rock.
The hall was deathly silent, save for the occasional sound of dust falling from the crumbling stone pillars.
Lilian stood up from her throne, her right hand holding her scepter level.
“Grant, stand down.”
The sound of the scepter's base striking the floor echoed through the vast hall.
Grant did not move immediately.
He stared at the back of Bell’s head, his wrist maintaining the downward pressure.
Lilian took a step forward, her dark red hem dragging across the floor.
“That is an order.”
Grant gave a cold snort, and the blood-red longsword in his hand instantly disintegrated, vanishing into the air as countless red particles.
He took two steps back and raised a hand to brush the dust from his suit.
“Since it is the Queen’s request, I shall naturally obey.”
Bell braced his hands against the ground and slowly rolled over.
He leaned against a stone pillar, his right hand clutching his twisted left arm.
Sweat slid down his forehead, diluting the bloodstains on his face.
He looked up, his gaze meeting Grant’s.
“Thank you for the guidance, Ancestor.”
He spoke with visible effort, his voice carrying a distinct tremor.
Grant did not respond; he simply turned and walked toward his seat at the end of the long table.
Elizabeth let out a shrill laugh from not far away.
She hopped down from her chair, still clutching that tattered stuffed bear in her arms.
“Grant, you actually let a human make such a mess of you.”
“Shut up, Elizabeth.”
Grant pulled out his chair and sat down, his face grim.
Ed swirled the red liquid in his glass, his gaze lingering on Bell.
The things this human had displayed were far too varied.
Alchemy, physical traps, and that half-baked blood magic.
If allowed to grow, he might truly become a threat to the Blood Race.
But for now, he was just a heavily injured “advisor” seeking protection.
Lilian walked down the steps and stopped in front of Bell.
She looked down at the blood-covered man.
“Take him to the side hall for treatment.”
Two werewolf guards stepped forward, hoisting Bell up by his shoulders.
Bell did not resist, allowing them to drag him toward the back of the hall.
His toes traced two faint watery trails on the floor.
Only as Bell’s figure disappeared around the corner did the tension in the hall slightly ease.
“Everyone, today’s gathering ends here.”
Lilian sat back on her throne, her voice steady.
“For the coronation ceremony in three days, I do not wish to see any accidents.”
The ancestors stood up one after another.
Ed gave a polite gentlemanly bow and led Betty toward the doors.
Elizabeth pulled on the stuffed bear’s ear, skipping along behind them.
The heavy doors of the hall slowly swung shut with a dull, heavy thud.
Lilian sat on the throne for a long time.
Until the last trace of mana fluctuations vanished from the air.
She stood up and walked toward the private reception hall in the back.
She pushed open the heavy obsidian door, and a faint scent of medicinal herbs wafted toward her.
Bell was sitting on a long couch by the window.
His upper body was bare, and his left arm was wrapped in thick bandages.
Liquid Mithril flowed faintly beneath his skin, repairing the fractured bone.
He held a clean white cloth in his hand, carefully wiping the blood from his right hand.
Hearing the door open, Bell turned his head and gave a slight nod.
“Your Majesty.”
Lilian closed the door and activated a soundproofing array.
She sat down opposite Bell, leaning her scepter against the table.
Her majestic facade instantly crumbled, her shoulders slumping slightly.
“Grant almost really killed you just now.”
Bell set down the white cloth and glanced at his left arm.
“If we didn't make it look real, we wouldn't have fooled Ed and Elizabeth.”
A rhythmic knock came from the door.
Three long, two short.
“Come in.”
The door creaked open a crack, and Grant slipped inside.
He locked the door behind him, the gloom and arrogance on his face gone.
He dropped to one knee before Lilian, performing a standard vassal’s salute.
“Your Majesty, the task is complete.”
Then, he turned to Bell, a hint of guilt in his eyes.
“Mr. Lucas, that kick earlier—I held back half my strength.”
Bell gave a bitter laugh and pointed to his ribs.
“I still broke three of them.”
He braced himself against the table to stand up and walked to the bookshelf to retrieve a bottle of purple potion.
“But the results were excellent.”
“Margaret and Leon should have spread the news by now.”
Bell walked to the window and pushed it open a crack.
In the plaza below, the vampire commoners were still cheering for the miracle of the “Daywalker.”
Among the fanatical crowd, he could sense several familiar and subtle auras.
Those were the academy's scouting methods.
“Tia is definitely nearby.”
Bell closed his eyes, the image of that anxious girl appearing in his mind.
“If I didn't appear to be ‘heavily wounded’ and ‘under house arrest,’ she would have charged straight into the palace.”
Tia’s current body was made of Mithril, reinforced by runes.
Once she charged in, a full-scale war between vampires and humans would be inevitable.
That was the last situation Bell wanted right now.
He needed to use the power of the vampires to counter Cecilia’s “Restart Plan.”
He couldn't afford to waste military strength here.
“Are you sure the academy will believe it?”
Lilian poured a cup of black tea and pushed it toward Bell.
Bell picked up the teacup, his fingertips feeling the warmth of the porcelain.
“They have no choice but to believe it.”
“A ‘genius’ who possesses era-crossing knowledge but is under strict surveillance by vampires.”
“They will try every means to rescue me rather than launching a direct assault.”
This was the gambit created by the information gap.
Bell had used Grant’s “provocation” to establish his status in front of all the ancestors.
He had shown the ability to fight back, but also his limits as a human.
This would give the ancestors an illusion: this human could be controlled.
And for the rescue team outside...
What they saw was Bell’s unyielding stance even in a desperate situation.
This would stimulate their protective instincts and sense of responsibility.
“Grant, for the next three days, you will be responsible for ‘guarding’ me.”
Bell set down his teacup and looked at the Seventh Ancestor standing to the side.
“Every afternoon at three o'clock, show your face on that bell tower on time.”
“Remember to act a bit more aggressive.”
Grant scratched his head, looking a bit awkward.
“Mr. Lucas, I’m not very good at this kind of acting.”
Bell pointed to the scuffed suit on Grant’s chest.
“You did very well just now.”
“That anger after being offended by a human was very authentic.”
Grant’s face flushed red as he looked down at his toes.
He had actually been genuinely annoyed by Bell’s strange tools.
That kind of physical strike targeting his five senses had indeed made him feel quite lose face as an ancestor.
“Alright, you may leave now.”
Lilian waved her hand.
Grant bowed again and silently withdrew from the room.
The room fell into silence once more.
Lilian watched Bell, her finger rubbing the rim of her cup.
“The things you taught Leila... are they real?”
Bell sat back on the couch, feeling the flow of mana within his body.
Through that battle just now, his understanding of Blood Source Magic had deepened by another level.
The mana circuits Leila had taught him were merging with his original earth element core.
“Mana is just a form of energy; it must follow basic logic.”
Bell raised his right hand, a faint red light dancing in his palm.
“Lilian, your current position is not yet stable.”
“Ed is watching from the sidelines, and Elizabeth is testing the waters.”
“They submit to the legend of the ‘Daywalker,’ but they do not submit to you.”
Bell looked up and stared directly at Lilian.
Lilian gripped her cup, her back straightening.
“I know.”
“That is why I need that ceremony.”
“The Blood Dance Tattoo.”
Bell nodded.
“Bell.”
She suddenly spoke softly.
Bell looked at her in confusion.
“Why are you helping me to this extent?”
“Is it just to use me to fight Cecilia?”
Bell remained silent for a while.
The purple moon outside the window cast a cold light onto his bandage-wrapped shoulder.
“Because you are a masterpiece I personally forged.”
“I don't want to see you die in meaningless internal strife like those shadow wolves.”
Lilian’s eyelashes fluttered.
She stood up, walked to Bell, and leaned down.
As the distance between them closed, Bell could smell the faint scent of tuberose on her.
“Just a masterpiece?”
She reached out, her fingertip gently tracing the wound on Bell’s neck.
Due to the effects of Blood Source Magic, the wound had already begun to scab over.
Bell did not retreat, nor did he respond.
He looked into Lilian’s eyes, which were gradually turning red.
“You are the Queen.”
“A Queen does not need such cheap comfort.”
Lilian gave a light chuckle and withdrew her hand.
She resumed her haughty and cold demeanor.
“You’re right.”
She turned and walked toward the door.
“Rest well, my Lord Advisor.”
“For tomorrow’s lesson, Leila is already waiting for you in the side hall.”
The moment the door closed, Bell let out a long breath.
He lay back on the couch, staring at the reliefs on the ceiling.
The bones in his left arm were healing, and the tingling sensation made it difficult for him to fall asleep.
In another corner of the palace.
Lilian stood on the balcony, looking at the myriad of lights below.
She touched the place on her collarbone where the slave mark had vanished.
There was nothing there now.
But she always felt as if an invisible thread was extending from the side hall.
Tying itself tightly around her heart.
She took a deep breath and spread her arms.
Moonlight spilled over her pale skin.
“Bell Lucas.”
“You had better truly be able to let the Blood Race see that... world under the sun.”
...
Meanwhile.
Cecilia held a withered leaf in her hand and gave it a gentle blow.
The leaf disintegrated into gray powder and vanished.
“Brother, you’re having quite a lot of fun over there.”
She tilted her head, a hint of pure, innocent laughter on her face.
Cecilia hummed an unknown nursery rhyme.
She walked into the depths of the forest.
There, a massive heart was emitting a dull, rhythmic thud.
With every beat, the surrounding space produced a tiny fissure.
And thousands of miles away, Bell suddenly shuddered.
He set down his chalk and turned to look out the window.
“What is it?”
Leila asked in confusion.
Bell shook his head and looked back at the blackboard.
“Nothing.”
“I just feel like... time is running out.”
He accelerated his writing.
The chalk made a sharp scraping sound against the blackboard.
Strings of symbols representing truth spread frantically under the dark red candlelight.
Like a massive web, trying to catch the fate that was about to collapse.
Rate on N.U.
