Chapter 146

Chapter 146
## Chapter 146

To the Roselia Cathedral (3)

Auterica was a classic high-fantasy realm where a multitude of distinct species coexisted.

However, it deviated significantly from the conventional tropes known on Earth: it was far from a setting dominated exclusively by individuals of Western descent.

Instead, it was an incredibly diverse world where a wide array of distinct species and crossbreeds lived side-by-side, creating a rich tapestry where the demographic balance shifted entirely depending on the territory.

Consequently, this meant that humans of East Asian descent originating from Earth possessed no particularly unique allure or exotic status in this domain.

This was perfectly exemplified by the young woman currently standing directly across from Harley.

‘Even granting that East Asians generally maintain a youthful countenance compared to other lineages… this girl appears far too young, even with that factored in.’

Tilting his head slightly, he cast his gaze downward at the petite figure who failed to even reach the center of his chest.

She was remarkably small, standing barely over 150 centimeters, draped in a deep blue robe that billowed around her like a formal gown.

Her midnight-black hair flowed down to her chest, gathered neatly by a simple ribbon and draped gracefully over one shoulder, while her pitch-black eyes, gleaming with the intensity of polished obsidian, peered up at him with an absolute, unreadable calmness.

…Yet her alabaster complexion and delicate features suggested a youthfulness that seemed impossible for an ordinary human of East Asian descent, no matter how hard he tried to rationalize it.

‘In all honesty, she looks like she belongs in a high school classroom at best—one could easily convince me she was still in middle school. Wait, could she perhaps be a scion of a completely different lineage?’

That was a highly plausible explanation.

If her ancestry carried even a trace of longevity from a race such as the Elves, her remarkably youthful appearance would make perfect sense.

On the other hand…

As Harley scratched at the nape of his neck—or rather, the thick monster hide covering the back of his neck—with a massive, heavily muscled arm,

“Forgive my bluntness, but do you happen to carry the bloodline of another species?”

The inquiry came directly from her before he could speak.

It seemed her thoughts had been running along the exact same track as his own.

He harbored no idea what had led her to suspect he was a crossbreed, given that his outward appearance resembled a perfectly robust human, but the observation was incredibly sharp—precisely what one would anticipate from an esteemed Archmage.

“Hmm—? Ah! I am a Dragonborn, so you wouldn’t be wrong in calling me a dragon crossbreed. Though I haven’t the faintest clue how many generations ago that ancestral bond was forged! Hahaha!”

“A Dragonborn… I understand. Please accept my apologies. I am Isea Pristine, representing the Azeria Empire.”

With a serene demeanor, she offered her formal introduction and extended a tiny, delicate hand to initiate a greeting.

Harley stared down at the small hand for a brief moment before gently enfolding it, intentionally tucking his ring and pinky fingers away as he moved her hand lightly up and down.

It was an incredibly cautious motion, born from the acute awareness that even the slightest lapse in his tremendous strength could easily shatter the delicate bones of her hand.

“Hahaha! No need for formalities, just address me as Harley. I am temporarily residing within the borders of the Tulk Kingdom at present, though my spirit remains entirely that of a southern plainsman!”

“…Is that so? Ah, I see.”

Isea offered a somewhat strained smile in return, looking visibly taken aback by the overwhelming vigor of his boisterous introduction.

“But what of you, young lady? Are you also of mixed heritage?”

“Ah, as for me…”

And so, within the stone corridors of the grand sanctuary,

A remarkably petite girl, barely surpassing 150 centimeters in height, and a towering colossus of a man, measuring nearly 2.3 meters, shared an unexpected, brief crossing of paths.

—

“Whew—”

Isea collapsed backward onto her bed, dragging a weary hand down the length of her face after finally taking her leave of Harley and returning to her personal quarters.

It went without saying that her presence at the grand Roselia Cathedral was entirely due to an official summons issued by the holy hierarchy.

The Anti-Immortal King Special Mobile Strike Force.

Frequently referred to simply as the ‘expeditionary force’ or the ‘vanguard of heroes’, it represented a mantle laden with catastrophic peril just as much as unmatched prestige.

Any individual who took up the call would be celebrated as a legendary protector across their respective homelands, their exploits permanently etched into historical chronicles and sung across the lands by wandering minstrels for generations to come.

‘Yet history shows that virtually none of the survivors who endured until the bitter end enjoyed longevity, meaning those hollow honors were never savored for long.’

Furthermore, because their ultimate objective demanded a direct confrontation with the Immortal King—a terrifying entity entirely beyond the reach of conventional martial power—the bare minimum standard for enlistment required individuals who had ascended to the absolute zenith of their respective paths, such as master-level combatants and supreme Archmages.

Naturally, this meant the vanguard would inevitably form an unmatched, elite fighting force comprised of the absolute strongest figures across the continent… and yet…

The geopolitical reality was far from that straightforward.

‘To begin with, defining who truly constitutes the absolute strongest on this continent is an exercise in pure ambiguity.’

This reality was no structured game, meaning there was no convenient system to assign exact numerical values to a person’s combat efficacy.

In order to weigh one powerhouse against another, observers were forced to rely on arbitrary metrics such as assumed power tiers, public renown, and historical battle records to form a judgment…

Moreover, even among individuals who occupied the exact same tier of mastery, the final outcome of a mortal conflict could radically shift based entirely on tactical compatibility and battlefield experience.

There existed no grand tournament designed to definitively rank the continent’s supreme masters, rendering an accurate appraisal of individual supremacy utterly impossible.

To make matters more complicated, Auterica had not experienced a major internecine war among human factions for an extended period, largely due to the looming threat of the previous Immortal King crises and the endless hordes of monsters roaming the wilderness.

Unless an individual possessed such transcendent, undeniable might that the entire populace unanimously recognized them—much like Heinrich, who had risen to the mantle of the true hero—there was simply no such universally acknowledged figure among the currently active powerhouses.

Given that grim reality, the authorities had little choice but to first solicit applications from individuals who met the base criteria, subsequently filtering out the most viable candidates through rigorous personal interviews and practical assessments…

However, an even greater obstacle loomed over the initiative.

The number of volunteers was abysmally low.

While the terrifying casualty rates recorded in historical texts played a significant role, there was a far more pragmatic, immediate deterrent preventing these masters from volunteering.

‘If I commit myself to this expeditionary force, I will be forced to separate from Riley for an indefinite duration, a concession I simply cannot afford to make given our current political climate.’

And among those prominent figures who were actively seeking a viable method to decline the deployment for precisely that reason,

Archmage Isea Pristine of the Azeria Empire was chief among them.

Individuals of exceptional power almost always occupied positions of immense authority, and such exalted standing naturally meant they possessed far greater assets and factions requiring their constant vigilance.

In a fraught era where no one could predict what disasters might befall their immediate kin, their sovereign territories, or their motherlands, how many could truly be expected to abandon everything they held dear for the nebulous concept of the greater good?

If the things they cherished most were destroyed or seized during their prolonged absence, who would step forward to offer recompense?

Furthermore, there was absolutely no assurance that their hidden adversaries wouldn’t exploit their departure to launch a devastating stroke.

Whether that threat materialized as the relentless legions of the undead… or their own domestic political rivals.

‘The situation regarding Simon has become incredibly delicate. I cannot simply dismiss the holy hierarchy’s summons out of hand. A brief absence might be manageable, but any longer is out of the question…’

This was the core reason why volunteers for the vanguard were virtually nonexistent—.

Every major faction understood the absolute necessity of the enterprise, yet no individual wished to personally bear the burden… such was the dismal reality of the era.

Because the baseline entry requirements were already set exceptionally high, the pool of viable candidates across the continent was naturally restricted to begin with. Ultimately, the high officials of the faith were reduced to systematically identifying recommended individuals and initiating direct negotiations to persuade them.

Isea, having the dubious honor of being the very first candidate put forward by the Crown Prince, was naturally at the top of their visitation list.

‘Even if the church possesses a final trump card that guarantees my survival, abandoning Riley’s side for an extended campaign is entirely putting the cart before the horse. Why am I even lingering here?!’

She had traveled to the Roselia Cathedral in person solely to demonstrate a baseline of respect toward the religious authorities, despite having absolutely no intention of altering her ultimate stance.

After all, considering that the Holy Saint himself had chosen to sacrifice his own safety to stand at the forefront of this continental catastrophe, it would be perceived as a profound insult to merely dispatch a written refusal.

‘No matter how diplomatic the high officials of the faith claim to be, human nature remains inherently volatile. I must avoid generating any unnecessary hostility with the sanctuary if I wish to safeguard the succession… All because of that wretched bastard, Simon.’

Isea silently ground her teeth together as the arrogant, mocking visage of Crown Prince Simon flashed across her mind.

The icy, detached composure she normally maintained with immense pride fractured instantly, replaced by a sudden wave of intense irritationwelling deep within her.

To be sure, if she were to successfully eliminate the Immortal King, survive the ordeal, and return cloaked in the legendary status of a savior, the entire political landscape would instantly tip in her favor, but such a campaign could never be concluded swiftly.

And by the time she returned… the Fifth Princess, Riley, would not only have decisively lost the war for the throne but would also face a terrifyingly high probability of meeting a fatal, orchestrate ‘mishap’.

‘Simon is precisely the type of monster who would orchestrate such a tragedy… At any rate, what was the deal with that giant from earlier, Harley?’

Attempting to wrench her thoughts away from her domestic troubles, Isea forced herself to recall the colossal warrior she had crossed paths with in the stone corridor.

“When he first loomed over me, I genuinely believed a catastrophic entity had somehow breached the sanctuary’s defenses.”

Her assessment wasn’t merely a reaction to his staggering physical dimensions.

While her primary mastery lay within the realm of primordial elemental manipulation, she possessed an incredibly vast repository of esoteric knowledge across numerous magical disciplines, courtesy of the unstinting financial backing of the Fifth Princess.

And Harley’s true nature, when viewed through her specialized analytical perception—which merged her academic erudition with her innate, unique sensory talents—was profoundly unsettling.

‘That left eye, and the sheer density of the aura radiating from him… it is absolutely not an energetic signature that any naturally born living being should possess… It closely mirrors the profile of a synthesized chimera or an apex predatory entity.’

It conveyed the terrifying impression of a colossal, ravenous beast compressed down into a humanoid vessel, with an almost suffocating volume of vital energy pulsating through every single strand of his musculature.

That energy was undeniably ‘life force’—the corrupted, dense mana that served as the foundational source of power for catastrophic monsters.

Most damning of all, there was an inexplicable, jarring disharmony radiating from his being, a fundamental wrongness that was entirely absent from ordinary living creatures.

It was precisely as if his physical form had been artificially constructed from a disparate collection of biological components, with clashing energetic currents stitched together by some incomprehensible, foreign power.

The most undeniable evidence, however, lay within the dormant echo of absolute ‘frenzy’ coiled tightly within Harley’s frame, alongside the faint, lingering resonance of a deeply malevolent, forbidden dark sorcery.

It was an anomaly that could not be simply dismissed or ignored, given the stakes of the current era.

‘There is a distinct possibility he operates as a hidden piece deployed by the Immortal King, Hans.’

It was precisely this suspicion that had prompted her to initiate the conversation in the first place.

She had sought to extract some measure of actionable intelligence through a calculated verbal exchange.

“Yet, if his claim of being a Dragonborn holds true… I cannot say for certain. They represent such an exceedingly rare lineage that virtually no historical accounts remain within our archives.”

If the bizarre physical and energetic disharmony she had detected was merely an inherent, natural trait of the elusive Dragonborn lineage, then her suspicions would have no ground to stand on.

Furthermore, the volatile reaction of the ambient mana enveloping his form, which her senses had mapped the moment their hands clasped, lent considerable weight to the assertion that he carried the ancient blood of dragons.

‘Nevertheless, complacency is a luxury I cannot afford. I have an audience scheduled with the Holy Saint later today, so I will ensure this anomaly is discreetly brought to his attention.’

She finally settled on that course of action, choosing to delegate the ultimate evaluation and potential risk management to the specialized branches of the faith.

She reasoned that such a report might even earn her some valuable political leverage with the hierarchy.

—

Deep within the subterranean chambers beneath the magnificent estate of the Bright ducal house, situated within the borders of the Talia Kingdom.

Heinz stood in absolute silence, his gaze fixed intently on the woman who was currently letting out a thoroughly indifferent, lazy yawn directly before him.

“So, you harbor absolutely no lingering doubts regarding the path you have chosen?”

“Yawn— None whatsoever. Despite the immense span of years I have accumulated, sustaining one’s existence is infinitely preferable to turning to dust, wouldn’t you agree…?”

The words she uttered, accompanied by a thoroughly relaxed and heavy-lidded gaze, carried a profound dual significance.

It was an acknowledgement that her physical vessel was rapidly approaching its natural expiration date, her primordial lifespan drawing to its inevitable close…

‘Her intuitive perceptions remain incredibly sharp.’

And simultaneously, it was a declaration that she preferred to be completely assimilated by his power rather than allowing her life to quietly gutter out from old age.

She had stood witness from the absolute front row as Heinz utterly consumed Visque Ufersh to ascend to the exalted rank of a Sacred Blood, making her calculated decision entirely logical under the circumstances.

…In truth, he had already been privately contemplating executing that exact course of action.

“Hehehe— In reality, above all else, I find myself entirely incapable of resisting the mesmerizing allure of fundamental sanguine evolution. To think that I am granted the opportunity to personally undergo that sublime metamorphosis, a process I failed to truly comprehend despite witnessing it countless times—what could possibly hold greater fascination than this?!”

Briki’s voice, which had commenced as a low, raspy murmur, steadily climbed in volume and intensity as an undeniable fervor took hold of her.

Her half-closed eyes widened completely, and by the time her declaration echoed through the chamber, her pupils were burning with an intense, manic brilliance.

“Naturally, I am also profoundly intrigued by the destiny of the vampire race that you intend to forge, Heinz. It promises to be a magnificent spectacle to observe. It far eclipses anything I ever envisioned in my wildest fantasies.”

“Indeed, securing the allegiance of another kindred of the Sacred Blood tier will prove immensely beneficial for the grand designs I have set in motion. Therefore, purge any notion of remaining a mere spectator from your mind, and prepare to exert yourself fully for the sake of that destiny.”

Heinz delivered his response with cold brevity as he slowly closed the physical distance between them.

How could she possibly presume she would be allowed to merely sit back and enjoy the show?

That absolute luxury belonged solely to him, the undisputed sovereign of their lineage!

‘Granted, she isn’t the type to actually remain completely idle. However, I have absolutely zero tolerance for subordinates who slack off while I am breaking my back to lay the foundations.’

Offering not a single shred of resistance, she remained perfectly still, waiting with an air of quiet anticipation as he stepped directly behind her and buried his razor-sharp fangs deep into the tender flesh of her nape.

He began the forced infusion of his own “Refined Blood Essence”, a catalyst engineered to completely rewrite and elevate the predatory traits dormant within her ancient veins.

He unleashed the genesis of a magnificent, terrifying transformation that would remold her entire existence!

“Hooo— Ah! So this… this is the true sensation!”

At long last, the authentic, agonizingly beautiful metamorphosis took hold.

Her ancestral blood began to boil violently, an intense, radiating heat erupting from every pore of her skin as her skeletal structure and muscle fibers tore themselves apart and reassembled.

Every individual cell comprising her physical form was violently forced beyond its natural evolutionary boundaries, and the fading spark of her life force, which had been steadily ebbing away into nothingness, underwent a explosive, meteoric resurgence.

‘Brokoslack’, one of the foundational pillars of the ‘Original Bloodlines’ that had endured since the dawn of antiquity, the very archetype upon which all of Auterica’s kindred were based—.

Was being permanently erased from the continent’s sprawling history, fundamentally evolving into a vastly superior, transcendent state after being altered… or rather, perfected by Heinz the Second, the hybrid anomaly hailing from an entirely different reality.

Simultaneously, of course,

This marked the exact historical moment where the ‘Hybrid’, the supreme collective alliance governing the Vampire Clans of Auterica, successfully welcomed another immaculate, fully realized Sacred Blood into its ranks.