The First Pope - Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Orca Town.
After night had fully fallen, a torrential downpour returned, turning the ground to mud once more. Some of the cruder wooden huts collapsed under the assault, and the cold wind tore at their roofs. Silver Knights stood guard at the town's entrance, their faces mercilessly battered by the rain. The wind was so strong they could barely open their eyes.
The rain washed over their silver armor again and again. The exaggeratedly low temperature turned the Silver Knights' faces blue, their bodies stiff, their teeth chattering uncontrollably.
The downpour was immense, severely obstructing their vision. Three menacing gray shadows used the cover of night to brazenly approach the Silver Knights guarding the entrance, yet no one noticed.
A gray shadow drew close to a Silver Knight, its hand of condensed gray mist reaching for the silver longsword at the knight's waist. With a soft clang, the sword was drawn. Its owner belatedly looked down just as a flash of silver light crossed his vision. His head and body were already in two separate pieces.
The knight's companion was splattered across the face with warm blood. Before he could even register what had happened, a sharp pain erupted in his chest, and he collapsed powerlessly to the ground.
The gray shadows swiftly dealt with the four Silver Knights guarding the entrance. They floated above the corpses, brandishing their claws triumphantly before slowly dissipating into the air.
Two figures in red, one large and one small, emerged from the darkness. The older girl toyed with a black staff, her red robes soaked by the downpour and clinging to her body. Her slightly curly brown hair hung obediently over her chest. The girl's gray eyes stared disdainfully at the corpses on the ground, her red lips curling into a smile thick with ridicule. "A bunch of trash."
Bright red blood mixed with rainwater and flowed to the girl's feet. She lifted her foot and deliberately stomped in the bloody water. Seeing her boots become soiled, she grinned as if delighted. Her cute and sweet features made her look like an exquisite porcelain doll.
"Eunice." The little girl standing behind her, who only came up to her waist, gazed at the darkness-shrouded Orca Town and spoke in a low voice, "It seems Sister Betty isn't here."
Eunice turned her head, her brow furrowed in displeasure. "You were the one who said she was locked up here."
The little girl cradled a skeletal mouse, her gray eyes filled with unconcealed worry. "Maybe she was taken away before we arrived."
Eunice's mood suddenly turned foul. Her face darkened as she snapped coldly, "You're completely useless."
The little girl acted as if she hadn't heard Eunice's rebuke. She placed her hand on the skeletal mouse and searched for a moment, then looked up in a certain direction and said, "To the north."
Eunice strode northward, playing with her staff, completely ignoring whether the little girl could keep up.
The little girl was not yet ten, and walking in the storm was not as steady for her as it was for Eunice, but she still did her best to follow. She called out to Eunice's retreating back, "It seems Chelsea is there too."
Eunice, walking ahead, pursed her lips. How did that person who can't even find her way around get so lucky this time?
How infuriating.
The storm raged all night, and Cynthia and Chelsea sat by the fireplace, waiting all night as well. Gia had woken up in the middle of the night, but she probably knew that Cynthia and Chelsea wouldn't turn her, so she just wrapped herself in a blanket and sat quietly at the foot of the bed, afraid of doing anything that might anger them.
However… clutching the blanket, she secretly raised her head and stared with some confusion at Cynthia and Chelsea's backs. These two vampires seemed different from the others she had seen.
As the rain began to subside, the sound of chaotic footsteps came from the doorway. Cynthia, who had been resting with her eyes closed, opened them slightly. Although she hadn't slept properly since transmigrating, she felt remarkably energetic, without a trace of fatigue.
Chelsea pulled up the hood of her cloak and nodded at Cynthia.
A knock came from the door. Cynthia cleared her throat and called out, "Come in."
Four or five Silver Knights pushed six or seven witches into the room. The witches' wrists and ankles were bound in heavy chains. Having traveled through the night in the storm, they looked exceptionally wretched.
These chains were specially made by the vampires to restrain these particular blood slaves.
The captured witches were not very old. They were petite and burdened with heavy chains. Coupled with the constant bloodletting during their days of imprisonment, several of them were so weak they could barely stand.
At the very back of the group of witches, a girl with reddish-brown hair seemed to be in better spirits. While supporting a companion, she looked up to survey the people in the room. When her gaze met Chelsea's, her heart skipped a beat.
Chelsea gave the girl a slight shake of her head.
Viscount Bert strode into the room with his portly frame, habitually wiping sweat from his forehead as he fawned over Cynthia. "Honorable Lord Vampire, I've brought the people for you."
"These are the ones. What do you think?"
Cynthia rested her chin on her hand, pretending to inspect the witches. After a moment, she curled her lips and said, "They look a bit more appetizing than the food you sent last night."
Only then did Viscount Bert notice Gia sitting at the foot of the bed. He exclaimed, "Lord Vampire, you didn't feed last night?"
"Didn't I say I've grown tired of human blood?" Cynthia's tone was calm, but Viscount Bert felt as if she was angry. He shrank back, forcing a cautious smile. "It's my fault. To think I would send you such inferior goods."
He waved a hand behind him. A Silver Knight walked over, roughly grabbed Gia, and began to drag her outside.
Gia began to cry in fear, turning to look at Cynthia with a pleading expression. The Silver Knight, worried her cries would anger the two vampires in the room, simply covered her mouth.
He dragged Gia outside. Just as he stepped out of the room, a cold hand suddenly clamped down on his shoulder.
A tall and handsome man pulled Gia from the Silver Knight's grasp. The man's face was as pale as paper, his curly golden hair shone in the light, and his red eyes were as rich as blood. He held the limp-legged Gia with one hand and stared at Cynthia with great interest, as if he had seen something amusing. "Well, well, what do we have here?"
"A fake Sixth Generation Vampire?"
The man spoke as he sniffed the air, then let out a scoff. "If the Brujah vampires smelled this foul odor, they'd be driven mad with rage."
Cynthia and Chelsea had been using the aura of the Brujah clan as their disguise.
"Lord Wilton!" Viscount Bert covered his mouth in surprise. It took a moment for his not-so-sharp mind to process what Wilton had just said. His eyes widened in disbelief. "What did you just say? Fake vampires?"
Viscount Bert stared at Cynthia and Chelsea in shock.
Chelsea's heart tightened. Wilton's aura and his crimson eyes both declared his identity: this was a genuine Sixth Generation Vampire.
Her witchcraft could only deceive vampires below the sixth generation; those of the sixth generation or higher could see through it with ease.
Why would a Sixth Generation Vampire be in a small place like this… Chelsea's hand, hidden under her cloak, was already touching the Space Gem at her waist.
The atmosphere instantly grew tense. In contrast to Chelsea's grave mood, Cynthia appeared much more relaxed. Her calm demeanor made even Viscount Bert think this might all be a misunderstanding.
Viscount Bert looked blankly from Wilton to Cynthia, unsure of what to do.
Cynthia, who had been mentally prepared for this, simply shook her head slightly and said faintly, "You found me out." Her gaze swept around. Seeing a Silver Knight standing nearby, she reached out and drew the silver longsword from his waist. The sword, which was quite heavy for the knight, felt weightless in her hand.
Wilton watched her draw the sword, raising an eyebrow, curious about what she intended to do.
Cynthia had only drawn the sword because she felt insecure with empty hands. Gripping the feather-light longsword, she took two steps back to Chelsea's side, sighed, and said without much hope, "It's up to you."
Chelsea: "…"
Although Cynthia didn't have a deep understanding of the vampires' strength, the moment she saw Wilton, she knew their chances were slim to none.
Seeing Cynthia's composure, Wilton had thought this member of the God Race might have some special ability and was on his guard. But hearing their conversation, he felt as if he'd been played, and his face instantly darkened.
"Take them alive," Wilton commanded coldly, and several black shadows rushed into the room from behind him.
Chelsea's expression changed slightly at the sight of the black shadows. She drew out a jet-black staff and began to chant in a low voice. A gray mist started to fill the room, quickly obscuring everyone's vision.
Chelsea pressed a Space Gem into Cynthia's hand and said quickly, "Give this to the witches over there."
Then, with another wave of her staff, several clumps of gray shadow enveloped Cynthia and the chained witches on the other side, flying them out through the window.
Cynthia and the witches were thrown outside. A red mist spread from the ground, slowly enveloping the town. Cynthia felt a chill, and the hand gripping the longsword trembled involuntarily. But this discomfort lasted only a few seconds before it vanished. A faint white light enveloped her palm, dispelling the blood mist around her.
Cynthia looked down at her hand in surprise. A solemn voice sounded by her ear, "This is the domain of a Sixth Generation Vampire."
Cynthia came to her senses and turned to see the speaker. It was a witch who looked about Chelsea's age. Her features were not yet fully developed, giving her a somewhat youthful look, but compared to the other panicked witches, she was remarkably composed despite her youth.
Seeing Cynthia studying her, she gave a slight nod. Her brown eyes showed no panic, only a sense of peace. She said in a low voice, "My name is Betty, from the Garcia Family."
Garcia… Cynthia remembered Chelsea's instructions and handed her the Space Gem. "Chelsea asked me to give this to you."
Betty was taken aback for a moment. She took the Space Gem and inspected it, a flash of joy on her face. "Chelsea actually brought staffs."
Their staffs and witchcraft materials had all been confiscated, and they were bound by chains that sealed their magic, leaving them no different from weak humans.
Betty distributed the staffs to the other witches. Just as she was worrying about what to do with the chains on her wrists, a flash of silver caught her eye. A sharp sword blade grazed past her wrist and struck the chains, which broke with a clang.
Betty looked down at her freed hands, still unable to process it. "You…"
These chains were specially made by the vampires. Even they might not be able to open them with witchcraft, yet this person had cut them with a sword?
Cynthia didn't know what Betty was so surprised about and thought she was worried about having been cut. She smiled at her and said apologetically, "It's my first time using a sword, so my control isn't great."
It was strange. The silver longsword was wide and thick, and looked like it should be quite heavy. Cynthia had initially worried she wouldn't be able to hold it for long, but once it was in her hand, she found it was as light as a feather. She could swing it without feeling tired at all.
It seemed the body of a God Race member did have some advantages over a human's.
"Ah, no, it's nothing…" Betty looked up and saw that Cynthia was already cutting the chains off the other witches. She swallowed the question that was about to leave her lips. The Blood Domain had already formed. Besides killing Wilton, they had no other way to escape.
Betty took a deep breath and raised her staff, beginning to chant.
Witchcraft spells had long casting times, were slow to activate, and sometimes required material components. Even when cast, their attack power was far from sufficient to deal with vampires, who were natural-born fighters.
Witches were always at a disadvantage against vampires, unless they could lure the vampires into a pre-prepared magic formation. Only then might they turn the tables.
Although both Betty and Chelsea were among the most talented witches of the younger generation, killing a Sixth Generation Vampire under these circumstances was still a fantasy.
But even if their chances of killing Wilton were zero, neither Chelsea nor Betty intended to give up and wait for death.
The Blood Domain partially obscured their vision. After cutting all the chains off the witches, Cynthia looked around but couldn't find any sign of Chelsea.
The heavy, rhythmic sound of footsteps echoed through the blood mist as the Silver Knights began to search for them. Cynthia took a slight step back, gripping her sword, and her back bumped into a cold iron frame, making her turn around warily.
Dozens of sallow, emaciated, and scarred humans sat in an iron cage, watching her in silence. Their eyes were dull, filled with terror and fear of the suddenly appearing red mist.
Cynthia frowned. Just as she was about to say something, a cold gust of wind came from behind her. She dodged instinctively, raising her arm and holding the longsword horizontally in front of her, blocking a sneak attack from a Silver Knight's sword.
As the swords clashed, Cynthia's blade glowed with a faint white light. The Silver Knight felt a wave of heat in his arm, and for some reason, his armor suddenly burst into flames. He let out a bloodcurdling scream and was reduced to ashes in moments, dissipating into the air.
Cynthia's eyes widened slightly as she stared at the sword in her hand in astonishment. This was… She switched the sword to her other hand and looked down at her palm, where a faint, indistinct white light glowed.
The gray shadows summoned by the witches actively sought out the searching Silver Knights, and a battle began. The sounds of shouting brought Cynthia back to her senses. Betty appeared from nowhere, pressing against Cynthia's back and whispering, "I'll leave two summons to protect you. Find a chance to escape. I have to go help Chelsea."
Cynthia looked at her in surprise, raising an eyebrow with a smile. "I can't escape on my own in this situation, can I?" This witch was quite kind, though.
Betty sighed, her face downcast. "I'm sorry for getting you involved." She had assumed Cynthia was a helper Chelsea had found and felt guilty for dragging her into such a dangerous situation.
"Don't give up yet, maybe there'll be a turn of events…" Cynthia's words of comfort were cut short as the Blood Domain above them suddenly shattered. A long, jade-green arrow shot through the air, piercing the domain and heading straight for Wilton, who was standing aside enjoying the show.
Wilton had been watching his subordinates toy with the witches. He only realized something was wrong when the arrow shattered his Blood Domain. He dodged clumsily, barely avoiding the incoming arrow.
After the blood mist dissipated, Cynthia saw that the town had been surrounded by green vines at some point. A strong gust of wind blew away the dark clouds overhead, and golden sunlight spilled onto the vines. Beautiful girls in green dresses stood on the vines, holding longbows. They were barefoot, their long hair loosely braided and hanging down to their knees. Their pointed ears gave them an ethereal air.
"Elves…" Betty's tense back finally relaxed a little. She slowly lowered her staff, staring at the elves with wide eyes and muttering to herself, "The turn of events actually came."
To think they would run into elves here.
A volley of arrows rained down. The vampires and Silver Knights scrambled to dodge, but many were still pierced through the chest and fell to the ground. In just a few short minutes, the roles of hunter and prey had been reversed. Wilton sensed the danger and, forgetting about the witches and the God Race, turned to flee.
A jade-green arrow shot towards Wilton with a whoosh, closing in like a bolt of lightning. It pierced his back and exited through his chest, the arrowhead carrying a heart that had already stopped beating.
Wilton looked down in disbelief, clutching his heart as he knelt on the ground, never to rise again.
Cynthia was stunned by the power of that arrow, but when she looked around, she couldn't see which elf had fired it.
Thanks to the vampires' habit of toying with their prey, Chelsea had managed to hold on until the elves appeared. Although Wilton had never made a move himself, fighting four or five seventh and eighth-generation vampires alone had been difficult for Chelsea.
Chelsea lowered her staff and wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, her face as pale as paper. She leaned against a wall and slowly squatted down, a wave of dizziness making her close her eyes involuntarily.
By the time Cynthia and Betty found Chelsea, she was on the verge of collapsing. Betty ran over to check her injuries, then helped her up, asking worriedly, "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Chelsea stood up with Betty's support. As she looked up, she saw Cynthia standing nearby. She looked Cynthia up and down and said with some surprise, "…I didn't think you'd be so lucky."
They were all injured to some extent, but Cynthia was completely unscathed, not looking disheveled in the slightest, as if she had been one of the spectators.
Cynthia was about to say something, but thinking of the Silver Knight who had spontaneously combusted for no reason, she decided it was too complicated to explain and simply smiled without speaking.
After clearing out all the vampires and Silver Knights in the town, the elves jumped down from the vines and began to search the area. Seeing them obviously looking for something, Cynthia turned to Chelsea and asked, "What are they looking for?"
Before Chelsea could answer, Betty spoke up. "They're looking for their own people."
"When we were imprisoned in Orca Town, we saw a few captured elves. They were guarded by several Sixth Generation Vampires and were quickly transferred away."
Elves were few in number but powerful fighters. Even with chains, Silver Knights couldn't guard them effectively; only vampires of the sixth generation or higher could restrain them.
After searching the town several times without finding their captured kin, the elves withdrew. But before they left, they made a point of opening all the iron cages holding the humans.
The vines on the ground began to wither. Cynthia glanced down, then heard a witch exclaim in surprise. She looked up curiously, following the witches' gazes, and saw that another group of elves had appeared at the town's entrance.
These elves were older, both male and female, and all carried longbows on their backs. Only the elf in the lead had nothing on her back. Her wavy, light-green hair fell almost to her knees.
The lead elf wore only a long white dress, a silver belt accentuating her slender waist. The long hair falling in front of her couldn't hide her proud figure. The elf's flawless features made her look almost unreal.
"…Who is she?" Cynthia gazed in the elf's direction, asking thoughtfully.
She waited a moment without a response and couldn't help but turn to Chelsea and ask again.
Chelsea looked at the lead elf, thought for a moment, and replied, "That should be the Elf Queen, Olivia."
The number one beauty of the Sitatul Continent, the Elf Queen Olivia, who was rumored to be able to stand against a Second Generation Vampire.
Although she had never seen the Elf Queen before, judging by her aura and appearance, she was sure she wasn't mistaken.
After the younger elves rejoined the group, the elves turned to leave. Polly walked beside Olivia and, noticing she seemed distracted, couldn't help but ask out of curiosity, "Her Majesty the Queen, what are you thinking about?"
Olivia frowned, her light-green eyes slightly lowered, her voice cool. "Did you see that member of the God Race just now?"
Polly paused for a moment, then nodded. "I think there was one." That member of the God Race had an extraordinary appearance and aura, making her stand out at a glance.
"Have an elf follow her. See where she's going."
Polly nodded in acknowledgment and turned to make the arrangements.
Olivia led her people through the forest. A vine hung down from a tree, adorned with clusters of small white flowers. It dangled by Olivia's shoulder, emitting a faint fragrance. Olivia stopped, looking up at the sun, half-hidden by dark clouds, her gaze profound. The God Race… the race favored by the Goddess of Light. Are they really of no use at all?
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