Chapter 391: Lightning Didn’t Fall From the Sky (10)

At some point during the intense battle with Shei, Tyrkanzyaka felt a distinct sense of displeasure.

It wasn’t because of Shei.

It was an irritating sensation, like tiny needles pricking her skin—an unmistakable sign, one she was very much familiar with.

Almost certainly, someone nearby had come into contact with the Sky God.

A Saintess, or one of their subordinates—the Crusaders.

Tyrkanzyaka halted her assault and turned her gaze to the side.

She failed to notice a rock flying toward her and took the hit head-on, her flesh caving under the impact.

However, as if such an attack was of no consequence, she stood unfazed, staring deep into the Cloud Waterfall.

“…This is.”

“Focus!”

Enraged that her opponent had suddenly lost interest in their battle, the Regressor flared up, shouting.

But Tyrkanzyaka had already dismissed Shei from her thoughts.

“There is an order to battle. Step aside and wait for your turn. There is a place I must go first.”

“You started this fight and now you’re just backing out? Are you trying to run away?”

“Think what you will.”

There was no doubt—Shei was connected to the Sanctum.

Perhaps, as Hilde had suggested, she was truly a Saintess.

At the very least, she had to be a Crusader.

Logically, that was the correct assumption.

But it was also a truth Tyrkanzyaka could choose to ignore.

Shei had never once used Holy Power.

She had never invoked a prophecy.

If she had, even in the slightest, Tyrkanzyaka would have noticed immediately and attacked.

In other words, as long as Shei did not anger her, she did not need to be killed.

Unlike Shei though, whose fate depended on Tyr’s mood, the current sensation was real.

It was the sickening stench of a Saintess.

Tyrkanzyaka no longer paid any attention to Shei and turned away.

“If you wish, I will entertain you once this is over, but for now…”

A gaze that seemed to look down upon all of existence pierced through her.

This revolting feeling—

It was as if the Saintess understood her anger, her wounds, and her suffering.

As if she had already seen them unfold.

As if she had already judged this as fate and let it happen.

There was no room for doubt anymore.

There was a Saintess nearby.

The eternal nemesis of the Progenitor.

Fury surged within Tyrkanzyaka, her killing intent sharpening like a blade.

Nothing could approach her without being reduced to a mere splash of blood.

Not that any human would dare approach her in such a state.

“This humble servant has come at the call of the Sky God.”

—Unless, of course, it was by Sky God’s will.

A gust of wind swept through the streets.

In the next instant, a fist struck Tyrkanzyaka’s face.

Tyrkanzyaka’s body soared through the air like a ball.

She remained airborne for nearly ten seconds, sailing dozens of meters before crashing into the outer walls of Claudia.

The Progenitor of Vampires—humanity’s greatest fear—had been sent flying.

And the thing that accomplished this astonishing feat was a small, bandaged fist.

Shei recognized the figure and muttered.

“Feruel?”

The Saintess of Steel, Feruel.

Wearing a hood deeply covering her face, she gave Shei a slight nod.

“One who opposes the Great Adversary. This, too, is but the guidance of fate.”

“…What? Why are you here?”

“There is no need to question. If this humble servant is here, it means there is a purpose for me. That purpose will reveal itself in time.”

Shei knew Feruel.

Through countless regressions, she had encountered many Saintesses.

Though she had never interacted personally with Feruel, the Saintess of Steel, she had heard enough about her.

Shei stopped asking questions.

She already understood who Feruel was and what she represented.

“A servant of the Sky God dares to reveal themselves before me?!”

Darkness surged as Tyrkanzyaka lunged at Feruel.

Shei, however, was less worried about Feruel receiving the Progenitor’s wrath… and more about what would happen to Tyrkanzyaka for attacking her.

“If you truly wish to die, then I shall grant your wish!”

Tyrkanzyaka’s claws slashed down, carrying enough force to tear through steel like paper.

Even before she had regained her heart, the Progenitor had been a force beyond reason.

Now, with her heart restored, she was stronger than ever before.

Except against one person.

Except against Feruel, the Saintess of Steel.

It would have been better if she had remained as she was before.

Feruel did not move.

She did not dodge.

She did not block.

With eyes wide open, she simply watched as the deadly claws descended upon her.

And then.

Tyrkanzyaka’s own arm shattered under its own force.

Her claws could not reach Feruel.

Instead, her arm collapsed from the impact, unable to withstand its own power.

Blood splattered through the air.

Yet, standing completely unscathed amidst the carnage, Feruel simply clenched her bandaged fist and murmured.

“This humble servant’s time has not yet come. Such a future does not exist.”

The future Feruel saw was unlike that of other Saintesses.

While the Saintesses observed the world to adjust fate, Feruel observed only her own future.

Where she would be.

What she would be doing.

The feeble hesitated, even when granted revelations.

For they fear that their faith may lead them to death.

They doubt, and in their doubt, they forsake their faith.

But Feruel, the one blessed by the Saintess of Origin, was different.

She saw.

She believed.

And she acted.

Everything she did was the will of the Sky God.

The certainty of her fate was her divine protection.

The Saintess of Steel raised her fist once more.

The future observed by the Saintess of Steel would come to pass.

No obstacle—be it the Progenitor, be it a mountain—could stand in her way.

Her fist struck as if Tyrkanzyaka wasn’t even there.

The space occupied by the Progenitor was meaningless.

The Saintess’s strike pierced through all that stood in her way.

The present was merely catching up to the future that had already been decided.

Tyrkanzyaka’s arm shattered.

Her body, unable to withstand both Feruel’s force and the backlash of her own power, was torn apart into scattered fragments.

The shock sent her flying once more.

To defeat the Progenitor twice—any other human would have been astonished by such a feat.

But to Feruel, it was as natural as common sense.

“If battles are nothing but crude displays of force, then this humble servant shall never know defeat. Progenitor, I do not know what changes have occurred within you, but if the Sky God has sent me here, then that, too, is fate.”

Unstoppable—because nothing could hinder her.

Invincible—because no one could oppose her.

A force that enacted the will of the Sky God upon the world—the strongest of the Sanctum.

…However.

“Is raw durability all you amount to?!”

The shattered body reversed time itself.

Blood reformed into flesh, the scattered fragments of her body found their way back, and the ribs and arm that had been utterly pulverized restored themselves as if nothing had happened.

She could not die.

A vampire’s immortality was not about mere endurance—it was about regeneration.

Even if she was momentarily torn apart, she would always return to her original state.

Vampires could only be slain through specific rituals and techniques honed through generations of trial and error.

But against the Progenitor, even those proved ineffective.

Darkness surged from Tyrkanzyaka’s body, a shroud meant to obscure the eyes of the Sky God.

It had no effect on Feruel, who only observed herself, but it was still an annoying power to deal with.

Feruel stared at Tyrkanzyaka with a dry gaze.

“No matter what methods you try, you will never be able to harm this humble servant… Though, it might take all day for you to realize that.”

“All day?! Your patience is lacking! I will do this for ten years if I must!”

With genuine sincerity, without an ounce of exaggeration, Tyrkanzyaka roared.

Then, she engulfed Feruel in darkness.

The battle between the Progenitor and the Saintess of Steel vanished from sight into a place none could witness.

[The Progenitor… she is dull and antiquated. She could not endure the passage of a thousand years and has reduced herself to a mere phenomenon.]

Mocking a vampire was routine for anyone with even a hint of faith in the divine.

Hilde nodded, agreeing to some extent.

“Well, considering her age, it can’t be helped~”

[She is easily manipulated, swayed by the slightest push. She struggles to break free from fate, yet she dances to its tune regardless.]

“Sigh. Yeah, she’s never useful when it actually matters. So, is this another wasted effort? Sooo… will there be no reinforcements for me?”

[Of course, you will have no reinforcements.]

With a snap of the Thunderarch’s fingers, lightning and thunder crackled through the mist.

It was a signal.

One that was immediately recognized.

“Thunderarch!”

Too much time had passed.

The city, thrown into chaos, had mobilized its forces to track down their leader.

The Thunder Guardians no longer considered this an ordinary disturbance.

They had gathered their forces and prepared for battle.

The elite armed forces of Claudia, sworn to protect the city’s peace, marched forth upon seeing the Thunderarch’s signal.

The Primarch turned to them and spoke.

[Is the evacuation complete?]

“Yes. The disciples are leading the citizens. Most of the Guardians have regrouped here… Is this an invasion?”

The Thunderarch nodded in affirmation.

[Indeed. Fulfill your duty.]

“Then we shall prepare for combat.”

At the command, the Thunder Guardians unleashed their lightning.

Individually, none could rival the Thunderarch.

But collectively, they wielded a similar amount of power.

Electricity surged from their arms and weapons, crackling through the air.

Among them, one Guardian raised a long spear high above his head.

A small surge of lightning shot into the sky, triggering the activation of the city’s greatest mechanism.

The Thundermill—a colossal watermill that powered the entire city—now transformed into a weapon.

– BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Massive iron stakes dropped from the sky, embedding themselves deep into the wet ground.

Lightning cascaded down their surfaces, flowing through the city’s network, converging into a single unstoppable force.

The overwhelming power of an entire city was focused on a single battlefield.

Feeling the electricity surging beneath her feet, Hilde let out a whistle.

“Whew~ All of this… just to eliminate ‘us’ and keep this power to yourselves? Isn’t that a pretty sight to see~?”

[You are steeped in sin, rotten to your core. This is no power—it is a curse. I suppose to a heretic, even a curse would appear as power.]

“You sure do look quite healthy for someone who is ‘cursed’~”

[That, too, is merely due to the grace of the Sky God.]

Shrouded in lightning, the Thunderarch no longer resembled a human.

Her wings of pure electricity stretched over ten meters, crackling so intensely that they blurred from sight.

The force of her power lifted her from the ground, making her hover like an angel descending to deliver divine judgment.

This was the absolute peak of the Thunderarch’s might.

A power so vast that even Hilde could not hope to overcome it.

Spinning her twin Holy Swords, Hilde smirked.

“Are you sure you want to do this? The Witherarch is right here, you know?”

For a brief moment, the Thunderarch’s gaze flickered toward Peru.

Peru, pale-faced, was cowering behind the makeshift iron walls she had hastily crafted near the Thunder God’s remnants.

Even without the Golden Bell, Peru’s power alone was terrifying.

And the Thunderarch knew this better than anyone.

Wither was a force even capable of reducing human bodies to dust.

For ordinary lifeforms, it was manageable.

But for the Fallen Dominion’s residents, whose very bodies were infused with alchemy and metal, it was fatal.

If Peru wished, she could annihilate every Thunder Guardian in an instant, leaving no corpses behind.

Their very souls would be desecrated into dust before they could even scream.

She should have sided with the Fallen Dominion.

But Peru had chosen a different path.

[If she truly believes in the value she speaks of, then she will not turn that power against humans. That would be a destruction of value itself.]

Instead of engaging, the Thunderarch gave a simple order.

[Advance. Do not engage the Witherarch unless absolutely necessary.]

– Clank. Clank.

Surrounded from all sides, with the Thunderarch in front and her forces closing in from behind, Hilde sighed.

“Haaah. Well, guess I have no choice~ Looks like I’ll have to fight this battle alone~”

With a playful smile, Hilde suddenly hurled a Holy Sword at the Thunderarch’s head.

The blade whistled through the air, aiming straight for her skull.

But the Thunderarch simply tilted her head slightly, dodging the attack effortlessly.

The Holy Sword sliced through nothing but an afterimage of lightning.

Without even deflecting the attack, the Thunderarch simply watched the blade fly past and muttered.

[Today, I will put an end to this.]

“Hmmm~ Calling for backup and ganging up on me? And here I thought…”

Hilde glanced at Peru.

But Peru would not turn against humanity.

No matter though.

Peru had never been the one Hilde was waiting for.

“I thought we were the only ones fighting unfairly. Guess not!”

[‘We’?]

“Oya~ I’m sorry! Did you think ‘I’ was alone this whole time?”

The rumbling footsteps of the Thunder Guardians were drowned out by something far bigger.

Something far more ominous and dreadful was approaching.

Not from Claudia—

But from the Cloud Waterfall.

Beyond the Mistveil Range, hidden away from the sunlight, was where the vampires dwelled.

And tonight, humanity would be reminded of that once more.