Chapter 393: Lightning Didn’t Fall From the Sky (12)

Lunken’s charge was beyond destructive. It was cataclysmic.

With each step, both sky and earth trembled, even the clouds quivered.

Charging straight ahead, Lunken alone collided head-on against an army of hundreds, fully armed and ready.

The Thunder Guardians responded as any weak humans would—by banding together.

They formed a battle formation, linking themselves through alchemy.

As mana flickered, thirty warriors instantly fused into a single towering fortress.

Between the cracks, spears crackling with electricity protruded, creating an impregnable defensive line.

A battle formation passed down since ancient times had now merged with alchemy, manifesting a formidable defensive wall.

“Now that’s more like it—!”

Lunken burst into laughter as he hurled his entire being forward.

Spears shattered, bodies broke, and steel crumbled.

The boar beastkin’s charge was several times more powerful than that of an actual boar.

The spearheads snapped and the hands of the Thunder Guardians gripping them were torn apart under the overwhelming force.

The thirty-man phalanx, reinforced by alchemy, buckled under the strain.

Of course, Lunken didn’t escape unscathed either.

Spearheads were embedded in his body, and blood trickled down his forehead from the impact.

He looked like a beast in the midst of being hunted, drenched in his own blood.

Yet, he grinned… almost as if he was enjoying the pain.

One of the Thunder Guardians muttered in horror.

“M-Monster…!”

Lunken bared his fangs in a wide grin, as if welcoming the remark.

Fixing his gaze on the Thunder Guardian who had called him a monster, he threw his head back—

And then, with all his might, he delivered a devastating headbutt.

The boar beastkin’s headbutt sent shockwaves through the formation, creating a fracture that spread uncontrollably.

Lunken charged into the gap, flinging his massive body with wild abandon.

The phalanx shattered and the bodies of the Thunder Guardians were sent flying in all directions.

Some were fortunate enough to escape with only a broken bone..

Others who stood directly in Lunken’s path perished instantly.

Drenched in blood, Lunken roared.

“That’s right—! I am a monster—! All of you are too weak to kill me! More! MORE! Where’s the next one—?!”

As he whipped his head from side to side, Lunken spotted a massive shadow moving toward him.

A Juggernaut, repurposed from the remains of past fallen Primarchs, now rose up to challenge him, used as a war machine.

Its sheer size and presence made it an impossible foe for a single entity to challenge.

Yet, Lunken, drunk on battle, clawed at the ground in exhilaration.

“Let’s—fight—!”

Without hesitation, Lunken charged headfirst at the armored vehicle.

The pilot of the Juggernaut hesitated.

It was an act of sheer madness, like trying to crack a boulder with an egg, but since it was the enemy’s madness, there was no need to stop him.

The Thunder Guardians behind the controls, though surprised, pressed down harder on the accelerator.

– BOOM.

The Elder and the Juggernaut collided.

Blood splattered and metal bent.

The first to be pushed back was, of course, Lunken.

Even an Elder couldn’t withstand the sheer force of a Juggernaut.

His muscles tore and his legs twisted at an unnatural angle, sinking deep into the ground.

“Krgh… Ugh… Aaaah—!”

Logically, there was no way he could endure this.

But sometimes, logic existed only to be broken.

Lunken let out a beastly roar, straining his body.

As he endured, despite his flesh being mangled, the Juggernaut’s advance gradually slowed.

Blood poured from his wounds, soaking him in crimson ichor, but with every drop spilled, his strength only grew.

At some point, the Juggernaut ground to a complete halt.

Its wheels spun helplessly in the air.

The Thunder Guardians piloting it were left speechless at Lunken’s monstrous strength.

“The Bloody…! This power…?!”

A Juggernaut without a Primarch couldn’t even reach half of its full potential, but it still harnessed the power of thunder.

It was never meant to be used against humans—it was a machine fit for cutting down trees or tearing through rock.

But an Elder wasn’t human.

Just as no human could stand against a juggernaut, no human could stand against an Elder.

They weren’t superhumans—they were something else entirely.

A Thunder Guardian, drowning in despair, muttered.

“If there are three of them… then just what kind of hell are we facing?”

Bloodweaver Kavila split open the back of her doll.

Inside, rows of bone needles lay neatly arranged.

She took a handful in each hand and shrieked.

“Did you idiots seriously think this Village of Cloud survived because of its own strength?! Hehe, stupidity can be cute in small doses, but this? This is just tragic! This is why cattle should never get too full of themselves!”

The Bloodweaver, Kavila.

A puppeteer of flesh, bone, and blood.

She crafted her dolls by shaping bodies, filling them with blood and darkness.

Tyrkanzyaka’s greatest power was creating familiars.

And among all vampires, Kavila was the one who most closely mirrored the Progenitor.

There was no one better at crafting and controlling familiars than her.

“We never even glanced at the Fallen Dominion because your blood tastes like absolute garbage! If we ranked you, you’d be fourth-class at best! Nothing but disposable food waste! And yet, knowing we were just beyond the mist, you still called for a damn angel?!”

Kavila screeched as she hurled her bone needles.

The blood spilled by Lunken’s rampage was absorbed by the bones.

The scattered blood gathered and took shape, forming eerie crimson skulls rising from the pools of blood.

These bones belonged to those who once served her.

Even in death, they fought as her familiars.

“Dragonfang Puppets! Kill everything that stands between me and big sister!”

Ten Dragonfang Puppets moved in unison.

Only ten.

It was a meager number for an Elder of her status.

And unlike their master, the familiars couldn’t wield Qi, making them inherently weaker.

“Fear not!”

One of the Thunder Guardians bravely threw himself into a Dragonfang Puppet’s grasp.

He barely dodged its incoming bone saw and seized its ribcage.

Alchemy wasn’t just about reinforcing materials—it also specialized in breaking them.

The Thunder Guardians had long studied how to dismantle their enemies.

To them, these familiars were nothing but ideal test subjects.

The Dragonfang Puppet’s ribcage crumbled instantly.

Great structures often follow similar designs, but weak structures are weak for their own unique reasons.

Easily dismantling the thrall, the Thunder Guardian shouted triumphantly.

“If you can’t distinguish between inside and outside, you’re nothing but alchemical scrap! All units, engage and shatter them!”

The Thunder Guardians charged.

They dodged the bone saws and latched onto the Dragonfang Puppets.

Though some were injured, their comrades quickly aided them, allowing them to survive.

As the puppets began to crumble under their assault, Kavila, who had been quietly observing, extended her hands like a conductor.

“Foolishness makes for excellent fertilizer. Now, my Dragonfang Puppets—it’s harvest time.”

Then, a dark and sinister magic enveloped everything.

The wounded Thunder Guardians instinctively pressed down on their injuries to stop the bleeding.

Their wounds weren’t severe, and once treated, they would be ready to return to battle.

Or so they thought.

A chilling realization struck them.

Their blood… wasn’t stopping.

“T-The B-B-Blood…!”

“I-It won’t… stop…!”

Blood spilled uncontrollably.

To vampires, blood was both sustenance and a source of power.

Now, their own blood was being stolen from them.

Only those who had mastered Gam could resist—but few among them had reached such heights.

One by one, the lightly injured Thunder Guardians collapsed, drained of their life essence.

Their blood flowed into the Dragonfang Puppets.

The once-broken familiars revived, feasting on the stolen lifeblood.

Their numbers only grew.

Kavila licked her lips, savoring the taste, and cackled.

“A perfect cycle of blood! Now this—this is how you farm properly!”

The Thunderarch did not move.

No—she could not move.

She understood that the battle was turning against them.

That was why she had prepared countermeasures.

If the Thundermill’s defensive functions activated, they might be able to gain an advantage over the Elders.

But they would not be able to kill them.

Capturing something was always several times more difficult than killing it, and capturing something that cannot die is nearly impossible.

And… there was one presence before her far more dangerous than any other Elder.

The Crimson Duke, Valdamir.

The Crimson Duke tilted his head slightly as he stared at the Thunderarch standing in his way.

“Weren’t you planning to deliver a message to me?”

[…Why would you assume that?]

“Otherwise, why would you be standing here facing me while your subordinates are dying?”

She had only meant to stall for time, yet the Crimson Duke seemed to interpret it differently.

The Thunderarch replied,

[There is nothing to discuss with mere vampires. I am standing here because I am the only one who can stop you.]

“How interesting.”

The Thunderarch flinched at his slightest movement, but Valdamir barely seemed to notice.

He simply ran his hand lazily along the length of his greatsword.

“Even if the Sky God demands sacrifice, He does not lie to His followers. How, then, did you arrive at such a mistaken conclusion?”

[Mistaken? I’d say it’s the most logical conclusion. I am the only one here capable of stopping you.]

“Oh?”

The Thunderarch braced herself, her mind racing.

The true danger of the Crimson Duke was not just his strength.

It was his intelligence.

Innate power, accumulated experience, keen political instinct—he wielded them all with terrifying precision.

A beast with intelligence is always more terrifying than a mindless monster.

Her role was clear.

She had to keep him occupied.

She could not allow him to rejoin the other Elders.

“Well, then.”

The Crimson Duke raised his greatsword.

A crimson aura poured from his body into the blade.

Sensing the opening, the Thunderarch immediately unleashed the power of the city’s storm, scattering bolts of lightning in all directions.

Heaven’s judgment descended upon the Crimson Duke.

Lightning rained down on him, ravaging his body.

His entire form trembled violently, his vision drowned in blinding white.

And yet, his quivering arms still lowered the sword.

“Sanguine Script.”

The Cloud Waterfall instantly split in two.

For a Qi Practitioner, distance was always the greatest obstacle.

Even if one’s weapon was infused with Qi, it was useless if the enemy remained too far away.

But the Crimson Duke had found a way to overcome that limitation.

The Blood Aura he expelled transcended space.

His own blood was his blade.

What seemed like an ordinary sword aura was, in fact, himself extending beyond his weapon.

A technique only a vampire could wield.

And within its trajectory—humans were torn apart like paper.

A mere brush against an arm, and it would be severed.

A slight stroke against a leg, and the leg would be gone.

Like an author in a trance, the finely honed edge of blood cut deep into flesh, harvesting the lifeblood from each wound to keep spelling carnage upon the battlefield.

The crimson storm fed upon the very blood it spilled, growing stronger and spreading even further.

A new mist rose within the Cloud Waterfall, made of spilled blood.

Hundreds of severed limbs and body parts were carried away in the roaring crimson currents.

The Thunderarch could do nothing as destruction unfolded before her very eyes.

Not because she had dodged the attack.

No—Valdamir had deliberately spared her.

As if mocking her.

[You—monster—!]

“Now do you understand? You cannot stop me. Not even if I stand still.”

Yes—he was mocking her.

He had allowed her lightning to strike him without resistance.

He had stayed in place while he butchered her subordinates.

Just to prove his point.

Even their ways of thinking were fundamentally different.

Beyond fear or tension, the Thunderarch felt something far greater.

An unbridgeable, incomprehensible gulf.

“Now, let us return to our original topic. If you have nothing to say, I will be on my way.”

She had nothing.

He held no fear of death.

And so, he felt no hesitation in killing.

Dozens had perished before him, yet he stood as if he had merely completed a menial task.

For some, it was a tragedy beyond words.

For him, it was just another job.

They would never—not in a thousand lifetimes—understand one another.

Their only possible form of communication—was through blood and battle.

[You damned—vampire—!]

Enraged by his nonchalant attitude, the Thunderarch lunged.

She pulled herself forward with her lightning wings, closing the distance in the blink of an eye.

Lightning surged in her clenched fist as she swung down with all her might.

[I’ll kill you—!]

Her words suddenly cut off.

The Crimson Duke’s hand shot forward, gripping her throat.