Chapter 401: This is a Troubled Times, So We Need to Hear the Other Side’s Point of View

Elder Crimson Duke Valdamir, who had mastered Bloodcraft to its absolute limits, honed his Qi, and embraced every moment of his centuries-long existence as experience—was undeniably a formidable opponent.

Yet, the Sanctum had always managed to claim victory by decision against such vampires.

Despite their immortality and their ever-growing wisdom with time, despite fighting a war on multiple fronts against various heretics, the Sanctum had thrived.

Perhaps, that was only natural.

Because the future belonged to the Saintesses.

More precisely, because no one utilized the future better than they did— which, in the end, meant the same thing.

After all, in this world, the Saintesses alone could see the future.

“If only everyone here had martyred themselves, order would have been restored.”

The Saintess of Steel was invincible.

No matter what happened to the world, no matter how powerful the vampires were— she would remain untouched.

In other words, everything else could be destroyed.

The Saintess of Steel always emerged from battle drenched not in her own blood, but in that of others.

She never foresaw her own death, and in even the worst of situations, she always made it out alive.

Thus, she only sought battlefields where everyone else could die—but not her.

“And yet, she’s just standing there, doing nothing? That’s too obvious. If she really wanted to stop the slaughter, she would have just left the Crimson Duke alone and led Claudia’s army away from this place.”

If her goal had been to save lives, she never would have brought these people here in the first place.

The future she saw was limited to herself, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t make predictions.

Yet, even when her true intent was exposed, the Saintess of Steel remained unfazed.

“Do not delve into the Divine. There is no treasure inside a sealed box—only sin and tragedy fill it. The Divine you have unearthed will bring nothing but misery to mankind.”

“Misery? What could be worse than death?”

“Death is miserable only because life is precious, but the Divine you pursue will shatter life, faith, and the value of the soul. It will collapse the very boundaries of life and death—turning humans into something… lesser. Just like those vampires. This is a warning, a request, and a plea.”

She spoke as if addressing no one in particular, but I knew—she was speaking to me.

And this was her attempt at persuasion.

Vampires, by their mere existence, reduced humans to prey.

They required human blood— and thus, they had no choice but to become predators, while humans were relegated to livestock.

On top of that, they had defied death, becoming immortal beings that challenged the natural order of the world.

The Sanctum’s hatred for them was not without reason.

And perhaps, the Divine of Lightning’s secret was even worse than Bloodcraft itself.

If even the Lightning Thief had gone to such lengths to hide the truth, then the Saintess of Steel and the Sanctum had every right to fear what lay within.

Still… for the Saintess to try to persuade me?

How curious.

I appreciated the sentiment, but she and I stood on entirely different ground.

“Vampires are human, too.”

A statement carrying many meanings.

To some, it was merely a simple fact.

To Tyr, perhaps, it was a deeply moving revelation.

But to the Saintess…

Her expression darkened.

“…Even self-inflicted corruption is part of humanity’s burden. Do you truly affirm that?”

It was a soft-spoken rejection, but an absolute one nonetheless.

I simply smiled and nodded.

Feruel let out a heavy sigh.

And then—

Feruel moved.

No—

She didn’t move.

But I saw it with my Mind Reading.

I saw it already happen.

She had foreseen her own actions, and thus, that predestined future was already on its way.

The Saintess of Steel charged forward.

Her bare fist tore through my chest, only to stop like the wind behind me.

A future already set in stone and with it, my death was already preordained, regardless of what I did.

Just rejecting her means she’ll immediately foresee my own death?

That’s no persuasion—that’s an ultimatum.

…Wait, can I even dodge this?

As I silently grumbled, Feruel’s foresight was completed.

Most outcomes have processes leading up to them.

Even Valdamir’s combat prowess, despite its seamless combination of technique and power, could be broken down into individual maneuvers.

But the Saintess’s foresight was on an entirely different level.

She observed the result and forced the world to fill in the process accordingly.

And Feruel’s self-prophecy— was the ultimate form of that power.

Her invincible reputation as the Saintess of Steel was merely one aspect of it.

Her blessing was not just foresight— but the ability to force it into reality.

The Ironclad Prophecy had declared my end.

The wrappings around her fist tore apart, revealing her bare knuckles.

Foresight was a double-edged sword.

It was sharpest when turned toward an enemy, but it could just as easily tear its wielder apart.

She had always held back, but now, she was willing to give her all to kill me.

Her self-prophecy was absolute.

The moment she envisioned her own victory, it became inevitable.

Nothing could stand in its way.

Not distance.

Not interference.

Not even time itself.

Feruel’s movements exceeded human limitations.

With her self-prophecy, she warped reality to manifest impossible speed.

The steps she should have taken, the force she should have built up, the air resistance she should have broken through—

All of it was skipped entirely.

For the briefest instant, Feruel existed everywhere she had foreseen herself to be.

Points connected into a single dark streak, sewing reality together with her absolute movement.

Even for her, this was a power she rarely used.

No warning signs— only the final prophecy seen by the Sky God came true.

The world bent to fulfill it, shaking from the mere shockwaves she produced.

A miracle beyond speed, all for the sole purpose of killing me.

Her fist tore through my body—

However…

No matter how great her power was, no matter how sacred and unshakable the Divines she followed— Feruel couldn’t act faster than her own will.

After all, even a Saintess— was still human.

“…!”

There are many ways to deal with a prophecy.

And the simplest of them all—was to deceive the prophet.

No matter how perfect the prophecy is, the one who reads it is never perfect.

My body collapsed like a crumbling structure.

Cards scattered in all directions, fluttering like popped balloons.

The Eight of Spades, Elixir.

I used it to turn the clothes that touched my body and the clouds around me into cards.

What Feruel thought she had destroyed— was merely a hastily conjured husk of myself, made of cards.

Fortunately, Feruel could only foresee her own future.

I had used every available resource to remove myself from the path she had predicted.

The sheer speed at which I moved left me dizzy and deafened, but regardless—

I was alive.

Feruel shouted.

“You’ve taken a Divine into your body?! You’ve cursed yourself into an Anathema—!”

She realized it instantly.

I ignored the searing pain in my limbs and responded.

“Oh, please. You call this a curse? Compared to what you’ve done, this is nothing. If anything, what I did was a mere trick compared to your foresight.”

A seer who forces the future— calling this a curse?

How many real curses had to die out for that statement to make sense?

The Seven of Spades, Lightning Spool.

This card could draw out lightning bolts and wind them like threads.

Unlike the lightning that Peru used for her attacks, this version was far too delicate for combat.

But being weak has its own advantages.

I wove the lightning threads into my body.

Thin, delicate strands of electricity seeped into my nerves, spreading through every inch of my flesh.

Before meeting the Divine, this would have been nothing more than self-mutilation.

But now, having unraveled the secrets of the Lightning Thief—

I could move my body with just a thought.

…

Wow.

Now that I say it out loud… it really doesn’t sound all that impressive.

I mean, bodies are already controlled by thoughts, right?

The only thing I did was skip the usual process.

And even then, I had nearly died just from reading her mind and failing to react in time.

No matter how I looked at it, her self-prophecy was a far bigger cheat than anything I had.

A fact that anyone would agree with.

And yet, oddly enough—

The Saintess didn’t.

She stared at me like I was a demon incarnate.

“The Divine you wield will one day lead all of humanity to ruin. King of Humans, remember this. If the end of mankind draws near— you will not be the same as you are now.”

I shrugged.

“Got it, but for now, I’d like to keep myself alive first.”

Feruel bit her lip—hard.

So hard that I could see blood pooling at the edges.

Even if she was invincible, she could still harm herself.

She must have desperately wanted to get rid of me, but she couldn’t anymore.

Because—

Darkness had fallen.

Even in the already murky Cloud Waterfall, an unnatural blackness spread, swallowing all light.

A pitch-black abyss consumed the battlefield.

This was the power of vampires that enabled them to fight toe to toe with the Sanctum— a burden of suffering inherited from the Progenitor, Tyrkanzyaka.

In this darkness, there was no future to see.

Feruel’s Self-Prophecy would still work, but without sight, it would just become a drawn-out battle of attrition.

Even if she foresaw where she would be, without knowing what was around her, she’d be blindly flailing in water.

“Know your place! I will make you regret ever standing in my presence!”

…I revealed too much.

It wasn’t just the Sanctum that knew how to counter abilities.

The Darkness swirled around Feruel, leaving her staring into an endless void.

She murmured, her expression grim.

“O Saintess of Origin who has blessed this humble servant… is this truly… the limit of the time I have been granted?”

Unable to foresee a future where she could continue fighting, Feruel followed her prophecy and decided to retreat.

Which was a huge relief for me.

“You think you can escape?!”

Oh, come on, Tyr.

Just let her go.

She’s invincible, and she’s leaving on her own.

What’s the point in dragging this out?

Still, as Feruel moved through the suffocating abyss, she left behind one final warning.

“Progenitor Tyrkanzyaka. It would be wise not to place too much trust in the King of Humans. He may be an ally to vampires— but he will never be an ally to vampires alone.”

Tyr scoffed.

“Keep your prophecies for your own kind. Do you think I would be swayed by such meaningless words?”

Feruel sighed.

“One doesn’t need a prophecy to see the truth, but I suppose… if one’s heart is closed, no truth will ever be heard.”

Leaving behind her ominous words, Feruel vanished into the darkness.

Even in the impenetrable black, she clearly saw a path to escape.

A ripple ran through reality itself, and in an instant, her presence disappeared.

She had fled.

Even in the heart of enemy territory, she can still walk away unscathed.

Must be nice.

“Hmph. What a scam. They claim to read the future, yet the only thing they excel at is manipulation and scheming.”

I shrugged.

“Well, if it works, then why not? Didn’t it work this time, too? With no clear reason, this turned into a fight to the death with Claudia.”

I glanced around.

If someone were to really think about it, the Sanctum had only managed to sway a single individual, the Thunderarch.

And yet, the bloodshed had been immense.

Hundreds of Thunder Guardians and the Thunderarch herself, who had once led Claudia, were dead.

The cycle of vengeance was already set in motion— and it would only grow from here.

The only saving grace was that Claudia had now gained a ruler who would bear both its hatred and reverence.

“…Leave.”

And that ruler, the King of the Fallen Dominion, just issued our expulsion.