Chapter 202 Chapter 120 Flane
Miss Verafia raised her gold eyes to look at the man’s face. Even though he hadn’t spoken his name, she had already guessed it… and understood the meaning of such a decision for one of her few old friends.
Oran’s smile remained on his face, as if he had taken the girl’s implied consent. He suddenly waved his hand, and the curtain in mid-air was torn open. Verafia looked up, and in the extreme depths, a winding, scarlet river flowed out.
The blood-red river flowed placidly and remained stagnant, like cold blood, serene and lifeless. But Verafia could feel the potent life force surging within.
“Is this… the source of your bloodline?”
Verafia spoke. Among the clans of the Blood Race, ancient blood rivers flowed eternally, representing the glorious history of the Blood Clan.
The blood river, originating from the blood of the Progenitor, carried the life force and past of every member of the family. Verafia had seen the blood river displayed by Ariel’s long sword, which was a projection of what she saw before her.
Oran answered the girl’s doubts.
“The sword in Ariel’s hand is the personal sword of the Mournful Blood King. He did not participate in the war, but in order to support the Demon King, he had to abandon ‘Key of Nothingness · Cold Light’. Of course, this sword was struck by a Sacred Sword more than once and is now severely damaged.”
Earlier, in the City of Blood, Ariel was pierced and absorbed by Oran’s blood spear, and the long sword she carried was also swallowed. Afterwards, Duke Oran merely condensed an illusion with demonic power when fighting Ig.
Verafia nodded.
She knew that one of the Four Heavenly Kings of the Demon Race was a Blood Race member, but she had never seen their true appearance. This was why Verafia was so surprised by the sword in Ariel’s hand at the time, but didn’t have specific information.
Verafia’s gaze shifted with the Blood Race Grand Duke’s line of sight. In the depths of the long river, a beautiful girl gently closed her eyes, and the flowing light fell on her silky silver hair, as if moonlight were flowing.
“Teacher Oran, are you really… going to do this?”
Even though she knew Oran’s intentions, Verafia couldn’t help but lift her small face and ask again. A rare sadness filled her heart.
“No need to be sad. Actually, I should thank you.”
Oran smiled at the girl, “For these fifty years, I have also experienced what you have felt. Such hatred… in order to avenge Lancaster, from my heart, I would indeed be willing to collude with the Abyss—even if it meant the destruction of the Kingdom. But with you taking responsibility for me, I can also relax.”
Verafia’s eyes looked at the Duke. The Blood Race Duke sighed leisurely.
“Since your death in the war, there are very few things I care about. It’s nothing more than the former king’s kingdom and those companions who abandoned their ‘human’ identities to follow me, and all of this was also destroyed under Lancelot’s Sacred Sword.”
“My divine power origin has been given to you, and swordsmanship will also be passed down by your successor. Finally, the power of blood will be passed to my daughter. I have nothing left to linger for.”
“Teacher…” Verafia uttered a sound.
“Lotte, you left your will within this girl to pass on your intent. I, too, have passed on my blood to my bloodline, which also represents my continuation.”
Duke Oran’s blood flowed in his hands, and he smiled at the girl.
“Miss Verafia, she represents my past. You don’t need to mourn for me.”
Duke Oran’s voice echoed in the girl’s ears, and a strand of gold hair fluttered. Verafia’s eyelashes slightly closed, covering her eyes burning with golden flames. She slowly lowered her graceful head.
…
Ariel slowly opened her eyes. Everything around her was imbued with spirit—warmth, as if it were at the moment of her birth.
“You’re finally awake! Hmph… looking at it like this, it’s passable. This young lady approves!”
A cheerful young girl’s voice illuminated Ariel’s consciousness. The girl, holding her skirt, sat on a nearby rock, swinging her delicate, fair legs. Her slender hands supported her pure white, beautiful chin, and interest appeared in her big eyes.
The Blood Race girl subconsciously replied, “It’s you, the Bl…”
Verafia’s small face tensed, she jumped to the ground, and her delicate, fair knuckles rapped on her forehead, exclaiming in dissatisfaction, “Who are you calling ‘you’! Little Fran, you should call me ‘big sister’!”
Little Fran… Big sister?
Ariel rubbed her forehead and whimpered, her mind a muddled mess. She didn’t realize her voice had become much more childish.
Suddenly, a warm light touched her face. Ariel, disbelievingly, tremblingly raised her gaze, and a smiling man walked into her sight.
The girl’s eyes were moistened with soft tears, and her voice trembled, “Father…”
The Blood Race Duke’s big hand gently stroked her hair. In Ariel’s trembling sight, the Duke smiled and wiped away her tears. Suddenly, a crack appeared in his palm, and a drop of bright red blood fell, touching the girl’s fair palm and quickly seeping into it.
Oran’s figure gradually vaporized into light particles, and he reached out to tie her long hair, “My daughter.”
“This is a touching scene…”
To the side, the girl who was watching with her arms crossed expressed her thoughts.
—
Ig walked along the streets of Rubiel.
Despite the riots, the atrocities of the Orc slaves were faintly visible, but under the sharp swords of the Church Knights and the Duke’s cavalry, the attempts of the vampire remnants to collude with the brutal Orcs to destroy the entire Rubiel were quickly suppressed.
The vampires captured by the Sacred Silver Sword were witnessed by all the Kingdom’s citizens during the Blood Judgment and received the most sacred judgment; the rioting Orcs were also displayed on the city gates.
Therefore, Rubiel quickly returned to its peaceful and prosperous state. The various merchant caravans, cargo ships, and trade goods were transported into this, the most prosperous city in the western part of the Fleur-de-lis Kingdom, just as before.
Everything was as stable as ever.
Ig raised his eyes and looked towards the edge of the East District. The early dawn adorned the river water of the Thorne River with crystal-like shimmering scales, reflecting the city’s wealth.
On the docks, the raggedly dressed laborers and slaves, as numerous as ants, continued to toil day after day for mere bread, bringing a stream of gold coins to the city.
For this city built on the backs of laborers and slaves, it seemed as if nothing that had happened in the past few days had caused the slightest bit of change.
Or perhaps, neither the Bloodwind Blade, the rebellious Count Linton, nor the current powers that be, had any intention of changing things.
—Perhaps the Orc slaves, who were among the culprits but did not participate in the riots, had an even worse situation.
Ig shook his head and sighed. But he had no intention of acting.
Ig was merely the son of a Marquis, several Duke Territories away, and just a small Silver. With such an identity, he might receive the Duke’s courtesy, but if he dared to have such a thought, the best outcome would be expulsion.
Therefore, Ig wanted to take advantage of the time when that Phoenix young lady was not around to enjoy a period of not being oppressed.
