Глава 13

So then, what's wrong with an eye for an eye? Where is the crime in blood for blood?

Every King of Sarkaz operates on those principles, so the war never stops.

This must be broken, but how... how can this system be broken?

Even Theresa failed. What do you think you are?

Yes, even she failed.

That's why Theresa needs me. The Doctor and Dr. Kal'tsit need me.

And that's why I'm here.

I, as the revenant called me, as you called me, as so many Sarkaz believe me to be—

The outblood—the weak—<i>King of Sarkaz.</i>

Stand down.

The obsidian decree transforms into the judgment of the King, stabbing into the scorched blood.

The thick red finally dissipates—

The Vampire takes a few steps back, raising his hand to wipe away the blood that flows from his nose and mouth.

His body is damaged, and his white clothes are at last stained with blood.

You can't fight anymore, Sanguinarch.

It's time for this battle to end.

<i>King of Sarkaz,</i> won't you grant me that vision of emptiness?

Don't you want to peer into my thoughts, see my sorrows and pain?

You can reprimand me, reject me. Countless Sarkaz believe this is the power of the King.

You say I've corrupted my court, but what about you?

Oh <i>King,</i> the Sarkaz take your direction, your path. My people follow you, expecting you to well exploit their flesh and blood, their lives, and their souls.

Their blind faith is ridiculous.

I sneer at the King's comfort, but... I have seen it.

My elder brother was a King of Sarkaz.

Hah, what a lofty title, what a transcendent role—

He was looked to as the leader of the Sarkaz, our guiding light.

He was a natural savior, the one who would pull us out of our misery.

But what was the reality?

What kind of people has the Black Crown chosen?

In the beginning, the King of Sarkaz was indeed magnificent, the Diαblos walked the path of punishment, the Goliaths roared the fearless calamity—

But they found themselves betrayed by the cowardly, sold out by the selfish.

This is our curse.

'The King killed the King.'

Succession to this crown often comes with death.

The vile always prevail.

As such, the Crown was besmirched by shortsighted fools.

The weak began to appear among the Kings.

They were narrow-minded, focused on toying with the power the held in their hands—They became no better than the hypocritical lords among the Elders and Ancients.

The power they stole from others clouded their vision. The focus of my people's faith turned from fearless warriors to vermin hiding in their palaces.

They even forgot the shame borne by the name 'Sarkaz'!

But the Crown continued to make its laughable choices, right up to my brother.

I thought surely he would be the hero we had waited for!

He, on the other hand, had the audacity to say to me that the Sarkaz could no longer afford to continue to war, that it would take generations to rebuild Kazdel...

Even the skeleton beneath our feet knows that the Kazdel we should rebuild was never meant to be a city. And that the 'King of Sarkaz' should be the one to stand before them all.

How can a man like that deserve to hold a single drop of Teekaz blood within his body?!

Do you see it, King of Sarkaz?

I see... a bloody civil war.

The carpets of the palace are soaked red.

I see a... Vampire, lying in the arms of another Vampire.

The legend of 'The Toppled Blood Prince'.

He died in a civil war. You're his kin, did you fight in the war?

No.

No! Of course not! 'Did I fight?'

I shattered the Crown myself!

I remember it like it was yesterday. My hand pierced his chest. The limpid Teekaz blood danced on my fingertip, finally entering my veins.

He turned his head to look at me, grabbing my clothes... The 'King of Sarkaz' showed his illusory vision to his murderer before he died, the vision that should have been bestowed as an honor.

In the vision, I saw... I witnessed, <i>peace.</i>

As you said, Cautus, blood is not synonymous with death. I stood in the valley, watching a quiet village, a doctor laughing as he spoke, stitching up wounds for the injured.

An injured man tells the doctor that his quarry was particularly ferocious, but he eventually won out. In the courtyard hangs the freshly harvested beastmeat.

...And the doctor is me.

But this makes me uncontrollably angry.

How tragic, how meaningless, how shameful! My brother actually believed that this false 'peace' could deceive me? He was horrifically wrong!

He thought I was blinded by hatred? No, I know what peace is. And that's exactly why I feel so restless!

We long to see the great and powerful, true Teekaz!

I absorbed my brother's blood into my body, and I watched as the Black Crown vanished before my eyes—

But you did not ascend to the throne of the 'King of Sarkaz'.

And I do not regret that. If it could choose a formidable leader, I would be genuinely delighted.

But this Crown disappoints me time and time again. Each time I am more disappointed.

My brother's successor was a wandering vagrant. The next was a lumberjack. If it weren't for the records kept by the Confessarii, these people would not be remembered at all.

Later, a King who ruled Kazdel was killed by the monster called Kal'tsit in the sight of the coalition army.

Then came Theresa and Theresis.

They were impressive, but also frustrating. Theresa, immersed in her fantasies, wasted her strength, much like my... weak elder brother.

And her successor... turned out to be a Cautus, an outblood.

Things being what they are, the Crown's choices being so absurd, even as its existence brings such humiliating hope to my people—

I would rather bury it beyond the reach of civilization. I will let it be truly lost, forgotten to history.

You're still struggling.

Amiya, don't give him a chance.

You are weakening too. However tarnished the Crown may be, its weight is not something an infantile Cautus could bear.

It seems the Confessarii so eager to manipulate the Crown are going to blather some nonsense at me.

Take another look around, Cautus. If you die, there will be no more 'successors'.

Or maybe you'd place your crown on the moons?

The flowing blood surges toward the Sanguinarch's body.

The white-haired Sarkaz stands proudly once again.

What...? How can he still fight?!

The King's Arts should have pierced his body, leaving it unable to regenerate!

He is using blood to fill the holes in his flesh, using it to mend his wounds.

He's a marionette now.

You've become more proficient in the use of the King's power, Cautus.

But all your admonitions, warnings, judgments, and proclamations are nothing but jokes.

Ignorant little rabbit, the crown over your head represents no responsibility or authority.

<i>King of Sarkaz,</i> hah. I mock not only your foolishness, but that of the King.

And that of the Crown itself.

The once vibrant red that filled the entire space no longer exists.

Only a bit of crimson oozes from the Sanguinarch's pupils.

When the Sarkaz lose the King on which they're so dependent, then perhaps they will wake up from this shameful dream of a coming salvation.

I accede to your statement, that those awakening from a dream will be much more powerful.

And that is why you cannot defeat me.

How can the fallen consciousness of the Sarkaz resist me, who once carried the blood of the Teekaz?

The polluted cannot defile the pure, the impure cannot touch the limpid.

Your origin lies in the Teekaz, a long line you can only climb!