Глава 13

It awakens the siblings, who now know the cost of submission, and they come to rebel until they too are covered in the blood of their enemies.

How pitiful.

Kill or be killed, this is the cycle of blood that the Sarkaz carry.

Is that how you define the meaning of blood? A cycle?

The first time any of us felt blood on our skin, wasn't it... when we were born from our mothers?

Blood is the foundation of human life, heritage passed down on umbilical cords, inevitable stumbles when exploring the outside world, and wounds that will surely heal.

But you see it only as a synonym for torment and death.

Your obsession makes you bloodthirsty.

You, with all your arrogance and pride, lead them to believe that this is the path the Sarkaz should take, the things they should do.

I reject you, Sanguinarch.

I reject your actions, your words, and your court.

Ahahahahah! What is this I'm hearing?

You, an outblood, reject me?

A mere crown has inflated you to what... <i>King of Sarkaz?</i>

The blood sea churns, its waves cover the moons.

Crimson removes all other colors.

I don't care what I am, or what I'm called.

I only know what I need to do.

The Prince stops moving for a moment.

A voice echoes in his mind.

Is this how you manipulate the King's power, Cautus?

Will you share some profound words? Try to shake me with shallow emotion?

You're welcome to try.

Shake? No.

This is a rejection.

The rolling of the waves slows, together with the moonlight.

I reject you.

I reject you, the way you reduce the King, the Sarkaz, and Kazdel to concepts of power and tradition.

I reject you, how you entrust the future to the past, entrust life to slaughter.

Theresa, the King, the Chancellor, the leader of Babel, she showed everyone a path.

Maybe that path is too idealistic, maybe her promises won't bear the thousands of years of hatred of the Sarkaz.

But that's not now, not your choice.

You'd laugh at my weakness? Say it's not my place to talk about the Sarkaz with you?

Or you'd mock Logos for not making use of the blood you 'awakened' just now?

Oh, <i>King of Sarkaz</i>... You eavesdrop on my thoughts? Is that your ability?

Then of course you know what I'm going to say.

I do.

But we've never said that the Sarkaz should give up their resistance. We've never said that suffering is justified.

On the contrary—

Those rebels who awaken from their suffering and hardship, from the abyss of hatred—

They will be much, much stronger than you.

The lost homeland of the Sarkaz is not in the history you keep looking back to, an eon ago.

It can't be a slogan, or fantasy, or symbol.

It's right here, where the Sarkaz came from.

In the city called Kazdel, where so many real people live, people that you've only condemned to a void of ideas.

You've imagined the present from the past, and the real future can never be born.

It's time to stop, Vampire.

Amiya's ring shatters, sending splinters flying.

Cold anger burns within Amiya as she scrutinizes the enemy before her.

She thought her anger would rise, burning like a fire that could scorch the ocean.

But no, that's not what's happening.

Amiya feels more than just anger, also an intense... sadness.

The Sarkaz, a people who have lost their homeland.

Yes, they believe that it is only through violence and war that they can reclaim all they've lost.

It's easy to blame them, with cliche words of morality, justice, and kindness.

Words that have been spoken over and over again, even as the war continues, and hatred spreads.

Because that is how this world treats them.

This world has imposed on them violence and war.

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!