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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!

We are the rebels!

'I decree, therefore, I correct.'

'Blood and fire extinguished, face to doom.'

Look out, Logos!

A touch of crimson appears from nothing.

The space once occupied by the Banshee is replaced by blood.

*cough*!

His blood, it's... affecting me.

Several times stronger than those Arts Circles—

Yes, thanks to you, I have also shed my blood here.

And therefore—

This place is now part of Kazdel.

Who would have thought that as much as anyone assumed they knew the full length and breadth of this great land...

The boundaries of our home are still expanding, even in this time and place.

Sarkaz, my self-proclaimed Sarkaz kin!

March with your blood, carry on with that which will never betray you, the boon of your blood!

I will take you back to the origin of all of this.

And that is—

A shadow pierces his chest.

Threads of blood holding him together are severed in an instant.

You—

Sorry, Sarkaz boons don't do much for me.

Bunny!

You *Sarkaz profanity* aren't Sarkaz! Hop to it! Weaken his binds!

That's what I'm doing! His Arts are even... crazier than I imagined!

I can barely hear his thoughts anymore, there's... there's only red... all red...

I've almost... got it!

Another outblood... an unexpected development.

The scent of your blood... you're Caprinae?

Such a dull disguise... let's have your blood suffocate you.

...Urk!

Do you think such crude Arts would let you kill a King of the Sarkaz Royal Court?

Of course not.

A heavy sword points directly at the Sanguinarch's head.

You can't call something as cliche as slaughter an 'awakening', Sanguinarch.

You're still wandering in hatred and destruction, you've never left the 'abyss'.

You're the ones who are still sleeping.

—Vile traitors—

King of Sarkaz!

Now!

Before he recovers, knock him off the skeleton!

An elegy begins to play.