Chapter 57: The Real Elisha? (13)

After the two Weizhu Sect members left in a huff, Herbert, who had been tossed under the carriage, waited for a while before giving up.

Wait?

Wait until the flowers wilt and still keep waiting? Like hell I will.

No more waiting!

After Herbert spent some time at the training grounds chatting and getting to know the good brothers of the Knight Order, he was led back to the monastery by Sister Kaplan, who had been waiting outside the training grounds.

The nun had come with the Chief Inquisitor to snatch people, but she hadn't run off with him. Instead, she had specifically stayed behind to wait for Herbert — clearly, she had something to say.

Sure enough, on the way back, she casually told Herbert about what the two Ivankas had gone through in the interrogation room.

Herbert was curious at first, but halfway through he waved his hand, signaling her to stop.

Even though it was against their own people, interrogation is interrogation after all — they couldn't exactly go easy on them...

Especially in a world where healing divine arts exist, the horror of interrogation could be elevated by several levels.

As for the specifics — let's just say it was the kind of thing that left men silent and women weeping, heartbreaking to hear, tear-inducing to listen, and utterly wretched beyond words.

Herbert caught the hint, waved his hand generously, and very tactfully said — that's enough! Quit while you're ahead! We're all colleagues! I don't mind...

Although part of the reason was that he didn't want to hear the details anymore, it was more because he genuinely didn't care about those two people.

Whether they were tortured or somehow escaped the interrogation, he didn't really care.

There was no deep grudge between them anyway. As long as my own goal was achieved, that's fine.

That's enough.

Be merciful where you can be.

Although Sister Kaplan merely nodded and said nothing, Herbert felt that her gaze upon him had grown a touch gentler.

Affinity increased!

Upon returning to the monastery, Herbert ignored everything else. Having stayed up all night, he caught up on sleep and didn't wake until dinnertime.

"Staying up all day and sleeping all night for a day or two isn't a problem, but in the long run this won't do! Who knows when I'll just drop dead from exhaustion..."

Herbert didn't want to die young — he still had many things left to do in this life.

"I still need to improve my strength. If I'm strong enough, I won't need this much sleep."

After carefully analyzing the abilities he currently possessed, Herbert understood that the pressing matter at hand was still to continue collecting materials from the monster girls.

Compared to tempering oneself like the good brothers of the Knight Order, abilities gained through monster materials were far faster — and far more powerful.

Some people might think abilities gained this way are fake, inferior to those earned through hard sweat.

But in Herbert's view — that's just putting on pants to fart.

The sacred mountain is far away; why abandon what's near to seek what's far?

Since you already have a shortcut available, why deliberately take the long way around?

Is torturing yourself fun?

Are you a masochist?

If so, add me on We... ahem.

Herbert wouldn't get hung up on such trivialities. He never cared about the origin of his abilities — whatever he could firmly grasp in his own hands was the best.

If he really were the type to fuss over such things, he wouldn't have chosen to become Nie Nasha's companion in the first place; he would have been broken by the Jester God-chan long ago.

So, after sorting out the current situation, Herbert finished dinner and dove back into the alien prison, swallowing a mixture of the essence blood he'd swindled (put on credit) from Elisha and his own fresh blood.

Gulp.

After that, Herbert's consciousness awoke in the midst of such a heartwarming father-daughterly chase scene.

"Oho! Still the victim's first-person perspective."

How thrilling!

Anyway, none of this was real. Having had several similar experiences before, Herbert watched the scene unfolding before him with the pure attitude of enjoying a drama.

"Tsk tsk tsk, what a fine show!"

Setting: under the night sky, a cold ancient castle, blood and corpses everywhere.

Characters: father and daughter.

Conflict: patricide.

The murderer was that small-fry vampire Elisha Fater, locked in a coffin, and the victim was the man who claimed to be Elisha's father — let's just call him Prince Fater for now.

Although he had long known Elisha's title of 【Patricide】, he had never been able to learn why she killed her own father.

And now, clearly, was a perfect time to uncover the secret!

Hang in there, old man, just a little longer! Try to reveal a bit more information!

Herbert silently cheered Prince Fater on, hoping he'd show some backbone.

But unfortunately, the curtain was about to fall. Prince Fater had truly reached a dead end.

He was too weak — he no longer even had the strength to turn into mist or transform into other animals, and could only run on his frail legs — with his right leg already broken.

"Run? And where could you possibly run to?" Elisha's voice carried an unbridled joy and mockery beneath its sinister tone.

She didn't chase him with full force, but followed behind him like a shadow clinging to bone, savoring the pathetic sight of her father scrambling away in disgrace.

Like a beast toying with its prey, she leisurely watched him flee in all directions.

"N-no, no, no! You monster! I'm your father! How could you... ah!"

After scrambling for a while, Prince Fater stumbled and collapsed weakly to the ground.

Thud.

He crashed heavily onto the ground, struggling to crawl back up and continue, but the person behind him had already lost interest.

"Alright, I've had enough of watching you run. Let's end this here."

Somewhat listlessly, Elisha stepped directly onto Prince Fater's back, and her sharp stiletto heel pierced into his body from behind the heart, skewering the heart that had long since stopped beating.

Hiss—

"Cough!" Prince Fart coughed a mouthful of black blood from his lips, enduring the searing pain as he painfully turned his head to look back, but all he saw was a ball of black mist tinged with blood-light.

She didn't even deign to reveal her true form before him.

"I am, after all, your… father!" Prince Fart was bewildered, unable to understand how things had come to this.

Where exactly had it gone wrong?

And the only answer he received was a cold, contemptuous snicker that drifted out from the black mist.

"Hah! Father?"

Eliza mocked: "You don't truly believe that just because you forcibly gave us your blood and turned us into vampires, there's some blood-tie between us, do you?"

"Ridiculous!"

Prince Fart fell silent.

Of course he knew how poor his relationship was with the children he had personally granted new life.

In the end, he did not beg for mercy again, but lowered his voice and uttered a curse: "You are guilty; you shall bear forever the sin of patricide, and for all eternity you shall never—"

But before his curse could be finished, accompanied by a streak of blood-light slicing past, his head left his neck and began rolling across the ground.

"Sin? Heh."

"Everyone is guilty—myself included, you included… we are all guilty."

"If I am guilty, then let the gods come punish me."

Finally, after Prince Fart's head had rolled several full circles, Herbert was at last able to see Eliza's face clearly.

Beneath the full moon, the silver-haired, blood-eyed girl bathed in the pure moonlight, a faintly crazed smile hanging at the corner of her lips, her blood-red cape fluttering behind her in the wind.

And what left the deepest impression on him was nothing else—but the smile at the corner of her lips.

Madness.

Delight.

She was savoring the process.

Eliza snickered, continuously uttering blasphemous words:

"But they are not worthy!"

"No one has the right to punish me!!!"

(End of this chapter)