Chapter 61: The Real Elisa? (13)

After the two bishops left, Herbert waited for a while beneath the cart before giving up.

Wait?

Even if the flowers withered, what’s the point of waiting?

No more waiting!

After exchanging pleasantries with the knights in the training yard, Herbert returned to the monastery under the guidance of Sister Caplan, who had been waiting outside.

Sister Caplan had come with the Inquisitor to seize him, but she didn’t flee with him—instead, she deliberately stayed behind to wait for Herbert—clearly, she had something to say.

Indeed, on the way back, she casually told Herbert about Ivanca’s ordeal in the interrogation room.

Herbert was initially curious, but halfway through, he waved his hand to stop her.

Even if it’s one of our own, interrogation is still interrogation—no one goes easy.

Especially in a world with healing divine arts, the cruelty of interrogation can be multiplied several times over.

The details? Let’s just say men weep, women cry, listeners grieve, and hearers weep—how could one word, “horrible,” possibly capture it?

Herbert caught her drift at once and waved his hand decisively: Enough already! Know when to stop! We’re colleagues, after all—I don’t care.

While part of him didn’t want to hear the gruesome details, mostly he simply didn’t care about those two.

Whether they suffered or barely escaped interrogation, he didn’t care much.

No deep grudge exists. My goal is achieved—that’s enough.

Enough already.

Let bygones be bygones.

Sister Caplan merely nodded without speaking, but Herbert felt her gaze toward him had grown softer.

Affection increased!

Back at the monastery, Herbert ignored everything else and, having stayed awake all night, finally slept deeply until dinnertime.

“Skipping sleep for a day or two isn’t a problem, but long-term? That’s no way to live—I’ll keel over one day.”

Herbert didn’t want to die young—he still had too much to do in this life.

“I need to strengthen my power. With enough strength, I won’t need so much sleep.”

After carefully analyzing his current abilities, Herbert realized his top priority was still gathering materials from monster girls.

Compared to grinding like the knights’ good brothers, abilities gained from monster materials were far faster and far stronger.

Some might think such abilities are fake, inferior to those earned through sweat and hard work.

But to Herbert—that’s just taking off your pants to fart.

The sacred mountain lies far away—why waste time going the long way?

If a shortcut already exists, why deliberately take the detour?

Is torturing yourself fun?

A masochist?

If so, add a WeChat… cough.

Herbert never dwelled on such trivialities. He never cared about the origin of power—what matters is holding it firmly in his own hands.

If he truly cared about such things, he never would’ve chosen to become Nenasha’s companion—he’d have been broken long ago by Xie Shen Jiang.

Thus, after clarifying his situation, Herbert returned to the alien prison after dinner and swallowed the blood he’d tricked (borrowed) from Elisa, mixed with his own.

Glug.

Afterward, Herbert’s consciousness awoke in a scene of father-daughter pursuit.

“Huh! Still the victim’s first-person view.”

How thrilling!

Since none of this was real, and Herbert had experienced similar scenes before, he watched it purely as if enjoying a play.

“Tsk tsk tsk—what a fine drama!”

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

Characters: father and daughter.

Conflict: patricide.

The killer was Elisa Fat, the lowly vampire locked in the coffin; the victim was the man claiming to be Elisa’s father—let’s call him Prince Fat.

Though he’d long known Elisa’s title as “Patricide,” he’d never learned why she killed her father.

Now, clearly, this was a perfect chance to uncover the secret!

Come on, old father—hold on a little longer! Reveal more information!

Herbert silently cheered for Prince Fat, hoping he’d put up a better fight.

But sadly, the end was near—Prince Fat was truly at his last gasp.

He was too weak—even his mist-form and animal transformation abilities were gone. He could only limp on his weakened legs—his right leg was broken.

“Run? Where can you possibly run?” Elisa’s voice dripped with sinister delight and mockery.

She didn’t chase him—she trailed behind like a parasitic shadow, savoring her father’s pitiful, frantic flight.

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

“No, no, no! You monster! I’m your father! How could you… ah!”

After running for a while, Prince Fat stumbled and collapsed helplessly to the ground.

Thud.

He crashed hard, struggling to rise again—but the figure behind him had lost interest.

“Enough. I’ve seen enough of your running. This ends now.”

With listless boredom, Elisa stepped on Prince Fat’s back—her sharp heel pierced his spine, driving straight through his already-still heart.

Hssss—

“Cough!” Prince Fat spat a jet of black blood, gritting his teeth to turn his head—only to see a swirl of blood-tinged black mist.

She wouldn’t even deign to show him her true face.

“I—I’m your… father!” Prince Fat didn’t understand. Why had it come to this?

Where had he gone wrong?

In response, only a cold, mocking laugh emerged from the black mist.

“Hah! Father?”

Elisa sneered: “You really think forcing blood upon us makes us blood-bound?”

“Pathetic!”

Prince Fat fell silent.

He knew well how poor his relationship was with the children he’d turned.

Finally, he didn’t beg—he spoke in a low, cursed tone: “You are guilty. You shall forever bear the sin of patricide, never… ”

Before he finished, a slash of bloodlight severed his head—it rolled across the ground.

“Sin?”

“Everyone is guilty—including me, including you… we all are.”

“If I’m guilty, let the gods punish me.”

Only after Prince Fat’s head rolled several times did Herbert finally see Elisa’s face.

Beneath the full moon, the girl with silver hair and crimson eyes bathed in moonlight, her lips curled in a slightly mad smile, her blood-red cloak fluttering in the wind.

But what left the deepest impression on him wasn’t anything else—it was her smile.

Mad.

Delighted.

She was enjoying this.

Elisa sneered, spouting blasphemous words:

“But they aren’t worthy!”

“No one has the right to punish me!!!”

(End of Chapter)