Chapter Seventy-Five: Conflict

The necessary revisions have all been made; from this chapter onward, there will be no more “revision” marks.

It was a tranquil night. Silvery moonlight cascaded down like a vast curtain, as if ready to unveil some extraordinary performance.

In the northern Italian town of Laglio, the usual serenity had vanished. The normally quiet town was now alive with excitement, and the cause of this sudden commotion lay with two opposing forces, both comprised of individuals of peerless power.

Nestled in the secluded mountains near Laglio stood a colossal ancient castle. Towering and silent, it was encircled by ancient, towering trees—a scene straight from the Middle Ages. Strangely, this castle was nowhere to be found on any map. Considering its enormous size, it was impossible for it to go unmarked, which clearly indicated some hidden secret.

At this moment, a group of people stood on the open ground before the old castle, arranged in two distinct lines, each side glaring at the other, weapons in hand, as if mortal enemies had come face to face.

On one side stood about thirty individuals, divided into two groups: some were draped in long robes, others clad in golden or silver armor. Among the robed figures were two elders—one in crimson, whose weathered countenance and blood-red robe made him strikingly conspicuous in the night. His eyes were sunken, his cheekbones pronounced. The other, in white robes, was slightly younger and carried a staff made of some unknown wood. These two were clearly the leaders of their faction, for the armored warriors stood protectively around them.

Their opponents were all dressed in jet-black attire, and they outnumbered the first group by several. Oddly enough, among them were not only a few pale-faced individuals but also several strange creatures—beastly monsters covered in fur from head to toe, their upper bodies wholly animalistic.

A chill wind swept through the clearing. The two elders, unbothered by their billowing robes, fixed their sharp gazes on the figures before them.

“Must the Holy See pursue such utter annihilation?” a young man, about thirty, spoke from the dark-clad ranks, his tone both helpless and provocative. His words elicited laughter and jeers from those behind him.

The elder in white remained silent, turning his gaze toward his crimson-robed counterpart, who likewise showed no reaction, simply watching the opposing side.

Then a golden-armored warrior stepped forward, raising his longsword and pointing it at his foes. “You creatures of darkness, you bring evil to this world. To safeguard humanity, we must destroy you!” His declaration was righteous and forceful. The crimson-robed elder frowned slightly but said nothing.

“Haha…” The young man laughed as though he’d heard the greatest absurdity, and when his laughter ceased, he spoke: “The Holy See’s words are utterly ridiculous—evil in the world, protecting humanity?” He gestured to two children beside him, their bodies covered in fur, and said coldly, “Them? A fifteen-year-old girl and a seventeen-year-old boy? Do they possess the power to bring evil to this world? Is it simply because they are half-beasts that you insist they must be eradicated?” By the end, his words erupted into a furious roar.

The golden-armored warrior was momentarily speechless, his eyes falling on the two trembling children before him, at a loss for words.

In truth, the two groups were the Holy See’s Sacred Knights—accompanied by a White Cardinal and a Crimson Cardinal—and a clan of vampires from the Dark Council, along with two half-werewolf children.

The origins of this confrontation could be traced back to those half-werewolf children: a story as old as time. Their parents, also half-beasts, had been discovered and slain by a small contingent of the Holy See’s silver-armored warriors. The two children had narrowly escaped and were rescued by a member of the Revono Vampire Clan, who brought them to the clan’s castle.

Unfortunately, the Holy See, in pursuit, soon discovered their whereabouts. Fearing their own strength insufficient to challenge the ancient Revono Clan, the silver-armored warriors reported the matter to their superiors. Thus, the Holy See dispatched more than twenty Sacred Knights, and, knowing their adversaries were an ancient vampire family, sent a Crimson and a White Cardinal as well.

Such a deployment was intended to ensure absolute success. The White Cardinal had authority over an entire country’s region, while the Crimson Cardinal was second only to the Pope. With such formidable forces, even the Revono Clan could expect little advantage. Yet, the clan of today was no longer what it once had been.

The Crimson Cardinal frowned, clearly displeased with the vampire youth’s defiant tone—and not entirely satisfied with the Sacred Knight’s words, either. He was no unreasonable man; at his age, he was well acquainted with the world’s complexities. From a secular perspective, the Holy See’s relentless persecution of half-werewolves was excessive, but in terms of faith, they believed themselves blameless.

The Crimson Cardinal was seasoned and thoughtful, or he would never have risen to such a powerful and respected position. Faith was his spiritual pillar, yes, but he was not fanatical. He had seen too many zealots in the Holy See, ready to lay down their lives for the glory of God. But he, as a Crimson Cardinal, was no longer a hot-blooded youth. Among the higher ranks, men like him were rare indeed.

It was precisely because he understood the balance between faith and the mundane world that he chose to show mercy in this matter, hoping only that the half-werewolves would not enter human domains. The vampire youth’s merciless words angered him, and he sighed inwardly at the Sacred Knight’s youthful fervor—such blind devotion was unnecessary, even in the name of faith.

Seeing no reply, the vampire youth snorted coldly. “What, have you nothing to say? The Holy See claims the light, preaches virtue, but must darkness always be evil?”

His words struck at the hearts of the Holy See’s followers, yet gave the Dark Council’s people a chance to vent their own grievances. Each of them felt as if a great weight had been lifted; the youth had spoken for them all. How many among them, after all, had truly brought harm to the world?

Regardless of reason, the Holy See branded them all as evil. Even a clay idol has a temper—so how much more these people?

“Giovale is right. Is darkness inherently evil? That’s as laughable as saying light is always justice,” a middle-aged man in black robes responded. So, the vampire youth’s name was Giovale.

“You…” The Sacred Knight who had wanted to retort was silenced by a glare from the White Cardinal, who forced him to swallow his words.

The White Cardinal’s intervention was not due to some profound understanding of the situation, as with the Crimson Cardinal, but simply from a desire not to embarrass the Holy See.

The Crimson Cardinal, whose name was Lanomance, seemed to understand what the White Cardinal was thinking, and looked him over, yet said nothing. In Lanomance’s eyes, the Holy See, after centuries of expansion, had indeed lost its way. Complacency had bred arrogance among the faithful, and what was needed now was a purge—a refinement of the institution.

Such a process, if known to the faithful, would shake their hearts. Thus, to make use of the Dark Council as a tool for this refinement became the perfect solution: to hone the Holy See while simultaneously weakening the forces of darkness. Even if the dark side’s roots remained unshaken, their reserves would be scattered. After all, the young and the weak of today could become the strong of tomorrow, while the Holy See’s own were often blessed with divine gifts and great power.

Though Lanomance knew that his own position was not high enough to alter the Pope’s decisions, neither was it so low as to render him powerless; within his authority, he had final say. So he kept his plans to himself, quietly carrying them out.

He understood well: adversity breeds survival, comfort breeds ruin. Should the Dark Council ever vanish, he knew the Holy See’s fall would not be far behind. Ostensibly, the Holy See and the Dark Council were mortal enemies, but in another sense, they were mutually dependent.

Thus, he did not stop the conflict between the two; at times, he even fanned the flames. Survival of the fittest—those who remained were the true elite. Though many believers would lose their lives, for the Holy See’s long-term prosperity, Lanomance could only show a ruthless face amid his sighs.

His thoughts were complex, but only an instant had passed in the outside world. Several silver-armored paladins, provoked by the words of the dark-robed man, raised their swords, preparing for battle. One, apparently the captain, shouted furiously, “You dark sorcerers are as bloodthirsty as the vampires. To forge your weapons and enhance your power, you use humans as materials! How can such cruel practices not prove you are evil?”

“Haha…” The dark ones opposite broke into laughter. The dark sorcerer, after laughing, retorted coldly, “Using humans to forge weapons? Cruel practices? That’s the most laughable rumor I’ve ever heard. Did you see it with your own eyes, or did your great God see it?”

“That’s right, did you see it yourself? We vampires do drink blood, but that’s an inherited flaw—and only the lesser vampires need to. For those of us of higher rank, it is unnecessary. Moreover, we require only blood, and it need not be human. The tales of vampires preying on humans are lies fabricated by some in the Holy See,” Giovale added.