Chapter 81: First Encounter

Within the ancient castle, Ruth suddenly sensed something amiss and immediately commanded, “Enemies are approaching—the Holy See’s forces are upon us. Order the lesser dark creatures to withdraw at once, and let the higher ranks prepare for battle!”

Born in adversity, perished in comfort. The Dark Council had always existed under the relentless pursuit of the Holy See, and their response was swift and precise. In mere moments, the superior dark creatures were ready for combat, while the lesser beings scattered in every direction.

Yet, the Holy See attacked from all sides, trapping their prey as if sealing a pot. The dark creatures had nowhere to flee, and many fell beneath the swords of the Holy See’s warriors.

A dark creature let out a mournful cry, slain beneath the blade of a silver-armored warrior. That warrior spat disdainfully, “Damn dark creatures. Their deaths are worthless—what a waste of my strength.” His face was twisted with disgust, yet his words carried an unmistakable pride. He failed to notice that, as he boasted, a flash of blood streaked past—crack! The sharp sound came from his own neck.

Only in death did he realize that his arrogance had cost him his life, “Pretending to be superior never ends well—”

A count-ranked bloodkin applauded, attempting to wipe the blood from his hands, as though touching the blood of the Holy See was a humiliation. Spreading his fleshy wings, he soared high above, swiftly leaving the ground behind.

The area surrounding the castle became a battlefield. At first, it was a one-sided massacre—the Holy See’s warriors slaughtered the powerless lesser dark creatures. Suddenly, the castle’s great doors burst open, and countless high-ranked dark creatures poured forth. Leading them were the bloodkin—hundreds, all with the power of a count or above. Following were dark wizards, innumerable beastmen, and exquisitely beautiful night elves…

Once outside, they immediately joined the fray. Their arrival visibly shifted the tide—no longer could the Holy See’s warriors freely butcher the lesser dark creatures, for they were now entangled with formidable adversaries.

Nagaz led the dark wizards, standing quietly at a distance. They did not rush forward to engage in hand-to-hand combat, but instead began muttering incantations in unison. Nearly a hundred dark wizards chanting together multiplied the power of their spells. Layers of black mist radiated outward from them, spreading ever further.

This mist, born of dark magic, was intensely corrosive. It had no effect on their own kind, but for the Holy See’s warriors, it was deadly—like concentrated sulfuric acid, but far more potent. As the mist expanded, several Holy See warriors soon fell victim.

A young cleric screamed in agony, his body wracked with unbearable pain. His flesh was slowly corroded, as if burned by acid, then carbonized, and finally transformed into a lifeless living statue.

More followed. The Holy See’s warriors fled from the mist in terror, but its spread was swift.

A white-robed bishop frowned as he witnessed this. He opened his hands, and his broad, flowing white robe began to float. A serene white light radiated from his form. “Holy Light!” he cried.

At his call, the light around him brightened and suddenly spread outward, forming a fierce opposition to the mist. Gradually, the mist was eaten away and began to recede.

“Slay the dark creatures—for our glorious Lord!” a paladin shouted. His words stirred the crowd, filling their hearts with countless thoughts, all centering on their unwavering devotion to God.

The power of faith is immense. To call them fanatics is no exaggeration. With the slightest provocation, they could unleash one hundred and twenty percent of their might. Now, the Holy See’s warriors and clerics surged toward the Dark Council’s castle like a swarm, carving a bloody path. Many Holy See members were injured or killed, but the losses on the Dark Council’s side were even greater.

Ruth frowned. The Holy See’s members were far too determined—determined to the point of recklessness. It was just as the saying goes: the weak fear the strong, the strong fear the mad, and the mad fear those who have nothing to lose. Facing such an adversary, the Dark Council was bound to suffer heavy losses.

“Bruh, Gangrel, Malkav, Nofele, Toreador, Tremere—you join the fight as well,” Ruth said calmly, his tone brooking no argument. The six emperor-ranked bloodkin nodded in assent, flashing into action and quickly unleashing carnage across several battlefields.

“Chief, we…” The remaining seven emperor-ranked bloodkin yearned to join the fray, but Ruth had not called their names. “Councilor, count us in!” came the voices of the beastmen and the night elves.

Ruth nodded slightly. “Hold nothing back.” “Absolutely not!” they replied, their excitement evident. Their hatred for the Holy See was palpable—and the feeling was mutual.

War always brings surprises. With the addition of so many experts, the situation began to stray from the Holy See’s initial plans. They had underestimated the Dark Council’s strength, especially that of the bloodkin. In truth, their intelligence was lacking—or perhaps they were simply too arrogant.

Eight white-robed bishops, anger burning within, stood at eight points and began chanting in unison. Eight brilliant beams of light shot up. In the darkness, such radiance only marked them as targets. With a dull thud, a night elf appeared beside one bishop, delivering a powerful blow. The bishop’s strength lay in his faith, not his frail body, and he could not withstand the elf’s strike. He was sent flying five meters, his interrupted chant causing backlash, and his life was now precariously in danger.

He was not alone—at least five of the eight bishops suffered similar fates. The Holy See’s raid was off to a disastrous start.

“You shouldn’t be idle, either,” Ruth said, turning to the remaining hundreds of bloodkin, including those with dukes’ power. His words also extended to the unmoved dark wizards, beastmen, and night elves. The Dark Council had no need for restraint now—they must give their all.

In an instant, another army of a thousand joined the battle. The situation, like a small boat tossed on the crest of waves, swayed unpredictably and ultimately tilted in favor of the Dark Council.

As the Holy See’s warriors began to be slaughtered, the observing cardinal could no longer hold back. He unleashed all his power, blocking a portion of the Dark Council’s fighters, and shouted, “Fall back! Abandon this mission!”

At his command, the Holy See’s forces regrouped and retreated. They understood their mistake: they had believed the Dark Council’s election to be merely a gathering of a few strong individuals, never expecting so much dark power to be assembled.

“Dark Council, hear me! Today, the Holy See admits defeat. But do not grow complacent! In seven days, at Hermon Valley, we shall meet again for a holy war! We await you there!” With these words, the cardinal led the Holy See’s warriors in retreat.

The Holy See had never suffered such defeat—so utterly routed and disgraced. They had lost not only the battle, but also shattered the arrogance and confidence within each participant’s heart. To describe their spirit as crushed was no exaggeration. Morale is crucial, but after defeat, it is rarely found. The phrase “growing stronger through battle” is mostly for the victors. For the defeated, persistence through repeated failure is the domain of but a few.

“Do not pursue!” Ruth ordered coldly. “Everyone, recover your strength. In seven days, we shall rewrite history with a holy war!”

All eyes burned with passion as they gazed at Ruth. None had expected such victory tonight—the Dark Council had never before triumphed over the Holy See. This was an unprecedented first, raising Ruth’s standing even higher.

The victory owed much to the Holy See’s faulty predictions. They had underestimated the strength the Dark Council could muster, otherwise they would not have dispatched so few. Another factor was the bloodkin’s ferocity—they had turned the tide.

As the Dark Council’s members returned to recuperate for the holy war in seven days, Ruth sat alone, pondering: Why did the Holy See bring so little force to the raid? Was it truly a miscalculation, or did they have another goal? Was this a mere show of force, without enough power to back it up? Or was it a deliberate feint, meant to lull the Dark Council into complacency, only to strike when their guard was down? It seemed the true purpose lay in the holy war to come.

“What do you think their real aim is?” Ruth turned to Cold Flame, who sat nearby, sipping a glass of red wine with leisure.

“Whatever their aim, just be fully prepared and face the holy war in seven days with all you have,” Cold Flame replied, then laughed softly. “This coming holy war may well be one the Holy See will never forget.”

Ruth nodded, saying no more. He poured himself a glass of wine and savored it quietly.

Meanwhile, the cardinal’s heart still raced with unease. The Dark Council’s power was growing at a terrifying rate. If things continued, could the Holy See still stand against them?

“Thankfully, the Pope is wise and has planned the holy war seven days hence. But—” The cardinal shivered at the thought that the Pope would sacrifice nearly ten thousand faithful for the holy war. Of the ten thousand warriors and clerics brought today, most were dead or wounded, with less than a tenth surviving, and nearly all of them injured.

“They were all loyal to the Holy See, and yet… I wonder if such a fate will one day befall me.” Shaking his head, the cardinal threw the thought from his mind and hurried toward the Holy See’s headquarters.

Well, yesterday’s chapter is now made up…