The Primeval Era-Chapter 110: Blood With Vengeance! II

Damian looked toward Masamuk first.

"Do you have any information on this Imperator? If we know our enemy somewhat..."

He let the question hang.

Masamuk smiled evilly. His obsidian body shone as Mana gathered in front of him, stellar blue points pulsing in concert. Energy condensed and shaped itself, forming into an illusory image floating in the air before them all.

The image showed a woman in crimson armor.

Sharp and cold features, beautiful the way blades were beautiful. Hair pulled back in military discipline. A bow of molten stone rested across her back, its surface constantly shifting with magma never cooling.

Behind her, a floating war vessel dominated the image. Massive. A platform of stone and metal defying gravity through Mana alone. Crimson banners bearing the sigil of the Dominion of Crimson Stone flapped in captured winds. Warriors in matching crimson armor stood in formation across its deck, dozens of them, each one radiating Organ Sanctification power.

Clear definition, as if she stood right in front of them.

Damian looked it over carefully.

Masamuk spoke with cold voice.

"It’s this bitch right here that I have gotten information about. There are others, but they seem to be in the periphery and have not entered into our lands. I assume they don’t want to piss off the Noble Beast Lineages, so they send only one Vessel Completion human to attack Sacred Mountains."

Crimson eyes narrowed.

"A sacrificial lamb, likely, should anything go wrong."

...!

Damian’s eyes grew heavy. He felt like he recognized this woman.

Near him, Uncle Adam’s body shook.

"That..."

The old soldier’s voice came out rough and pained.

"That is Imperator Vienna. She.. was a starving Chieftain from the eastern provinces when Emperor Vakochev found her thirty years ago."

His hands clenched at his sides.

"The Emperor saw potential in her. He took her from nothing. He elevated her through the ranks when others would have let her rot in obscurity."

Harder now.

"She owed him her life. Her cultivation. Her entire existence. Everything she is today exists because of Emperor Vakochev’s mercy and investment."

Words hanging in the air.

"She was supposed to be protecting the Vakochev Lineage. She swore an oath on her blood and her Mana to defend the imperial family unto death. And when the Murderous Saint came..."

Silence.

He didn’t need to say more.

Everyone understood.

After his words, the Holy Daughter frowned. She looked at Uncle Adam with those wing-shaped pupils seeing more than most. Then she looked at Damian. Her expression shifted as if pieces clicked together in her mind, pieces she chose not to voice aloud.

Damian looked at the image of this woman who betrayed his father’s trust and nodded coldly.

He didn’t need to show rage. He just needed to hold those responsible accountable. The Lands of Stone had many with no honor.

He would instill this fucking honor.

Controlling his emotions, he didn’t notice his eyes almost changing their pupils to become winged. He didn’t notice the scorching golden marker on his arm pulsing beneath the layer of skin he’d grown to hide it.

"Okay."

Calm voice.

"This is the enemy. And with her are..."

Masamuk’s illusory image shifted, zooming out to show the vessel’s position relative to surrounding landscape.

"Approximately forty-three Organ Sanctification Warriors based on Beast Lord intelligence. Her vessel is currently positioned near the Sleeping River, three leagues east of where it bends toward the southern territories."

Obsidian body pulsing thoughtfully.

"That puts her close to the edge of the Threshold Lands, perhaps a days travel from the nearest Dominion outpost. Close enough for reinforcements if she called for them, but far enough that we would have time before they reached her."

Crimson eyes gleaming.

"From here, if we fly at full speed, we could reach her position in perhaps a few hours or less."

...!

Damian listened to all of this, wondering if they should take this chance.

At such a time, the Holy Daughter spoke.

"The Hallowed Voice teaches that the Covenant of the First Stone is a covenant of peace."

Cold voice. Measured, and carrying the weight of scripture drilled into her since childhood.

"We do not seek conflict. We do not initiate violence. We extend mercy to those who wrong us and forgiveness to those who repent."

Wing-shaped pupils were blazing with light almost stellar.

"But when threatened, war and blood must be pursued with vengeance. This is also the teaching. The Covenant does not ask us to be victims. It asks us to be righteous in our wrath."

Standing straighter, newly achieved Vessel Completion radiating around her like a declaration, she continued!

"This Imperator and others likely acted to ambush my Master. The higher families that should have protected her instead colluded with foreign powers to destroy everything he built."

Colder still.

"I will move myself if I have to. I will get answers from her before bathing her blood on the Lands of Stone."

Eyes meeting Damian’s.

"I will kill first. Then I will pray for her poor soul after."

...!

Others looked toward her in astonishment. Masamuk’s crimson gaze gleamed with approval.

Damian remained calm.

But his eyes sharpened.

He came to a decision!

---

New alliances can always be good. They bring strength where there was weakness, unity where there was division, hope where there was despair. When former enemies clasp hands and turn their faces toward a common foe, the world itself seems to shift with the promise of change.

But what was done before was still done.

The Primal Surges had occurred. The beast tides had rolled across the Threshold Lands with fury that cared nothing for innocence or guilt. Many tribes were spared when the Beast Lords gave their orders to halt. Many families would see another sunrise because rage had been redirected toward those who deserved it.

But not all were spared.

Some tribes had already been flattened before the order came. Some children had already been orphaned. Some elders had already breathed their last beneath the feet of creatures who didn’t know their names and wouldn’t have cared if they did.

So when those newly allied move across the Lands of Stone together, when they fly side by side toward a common enemy, and they see the destruction wrought by those whose hands they now hold...

How exactly would they feel?

Can one forgive the flood for the villages it drowned simply because it has agreed not to drown any more? Can one embrace the storm while standing in the ruins it created? Can one march toward justice alongside those who committed injustice, knowing that the dead cannot be consulted about such arrangements?

These...are the questions that have no clean answers. But they deserved an answer regardless!