56. The Real Elizabeth? (1/3)

After the two bishops left in a huff, Herbert, having been left behind under the carriage, waited for a short while before abandoning all hope of their return.

Wait?
Wait until the flowers withered, and still wait for what?
Forget about waiting!

After exchanging pleasantries and getting acquainted with the good brothers of the knightly order at the training grounds, Herbert finally returned to the monastery under the guidance of Sister Kaplan, who had been waiting outside.

The nun had accompanied the inquisitor in the raid to snatch people away, but instead of leaving with him, she had deliberately stayed behind to wait for Herbert—it was clear she had something to say.

Sure enough, on the way back, she casually recounted the ordeal Ivanka and her companion had suffered in the interrogation room.

Herbert was slightly curious at first, but halfway through, he waved his hand to signal that she needn't go on.

Though it was fellow church members dealing with their own, an interrogation was an interrogation after all; the methods were bound to be heavy-handed...

Especially in a world where miraculous healing magic existed, the sheer horror of an interrogation could be elevated by several tiers.

As for the specific details, it was simply enough to make men silent and women weep, moving the listeners to tears and the onlookers to sorrow—truly a miserable affair.

Understanding the implication behind her words, Herbert gave a grand wave of his hand and generously declared, knowing how to play the game—That's quite enough! Stop while you're ahead! We're all colleagues after all! I don't mind at all...

While part of it was because he didn't want to hear any more of the gruesome details, it was mostly because he truly didn't care about those two individuals.

Whether they suffered torture or managed to narrowly escape the interrogation, he simply didn't care.

There was no deep-seated hatred anyway, as long as his own objective had been achieved.

That was enough.
Forgive where you can and let people off.

Although Sister Kaplan merely nodded without saying anything, Herbert felt that the gaze she cast toward him had grown a touch softer.

Favorable impression increased!

Upon returning to the monastery, Herbert put everything else aside. Having stayed up all night, he caught up on a good sleep and did not wake lazily until dinner time.

"Turning day and night upside down like this is fine for a day or two, but it's no long-term solution! Who knows when I might suddenly drop dead from exhaustion..."

Herbert didn't want to die prematurely; there were still too many things he wanted to do in this life.

"I still need to increase my strength. With enough strength, I won't need this much sleep."

Carefully analyzing the abilities he had currently acquired, Herbert understood that his top priority remained collecting materials from monster girls.

Compared to enduring grueling hardships like the good brothers of the knightly order, the abilities gained through monster materials came much faster and were far more powerful.

Some might feel that abilities gained this way were hollow, incomparable to those earned through bitter sweat and toil.

But as far as Herbert was concerned—that was just making things unnecessarily complicated.

The peak of cultivation was distant, so why abandon the shortcut close at hand and seek a long, arduous path?
Was torturing oneself fun?
Was he a masochist?
If so, add me on... cough.

Herbert wouldn't obsess over such minor details; he never minded the origin of his abilities. Whatever could be tightly grasped in his own hands was the best.

If he were truly the type to agonize over such matters, he wouldn't have chosen to become Nenasa's companion in the first place, and would have long since been broken by Evil God-chan.

Thus, after sorting out his current situation, Herbert finished his dinner and dived once more into the alien prison. He mixed the refined blood he had tricked (obtained on credit) from Elisa with his own and swallowed it in one gulp.

Gulp.

Following that, Herbert's consciousness awoke right into a scene of this father-loving, filial-daugher chase.

"Oho! And it's from the victim's first-person perspective."

How thrilling!

Since none of this was real anyway, Herbert, having already experienced similar events a few times, simply adopted the mindset of a theater-goer enjoying a play right before his eyes.

"Tsk tsk tsk, what a fine show!"

The setting: beneath the night sky, a gloomy ancient castle, with blood and corpses scattered across the ground.
The characters: father and daughter.
The conflict: patricide.
The perpetrator was the trashy vampire Elisa Fate, who had been locked in a coffin, while the victim claimed to be Elisa's father—let's call him Prince Fate for the time being.

Although he had long known of Elisa's title as the [Kinslayer], he had never figured out why she wanted to kill her own father.

And now, this was clearly a great opportunity to explore that secret!

Keep it up, old father, hold on a bit longer and try to spill a few more details!

Herbert secretly cheered Prince Fate on, hoping he could show some spine.

Unfortunately, the curtain call was fast approaching, and Prince Fate had reached a truly desperate end.

He was far too weak; he no longer even possessed the power to turn into mist or transform into other animals, and could only run on feeble legs—and his right leg had already been broken.

"Running? Where could you possibly run?" Elisa's voice carried a chilling, thinly veiled amusement and mockery.

She did not chase him with all her might; instead, like a clinging shadow, she followed closely behind him, enjoying the ugly, pathetic spectacle of her dear father fleeing in panic.

Like a wild beast toying with its prey, she leisurely watched him scurry about.

"No, no, no, no! You monster! I am your father! How could you... ah!"

After fleeing for a good while, Prince Fate stumbled and crashed powerlessly to the ground.

Thud.

He fell heavily to the earth, struggling to crawl back up and keep going, but the person behind him had already lost interest.

"Well, I've seen quite enough of you running away. Let's put an end to this."

Looking somewhat bored, Elisa stepped directly onto Prince Fate's back, her sharp heel plunging into his back and piercing the heart that had long since stopped beating.

Screech—

"Cough!" Prince Fate coughed up a mouthful of dark blood, fighting through the excruciating pain to look back with difficulty, only to see a mass of black mist tainted with a bloody glow.

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

"I am, after all, your... father!" Prince Fate was baffled, unable to understand why things had come to this.

Where on earth had things gone wrong?

In response, all he received was a cold, chilling scoff emanating from the black mist.

"Hah! Father?"

Elisa mocked, "You wouldn't actually believe that by forcefully bestowing your blood to turn us into vampires, there would be any blood ties between you and us?"

"Ridiculous!"

Prince Fate fell silent.

Of course he knew how terrible his relationship was with the children he had personally granted a new birth.

In the end, he stopped begging for mercy. Instead, with a low, rumbling voice, he cast a curse: "You are guilty, and you shall forever bear the sin of kinslaying, for all eternity..."

Before he could finish his curse, accompanied by a flash of crimson light, his head parted from his neck and went rolling across the ground.

"Sin? Heh."
"Everyone is guilty, including me, including you... we are all guilty."
"If I am guilty, then let the gods punish me."

Finally, after Prince Fate's head had rolled several times, Herbert was able to clearly see Elisa's face.

Beneath the full moon, the silver-haired, crimson-eyed girl was bathed in the pure moonlight, a slightly crazed smile hanging at the corners of her lips, her crimson cloak fluttering in the wind.

And the thing that left the deepest impression on him was none other than—the smile on her lips.

Crazed.
Delighted.
She was reveling in the process.

Elisa scoffed, continuously uttering blasphemous words:

"But they are not worthy!"
"No one has the right to punish me!!!"