CHAPTER 710: [BLOOD MOON WAR] [51] BEFORE THE LAST BATTLE

In the heart of the royal capital of Vanadias, the air was unusually tensed. A small but troubling incident had stirred whispers across the palace, and Ernest moved quickly through the dimly lit corridors of the underground prison. His strides were long, impatient. He had woken to alarming news, and he would see for himself whether it was true.

The damp, cold air of the prison clung to his skin as he passed cells where criminals and war prisoners muttered behind iron bars. But his destination was far more important — the cell of Klorentor, the Blood Lord he himself had captured after the attack in the castle.

"Here, Your Highness!" One of the knights posted at the far end called out, stepping aside and pointing toward a heavy-barred cell.

Ernest quickened his pace and peered inside.

The cell was empty of life. Klorentor — the Blood Lord who had mocked them lay sprawled on the cold stone floor, nothing more than a broken husk in a spreading pool of dark blood. His body was pale, almost shriveled, as though the life had been sucked out of him in an instant.

"No one saw him leave, Your Highness," the knight said nervously. "He just... disappeared. And then he was like this."

But Ernest only shook his head grimly.

"No. He didn’t escape. He’s dead. Klorentor wasn’t acting on his own — he bore the blood of the Vampire Witch herself. And anyone who carries her blood is hers to command. She can snuff them out whenever she pleases. She simply reclaimed what was hers... and his body couldn’t survive it."

The knight paled.

"That means..."

"It means she’s strengthening herself," Ernest finished for him, his expression darkening. "Rulana in Natulen likely met the same fate. The Vampire Witch is pulling her power back to herself. She’s preparing something. We can’t give her the time to grow stronger. We leave tonight. Inform everyone."

The knights stiffened, nodded sharply, and hurried down the corridor, the clatter of their armor fading into the distance.

Ernest lingered only a moment longer, staring at the blood-soaked remains in the cell. Then he turned on his heel and returned to the royal castle without hesitation.

By the time he reached the meeting room, the leaders of the Resistance were already waiting — Viessa Teraquin, Gruna Moonfang, Cleara Indi Zestella, and Cedric Dolphis. Together with Ernest, they were known as the Five Leaders, the five heroes who had carried the fight against the Regent King and the Witch’s army when no one else dared.

"We’re leaving tonight?" Gruna asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Ernest replied. "We don’t have the luxury of time anymore. Prepare your armies immediately."

Cedric frowned, leaning forward with folded arms. "Ernest, are you sure? A week’s preparation would give us a stronger footing. Our original plan—"

"—was mine as well," Ernest cut him off. "But Selene Amaya Tepes is gathering blood. She’s preparing something massive. Every passing day strengthens her. If we wait, we’ll be crushed before we even raise our blades. We must strike as soon as possible."

His gaze turned to Viessa, who sat with her hands folded tightly on the table. "Did the Prophetess say anything? Any words that might guide us?"

Viessa lowered her eyes, sorrow flickering across her face. "No... only that she wished us good fortune. Nothing more."

A hollow silence followed. Ernest nodded slowly, though his expression was twisted in unease. Was that a blessing... or a warning?

Finally, he straightened, his voice rising. "Then so be it. The fate of Sancta Vedelia will be decided in this final battle. We cannot fail." His eyes swept across each of them. "Our first target is the Vampire Witch herself — Selene Amaya Tepes. After her, the Regent King, Rucain. Those two are the pillars of this nightmare. Cut them down, and the rest will collapse. We fight for our people. For the Holy Tree. Failure is not an option."

The four leaders nodded. The meeting broke quickly after, each rushing to ready their armies for the march.

Yet, as the others departed, Viessa lingered. She rose quietly and approached Ernest, her expression gentler than before.

"You should rest before the departure," she said softly. "It’s written all over your face — you’ve hardly slept in days."

Ernest gave her a small, weary smile and shook his head. "I can rest when Sancta Vedelia is finally at peace. Until then, I don’t have that luxury."

"We all want peace for Sancta Vedelia," Viessa said softly. "But peace won’t mean anything if none of us survive to see it. Victory should be tasted together, Ernest... not mourned by the last one standing." She ended with a small smile that warmed the edges of her serious tone.

Ernest scratched at his cheek, suddenly awkward in a way that didn’t suit the leaderly presence he had earlier. "Viessa... I—I..."

But she raised her hand, cutting him off with a knowing look.

"I know," she said simply.

The words made Ernest flinch, though not in discomfort. He met her eyes and found her smiling at him.

Then she leaned a little closer, playfully. "After the war... let’s go on a date together."

Ernest blinked, his composure shattering. "R–Really?" He stuttered, more like a boy than the leader of a resistance.

"Yes," Viessa said, but this time her voice carried a steel edge beneath the sweetness. "So you better survive, alright? That’s not a request."

Ernest straightened, almost instinctively, like he was being given an order on the battlefield. "Yeah. I will," he answered without hesitation.

But the weight of her words left him too conscious of her presence, and embarrassment colored his cheeks. He quickly steered the conversation elsewhere. "How... how is he, by the way?"

At once, Viessa’s smile dimmed, her expression softening into sorrow.

"Still recovering," she said.

A week had passed, and yet he still hadn’t woken.

"I’ll assign guards to keep watch during our absence," Ernest said, trying to reassure her.

"I think he’ll be fine," Viessa replied quietly. "Sylvia and Lisandra are staying behind too, it seems."

"They’re staying?" Ernest echoed with a frown. "That’s a shame. They would’ve been useful against the Vampire Witch..." His voice trailed off, the thought unfinished.

Viessa gave him a bitter little smile. "From the beginning, they were never truly here for Sancta Vedelia. We both knew that."

***

Elsewhere in the castle, the guest room was bathed in soft lamplight.

On the large bed lay Edward, unmoving, his chest rising and falling only faintly. His wounds had long been treated, his body restored as much as healers could manage. Yet, no matter how many days passed, he had not stirred from his slumber.

Curled up at his side, Levina lay asleep as well, her breathing slow and peaceful. It was not injury that held her in dreams, but Edward’s own doing — his Sin of Sloth had wrapped her in a gentle rest.

Beside them sat Alicia.

She hadn’t left his side since the moment she had recovered her own strength two days prior. The moment she learned of Edward’s condition, every memory of what had happened had come flooding back. She had run straight to him, tears blurring her sight, and from then on she had refused to move far from his bed.

Now, seated on a simple chair, she leaned forward with her arms folded atop the mattress, her fingers entwined tightly with his motionless hand. Her forehead rested against her arms as she stared at his sleeping face. The room was quiet except for the faint crackle of the lamp’s flame.

Alicia had cried more times than she could count. At first, she wept endlessly, begging him to wake. When that failed, she cried in silence, until finally the tears simply refused to fall anymore. But the ache in her chest never eased.

"Senior..." She whispered.

Silence answered her, as it always did these last days.

Her lips trembled, and she bit down on them, squeezing his hand even harder as if her grip could pull him back to her. "I’m... so sorry, Senior..."

Unable to endure the distance any longer, Alicia climbed gently onto the bed. She lay down beside him, careful of his stillness, and nestled close. With one arm she drew the sleeping Levina against her chest, holding the girl protectively. With the other, she wrapped herself around Edward’s right arm, hugging it to her.

She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. For the first time that day, she let herself crumble — quietly, wordlessly, holding on to the only warmth that reminded her he was still here.

"Alicia."

The voice at the doorway made her stir. She turned her head slightly to see Lisandra standing there. Behind her stood Sylvia, arms crossed, her sharp gaze fixed on the scene inside the room.

"Yes?" Alicia answered quietly, without turning fully toward them. Her hand still clung to Edward’s as though afraid he would vanish the moment she let go.

"Ernest and the others... they’re leaving tonight. To Valachia," Lisandra said.

"I see..." Alicia’s reply was little more than a whisper.

Lisandra hesitated, then asked, "Are you sure you want to go with them?"

Because they all knew what Alicia’s decision meant. She wasn’t planning to stay behind with Edward and Levina. She was choosing to step onto the battlefield — the last battle against the Vampire Witch.

Alicia straightened slowly, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "The Vampire Witch is someone dear to me. I have to save her... bring her back with me. I won’t lose Beth again."

Sylvia’s voice cut in sharply, colder than Lisandra’s. "Mael won’t be happy when he wakes to hear this. He risked everything to save you, and your answer is to throw yourself back into death?"

Alicia didn’t respond.

They wouldn’t understand.

To her, this wasn’t recklessness — it was necessity. It was her last chance to change what she knew was coming. She had lived through the future, seen how it unfolded. Amaya would die unless someone interfered. If Alicia did nothing, her death was already written in stone. And she refused to let that happen.

"I’ll leave them to your care," she said at last, rising from her chair. Her gaze softened as she looked at Edward and Levina. "Take care of Senior... and Vina."

She leaned over Edward, strands of her blonde hair falling against his pale face. Her lips brushed his, lingering there. For a few seconds, she stayed like that. Then she pulled away slowly, her eyes drinking in his face one last time.

Turning to Levina, she pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead, stroking the girl’s cheek tenderly before standing and walking toward the door. Without another word, she passed Lisandra and Sylvia, her footsteps fading down the corridor.

Lisandra stepped into the room, her eyes fixed on Edward’s still form. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. "Sylvia... do you think he’ll ever remember us?" She asked.

Sylvia followed her in. "Likely not," she answered bluntly. "Unless Amael himself gave his memories to him. But I doubt he would."

Lisandra’s face twisted, pain flickering behind her eyes. "It’s... unfair. All of it. Why does he have to carry this burden? Why...when is everything Eden’s fault?" Her voice cracked, anger straining against sorrow as tears welled in her eyes.

Both of them had seen too much — glimpses of past lives, of choices forced upon them. It tore at them still.

"They’ve always seen us as pawns," Lisandra continued bitterly, her voice trembling. "Pieces to be moved, to control. And Mael... he doesn’t deserve any of it. All he ever wanted was peace."

Sylvia’s gaze softened as she reached out, brushing Edward’s white hair with her fingers, stroking it gently. "Amael knew," she said quietly. "He always knew peace wasn’t something he would ever be allowed. He saw how it would unfold. And still... he was too stubborn to ever stop fighting for the people he loved."

Lisandra’s composure cracked. She spun away, her voice breaking. "N–Nothing would’ve happened if Eden’s corrupted side hadn’t dragged his mother into the Blood Moon War! They forced his hand!"

It had been Michael who orchestrated Belle Falkrona’s kidnapping, who handed her to Rucain, but both Lisandra and Sylvia had long doubted Eden’s innocence. He must have known. Perhaps even approved.

All for one purpose — to force Amael into his role as Vessel.

Dragging him into the Blood Moon War was a move to bait out the son of Anox, one of Lucifer’s Generals, to reach the Ymir’s King.

But everything had spiraled beyond their control.

The unstable awakening of the Holy Tree, Rucain’s madness, Amael’s sacrifice... the war had ended in devastation. Amael had lost his life on that battlefield.

And then, as expected, Nihil had stepped in, rewriting the past itself, reshaping it to avoid the ruinous future those events would have brought.

Lisandra’s shoulders shook as she stared at the floor, her fists clenched tight. "I–I still can’t believe it. They pushed him this far. How could they? How could they destroy everything he wanted?"

Her hatred burned toward Eden, toward every shadow of that corrupted will. Nothing else.

Sylvia remained silent for a long moment, her silver eye gleaming faintly as she reached down to cup Edward’s cheek.

"Please... stay on Earth if you can. Don’t let yourself get dragged back into this world."

Her thumb brushed gently across his skin, her gaze lingering with a rare, fragile tenderness.

"That’s all I wish for you, Nyrel. Just live in peace. Stay with the people you love. Forget this world of blood and chains. Don’t let it take you away again. Find Ephera and go back to Earth."