Duke Anela bore another name: the Bloody Vicar. There were several reasons for this. It was said that his first battle had been so bloody that he had returned soaked in blood, the sole survivor of the Triad to which he belonged. He had repeated this feat since. Others perished, but he remained. It was said that he had fought so much in his past lives that he was born into this one covered in the blood of those who had surrounded him—monsters that had tried to devour him.

There was not a single other pureblood in the lands of Blood who had crimson hair and eyes. There was no one because it was not human, but rather monstrous. The other purebloods escorting the civilians of Vileblood today wore the same armor as we did—gleaming red silver armor that bore the color of blood so that children would not see its true crimson stains.

Even dressed in the colors of blood, we had dark hair and eyes that made the difference striking. The Bloody Vicar, however, appeared cruel. Oh, he was magnificent, though his allure was likely not to everyone's taste. He was terrifying to children, yet so honorable in his terror that they admired him as much as they feared him. Duke Anela seemed to come from elsewhere, from distant lands, but that was not the case. He was indeed from Vileblood.

He rode through the streets of Fairblood, escorting civilians who looked upon him with trust, relieved to be protected by a pureblood like him. If some did not deserve the title of Duke, he was certainly not one of them. People might have heard of "me," Selene the Phantom—a far less grandiose title than his—but everyone knew the exquisite Anela. Many said he was the vicar of our God: "Rodel."

Today would be the first time I would officially meet him. From mere glances, he had always appeared cruel and cold, but perhaps it was just an illusion given by his scarlet hair and eyes. We were used to associating that color with suffering. Anela bore that color cruelly well. I had rarely—if ever—seen a man as captivating as him; a delicious feast, indeed. He was not as tall as Duke Fratera nor as muscular as the Duke of Dearblood.

The Bloody Vicar had light but well-defined muscles and a stature perfectly suited for wielding a sword. He was not the oldest among us. He was the youngest of the Dukes, yet he was more important than all of them. As he guided the people of Vileblood into the church, carrying the lone coffin of the deceased, his face took on a delicate sadness. So, he knew the deceased well enough to be affected.

The entire population, myself included, followed them into the church. Duke Anela was the last to approach the altar. Our God Rodel was there, hands open as if carrying the world, his six wings spread wide on his back, his gaze lowered upon whoever knelt before him. And at that moment, it was his vicar. His armor clinked as his knees met the ground with humility. It was, by far, the most beautiful image I had ever seen.

When he rose, his face taut with emotion, he moved to the front rows, and I shifted slightly to keep him within my sight. The priest arrived, dressed in a long red robe with a great train trailing behind him like a river of blood. He stood before the statue and opened his arms in the same manner. The coffin had been placed before him.

"May Rodel watch over Mara. She served her brothers and sisters with humility and devotion. May her fallen brothers, whose bodies will never be found, accompany her on her journey. May El guide their steps to his father, to our Father and God, so that they may live in peace."

Choral voices began to rise gently as a myriad of children danced around the coffin, all dressed in flowing red garments that moved like flowers in the wind with every motion. Amidst these voices, one clearer than all others stood out. The Bloody Vicar had begun his song of tribute. They had chosen a beautiful funeral hymn. It even managed to quicken my heart—a heart I thought long lost.

"Oh, merciful Rodel, lead my companions through the tumultuous paths to your great gardens. Forced to groan and hate on this earth, we take the time to sing our love to you. We dedicate our lives to your divine works, that your wings may offer us the new breaths of life we need, and may you one day forgive those who betrayed you. Bless my children and my parents, my people and yourself, for only then can I continue our fight."

The rest became darker, more real.

"Forgive the child who, one night, fled into the Blood woods and had their life torn away by a beast. Forgive the parent who curses you for the loss of their child. Forgive the monster that lurks in the shadows and blood, stealing your sons and daughters. Forgive the one who is afraid and the one who will never return. Forgive the one who wishes to abandon the fight, and forgive yourselves for your son Od, who cast this Nightmare upon us."

I closed my eyes, savoring the remainder of the ceremony and shielding myself from the sight of all that crimson red. Funerals were not called "red masses" for nothing. I almost let myself be lulled by his voice, dreaming of hearing it in more intimate circumstances. There was no longer any doubt: Duke Anela was the wonder of our age. So when the ceremony ended, I let the church empty; I let the crimson veil fall over the figure of our god Rodel as a sign of mourning.

The Bloody Vicar was one of the last to leave, and I followed him once more. As I stepped outside the church, I raised an eyebrow. I could no longer see him. Then, feeling something terribly sharp against my throat, I turned my head to the right. He was there, his sword pressed against my throat, ready to slice it open. I raised my hands in a gesture of peace.

"Who are you? Why are you following me?"

With careful movements, I let my hood fall, revealing my black hair, and opened the front of my cloak to reveal my armor, similar to his. I saw the surprise flicker across his face, and I admired his ability to remain motionless before me. Few could manage that. His reputation was not undeserved.

"That does not answer my question," he hissed after a moment of hesitation.

"I was summoned by Asmerion. I am the Duke of Harshblood: Se—"

"Selene!" he interrupted me.

He immediately sheathed his sword, and his harsh, cold expression softened into something much gentler, even embarrassed. It was surprising. It was exactly my type of person. Of course, those who only saw him as spectators perceived only the image he projected, but I already knew it would be delightful to uncover his true self. He offered me a smile so spontaneous it was almost innocent. In this world, innocence was rare.

"Forgive me. I’ve had bad experiences. Some locals can be intrusive, and I thought… never mind. It is an honor to meet you, Duke Selene."

"Likewise, Duke Anela. You are just as the rumors describe. I apologize if I seemed intrusive. I was curious about the one they call the Bloody Vicar."

He let out a faint, almost timid laugh. He avoided my gaze and tilted his head slightly.

"I hope I haven’t disappointed you? Rumors can be so exaggerated."

"No. I am pleased that the dream is so close to reality. Shall we talk for a while? Asmerion should join us soon."

He nodded with a welcoming smile.

"Did you know the deceased well?"

I watched his reaction, but he simply offered a sad, faint smile where others might have closed off or been so deeply pained they would weep. He seemed so resigned that his response remained humble.

"They were my Triad," he confided. "The fifth, to be exact. We were attacked by an entire legion."

"I have never fought a legion. I am sorry for what happened."

"But you must have faced other monsters, no? The purebloods of Vileblood have only encountered classes one or two, rarely three, and never four, five, or six."

I understood his question. It was obvious. The purebloods of Harshblood were responsible for the bestiary. Many of us had encountered monstrous beasts, devils beyond any child’s imagination, but…

"The monsters you must be referring to are often less terrible than an entire legion. They are stronger and possess intelligence, but a legion is vast and unpredictable. Facing higher-class monsters, the battles are brutal, but they are less traumatizing than your life. Even so, one never forgets an encounter with one of them."

"Well, I suppose you’re right. I’m not the only one receiving praise. You have a good reputation."

"You have a good reputation too!" I exclaimed enthusiastically.

"I wouldn’t say that. I don’t find it pleasant when people say my hair and eyes are the color of blood because of all the monsters I’ve slain. I find it barbaric. I don’t kill for pleasure, but to survive."

"And do you think it’s pleasant to know that the people we protect find you more terrifying than the bloodfeast?"

He raised his hands in a gesture of peace, mimicking me from earlier, and chuckled.

"One point each," he admitted.

I gladly joined him in his laughter. It had been a while since I had laughed like that. To be honest, I was rather excited. Duke Anela seemed easygoing. He spoke effortlessly, just like me, and surprisingly, even the misfortunes he had endured did not seem to have extinguished the little flame within him, at least on the surface. His laughter seemed genuine, like his smiles, and there was no anger in his gaze. What would it take to corrupt someone like him if neither anger, nor resentment, nor bitterness could do it?

"I’m glad to see you’ve managed to get acquainted before my arrival!"

The cheerful voice made us look away from each other. The Asmerion seemed delighted by the situation, and we bowed, hands over our hearts, before him. He stood before us, followed by Duke Fratera, and invited us to follow him into the church. I closed one of the great doors behind us while Duke Fratera took care of the other.

"We’re going to talk in the church?" Duke Anela asked in surprise.

"I want our God to witness my words and yours. Take your seats so we may begin."

I followed Duke Anela’s lead and sat beside him. Duke Fratera moved to the bench in front, and the Asmerion, after saluting our God Rodel, turned to us.

"We are going through a time of blood and mud. Our supplies are so scarce that in a year, at most, we will all be dead from starvation. Every day, I receive new complaints from the farms: our lands are no longer cultivable. Soon, we will have to make sacrifices—feeding the young and the pureblood who fight every day, but abandoning the elderly in each city."

"Let our people die?!" Duke Fratera protested. "What is the point of fighting for them if your decision is to let them perish?!"

"We have no other choice. Even if we manage to drive the bloodfeast from our lands to cultivate again, it will take years before the soil is fertile once more. We must sacrifice to survive. I do not do this willingly."

"What do you expect from us?" Duke Anela murmured, visibly pained by the situation.

With his back to the statue of our God Rodel and facing us, he knelt. The other two Dukes gasped at this display of great humility.

"You may think that your title of Duke is merely due to your age, but I assure you that if it is so, it is because our God Rodel has willed it. You are worthy and strong. That is why I ask for your strength to seek out King Od, son of Rodel and father of chaos and monsters."

"We’ve tried before, Asmerion, but to no avail. It has always ended in crushing failure."

"Because you always marched in large numbers upon the lands of Blood. This time, you would be a small group. Just you three, along with the Dukes of Whiteblood and Darkblood. The Duke of Dearblood will remain here with me to ensure the protection of all."

The two Dukes seemed to be considering the Asmerion's words.

"Well, if we are doomed to die anyway, why not? At least I could die in good company," I remarked, glancing at Duke Anela.

"So we should leave our cities behind… We don’t even know where Od’s castle is, and if we encounter his sons along the way…"

"In truth, I will be your guide. During one of our expeditions, we glimpsed a massive shadow in the distance. We nearly died at the hands of one of Od’s sons, but we survived, and I am still here. I can lead you there," I announced.

"And what is the goal of all this?" Duke Fratera sighed. "If our lands won’t be cultivable for years, all of today’s generations will have perished from starvation."

The Asmerion straightened and sat back on his heels, nodding solemnly.

"You’re right, but… Do you remember Aziel? Duke Anela was too young at the time, but you, Duke Fratera, saw him. He was one of Od’s sons. The bloodfeast prince who torments Fairblood. We couldn’t keep him imprisoned for more than a few months, but during that time, he was particularly sensitive to our food and nothing else."

"You hope their food is the same as ours? That’s… pure chance, Asmerion!" Duke Fratera snapped.

"But it’s all we have. Killing Od means killing the bloodfeast. Killing the creator means ending the spawn. I beg you. This is the only thing left for us to do."

After a long, heavy silence where I felt as though the others barely breathed, Duke Anela spoke first:

"Very well, but on one condition: I want all the lands of Blood to know that our soil is no longer fertile and the decision we have made regarding food. I’m sorry to burden you with this, Asmerion, but… I cannot fight knowing they have been deceived."

"I promise you. Tomorrow, or even today if you wish. I want to offer a chance, even if only to a handful of us, to live a new future. Let’s keep your mission a secret, but reveal the cause of the food shortage."

"Then it’s settled. I will seek out King Od and sever his head, and I will do the same to his sons if they stand in my way."

Ah, what passion!

"I’m in. I will ensure the Dukes find the castle," I vowed.

"Very well," Duke Fratera conceded. "But take care of our cities!"

The Asmerion rose, his face marked by hope.

"The Dukes of Whiteblood and Darkblood have already accepted. They await you tonight at the Fairblood inn."