Chapter 695: [Blood Moon War] [38] Edward VS Ernest

"Ugh..." I groaned. A sharp, dull ache rippled through my skull, making me grimace.

For a moment, I just sat there, eyes squeezed shut, as fragments of that dream clawed at the back of my mind.

Strange and wrong.

It hadn’t felt like a normal dream—it had been too vivid, too heavy, like someone else’s memory pressing against my own.

Amael’s memory.

At least, that’s what I thought.

But it didn’t line up.

Amael was the one who had first met Lisandra and Sylvia—I remembered that much. So why had this encounter felt... different?

Like it was happening to me, not him.

The more these memories surfaced, the more uneasy I became. If they weren’t Amael’s, then whose were they? And if I kept receiving fragments from lives that weren’t mine, how long before I stopped being me altogether? How long before I broke?

I rubbed my face with both hands and let out a tired yawn, glancing to my side.

Amaya was asleep, curled delicately beneath a blanket on the wooden cart of the carriage like me. Her breathing was steady, her pale cheeks calm, but there was no mistaking the exhaustion etched into her features. She looked drained, and I didn’t need to guess why.

The flask of Alicia’s blood—her precious lifeline these past days—was completely empty now. She’d stretched it out for nearly a week, which had surprised me honestly. And now, with us finally reaching Vanadias, she should’ve been fine. At least for a little while.

What surprised me even more was that she hadn’t once tried to take my blood. She had restrained herself, even when she could’ve easily overpowered me, simply because I told her not to.

Slowly, I reached out, brushing a stray lock of her silky dark hair away from her face. Her features, so soft in sleep, were almost unrecognizable from the legends I knew.

The Vampire Witch.

In the histories I had read, Amaya would one day become that terrifying figure. Not yet, not now—but the path was laid out, and if events unfolded as they had before, she would eventually be completely consumed.

Overwritten by the original Witch.

And yet... looking at her now, fragile and resting beside me, it felt impossible to believe.

My guilt stirred again, unbidden.

Because while my hand lingered on Amaya’s cheek, my heart was whispering another name.

Elizabeth.

I clenched my teeth.

I couldn’t help it. Elizabeth too had been haunted by visions of the past Vampire Witches—Amaya’s memories included. In some twisted way, didn’t that mean Amaya was still a piece of Elizabeth? A shard of her living on through those visions?

Or was that just me grasping at straws?

Maybe.

Probably.

But no matter how I tried to reason with myself, I couldn’t let go of her. Not Elizabeth. Not the guilt of failing her.

Every day I missed her.

Every day I cursed myself for her death.

If only I had—

My teeth ground together, cutting off the thought before it could spiral further.

And then—

"...!"

My eyes snapped open, heart lurching as the carriage screeched to a sudden halt.

It wasn’t the stop itself that froze my blood—it was the smell that rushed in. The stench of ash.

Of burning wood.

Of death.

I shoved the carriage door open and leapt out, landing hard on the ground. My breath caught in my throat.

Ahead of us, Vanadias burned.

Columns of smoke twisted into the sky, swallowing the once-proud spires of the city. Buildings lay broken and charred, whole districts collapsing into rubble. Screams and faint echoes of battle still lingered in the distance.

It had been attacked.

"What... what happened..." Viessa’s voice wavered beside me, but I barely heard her.

For a moment, I stood frozen, staring at the devastation.

Then a single thought came to me.

Alicia. Levina.

My body moved before my mind could catch up. I kicked off the ground with everything I had, tearing across the broken streets toward the castle.

Please.

Please let them be safe.

The city rushed by in a blur of fire and ruin. I vaulted over a collapsed building, summoning Amunet’s hands to hurl me high into the sky. The world tilted, the wind howled in my ears, and I landed hard in the castle’s inner courtyard.

Knights littered the ground, wounded and struggling, their armor stained with blood. Some flinched at my sudden arrival, but I didn’t give them time to react. My legs carried me forward, faster, straight into the castle halls.

Toward her room.

My chest was pounding by the time I reached it. The door was ajar, the corridor beyond cracked and ruined, pieces of the ceiling crumbling down.

"Alicia...!" I whispered, my throat tight as I pushed inside.

The room was empty.

Completely empty.

No one.

I staggered into the wreckage, heart hammering, and closed my eyes. My senses sharpened. I reached out, desperate, searching for her scent—her blood.

Nothing.

I couldn’t find her.

They weren’t here.

Neither Alicia.

Neither Levina.

Both... gone.

For a moment I stood frozen, my body refusing to move. My mind screamed at me to act, to search, to tear the castle apart brick by brick if I had to—but instead I lingered in that silence, staring at the empty room.

Then it hit me. A searing anger that twisted my face. My chest heaved, teeth grinding as I clenched my fists until my knuckles cracked.

I turned on my heel, already knowing who I needed to find.

Ernest.

I stalked through the ruined hallways, every step fueled by rage. Then, from the direction of one of the meeting rooms, I caught the sound of voices—knights speaking in hurried tones, one of them was his.

-BAM!

The door didn’t just open—it exploded off its hinges as my boot smashed through it, the wood splintering against the stone walls. Knights shot to their feet instantly, swords half-drawn, their instincts screaming of an intruder.

But when their eyes fell on me, they froze.

And Ernest, battered and bandaged, narrowed his eyes.

"You..." He muttered.

I stepped forward.

"I gave you one demand," I said. "Just one. And you weren’t even capable of fulfilling it."

"Rucain’s forces attacked the city. The priority—"

I was in front of him before he could finish. My hand fisted in his collar, dragging him close, eyes burning into his.

"I don’t give a damn about your priorities!" I snarled at him. "Alicia! I told you to keep her safe! What part of that did you not understand?!"

Ernest’s face hardened. He didn’t flinch. Instead, his own hand snapped up, gripping my wrist.

"Why," he said through gritted teeth, "would I risk my men, my people—for a Vampire?"

My breath hissed out between clenched teeth, the world narrowing down to his face and the bile rising in my throat.

"Because she’s more important than you’ll ever realize," I said coldly.

"Maybe to you," he growled, "but not to me."

My grip tightened, rage boiling over. "I killed Rulana—one of the Blood Lords you pathetic bastards couldn’t even touch. And what did you do? Did you even try to protect Alicia? Did you even lift a damn finger for Levina?"

One of the commanders barked, puffing up like a cornered dog. "Watch your mouth, boy! The Prince himself vanquished one of the Blood Lords and took him prisoner!"

I turned my glare on him, silencing him mid-breath, before snapping my gaze back to Ernest.

His body was wrapped in bloodied bandages, forehead split, chest bruised. He was already half-broken. But I couldn’t care less.

"You let an innocent woman and a child be captured. Why? Because they weren’t your kind? Because they weren’t worth protecting?" My voice dropped coldly. "You’re no different from the monster you fear. No different from the Vampire Witch. You’re just another piece of filth wearing armor."

"E–Edward!"

Viessa interrupted as she rushed in with the others, her eyes wide at the sight of me gripping Ernest’s shirt like I meant to tear him apart.

I shoved him back, disgust curling my lip.

"You better pray they’re alive," I said, turning away. "Because if they’re not, you’ll have far more to fear from me than from the Vampire Witch."

I started walking. "And I’ll be taking that Blood Lord you captured. He’ll tell me where they are."

Ernest’s voice cut sharp. "No."

I didn’t even slow down. "Then try and stop me."

-BOOM!

A glowing amber spike tore through the air, obliterating part of the wall just inches from my head. Dust and stone showered around me as I slowly turned, meeting Ernest’s furious gaze.

"He’s our prisoner," he said.

For a moment, the room was suffocating with silence. Every knight’s hand was frozen halfway to their blade. Viessa’s voice caught in her throat.

And then I moved.

-BAM!

I was on him in an instant. My fist drove forward, colliding with his guard as he caught it in both hands—but the raw force of the blow sent him crashing back, slamming into the wall with a crack.

He was already too injured to fight properly. I could see it in the sluggish way he moved, in the strain etched across his face. But that didn’t matter to me.

"Edward—wait!" Viessa’s hand shot out, her voice desperate, but I ignored her.

My boot slammed into Ernest’s stomach, the impact reverberating up my leg.

"ARGH!"

Blood burst from his lips as his body folded around the strike, then flew backward. He crashed through the weakened stone wall behind him, bursting out into the castle’s courtyard. He landed hard in a patch of neatly trimmed grass now soaked crimson.

"He attacked the Prince!"

"Capture him!"

"Everyone with me!"

In a heartbeat, blades hissed from their sheaths. I was surrounded—not just by the Olphean Knights, but by the other knights stationed in Vanadias as well.

"Wait! Everyone, calm down!" Viessa’s voice cracked as she rushed forward, her hands raised to prevent the clash.

Ahead, Ernest staggered upright, wiping blood from his mouth. His body trembled, but his eyes were sharp. He pulled a small vial from the void, uncorked it, and swallowed the glowing liquid in one motion. His wounds knit together, bruises fading as a healing warmth washed through him.

"We need the Blood Lord," Ernest said. "He may have information vital for our war against Rucain." His amber eyes locked onto mine. "He has to stay here. You can interrogate him if you must, but he remains in our custody—"

"No."

I cut him off.

That Blood Lord would never speak. Just like Rulana, he’d die before giving up anything useful. But I didn’t intend to let him choose. I needed him—alive, broken, forced to obey me. If he resisted, I would even let Nemesis pry the truth from his soul. Either way, I wasn’t going to sit around for a week while they wasted time with their pathetic methods.

"I want them back now," I said coldly.

"Think, Amael! Think of the majority! His knowledge could save thousands of lives. We might even negotiate through him—trade his life for the prisoners, for all those who are nothing more than blood feed in Valachia!"

I shook my head.

He didn’t understand.

I had already lost three women I cared for. I wouldn’t let Alicia and Levina be next. Not while I still breathed.

"I don’t care," I spat.

His eyes widened.

"I will never sacrifice the people I love for strangers," I said. My gaze locked with his seriously. "Because the pain of loss will always outweigh the hollow thanks of people who’d never bleed for me in return. People who mean nothing to me but pity."

The place fell silent.

Lisandra and Sylvia froze, their lips parted, unable to speak. Even Viessa stopped mid-step, her arm half-extended toward me. Only Amael remained calm, watching from the side with a calm gaze.

"I see..." Ernest muttered. His body erupted in mana. Amber lines lit up across his skin, glowing like molten veins, as his sword lengthened and twisted into a great amber shield in one hand, larger and more ornate than Aegis itself.

"Then I have no choice," he said. "Even if you are one of my brethren... I will take you down."

"Don’t expect me to hold back like before." My voice was ice. "I don’t have time to play games."

Trinity Nihil materialized in my grip.

Ernest’s eyes widened in shock—but I was already moving.

-BOOOOOOM!

Trinity Nihil’s swing crashed against his shield with a thunderclap, the impact ripping the ground apart in a violent shockwave. Dust and shards of stone exploded outward as Ernest dropped to one knee, his amber shield groaning under the weight of the strike.

"T–This sword!" He gasped, his arms straining.

I narrowed my eyes and summoned Fate. White particles of sands coiled around Trinity Nihil like a storm, the raw force tearing open the ground beneath us. The ground caved in with a deafening roar, creating a crater that swallowed the center of the yard.

The knights scattered, faces pale as the crushing pressure suffocated the air itself.

Ernest roared, his sword dissolving in a shimmer of amber before reforming into a long, razor-sharp lance. He lunged with frightening speed, his weapon a golden blur.

I twisted aside, but not fast enough—the lance tore across my side, carving a searing line of pain and blood.

"Ugh—!" My breath caught, but I held firm, raising Trinity Nihil just in time to parry his follow-up strike.

Steel met divine steel in a flash of light, sparks bursting across the air.

He pressed forward. His lance thrust again and again, each strike faster, sharper, infused with amber mana.

I gritted my teeth, dodging narrowly, parrying what I couldn’t evade.

He was fast. Too fast for someone still half-broken. His amber veins pulsed with unnatural energy, driving his body beyond its limits.

Ernest lunged again, his amber lance darting toward my ribs.

But this time I was ready.

I slipped to the side, Trinity Nihil already arcing in a vicious swing aimed at his flank. For a split second, I thought I had him—but his shield snapped back into place, intercepting the blow.

"Anathemas Fire!" I roared.

The blade erupted in purple flame. The torrent of flames swallowed Ernest whole, washing over his shield, his armor, his body. The courtyard shook as the heat rippled outward, searing the grass into ash.

"U–Urgh!" Ernest’s grunt tore through the blaze. He staggered under the assault, his shield glowing red-hot as the purple fire clawed at him mercilessly. The Olphean aura clung to his form like a second skin, dulling the damage, but it wasn’t enough.

Vysindra’s flames were no ordinary flames.

And still... he resisted.

I narrowed my eyes. Even engulfed by the fire, he stood, shield raised, amber veins glowing furiously as he held against me.

So this was the strength of a 9th Ascension.

This wouldn’t end. Not like this. I had no desire to kill him, and he clearly wasn’t aiming to kill me either. Our clash was a stalemate born of necessity, not bloodlust.

If I wanted to bring him down—I’d need to surprise him. To break his guard in one decisive instant.

I’ll use Wrath then.

The thought had barely formed when the world screamed danger.

My instincts howled.

I turned, raising my arm just in time—

-CRACK!

Agony shot through me as a brutal kick slammed into my guard, bones fracturing instantly under the sheer force. The impact hurled me across the courtyard, my body skidding through grass and dirt until I ground to a halt, clutching my arm with a hiss of pain.

I forced my head up, vision swimming, only to see a figure step into the courtyard, bathed in a silver glow that made the air itself tremble.

My eyes narrowed.

"Amael..."

He stood there, his entire body glowing with the Falkrona Silver mana.