Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint

In the depths of the Mist Duchy, within the darkest, most hidden chamber of the Castle of the Full Moon, the Progenitor sat alone.

She had left for the villa with her consort, yet returned alone. No one dared to ask what had happened to him. No one even considered doing so. The weight of Tyrkanzyaka’s chilling yet sorrowful presence was enough to silence any inquiry. They simply assumed—he had fled.

Draped in a fresh gown, Tyrkanzyaka sat upon her throne, her expression unreadable as she gazed upon the Elders gathered before her.

Erzebeth. Dogo. Dullahan.

These were all Elders who had either conspired in the rebellion or actively taken part in it. Though Vladimir had subdued them, their bodies had already regenerated—such was the nature of an Elder’s immortality. And now, these defeated remnants knelt before their Progenitor, awaiting judgment.

Despite their humiliation, both Dogo and Erzebeth were already calculating their next moves.

They had only been overpowered temporarily. They were Elders, after all—eternal, undying, tireless. The only reason they had lost was because they were taken by surprise, separated, and defeated individually. But now, if they worked together, perhaps they could still—

No.

[Bring him back.]

A voice, deep and absolute, reverberated through the chamber.

A shadow loomed behind Tyrkanzyaka—an ominous, towering darkness that pulsed with an immeasurable force.

Erzebeth felt its sheer power, the authority it radiated.

Tyrkanzyaka had poured all her knowledge, all her abilities into that entity.

The Progenitor, a being of absolute dominion, had never needed to wield her own strength before. That was the duty of her Elders, her Ains. They were her limbs, her enforcers, the ones who gathered power and experience in her name. All their hard-earned techniques and realizations were hers, stored within her being, even if she had never wielded them directly.

And now, she had forged a vessel to contain it all.

Instead of altering her own immutable body, she shaped a new form—woven from darkness, crafted through bloodcrafting. A body that held all her knowledge and power, an avatar of her will. A monster draped in shadow, capable of wielding the might of every Elder.

[Only the Elder who brings him back will be forgiven.]

Erzebeth shuddered as she realized it.

The Elders could no longer defeat Tyrkanzyaka.

Perhaps, if Vladimir—who had learned and mastered every Elder’s power—stood against her, he could contend with her for a time.

But Vladimir had no intention of betraying his Progenitor.