027: The Arrival of the Twenty-Seven Ancestors
"So this is... a Dead Apostle."
The sun had already risen, and the scene revealed under its light made Domitius whisper unconsciously.
After staying in Antioch for three days, Novia prepared to return to Rome with her. However, in a forest not far from a certain port, she witnessed such a scene—
An unnamed village flowed with blood, scattered with around a hundred corpses. The ground was stained dark crimson, and humanoid creatures, thirsting for blood and growling like beasts, moved among them. Ordinary humans seemed utterly powerless here.
Malice, the brute force wantonly displayed before her—all of it eroded her body, unsettling her emotions.
Dead Apostles—Domitius had heard Novia speak of them. Essentially, they were humans who had transformed through certain processes, prepared as emergency sustenance for beings known as "True Ancestors." While True Ancests sucked blood for "spiritual stability," for Dead Apostles, it was a necessity for "physical preservation."
In other words, for True Ancestors, it was pleasure; for Dead Apostles, it was as essential as breathing for survival.
Dead Apostles who learned to suck blood gradually began to feel a sense of superiority in the act itself, enhancing their abilities, strengthening their will, and escaping the control of the True Ancestors. To flee into the human world and preserve themselves, they repeatedly engaged in bloodsucking.
This was the origin of Dead Apostles, the beginning of vampiric species formed from humans. Moreover, those who escaped the control of the True Ancestors in the earliest times were called the Twenty-Seven Dead Apostle Ancestors.
Among Dead Apostles, there were also some unrelated to True Ancestors—those who sought the pinnacle of magecraft and evolved into immortal beings. They joined the society built by Dead Apostles and, though their origins differed, were still considered vampiric species.
The ones who slaughtered this village were merely the lowest class of Dead Apostles—the Dead. One could say that anyone with even a little skill in magecraft could easily deal with them. In the nearly two million square kilometers of the Roman Empire, such incidents occurred from time to time. However, since cities were more or less guarded by mages, they remained safe. In remote and impoverished areas, people could only watch helplessly as everyone was mercilessly slaughtered.
"Five Dead, and sixty-seven households Unfortunately lost. I've contacted mages from the nearest area to prevent secondary corpse transformations."
Domitius stopped her contemplation. Her gaze remained fixed on the Dead Apostles on the ground, her fine eyebrows showing not the slightest fluctuation. Her pupils harbored a cold hatred. Novia, who had swiftly eliminated the Dead and appeared before her, placed a silver cross on the ground and silently cast magecraft upon it.
The current situation was vastly different from later eras. The foundation of magecraft, hailed as humanity's greatest cornerstone, had not yet been fully established. People without magecraft could only pray for the sun to rise quickly or for kind-hearted mages to appear when facing ordinary Dead Apostles—they couldn't defend themselves using religious purification rituals alone.
"Fallen beings who think themselves superior... I suddenly feel a bit sorry for them..."
The small village ruthlessly slaughtered by Dead Apostles felt somewhat similar to the scheming Roman court—or perhaps it was a prototype of such places. This gave Domitius a sense of reality. Thus, she felt sorrow for the innocent deaths of the people, yet also secretly rejoiced over such subtle details.
Life was about winners and losers. To receive good treatment, to live a better life, one had to step on others without hesitation—this was the iron rule of the Roman court.
The vast empire existed for the successful, not for fairy tales where everyone was gentle and kind. Human kindness was mostly reserved for others who posed no threat.
Only when she could freely do what she believed was right did the golden-haired girl feel her lifelong unease fade slightly.
"The pitiable have their detestable aspects. Moreover, understanding and forgiving are different."
Silver hair swayed gently in the flames burning the remains. On Novia's face, his blue eyes gleamed faintly, like a shimmering icy lake.
"Domitius, you should understand. Dead Apostles who attempt to harm humans are evils that must be dealt with. Such hostility requires no justification, whether out of human dignity or the glory of your royal lineage."
"You are right, Teacher."
The golden-haired girl's originally expressionless face softened slightly. In the quiet, oppressive air, she lowered her brows.
Nevertheless, Novia only glanced at her indifferently before continuing to toss the bodies of those killed by the Dead Apostles into the fire. The crackling sound was the only noise, apart from the sudden, overwhelming magical presence heading straight toward them.
"Such presence... an Ancestor? If it's an ambush, it's too obvious."
The silver-haired boy gazed directly toward the source of the ominous magical energy—a presence far surpassing ordinary Dead Apostles, though still considerably weaker compared to the Divine Body Osiris.
"Fellow believer, you misunderstand. This is merely a coincidence. I did not cause this."
The voice that rang out seemed distant and indistinct.
"...Wha—?!"
At that moment, Domitius, who had prepared herself upon hearing her teacher's words, widened her eyes in surprise at the "Ancestor" Novia mentioned. The main reason was the appearance of the figure—
It wasn't human at all! It was a talking lock!
"Haha, this young lady seems quite surprised by my appearance. Well, I did think long and hard about this form. By the way, is this your disciple, fellow believer?" The "lock" seemed inexplicably pleased and continued, "Ah, let me introduce myself first. I am—"
"No need. I know you, for God has told me."
The "lock's" self-introduction was cut off by Novia. The silver-haired boy spoke with a faint, ambiguous smile.
"Shortly before the transition of the Age of Gods, you challenged the Crimson Moon and failed. Granted pure blood by it, you felt too ashamed to face your former companions and secluded yourself in an underground labyrinth. Correct, Caubac Alcatraz."
Note: I'm new to translating so please be kind and tell me any mistakes you all find, I will try to release a chapter a day but don't expect much
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