Chapter 73: ORIGIN OF THE HIGHBORNS

"Lyrith, how is the plan coming along?"

The masked man who had aided in Endrick’s escape spoke in a low, almost emotionless tone. His presence was heavy, a sharp contrast to the girl he addressed.

Across from him, sprawled lazily on a velvet couch with one leg dangling off the edge, Lyrith flicked through the pages of a comic book. Her long ponytail swayed lightly as she shifted, her youthful, almost doll-like face betraying none of the danger that lurked behind her eyes.

"He’s coming along," she replied offhandedly, barely sparing him a glance. "As usual, they resist the corruption at first... but it’s only a matter of time before his mind is broken. No human can resist the pull of a dungeon core, you know." She rolled her eyes, flipping to the next page.

The masked man gave a sarcastic nod. "That’s the exact same thing you said when you were toying with your old pet."

Lyrith’s expression tightened for a fraction of a second. She quickly sat up, eyes flashing in irritation as she defended herself. "Come now, that one was an anomaly. Even you didn’t expect her to resist the corruption."

"You need to quit acting on impulse, Lyrith," the masked man chided, his voice hard as steel. "Your games have already delayed the conquest of this backwater world. The plan suffers because of you."

Lyrith sighed and closed her comic, tossing it aside carelessly. "You can’t hold me accountable for something that happened ages ago. Fine, I admit I shouldn’t have played around—but had I succeeded, even you would’ve been impressed. Don’t deny it." Her mischievous smile returned as her gaze met his.

"Well, you didn’t," the man replied flatly. His eyes narrowed beneath the mask. "And now, a girl who once had no power at all holds strength enough to oppose us. With the core of a god-ranked illusion spirit, the universe’s blessing, and a natural affinity for illusion and manifestation—tell me, Lyrith, would you truly want her as an enemy?"

His words lingered like a shadow in the room.

Lyrith only smirked, waving off his concern with a flick of her hand. "Look at the bright side. She can’t act against us so long as we avoid meddling directly in her world. As long as we keep moving our pieces across the board, time will see this world fall into our hands regardless."

Her lips curled into a sly grin. "Besides... when they finally come, little Dream won’t be able to resist."

The masked man’s voice dropped low. "And where are you going?"

A dark portal swirled open before Lyrith, its glow casting eerie shadows across the room. She stepped toward it with unhurried grace.

"To have a little chat with our new chess piece," she said sweetly. "It’s so much fun when another queen joins the board—especially one born from a promoted pawn."

Her laughter echoed faintly as she vanished into the portal, leaving the masked man standing alone in silence.

---

Isobel sat upon the grand president’s chair, her posture regal, her expression composed. Around her, several aides and thralls filtered in and out, bringing reports on the affairs of the city she now ruled.

Just as Dream had warned, she had discovered she could not leave the city herself. Yet she also learned something crucial—her vampires could. So could the ordinary humans within her domain.

That knowledge opened a new path. Her current plan was to send out trusted vampires to other cities, quietly spreading their numbers and expanding her control. Still, unease weighed on her.

She could not fully trust them. Vampires were creatures of hunger, and once unshackled, there was no telling if they would descend into indiscriminate killing sprees. Betrayal too was a risk she could not ignore.

Though she wore the crown of a vampire queen, Isobel’s conscience had not been completely drowned in blood. She could numb her emotions when she wished, but she was no mindless beast. Innocent lives still mattered to her—despite the things she had done in the heat of her awakening.

The first rush of bloodlust had nearly consumed her, but she had clawed her way back to control. She refused to let the bloodlust rule her again. Since her battle with Geralt, not a single civilian life had been taken. Instead, she had enforced strict rules: every citizen became a compulsory blood donor, and only those among her vampires who had proven discipline—herself included—were permitted to feed directly from humans.

The knock of a soft voice broke her thoughts.

"Well, you look... stable, if I may say so."

Isobel turned sharply. Standing behind her desk was a petite girl with a high ponytail, her stature small, her aura playful yet dangerous. Isobel’s crimson eyes narrowed warily.

"Relax. I’m only here to talk. No need for hostility." The girl’s lips curved into a sly grin. "Tell me, would you like to learn a secret or two—about your family... and the power that runs in your veins?"

"First," Isobel said coldly, "who are you?"

"Call me Lyrith." She sauntered casually across the room and took a seat opposite Isobel as though she owned the place. "Like you, my origin lies beyond Blue Star. I come from a world that conquers."

Isobel’s gaze hardened. "And what exactly do you mean by saying I’m not of this world?"

"Simple," Lyrith said, propping her chin on her hand. "Half of your origin isn’t. Tell me—have you ever wondered how your father, a nobody with no clan, a failed awakened at eighteen, could suddenly rise to become one of Blue Star’s strongest demigods?"

Her smile widened, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Sit tight, darling. It’s going to be a long night."

---

"Lucien, Father wishes to speak with you."

Kaelith’s voice was soft but carried an edge of warning. Perched upon the window frame, his silhouette was stark against the eternal night sky outside. "I advise you prepare yourself. He looks displeased."

Lucien chuckled bitterly, his face calm. "Let me guess—he’s finally caught wind of my refusal to kill."

Kaelith looked down, unable to deny it. "You know how ruthless he expects you to be, brother. You are his first son... heir of the Ripper Clan. Mercy is a stain in his eyes, a weakness no different from those damned conservatives."

Lucien said nothing for a long moment. His gaze lingered on the endless dark sky, the crimson blood moon looming above like a cold guardian watching its flock.

"I don’t understand it," he finally muttered, his voice heavy with sorrow. "We are vampires—one of the most powerful races in the universe. Why must we kill just to prove our worth? Why torture those we feed upon simply to remind them we are superior? Our power should speak for itself."

His tone was soft, but there was steel beneath the sadness.

Kaelith’s chest tightened at his brother’s words. He wanted to agree, to comfort him, but fear chained his tongue. Their father’s stance was absolute. To show mercy was to invite punishment beyond imagination. For one so young as him, the thought of being drained and left to desiccate for centuries was unbearable. He and Lucien were but sixteen—still children in the eyes of eternity, though already vampires.

Lucien finally turned, smiling faintly at his younger twin. "Thank you, Kaelith. I know I put you at risk with my choices. Yet still, you protect me. Cover for me. For that, I’m grateful."

Kaelith’s eyes widened as Lucien opened the window fully.

With one last glance and a reassuring smile, Lucien leapt into the night. His form blurred, splitting into a swarm of dark bats that scattered like a living shadow, streaking across the blood moon’s glow as he made his way toward his father’s castle.

The eternal night seemed to grow colder in his absence.