Chapter 167: The Love Championed By Lance

Stirred up by the Poet of Boundless Love, Viscount Augustine found his anger now outweighing his fear. Clearly, that long period of imprisonment had caused an unimaginable rage to fester within him.

After he finally finished briefing the clergy, Lance turned his full attention to the vampire and calmly said, "Speaking of the witch... I recall reading in a grimoire she left behind that you are a particularly cruel vampire. You delighted in snatching the children of young mothers, draining them dry right before their eyes, and then savoring the mothers' rage, despair, and blood."

There was no trace of anger or joy in his voice, not even the slightest emotional fluctuation.

As if grasping Lance's meaning, Augustine summoned his last ounce of strength to roar back, "So, you intend to pass judgment on me?! Stupid humans! You hypocritical, wretched creatures! You constantly preach about justice, yet you commit the very same atrocities as the villains you condemn! Can you truly articulate exactly where I went wrong and claim that you are entirely in the right?!"

Hyperion was momentarily stunned by Augustine's rant. She didn’t know how to refute him. In this chaotic and dark era, rules were merely a game to be trampled upon at will. The strong truly held the power to dispense justice and determine right from wrong based solely on their own will.

To deny the legitimacy of the strong ruling the weak, to overthrow vampire rule and establish an order that protected the vulnerable, one inevitably had to repeat the cycle of "might makes right" and meet violence with violence. It required carving a path through bloodshed. This was a process fundamentally no different from the vampires' own actions, save for the fact that a stronger being would emerge to rule over the vampires in turn!

In this era, one could only be a tyrant. There was no path to becoming a benevolent emperor. The three clergy nearby were equally unable to find an answer.

Had they been utter villains like those in the Church of Resurrection, they might have firmly believed that humanity slaughtering vampires was simply the natural order of things. Yet, after Augustine's question, they found themselves wavering in confusion. Were the actions they took under the banner of righteousness actually contrary to that very ideal?

However, a faint smile surfaced on Lance's lips. "I never claimed I was here to champion justice, nor did I assert that you are evil. I simply believe that love can work miracles. Right now, I am trying to move you with love, hoping you might become kind and friendly."

His voice was filled with compassion, as if he sought to offer Augustine redemption.

Augustine had initially stood his ground, as he had believed Lance to be a crusader for justice, but now he suddenly shuddered. When an enemy was still prone to getting heated and arguing over right and wrong, he could at least use verbal barbs to unsettle their mind.

However, the person he was facing was apparently an utter madman. There was no reasoning with such a creature, and his resolve would not be shaken by any adversary!

"Poet, why don't you help train Viscount Augustine?" Lance said to his spiritual partner.

The Poet pressed a finger against her dimple, her face beaming with a sweet, blissful smile. "You've come to the right demon for a job like this. I guarantee I'll whip him right into shape!"

Meanwhile, Frey had largely finished drawing all the blood from Augustine. Lance dismissed Glorious Virtue. Instantly, the previously washed-out colors of the bedroom bloomed again. The lights flickered gently, casting a soft halo over the bed curtains and illuminating the intricate wood carvings on the headboard.

The portraits and tapestries on the walls appeared hazy in the dim light. The figures within them seemed to silently watch over everything in the room, while the manuscript and quill on the desk waited quietly for their master's return.

Lance walked to the bedside, tilted his head, and looked down at Augustine, who was struggling to open his eyes. "By the way, Viscount Augustine, did you say earlier that this vampire lying on the bed was weak?"

"...Isn't he?" Although Augustine was filled with a sense of impending doom, this was his last shred of bravado. He refused to be intimidated by mere humans.

Lance patted the mummy and asked, as if conducting an interview, "Count Palokas, do you have anything to say regarding Viscount Augustine's assessment of you?"

"Augustine... hello..." The mummy's throat vibrated, producing a hoarse sound, though he nearly gasped his last breath halfway through the sentence.

"...Count?" Augustine's eyes became wide with terror and disbelief. His eyeballs looked ready to pop right out of their sockets.

In that fleeting moment, a surge of magical energy that radiated with the intensity of a dying flare was unmistakably that of a Count-level vampire! Augustine's mind flashed back to the ring belonging to Palokas, the very item Lance had first shown him, and the full picture finally fell into place.

What followed was utter, soul-crushing despair. Merely witnessing Palokas, a vampire far more powerful than himself, being reduced to a living hell, caused Augustine's face to drain of all color. This was a reaction born of both physical and psychological horror.

In that moment, he fully grasped the peril he faced. The terror of staring into the abyss of hell brought him to the brink of a breakdown. Yet, it was already too late. The situation was beyond redemption.

All his confidence, arrogance, and pride shattered in an instant. This was a psychological blow he could not bear. Like a balloon that had burst, he collapsed completely in a heartbeat, the light in his crimson eyes beginning to fade.

"Look at how gentle and amiable Count Palokas has become. Such is the power of love." From start to finish, Lance had treated Augustine with nothing but goodwill, never harboring a shred of hostility.

"A single word from Mr. Lance is worth ten years of study within the church." The executioner, paladin, and cleric, who had been observing everything, felt as though they had gained new insight, experiencing a sudden, profound epiphany.

Having already honed their practical skills, they now felt their faith undergo a sublime transformation, achieving a state of perfect integration.

One of them proclaimed, "So, there is no right or wrong, no good or evil. Only love is eternal, and love is a miracle... Now that we grasp this truth, our minds can never again be shaken by the creatures of evil!"

Another added, "Viscount Augustine, come and join this glorious evolution."

The three clergy held a tweezer, plier, and scalpel respectively. Even behind their masks, the vampire could see their eyes crinkling into smiling crescents. Their demeanor had achieved a state of seamless, natural perfection.

"No—no!!" Augustine's scream was piercing, like the most harrowing curse from the abyss. It cut through the castle's thick stone walls and echoed across the night sky atop the mountain.

Outside the castle lay the same boundless, deep forest and sea of clouds, with moonlight weaving through them. The night was serene. The glow of the full moon cast a soft light over the fortress, lending the ancient structure a hazy, mysterious beauty.

The sun would rise as usual the next day. Everything would once again be warm and wonderful. The towering spires and exquisitely carved window frames appeared even more tranquil. As the wind blew, the rustling leaves in the forest seemed to whisper of the castle's dreamlike fairy tale.

Only the dim silhouettes cast upon the curtains hinted at an unspeakable ritual taking place within. And so, the curtain fell on this interlude from the Shadow Realm.

***

At two in the morning, a few solitary stars twinkled in the distant sky, and the deep silhouette of the Sages' College main building seemed to dissolve into the darkness. Only the windows of the top-floor conference room remained illuminated.

The glass of the conference room windows faintly reflected the shifting lights and shadows of the magical screen. Whenever the screen flickered, the reflection danced against the night sky before finally vanishing into the vast darkness, like the closing of a curtain.

Most of the faculty had already left by this hour. Only a handful remained, seated at their respective round tables, still watching.

Lawrence was one of the people who had not left. He sat with his fingers interlaced, resting his chin upon them, watching the scene unfold. Three clergy members were handling Viscount Augustine with the practiced ease of those who had done this sort of thing many times before, much like a routine, behind-the-scenes clip.

Finally, Lawrence pressed his hands against the table, stood up, and walked to the door. His voice was heavy with exhaustion as he sighed. "...I'm done watching. I am never watching one of Lance's Shadow Realm challenges again. I don't care what kind of trouble he stirs up. No matter who asks, I don't know who Lance is."

However, the others knew the truth. Lawrence wasn't just tired; he was totally numb.

And hearing even the most honest and steady Lawrence start trying to dodge responsibility made them feel that the dean, too, was beginning to show signs of becoming...well, not quite human.