Chapter 84: The Power of the Blood Clan

“Light shines upon us!” Joseph Peter XVI raised the papal staff in his hand, and the staff emitted a radiant golden glow...

“Light shines upon us!” the masses of believers and warriors shouted wildly, plunging themselves wholly into the battle against the Council of Darkness.

“Enough with the nonsense!” The speaker was the head of the Bruch clan of vampires. Bruch himself was now an emperor-level vampire, and the increase in his power had greatly bolstered his confidence. At this moment, he directly confronted an ascetic monk. The monk had just finished a fight with a dark sorcerer—he had emerged victorious—and before he could catch his breath, Bruch approached him.

Due to the effect of the grand array of light, all those with dark attributes were unable to exert their power at its fullest, Bruch included. Yet he was confident that, even with his abilities restrained, dealing with an ascetic monk would pose no real challenge.

“Tsk tsk... let’s have a go, and I’ll show you what real power is!” Bruch declared, stretching his body. Suddenly, two fleshy wings appeared. Unlike ordinary vampires, his wings bore the mark of an emperor-level bloodline: a pair of golden wings.

These wings seemed almost sentient, fluttering with a soft sound as Bruch soared into the sky. He spread his large hand, and from his palm burst a crimson beam tinged with gold, aimed directly at the monk below.

“Bang!” The monk whispered an incantation, and a faint, dazzling white membrane enveloped his body. Bruch’s violent attack struck the membrane squarely. The monk’s body shuddered, stepping back half a pace, a trace of pain flickering across his face before quickly vanishing, but he endured Bruch’s first blow.

What is an ascetic monk if not one who has endured hardship? Through his reverence and faith in the Almighty, the monk, with sheer determination, withstood Bruch’s assault.

“Damn!” Bruch roared from the sky, furious. Was his ultimate move so easy to withstand? Letting an ordinary monk survive it—what a disgrace!

He wheeled about, moving like lightning, and dove toward the ground, appearing before the monk in a flash. “Blood Energy Burst!”

“Boom—” This was Bruch's furious strike, holding nothing back, even exceeding his usual limits. The massive sphere of blood energy exploded, centering on him and instantly enveloping a ten-meter radius under immense pressure, raising the temperature to incredible heights.

A scorched layer formed on the ground, and within ten meters, the intense heat produced glassy crystals. The shockwave rippled outward, spreading in all directions like a silent wave across a tranquil sea, muffling all sounds and reaching a hundred meters beyond in an instant. Strangely, the members of the Council of Darkness struck by the blast were unharmed, while the warriors of the Church caught in the same blast exploded in a thunderous roar.

All this happened in a fleeting moment. The monk at the center of the explosion had vanished without a trace, leaving only Bruch standing proudly alone.

“Well, old fellow, not bad—still able to use it like this. Tsk tsk... that was no ordinary move; the Church paid for it with at least a hundred lives. Quite a gain!” joked Lessenbra, another emperor-level vampire, glancing at his peers, who were also reveling in the slaughter.

These words reached the Pope’s ears with an entirely different impact. Joseph Peter XVI tightened his grip on the golden staff, his furious eyes nearly sparking with rage.

“Your Holiness, please permit us to join the holy war as well,” spoke an elderly man nearing seventy. Though his age showed, the conspicuous red garments he wore marked him unmistakably as one of the Church’s cardinals.

A cardinal, second only to the Pope within the Church, and here were ten of them yet to enter the fray.

Joseph Peter XVI surveyed the battlefield. The six hundred newly arrived ascetic monks had made a stunning debut, but soon lost their advantage and began to be slaughtered, outnumbered by thousands of enemies. Victory seemed unlikely.

The Pope nodded, agreeing to the cardinal’s request.

Moving like lightning, the ten cardinals demonstrated their extraordinary power, vanishing from their original positions and appearing at the heart of the battlefield in the next instant. In terms of strength, cardinals surpassed ascetic monks by several degrees.

“Praise be!” With a powerful palm strike, dazzling white light flashed at just the right moment. “Praise the Lord!” A cardinal’s face was filled with compassion, his gentle smile showing no sign of impending slaughter.

“Smiling tiger, damn you!” cursed a vampire, but before he could voice his indignation, his body exploded. The cardinal murmured softly, “The Lord will forgive me.”

The ten cardinals were ten formidable killing machines; not a single council member escaped their hands—every one sent to hell.

Luce frowned as he watched. This could not continue. Judging by the current outcome, the Church and the Council of Darkness were evenly matched, each losing about half their forces. It was astonishing—in such a relatively peaceful world, within a single valley, over thirty thousand lives had already perished.

War was war, especially between two inherently irreconcilable powers like the Church and the Council of Darkness. The brutal truth taught everyone: never show mercy to your enemy, or you would be the one to suffer.

Who once uttered the twisted notion that the world’s total happiness was fixed, and to gain more for yourself, you must continuously diminish others’? Of course, it’s a fallacy, but when applied to the Church and the Council, it becomes strangely apt.

“Comrades, there’s no retreat—we must give it everything we have.” Luce’s rallying cry pulled the Council of Darkness tighter together, with the emperor-level vampires leading the charge against the cardinals. Thirteen against ten—it was indeed interesting.

“Blood Energy Burst!” The thirteen emperor-level vampires unleashed their full power, thunderous booms echoing. “Praise the Lord!” The ten cardinals, though outnumbered, matched their strength, erecting dazzling walls of light, upon which the blood energy spheres struck, sending ripples across their surface.

They stalemated at the battlefield’s center, neither gaining an advantage. Yet the carnage continued; around them, both sides’ forces diminished at nearly the same pace.

From this perspective, had the vampires' strength not been enhanced by the Cold Flame, it would have been mere fantasy to think of opposing the Church. The Council's fortune was simply remarkable—the Church had never managed to eradicate them.

The Church, in truth, did wish to wipe out the Council of Darkness, but it was nearly impossible. However mighty their power, they could never ensure that no new dark beings would arise. Killing them all was impossible. The only solution was to launch a holy war at intervals, weakening the Council’s strength.

At this moment, Joseph Peter XVI and Luce were both deep in thought. Luce pondered how to lead the Council to victory in this holy war, while Joseph Peter XVI wondered when the Council had grown so strong—able to stand toe-to-toe with the Church. Fortunately, his wisdom had prompted this holy war; had the Council been allowed to develop for a few more years, they might have become unstoppable.

The Council’s strength was built through self-cultivation and time, whereas the Church, lacking methods for self-improvement and unable to rely on time, depended entirely on divine blessings. In essence, the Church’s power remained steady, quickly replenished when diminished, but growing it further was exceedingly difficult. Thus, relying on holy relics to unleash greater strength became the only option—yet the relics were few.

A powerful roar snapped Joseph Peter XVI from his reverie. On the battlefield, the thirteen emperor-level vampires and ten cardinals remained locked in their stalemate, but the surrounding fights were nearing their end.

This sight startled the Pope. The Council of Darkness had won a sweeping victory in the surrounding battles, and the roar came from the Infernal Dragon, expressing its excitement.

Joseph Peter XVI’s face darkened; never before had the Church faced such adversity. Anger burned in his heart.

Recalling the scene days earlier when he invited King Arthur to join the war, the Pope grew even more furious. King Arthur, also a believer in Jehovah, counted as a branch of the Church’s power. Yet he had refused to jointly wage holy war. Outrageous! Had King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table joined, the Church would have had at least an eighty percent chance of victory, if not absolute certainty. But King Arthur declined.

The Pope was unaware that King Arthur’s refusal stemmed from his fear upon witnessing the power of the Cold Flame. Arthur had learned from his knights of everything that transpired at the Maccavi estate, and therefore knew how deep the connection was between the Cold Flame—a “terrifying” figure—and the vampires.

When the Church sought his help after the theft of the Divine Dragon Cauldron, Arthur wisely claimed ignorance, even though he strongly suspected the mysterious Oriental was responsible. When invited to the holy war, he hurriedly declined.

Honestly, he wanted no part in this mess. To oppose the vampires, especially when they were linked to a figure of terrifying power, would be asking for trouble. He simply wished to guard Britain; everything else was someone else’s concern. God would not blame him—that was not his duty.

The more Joseph Peter XVI thought, the angrier he became, gripping the golden staff forcefully. This could not continue—the Church must not lose this holy war. If they were defeated, the sacrifice of the faithful might be tolerated, but God would surely be displeased. That would mean fewer divine blessings in future, and thus a shrinking of the Church’s power—utterly unacceptable.

With less power, winning future holy wars would be even harder—a vicious cycle!

“Damn it, why does the Council of Darkness not face such restrictions?” the Pope fumed, forgetting whose power was easier won—where there is gain, there is loss.

“No choice, it’s time to use this.”

If you’re looking for a light-hearted transformation novel, try “The Lost Key.”