Strike the Blood - Volume 10 - Chapter Pr

INTRO 

The world was dyed white. 

The forest had become shrouded in thick mist with the setting of the sun. 

Snowflakes fluttered down from the cloudy sky, coating the landscape in a blanket of frost. 

With uncertain steps, a lone figure walked down the frigid, powdery path. 

She was young—six, perhaps seven years old—and bore a striking visage. 

Illuminated by the fleeting rays of sun, her cheeks were as pale as the breaths trickling from her modest lips. 

She wore a baggy coat much too large for her stature, but she was beautiful nonetheless. 

And yet, with her lips so tightly pursed, the look on her face was nowhere near as innocent as her apparent age would indicate. 

Disregarding the pain in her chilled fingers, the girl continued to walk in silence. Her large eyes, which gave no hint toward her emotions, looked like beautifully crafted glass. 

A young woman dressed in priestess attire was leading the emotionless girl by the hand. 

Though mindful of the young girl’s endurance, the woman advanced down the dusky mountain path without hesitation, heedless of the poor visibility. Over her shoulder, she was carrying a black musical instrument case that clashed with her traditional clothing. 

Neither exchanged a word as they walked amid the falling snow. 

How long did they continue walking like that? 

Finally, the woman came to a halt. 

She looked behind her, as if sensing some malevolent presence pressing upon them. 

Thanks to the fresh snow dancing in the wild, the pair left no footprints behind. It should have been difficult to track them by scent. Even so, her senses told her loud and clear that someone was pursuing them. 

The woman in priestess attire squatted, looking into the girl’s eyes, and gently stated, “If you continue straight down this path, there is a shrine. Go— I shall impede them.” 

That instant, for the first time, a look of concern floated into the girl’s previously impassive eyes. Strength entered her slender fingers, as if to keep a firm hold of the woman’s hand. 

Her reaction made the woman in priestess attire exhale and smile gently. 

The quiet girl possessed excellent Spirit Sight. Perhaps, in that instant, she had seen the fate that now awaited her. 

“You will be all right on your own. Take this—a protective charm.” 

Speaking these words, the woman snapped a low-lying branch beside her and gently used it to decorate the breast of the girl’s coat. 

The branch, bearing what looked like sharp thorns, had a twig with red, ripe berries attached. It was a hime hiiragi branch—holly Osmanthus—said to possess the power to ward off evil. Using what little ritual energy remained to her, the woman cast a spell upon the branch. Though it was a makeshift talisman, it would surely lead the girl true. At least until she could reach High God Forest’s barrier… 

“The Lion King Agency shall protect you. Now go.” 

Speaking the words with strength in her voice, the woman in priestess garb stretched her hand to the case on her back, inside of which was a weapon: a naginata cast in silver-colored metal. The countless chips marring the blade illustrated the ferocious combat the two had faced up to that point. 

From behind, the woman coaxed the girl forward, who then bit her lip and silently broke into a run. 

Though tripped up by the storm numerous times, she desperately continued onward. 

As the strong wind blew her hair about, her tears were as white as the falling snow. 

And the snow fell ever fiercer… 

A forest in the middle of summer. A sweltering tropical rain forest. 

The atmosphere was stiflingly humid. The sun’s rays were powerful. 

The ground was covered with densely packed trees, denying entry to would-be invaders. Richly colored birds danced in the sky. Under the fallen leaves, insects roamed in search of carrion. 

The atmosphere was pungent with the aromas of ripened fruits and dazzling flowers, their names obscure. The entire dense forest was immersed in the vivid, raw presence of life and death. 

From atop an altar, old and fashioned from stone, she gazed at the scenery. 

In a small temple hidden deep in the dense forest, a lone girl was connected to the altar at its center. 

She had smooth brown skin and honey-colored hair. She had a beautiful face with vestiges of childhood. Her ornate clothes were colored silver, somehow seeming well suited to the ruler of a temple. 

However, her expression was frozen in fear and despair. 

An abundance of fresh blood filled her entire field of vision. The corpses of the priests rightfully protecting the temple were cruelly heaped together in her surroundings. 

Soldiers in military uniforms had been the ones to slaughter the priests. 

Moving as one, they rushed toward the altar room where she was, seizing control of the temple. 

The few surviving priests desperately continued to resist, but it was clear that their efforts were futile. There was nothing they could do, crushed by the small group of soldiers armed with powerful firearms and sorcery. 

However, she did not budge. Her entire body remained as still as a statue, not moving a single fingertip of her own will. Unable to even close her eyelids, she simply gazed dumbfounded at the spectacle displayed before her. 

Finally, one of the soldiers assaulting the temple found her. 

The soldier approached the altar, a rugged anti-demon rifle in his hands. 

Then, the rifle barrel turned toward her breast. 

A moment later, a figure with a majestic golden mane came leaping in with an angry roar. 

“You insoooleeent—!” 

The figure was a demon—a leopard-headed beast man wearing priestly vestments. He had doubtlessly arrived at the altar through fierce combat. Both of the beast man’s arms were drenched in blood spatter, and countless wounds covered his own body as well. 

“Keep your hands off her, invaderrr!” 

“—?!” 

Noticing the beast man’s approach, the soldier instantly repositioned his rifle. However, the beast man’s attack came first. Making full use of his overwhelming physical strength, he slammed the soldier’s head into the altar wall. 

His helmet shattered with an unpleasant sound. 

It was a scathing attack, one that might have easily smashed the man’s skull as well. Surely no proper human being could live through that mighty blow. 

Yet, heedless of this, the soldier still moved. Rather, he was laughing. 

Tearing off his cracked goggles, he continued ferociously cackling with a bloodied face. Realizing this, the beast man froze. Then, with the two in close proximity, the soldier fired his rifle. 

“Guoh—” 

Thick blood poured out of the beast man’s mouth. With the interloper blown all the way back to the altar, the soldier mercilessly pumped him full of bullets. 

The gruesome battle spreading before her very eyes filled the girl’s mind with despair. Even so, she did not move. Powerless to raise a cry, or even to avert her eyes, she was governed by fear alone. 

Unable to maintain his animalistic form, the wounded beast man reverted to the stature of an old man. 

No matter how great a demon’s regenerative powers were, suffering such serious wounds meant death was only a matter of time. It was no longer possible for him to stand—let alone fight. 

Confirming his opponent’s grave state with his own eyes, the soldier slowly rose to his feet. Then he turned his gun toward the girl atop the altar once more. 

“—Awaken.” 

The soldier’s half-broken face contorted as he uttered the strange word. The girl, still as stiff as a doll, stared at the surreal sight. 

“Awaken, Zazalamagiu!” 

Strength gathered in the soldier’s trigger finger. The girl resigned herself to certain death. 

However, the inevitable impact that filled the girl with so much fear…never came. 

Without any warning, the rifle that was pointed toward the girl and the arms of the man holding it vanished completely. 

“Wha—?!” the solider blurted out in shock. 

His entire body was enveloped in a golden glow. 

That gleaming light was, in fact, from countless serpents with sharp fangs, entwining the man’s entire body silently. By the time the soldier had noticed this, he had been completely engulfed. 

The serpents, numerous beyond counting, ate him alive and then vanished. 

It had all happened in an instant. Having consumed the soldier’s entire body with not even a single drop of blood remaining, they melted back into the thin air from which they had appeared. 

As strength left the girl’s rigid body, she fell upon the altar. 

What she then heard were purposeful, dignified footsteps—and flippant laughter that was out of place. 

“—Well, isn’t this pathetic, monsieur chieftain. To think you would permit such brutes to tread upon holy ground. The Priests of Zazalamagiu have fallen low.” 

Walking in from a temple corridor was a young man in a stark-white, three-piece suit that looked wholly unsuited for a tropical rain forest. He was a handsome blond, blue-eyed youth. 

He smiled sympathetically as he looked down upon the old man in priestly attire, lying in a pool of blood. 

“Dimitrie Vattler… To think we would come…to depend upon…you,” the old man murmured ruefully, continuing to have difficulty breathing. 

The younger man forced a pained smile, shaking his head as he gazed silently at the old man. 

Meanwhile, the fighting around the temple had apparently come to an end. Gunfire could no longer be heard. The scent of death that hovered in the air only seemed to grow thicker. 

“…What of…them?” the old man asked, his voice breaking. 

Turning his gaze to outside the temple, Vattler bluntly shook his head. “My subordinates have assumed control. However, your people protecting this holy ground were wiped out. Most unfortunate.” 

“Is that so…?” 

The old man coughed up a clump of blood. His life had already met its end. 

With the last of his remaining strength, he weakly extended his arm and reached toward the girl on the altar— 

“Please…Vattler… Take her… Take the bride with you…” 

He spoke those last words in a raspy voice, just before his death. 

Vattler gazed expressionless at the priest’s passing. 

The temple shuddered, accompanied by the sounds of explosives. They were, no doubt, exploding bombs that had been set by the soldiers. 

Stone pillars collapsed as the entire temple became engulfed in fire. 

Lying on her side upon the altar, the girl looked up at the face of the young, blond, blue-eyed aristocrat against the backdrop of flickering flames. 

Her gaze was stolen by the beautiful, frightening sight of the young man as her voice trickled out the words: 

“Dimitrie…Vattler…”