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Chapter 23: Protagoras, the Great Philosopher of Humanity
🕑 Added 2025-01-09 20:25:40 +0000 UTCJust as Charlot Mecklenburg had anticipated, the basement of the small house was indeed spacious. The kitchen near the stairs was large enough to accommodate seven or eight busy cooks. Though it lacked windows, it was equipped with ventilation shafts and chimneys, making it neither dim nor stifling.
The rest of the basement was divided into four large storage rooms and one smaller one. These were designated for storing food, wine, firewood, and more valuable items. One storage room held a small pile of firewood, while the others were entirely empty.
Charlot didn’t linger long. After ensuring nothing was out of place, he went back upstairs.
Although the new home was missing many necessities, such as clothing, Charlot decided to rest for a day and not go out.
He returned to the small study, removed his coat, placed the Vampiric Axe he had hidden in his sleeve onto the desk, unfastened his gun holster, and hung it on the wall alongside the newly purchased imitation antique rapier.
Charlot lay on the sofa and began practicing Blood Glory.
This was a routine his predecessor adhered to daily. Since his transmigration, Charlot had been too unsettled and busy to train, leaving a considerable gap in his practice.
Now that life had finally settled, Charlot resolved to dedicate time every day to cultivating this extraordinary technique.
...
Hundreds of years ago, Protagoras, the great philosopher of humanity, suffered the abduction of his beloved wife by vampires, her fate unknown. Stricken with grief, he vowed to create a technique capable of exterminating every vampire in existence.
Protagoras traveled the world, mastering dozens of skills. He infiltrated the ranks of vampires, battling countless masters among them. Eventually, he secluded himself for 45 years atop Jogger Peak, the highest mountain on the Old Continent. There, he developed Blood Glory, a secret art unlike any other.
Blood Glory consists of two parts: the Protagoras Breathing Technique and the Blood Feast Meditation Technique.
The Protagoras Breathing Technique refines thirteen key blood points, condensing thirteen blood vortexes. The Blood Feast Meditation Technique nurtures thirteen mystical runes, granting practitioners extraordinary abilities.
With this technique, Protagoras single-handedly slaughtered thousands of vampires, annihilating six of their thirty-seven clans. By reducing their numbers to just thirty-one clans, his reputation soared to the point that his name could silence wailing vampire infants at night.
In his later years, Protagoras generously donated this technique to four imperial universities: the Royal Hogwarts University, Hartington Thunder and Storm University, Sheffield University, and Gorgias University.
Because of this great philosopher's altruism, Charlot, as a student at Sheffield University, was able to learn this secret art.
The Protagoras Breathing Technique stirred the restless blood in Charlot’s veins with each inhale and exhale, creating a powerful, tidal surge within him.
Since his transmigration, this was the first time Charlot had fully immersed himself in training.
In a handwritten scroll, Protagoras once stated:
“The vampires have thirty-seven clans. In theory, Blood Glory can refine thirty-seven blood vortexes. Alas, I could not fully explore its mysteries. I hope future scholars will complete this technique.”
Theoretically, refining a single blood vortex would allow a practitioner to attempt nurturing a rune through meditation, thereby gaining an extraordinary ability.
In practice, however, most who cultivated Blood Glory managed to refine seven or eight blood vortexes before attempting the Blood Feast Meditation Technique. Many never succeeded in manifesting even a single rune, while only a select few mastered one or two mystical runes and gained extraordinary abilities.
Charlot had only refined one blood vortex in his brow, which allowed him to manifest the Eye of Insight rune. This occurrence, baffling as it was, seemed purely a stroke of luck.
The Eye of Insight emanated faint energy as Charlot practiced Blood Glory.
Though his eyes remained closed, Charlot could sense everything within the small study.
The fluctuations of Blood Glory swept over the Vampiric Axe resting on the desk.
The weapon, crafted specifically for vampires, responded subtly to the Blood Glory within Charlot.
Charlot, following his intuition, extended his Blood Glory toward the Vampiric Axe.
The weapon trembled slightly, then erupted with an insatiable hunger, frantically absorbing Charlot’s Blood Glory.
Charlot did not open his eyes, allowing the axe to draw upon his energy, curious about the changes the weapon might undergo after receiving the infusion of Blood Glory.
After more than ten minutes of absorption, the Vampiric Axe suddenly returned an unusual surge of blood energy. Charlot, pleasantly surprised, was about to investigate further when a diary hidden on the bookshelf was inexplicably drawn by the energy, leaping into the air and flipping its pages wildly.
A majestic voice echoed from an unknown and distant place, directly resonating within his mind:
“How are you still alive?”
“Mortal, you dared to deceive me!”
Charlot’s heart froze with terror. His limbs turned cold as he realized he had no idea what was happening.
Since returning from Cynes, he had avoided the diary left by his predecessor, fearing further entanglement with the Evil God. But now it seemed his precautions had been in vain...
The Evil God had never truly left!
Faced with certain doom, Charlot refused to surrender meekly. Just as he reached for the Vampiric Axe to make a desperate stand, thick black mist began to pour from his body. The mist exuded a sinister energy, foreign to this world.
Before him, an endless corridor appeared. Emerging from the void was a creature over three meters tall, entirely crimson as if flayed of its skin, holding a massive spiked maul.
The majestic voice resounded again, filled with boundless fury:
“Mortal, you dare conspire with Agmirlas against me... That petty foreign god of chaos!”
The sinister energy from the diary surged toward the crimson monster in the corridor. The majestic voice declared the start of the battle:
“Agmirlas! Reduced to a mere fragment of consciousness, you still dare oppose me?”
The towering, crimson creature roared skyward like a primordial beast. The endless corridor shimmered with layers of unfathomable power, unleashing immense chaotic energy to block another Evil God’s attempt to descend through the diary.
The two overwhelming forces clashed within Charlot’s consciousness, igniting a battle as cataclysmic as thunder colliding with fire.
Charlot let out an involuntary scream, his mind feeling as if a wedge had been driven deep into it, the pain unbearable.
In an instant, his consciousness was torn apart by the warring forces, leaving him with the sensation that the world itself had ceased to exist.
The once unremarkable diary now spewed pages in chaotic disarray. Its cover bulged, alternately revealing a castle, an endless corridor, a majestic middle-aged man seated on an opulent chair, and the crimson-skinned monster. A flaming, bloodied hand reached from the diary, only to be scattered by the spiked maul.
...
It was unclear how much time had passed. In the disheveled room, Charlot Mecklenburg lay motionless on the floor, barely breathing.
Beside him was the diary, its cover entirely blackened. On the ground, a line of bloodied, scrawled words remained:
“I shall return to claim the soul owed to me by contract.”
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