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Chapter 165: As Free as a Bird
🕑 Added 2025-01-13 02:49:48 +0000 UTCAfter the departure of High Priest Auguslatin, Charlot Mecklenburg also set off. It was only when the camp was set up in the evening that Charlot realized their group had gained an extra member: Belisa, the personal maid of the late Duchess of Mostar.
Anastasia summoned her courage and explained, “The Duchess is dead, and there’s no one left to protect Sister Belisa. If she stayed at Mostar Castle, she might have been taken by some noble. So, she decided to follow us.”
Charlot almost quipped, “Aren’t you worried I might take her?” But he refrained, finding the joke too crude and inappropriate.
Although Belisa had a naïve charm, she wasn’t truly foolish. She understood that her status had been entirely dependent on the Duchess. With the Duchess killed by Hughes, Belisa knew she was vulnerable, just a plaything that could fall into a tragic fate at any moment. So, upon learning of the Duchess's demise, she decisively chose not to return to Mostar Castle and instead followed Anastasia. Sympathizing with Belisa, Anastasia boldly brought her along.
Charlot scrutinized Belisa for a full seven minutes before finally stating, “My knight order doesn’t support freeloaders.”
Belisa puffed out her small chest and declared, “I am also a Transcendent!”
Charlot was taken aback. He hadn’t noticed it before. “You’re a Transcendent as well?”
With some pride, Belisa replied, “I self-studied the courses of Gorgias University.”
“I… I lack the talent for Dreamcrafting or Card Magic. I’ve always dreamed of being as free as a bird, so I chose the path of the ‘Extreme Glider.’ I’ve already reached the second tier as an Extreme Glider—I can glide safely from heights of over ten meters.”
“Well, actually, even higher is fine.”
At this, Belisa’s cheeks flushed red.
Charlot was familiar with Extreme Gliders—a typical “useless Transcendent” path.
At the Saint rank, Extreme Gliders could achieve true flight. However, by then, anyone at the Saint rank could fly.
Before reaching the Saint rank, Extreme Gliders could ride the wind… to glide.
Low-tier Gliders like Belisa could leap from ten or even dozens of meters without injury. Mid-tier Gliders could survive greater heights. High-tier Gliders could jump from even higher...
Extreme Gliders could also perform basic wind manipulation…
That was it.
This extraordinary path offered no other abilities.
Well, there was one advantage—at the Saint rank, their flight speed far outpaced that of other Saints. By a lot.
Charlot found it hard to believe that this former maid had chosen such a path, becoming what he now thought of as a “beautiful little useless person.”
Still, she wasn’t entirely useless—she was, after all, a Transcendent.
Charlot worried, however, that Belisa’s fragile abilities might lead to her death in even a minor skirmish.
After some hesitation, he pulled out a Mask of the Cat and handed it to Belisa. “Practice throwing knives and marksmanship,” he said. Then, as an afterthought, added, “I’m lending this to you. Once you’ve mastered throwing knives and firearms, remember to return it.”
He figured he might as well teach this “little useless person” some survival techniques—enough, at least, to make her slightly useful.
Belisa accepted the Mask of the Cat, her flushed cheeks still betraying her embarrassment. She knew her abilities weren’t impressive and recognized Charlot’s “loan” of the extraordinary artifact. Thanks to her self-study at Gorgias University, she knew exactly what it was. In a soft voice, she said, “Thank you.”
Charlot glanced at Anastasia but refrained from scolding her.
Although Anastasia had acted on her own when she intercepted Hughes—an act that could have led to their total annihilation if Hughes hadn’t been pursuing larger goals—Charlot decided it wasn’t worth reprimanding her. He wasn’t a harsh commander, nor did he feel any obligation to micromanage strangers.
This time, things had worked out well, likely due to luck. Perhaps they’d be lucky again next time. War, after all, often depended on luck.
If their luck ever truly ran out...
Charlot would at least collect their corpses, assuming there were any intact bodies to recover.
After settling the minor issue of Belisa, Charlot left the sentries to keep watch and arranged for the army to rest. He ate and then resumed his training.
…
Around midnight, Charlot unexpectedly broke through a bottleneck in his cultivation. The Blood Glory within him surged like a tide, vibrating intensely as it coursed through six blood vortices.
In a moment of clarity, a new blood vortex formed in his right hand.
Charlot opened his eyes slightly, stabilizing the new vortex of Blood Glory. He then attempted to reverse the flow of Blood Glory into Arsilo Battle Energy, just as he had anticipated. With the amplification of the six existing blood vortices, his Arsilo Battle Energy smoothly advanced to the eighth tier.
Charlot tested his newfound strength before dispersing the Arsilo Battle Energy, allowing his energy to revert to Blood Glory.
Thus far, Charlot had only experimented with converting Blood Glory into Arsilo Battle Energy. He hadn’t tried adapting it to other Vampiric Secret Arts, nor did he plan to. His priority was condensing a blood core.
The first candidate for condensation, naturally, was the blood vortex in his left hand.
As a member of the Arsilo Family—one of the Three Royal Clans—Charlot possessed immense potential. His proficiency in Arsilo techniques was unmatched. Lately, he had focused on refining his Blood Glory, purifying his blood energy, and had even temporarily abstained from consuming life essence in recent battles.
So far, he had encountered no significant obstacles.
Charlot mused to himself, “At this rate, I might actually succeed in condensing a blood core.”
Excitement coursed through him. While becoming a vampire might bring its inconveniences, who wouldn’t want a longer life?
Emerging from the military carriage, Charlot found the camp unusually quiet. The only sounds were the murmured conversations of the sentries gathered around a fire. Ideally, they should have been hidden, watching the surroundings. But for a knight order that had only recently transitioned from a rabble, this was already acceptable. Charlot didn’t demand perfection—he considered it an achievement that they were awake at all.
Seeking privacy, Charlot moved to a secluded corner to relieve himself.
As he shook off the last drops and adjusted his belt, his movements suddenly froze. He stomped hard on the ground.
A shadow burst from the earth, a blade of cold light aiming straight for his face.
Charlot hadn’t expected an assassin to be lying in wait. If he hadn’t come out to relieve himself, the assassin…
Might have simply slipped away unnoticed.
With a flick of his wrist, Charlot drew his Vampiric Rapier, Blood Rose, deflecting the oncoming dagger.
Though the attacker wore a mask, Charlot recognized the swordsmanship immediately—it was Arsilo Swordsmanship, albeit adapted for a short blade. This was clearly a Byron vampire.
The two exchanged a flurry of blows—ten, twenty—without their blades once clashing directly. Just as Charlot prepared to draw his silver pistol for a surprise attack, the vampire assassin disengaged and muttered, “I’m one of yours!”
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