My Players Are So Fierce

The campfires of the Witch Hunter camp flickered and burned in the night, like stars in the darkness.

But this night was not peaceful.

Especially in the ruined outer city area just a wall away, there were still many scavengers from the survivor camps busy at work.

After Jed’s group perished, Murphy had announced the next plan to the people of the survivor camp. They would soon move back to this land that had been purified by flames, no longer needing to gaze upon their homeland from the camp.

The survivors felt encouraged.

Especially since Murphy had allowed the militiamen to participate in the hunt for Jed’s group!

Although this act itself was not explained much, it did not prevent the smart people in the camp from discerning Murphy the new lord’s view of his vampire kindred.

Many stories about Murphy and Tris were dug up and pored over repeatedly. From the former plight of this pair of elder and progeny vampires rejected as trash by the Blood Vulture Clan, an inaccurate but absolutely credible conclusion could be drawn.

That is, compared to the Blood Vulture Clan vampires, Lord Murphy was more like a midnight traitor, he clearly preferred to stand with these loyal humans!

Even in the exploding realm, this conclusion was quite explosive, let alone here in Transia!

As a dark region ruled by vampires for four hundred years, almost never before had a vampire like Murphy appeared.

And rarity always represents attention.

If Murphy continued to act differently from other vampires, he would likely soon gain the favor and loyalty of those long dissatisfied with vampire rule.

Of course, that was for the future.

Murphy pulled his gaze back from the Witch Hunter camp’s campfires, glancing at the equally awkwardly silent Femis and Lady Adele, as well as Miriam rolling her eyes and looking around.

Maxim should have been here too, but the loyal servant was still unconscious from weakness.

As for the gray-haired huntress Captain Natalie standing across from Murphy, she currently had little leisure to deal with her enmity towards him.

Her eyes were fixed on the battalion commander by her side.

Listening with some disbelief as the vampire woman Tris rambled incoherently while hugging a bottle of alcohol from across them.

The Witch Hunter battalion commander, an adherent of the old faith, the Lord of the White Oak, was able to sit so calmly chatting about family matters with a group of vampires.

This itself was no small miracle.

“Are you all just going to keep chatting about family matters? Didn’t you just call for fighting and killing a moment ago?”

Murphy couldn’t help but urge:

“I think everyone here shares a common question, and if no one dares to ask, then let me. Tris, how exactly did you meet Lord Finoch two hundred years ago?

That doesn’t seem right, does it?”

“To be precise, not two hundred years,” Tris said with a pout, not answering, as the old knight sitting on a dead log maintained the chill around him, saying in a low voice:

“Around one hundred and ninety-five years ago, the winter of year 916 of the Era.

At that time, the Avalon Church had fought to a standstill single-handedly against the second ‘Night War’ of the continental blood clans, and although the Blood Dread Clan had gotten themselves killed off by your Lord Payne, the situation was still unfavorable for us.

However, the Nordtov Kingdom happened to be strategically expanding into the Ice Bay region that year, causing great concern in the Silan Kingdom and the Isa Kingdom, leading them to form an alliance.

So we and the blood clans also quite cooperatively ended our killing of each other in our state of exhaustion.

But it was also that year that the Grey Knights under the Elder Council of Glamo finally uncovered the truth behind the theft of our holy relic ‘The Seed of Life’ in the autumn of 885.”

Saying this, old Finoch glanced at the nonchalant Tris.

He said:

“We learned that The Seed of Life was stolen by the Blood Vulture Clan Patriarch Salrokdar leading the Blood Vulture Council of Elders, and not the joint theft by the three major clans as we had originally thought. In their fury, the Council assembled 500 martyrs, passing through the Antani region to prepare a sneak attack on Kadman City to take back our holy relic.

As for me back then, I was just a newly enlisted Oak Knight.

I was honored to join that crusade of faith-fueled retribution, and fortunate enough to catch the trail of the instigator of it all, the ‘Crimson Witch’, in the very first clash.”

“Little Finoch was stupid back then, so naive and foolish, letting himself be tricked by his Elder Council into coming here to die,” said Tris, drunk.

“Salrokdar had known about the Avalon Church’s movements in advance, so we set an ambush at the edge of the Anderma Hills.

As soon as they came in, they were hit head-on.

But even when outmatched, those fanatics of faith wouldn’t give up, their counterattack while invoking their god’s name in the night ignited the entire Anderma Hills.

The battle was horrific!

Of the Church’s 500 holy warriors, only seventeen survived.

Sixteen of them barely made it through on their own strength, the only lucky one who managed to come back fully intact owing to my showing mercy in battle was little Finoch here.

He was a greenhorn, rushing at me yelling the name of Avalon to challenge me to a duel.

But I was quite formidable back then, casually banishing him to the Netherworld plane. Ironically, that allowed him to avoid the entire night’s battle.

When dawn came and he returned to the material world guided by Avalon, the battle was already over.”

“So you had a rebellious streak two hundred years ago?”

Murphy said in an odd tone:

“Or are you saying that the ‘Crimson Witch’ back then was truly vile in character, as you said, a vampire fanatic fallen into darkness?”

“Don’t pry into events from back then, lest my ‘reputation’ from that time scares you,” said Tris, rolling her eyes.

“Besides, by then I was already preparing to offer my own fresh blood essence for that damned seed, under Salrokdar’s insidious temptation.

Five years after little Finoch left alive, I was declared ‘dead’.”

“Yes, upon receiving news of your death, I was relieved that the Church had one less formidable enemy. That day I prayed to the Avalon God in thanksgiving for the divine’s blessing,” sighed the White Oak lord.

“No wonder the divine did not respond to me that night…you never died!”

“Battalion Commander, so your miraculous ‘unscathed victory’ that night was actually a lie that lasted for two hundred years?”

Beside him, Captain Natalie asked in astonished realization of the truth, as the expressionless battalion commander across from her said:

“195 years ago on the Crusade, everyone spread rumors of how ferociously you fought the vampires, finally emerging unscathed under divine protection!

But the truth was actually…”

“Not only that,” Tris added ominously.

“From the start of the ambush, he singled me out and charged, after which I banished him, basically the whole time without any effective attack, his only contribution probably being startling me a bit.

I thought he was a crazed believer planning to take me with him in a belief-fueled self-destruction.”

“That was just for the Church’s propaganda needs.

After all, the ‘Crusade’ was an irrational decision by the Elder Council from the outset that reaped an undue massacre. The faithful should not have known the cruel truth.”

Old Finoch remained unruffled by honor or disgrace.

He calmly explained to Natalie:

“The fact is, I did experience that war, though not in the way you’re familiar with. I admit, it was not a soldier’s deed. But Natalie, you must understand, persevering to survive in the midst of despair is itself an embodiment of courage!

Just as we are now experiencing all this.”

“You make a fair point! But how can we now forgive this dangerous vampire before us? It was she who stole our holy relic!”

Natalie glared at the drunken Tris, gripping the hilt of her sword as she shouted:

“That Seed of Life…

Even as a child, I heard the Oak Sages praise the wonders of that seed!

They say when that seed was still at the Glamo Island sanctuary, the entire island enjoyed eternal spring, with Avalon God’s blessings spreading through the Seed of Life to all corners, allowing those with sincere hearts to be cured of disease, healed without medicine.”

“All made up, little girl, all twisted by the later Church for propaganda purposes and to depict us vampires as vile,” said Tris, tossing aside the emptied bottle and stretching lazily to display her perfect curves before yawning at the furious Natalie:

“The fact is, when we went to steal the seed back then, that thing had already been worshiped at the Glamo Island altar for three hundred and fifty years. But it was utterly useless!

The Elder Council at the time had determined the seed was merely a puzzle left behind by the Avalon God in the mortal realm, worshiped solely as a sacred object, its actual use was less practical than the three sacred blades secretly held by your old faith.

At least those three swords could cut people.

That seed was neither attractive nor divine. Otherwise, do you think we could have stolen it so easily from the Avalon Church headquarters when they were at the height of their power?

I admit, our theft was wrong.

But your Church’s defenses back then were so lax that we basically walked right in, hardly worth the risk we took.”

“This…”

Natalie was momentarily speechless, but she simply did not believe the cunning vampire, twisting to look at the battalion commander, as old Finoch stared silently at Lady Femis in the night.

After a moment, he nodded and said:

“Lady Tris speaks the truth. Ever since the Seed of Life was gifted to the Elder Council in 530 by the elven druids of the Castilia Peninsula, it represented a revelation of fate. It was gifted together with the three oak sacred blades, symbolizing the Avalon God’s hope and blessing for human faithful.

However, when the elven sages gifted the Seed of Life, they said that if it did not take root and sprout within 500 years, it would mean we had failed the Avalon God’s test of faith.

After the Avalon Church was established as the state religion in the Isa Kingdom, it was moved to the new holy site of Glamo Island, but three hundred and fifty years passed in the blink of an eye without the seed showing any change.

As I know it, the Elder Council at the time had indeed become disillusioned with it and regarded the elven sages’ warning as a symbolic metaphor.

The Church’s furious reaction after the Seed of Life was stolen was not out of reverence for the relic itself, but anger at the vampires’ defiance of natural faith, the faithful roared for vengeance and retribution, which then sparked the thirty-year Second Night War that spread the fires of faith across the continent.”

“That was even a good thing! You clueless little girl.”

Tris glanced at the great Oak Blade beside the old knight and snorted, saying:

“It was precisely because I stole the useless Seed of Life that you gained the right to wield the three Oak Sacred Blades, like this sword beside little Finoch, I still remember it. Hah, the famous ‘Watcher’ Blade of the White Knights.”

As she spoke, Tris actually boldly reached out to touch the great Oak Holy Blade beside the old knight.

This action made Femis’ eyes narrow.

She had witnessed the brutal power of this holy blade firsthand, and was about to stop Tris when she realized in astonishment that facing this vampire’s touch, the holy blade did not ignite its Purifying Flame.

It only grumbled, as if expressing displeasure.

It even felt a bit tsundere.

“Well well, 225 years later and you still have that habit of cursing, huh?”

Tris snorted and withdrew her fingers, saying to the great Oak Blade:

“What kind of holy relic has such a foul mouth as you? Remember to reform, will you. Have you forgotten how you insolently insulted Salrokdar back then and nearly got destroyed by his ‘necessary evil’?”

This scene before her eyes completely shattered Natalie’s worldview.

Especially when she saw an unholy thing chatting casually with her own holy relic, the world before her eyes felt unreal.

She stammered to the head-shaking battalion commander:

“Shouldn’t this Oak Sacred Blade be a weapon to eradicate the unholy? Why…why is it so friendly towards a vampire? Battalion Commander! You’re just watching?

Didn’t you say the sacred blades utterly loathe all evil, especially vampires?”

“It does loathe the shame brought upon it by vampires,” said old Finoch impassively, glancing at the holy blade beside him.

“But Lady Tris is not among them. Back then, the three holy blades, like the Seed of Life, were worshiped as holy relics and would not truly be used. Because of their powerful natural spirit energy, they were used as guardians nurturing the Seed of Life.

It was the theft of the Seed of Life that allowed the three holy blades to break free from having their power extracted.

So in theory, the three Oak Sacred Blades should indeed thank those shameless vampires’ misdeeds for preventing them from gathering dust unused.

As for the ‘Watcher’ sacred blade’s hatred of vampires…

You heard it yourself.

Back then it nearly got destroyed by Salrokdar who went to steal the seed, and it holds grudges, two hundred years later and it still hasn’t forgotten that incident. So…in any case, don’t attribute human emotions to the holy blade. It has no feelings, and its thoughts are completely different from ours.”

“No!!! This can’t be the truth! This is not the glorious history of the Avalon Church that I know!”

Natalie cried out in anguish, clutching her head.

At this moment, she felt her faith in the Avalon God severely challenged.

She needed to take some time to calm down, and to accept this truth that had been portrayed as utterly sacred but was actually not sacred at all, even a bit ridiculous.

“Ahem.”

Murphy found this piece of history damn interesting.

He also gained some small insight into his own waste vampire elder “eventful” past. He actually wanted to hear more, but alas, time truly was insufficient.

So he took the initiative to speak:

“If we’re done chatting about the past, shouldn’t we envision the future a bit? Lord Finoch, since you and Tris have this unknown history together, I’ll treat you as one of my own for now.

About the cooperation we proposed…”

“One of your own? Cooperate?”

The old knight gave a cold laugh and said:

“You think too highly of yourself, Murphy. What you’re proposing now is not the same as joining hands earlier to strangle your kinsmen! You’re now talking to me about borrowing my hand to eliminate your patriarch!

Do you know what that means?”

“Slap”

Murphy placed his hand on the drunken Tris’ shoulder.

He looked at old Finoch very seriously and sincerely, saying:

“It seems that after two instances of cooperation, your understanding of me remains superficial. Allow me to reintroduce myself then. The patriarch in my heart is only one, she has always been by my side. Salrokdar?

Tsk, who’s that?

Sorry.

I don’t know, I don’t care.

If that mongrel who experimented on his own daughter is destined to die, I’ll only clap in approval and applaud you.

Sorry again.

I shouldn’t have used such vulgar language, but this is indeed what I mean to say.

Do you have any other doubts about my resolve?”