Mirek Taran was a direct descendant of the Taran Family, one of the Four Great Duke Families, and the vice-commander of the Taran Knight Order—a Diamond Tier powerhouse.
The yellow rose served as the emblem of the Taran clan.
Though it was a yellow rose, they favored the golden rose above all.
Yellow was simply too gaudy.
Only gold could convey the true nobility befitting the esteemed Taran Family.
Among the Four Great Families, the Taran Family stood as the most loyal. They were devoted to the True Ancestor and to the Blood Race as a whole. They regarded the Blood Race as the superior species and looked down on all others.
Many might mistakenly believe the Cape Family held humans in the lowest esteem.
That was not the case.
The Cape Family acted more like guardians of the old order. They were even willing to elevate certain humans to the rank of baron or viscount—for instance, granting nobility to Sang. At the same time, they would assassinate other Blood Race members, such as when they had once obstructed Snow Hill and Sang from rushing north to save old Lord Orcus. They even hoped to see the Hill Family wiped out.
As long as it stabilized the status quo and solidified Blood Race rule, the Cape Family was eager to make it happen.
They styled themselves as protectors of order.
The Taran Family differed sharply from the Cape Family. They harbored an almost obsessive devotion to their own kind—the higher the rank of a Blood Race member, the closer their bond. In turn, they rejected all outsiders with utter contempt.
They revered the True Ancestor as a deity, worshiping her with fanatical zeal. Even if she commanded them to die, they would obey without hesitation. They viewed the other three great families as kin and dear friends; they saw the lower Blood Race members as their subjects. And humans… they regarded as little more than trash.
Such were the twisted yet cherished values of the Taran Family.
The scene returned to the present moment.
Mirek Taran unleashed a crushing display of power. One foot pinned Sang’s head to the ground, the other crushed down on Shika’s. In the next instant, his gaze fell on Aisha Hodhua not far away. He froze, fists clenched tight, his entire body trembling as a terrifying aura radiated from him.
“My God!”
“How is this possible?”
“To think such a filthy abomination exists in this world… Hey, let me ask you something—”
His voice trembled faintly.
One could only imagine the depth of Mirek Taran’s shock.
Aisha Hodhua blinked in confusion, still urging him to stop as she replied, “A question? For me?”
“Tell me, is a rat turd more revolting, or is fine wine contaminated by a rat turd more revolting?”
Even as he spoke, Mirek Taran kept both men pinned beneath his feet. He bowed his head, his facial expression hidden from view. Yet even without seeing it, a palpable wave of murderous intent washed over them.
This man had grown even more terrifying than before.
Aisha Hodhua had no idea what to make of the question or its purpose.
But she wouldn’t need to understand.
Mirek Taran lifted his gaze, his blood eyes blazing with killing intent as he fixed them on Aisha. His face twisted in rage. “The answer, of course, is the contaminated wine! That’s you—a mix-blood! Oh my God, how can such a vile thing exist in this world? It must be purged!”
He could tolerate humans existing as mere livestock. But a mix-blood? That was intolerable.
Exterminate it!
It had to be exterminated!
Just as Mirek moved to strike at Aisha Hodhua, he realized he couldn’t budge. Glancing down, he saw two youths clinging desperately to his legs.
Sang’s mask hung in tatters, only half remaining. Blood streaked the exposed side of his face. He bellowed, “Run, Pink-Haired Little Lolita!”
Shika looked equally battered. He shouted hoarsely, “Get out of here! He’s a lunatic!”
Mirek stared down at the pair with utter disgust, showing not a shred of mercy. He snapped coldly, “Please, you’re disgusting. Stop soiling my boots?”
Sang and Shika ignored him, gripping his legs with all their might.
But Mirek’s strength was overwhelming. With a savage stomp, he cratered the ground, leaving two massive pits. Sang and Shika sprawled in them, mouths full of dirt.
Sang had been beaten badly—worse than he had endured in ages. The physical pain paled beside the suffocating weight in his heart.
He felt an unprecedented rage. Not content with trampling my dignity, now he threatens my family.
Yes.
That’s right.
In the boy’s mind, both Shika and Aisha Hodhua had long since become family.
In that moment, a blood-soaked handkerchief slipped from his pocket—the one he had used earlier to tend Iyefut Cape’s wounds.
The blood on it…
Sang’s eyes lit up as an idea struck him.
“Damn it! No clue if this will even work, but I’m pissed… Let’s roll the dice!”
…
Mirek had only meant to toy with Sang and Shika. But toward Aisha Hodhua, his killing intent was genuine. He could not abide a mix-blood’s existence in the world.
Nothing was more repulsive.
Aisha Hodhua fled for her life, but escape proved impossible. Mirek didn’t even need to draw his sword. A casual wave of his hand from afar unleashed a gale of wind that hurled the girl to the ground. Such was the might of Diamond Tier—utterly suffocating.
Aisha lay there, staring up at the advancing Mirek, terror etched on her face. She resembled nothing so much as a lamb awaiting slaughter.
At that moment, Iyefut Cape finally caught up. Her leg wound slowed her, but she had pushed to her limit. She cried out, desperate to halt Mirek’s madness.
“Stand down, Taran Family!”
“Heh… You’re the princess of the Cape Family, but you have no authority to command me.”
In a sense, they were equals—same tier, same generation.
Mirek Taran ignored Iyefut Cape’s order and closed in on Aisha step by step. Along the way, he drew the slender golden sword from his waist—a western-style rapier.
He soon loomed over Aisha. Though only five foot seven, his shadow engulfed her tiny frame like a monster’s.
Before he could raise his blade, a pathetic little fireball sputtered into view—barely strong enough to warm the skin. Mirek glanced down to see the Little Chicken chirping frantically: “Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!” It fluttered about as if guarding its mistress.
Mirek paid the Little Chicken no mind. He lifted his sword, aimed it at Aisha’s throat, his gaze icy and unwavering. Without a second’s pause, he swung down.
As the blade descended, Aisha Hodhua sat frozen on the ground, despair claiming her utterly.
But then…
A gentle breeze swept through, and a figure in pale green appeared before the Pink-Haired Little Lolita. With his back to Aisha, he murmured, “【Layer of Power】… I didn’t expect it would still activate after a full hour.”
