“Little Bug, jump down from here…”
As she spoke those words, the True Ancestor—who had been gazing at the evening glow—turned her enchanting eyes toward him. Those phoenix eyes, which ought to have been the darkest in the world, now gleamed with a trace of golden light, as if concealing some profound secret. Moreover, an oppressive aura emanated from her, one that inspired dread in equal measure to their first encounter.
Sang froze at the sound of the True Ancestor’s voice.
Just a few days ago, she had saved his life. And now, was she sending him to his death?
In that moment, the young man’s face flickered with uncertainty. He didn’t want to die. Ever since Snow Hill had rejected and dismissed him, he had made up his mind: he wouldn’t give up so easily, and he certainly wouldn’t throw away his life on a whim.
Damn this True Ancestor!
He was truly fed up!
He was a person—a living, breathing human—not some little bug to be beckoned and dismissed at will!
At that instant, he felt he had to do something, anything, to show the True Ancestor that he had a temper of his own.
For all his inner turmoil, however, barely ten seconds passed before the True Ancestor kicked him off the edge. He plummeted into freefall.
“Aaah!!!”
This wasn’t his first time in freefall, but enough time had passed since the last that Sang was caught completely off guard. He squeezed his eyes shut and screamed, inwardly cursing all the while.
“I’m done for! Done for! This time I’m really dead!”
But then, unexpectedly…
When Sang was still a few hundred meters from the ground, he suddenly realized he had stopped in midair. Glancing back, he saw the True Ancestor hovering there, dangling him effortlessly by the collar with one hand—like a little chicken.
How humiliating. He might not be some towering man of seven feet, but did she have to tote him around like this? Didn’t he have any dignity?
“What are you doing!?” Sang burst out in anger.
He was covered in wounds, and she pulled a stunt like this!?
What if he really died!?
The True Ancestor was not one for formalities or etiquette. She often ignored the boy’s rude tone or word choice—like now. Even as his impudence reached her ears, she paid it no mind. Instead, she curved her lips in a playful smile, revealing her sharp, ghostly white vampire fangs. “Little Bug, didn’t you say it yourself?”
“Say what?”
“You said if it hadn’t been eight full hours out, you’d be satisfied. Well, now I’m granting your wish… I’ll personally keep you company outside for an hour.” With those words, the True Ancestor carried him down to the ground, still gripping him like a little chicken.
“Ah…” Sang’s eyes widened in disbelief, his face a mask of astonishment. He even wondered if he’d misheard.
This… this person was actually coming out for a walk with him personally?
It was absurd…
They had landed on Central Street in the Outer Second District. No sooner had his feet touched the pavement than Sang clapped a hand over his disheveled black hair. “This is too sudden. I’m still in my house clothes, no shoes, and my hair…”
But before he could finish, the True Ancestor descended gracefully to the ground. She cast a casual glance at him and smirked with faint disdain. Then a shroud of black light enveloped him. His body seemed to fade into transparency, blending seamlessly with the surroundings. It even appeared to have insulating properties—no matter the winter chill, he felt no cold.
He gasped in shock. “What is this?”
“Killing everyone nearby would be simple enough, but Richter Cape would probably get annoyed with me… So this will do. It’s my ability. No one else can see us now.”
“Don’t just talk about wiping people out so casually…”
Amid his mix of exasperation and awe, a thread of curiosity lingered in Sang’s mind.
Just what was the True Ancestor’s power?
At first, he’d thought she commanded lightning. Later, he suspected she could read minds. But the more time they spent together, the more it seemed her abilities were limitless—an all-encompassing arsenal.
“What’s wrong, Little Bug? Why are you staring at me like that? Don’t forget, you only have an hour. You’re free to roam, and I’ll follow.”
Perhaps it was the faint black filter cloaking her, but in that moment, standing amid the bustling crowds, the True Ancestor seemed to exist in another dimension altogether. She was like a lonely soul dormant for millennia—intimidating, yet evoking pity.
She reminded him of Snow Hill in some ways, yet there was a fundamental difference. Snow Hill felt unattainably distant, a remoteness no lifetime of striving could bridge. The True Ancestor, by contrast, felt nonexistent.
“You’re really going to follow me?” Sang asked skeptically.
The True Ancestor nodded. “Mm. It’s been ages since I walked among humans… Not that I’m interested.”
He nearly forgot: she truly despised humanity.
Sang decided not to dwell on it. If she was making up for things with this hour, he ought to make the most of it. The next moment, he turned and strolled leisurely into the vibrant street, merging with the throng. The True Ancestor trailed behind, her expression impassive.
This crowded street belonged to them alone.
Compared to the indulgent paradise of the Inner Ring and First District, or the hellish inferno of the Third District, the Second District felt most like the human world. It brimmed with everyday life and thriving commerce. Central Street at night had a special charm all its own—vendors hawking wares along the sidewalks, people streaming to and fro. It was an ideal place to live.
Strolling the streets of the Second District, it was hard to imagine this was a world where the Blood Race oppressed humanity. One might mistake it for a prosperous, peaceful utopia.
Unbeknownst to himself, Sang’s mood lifted entirely, banishing his inner doubts.
Soon enough, though, he noticed something different about tonight. Lanterns and decorations festooned every corner. At Central Square in the Second District, workers were erecting a massive stage, preparing for some grand celebration—or perhaps welcoming a major holiday.
Curious, he asked, “What are they getting ready for?”
The vast Central Square and endless streets were visible only to the True Ancestor, and only she could hear Sang’s voice.
Seeing his wide-eyed, curious-kid expression, even the True Ancestor looked puzzled. She crossed her arms, rolled her eyes slightly, and gazed at the night sky. “Hm… No idea.”
“So even you don’t know everything…”
The True Ancestor brushed off his jab with a wild, brazen grin. “Little Bug, I’m just not interested in mortal affairs. Who cares what the ants are up to…?”
Arrogance defined her.
Sang bristled a little but couldn’t find a good comeback. He shrugged and pressed on.
Yet mere steps later, a snippet of conversation from a nearby father and son drifted into his ears.
“Daddy, what are they preparing?” The little boy, perched innocently on his father’s shoulders, asked.
The father replied, “Oh… They’re getting ready for Christmas…”
“What’s Christmas?”
“Christmas—by its name—is the festival celebrating the True Ancestor’s birth. It’s the most important holiday on this continent, held on the last day of every January.”
“So… it’s the True Ancestor’s birthday?”
“Mm, you could put it that way.”
