Shinji Matou At Your Service

Chapter 286: Rearguard

Dead Apostles possess a truly "buggy" ability, and that is the power to develop offspring through blood drinking. In some vampire literature, this act is referred to as the "Embrace/intimate."

The essence of the "Embrace" is a "fluid exchange" - don't get the wrong idea, it has nothing to do with "mana replenishment", even if you tried that method you wouldn't become a vampire. The specific process involves acquiring the other's blood and injecting it into oneself, thereby transforming the other into one's thrall.

Yes, thrall - a true thrall. Because the other's body now contains vampire blood, they are under the vampire's control. The vampire can command the thrall just as they would their kin and the thrall is incapable of disobeying such commands.

Trhvmn Ortenrosse intends to use this method to subsume the Chelon Canticle Brigade under his command.

"Father, I have lost a number of my kin this time. I humbly request your permission to use this opportunity to replenish my ranks," White Feather asked.

"Very well, I had the same intention," Ortenrosse generously agreed.

Of the thirty-two magus before him, he did not plan to turn all of them into his direct offspring.

The "Embrace" act of injecting one's blood into another dilutes the Dead Apostles's power. Turning thirty-two thralls at once, even for an ancient Ancestor like Ortenrosse, would be a bit too much to handle.

Therefore, he only plans to perform the Embrace on a few of the most promising candidates, leaving the rest to White Feather and his lower-ranking kin.

Faced with the Dead Apostles' arrogant and haughty behavior, and the impending ultimate insult to human existence, the entire Chelon Canticle Brigade was filled with immense rage. If not for the officers holding them back, they would have charged at the dead apostles most violently.

The officers did this not because they had changed their minds, but because the gap in power between the two sides was simply too great - so great that even attempting suicide would not be an easy task. Recklessly attacking would not only fail to harm the enemy but allow them to take advantage.

Chariot waits.

Judgment waits.

King, Pope, and Hermit also wait.

Waiting for an opportunity to attack at the cost of one's life, waiting for an opportunity for self-destruction. This was the last insurance prepared at the beginning of the creation of the Chelon Canticle Brigade, and it is also the core concept of the Brigade - "Either succeed or die with honor!"

Facing such a unit, the dead apostle's minions lost their enthusiasm for persuasion through words. An aura of terror that even the magus had never encountered before enveloped everyone, like the natural dominance of a king at the top of the food chain over its prey - impossible to resist, impossible to withstand.

Under this terrifying pressure, the source of the imposing aura, the ancient King of Dead Apostles, stirred.

Blood sprayed, chilling screams and wails pierced the still of the night.

Unexpectedly, the screams did not come from the self-sacrificing Brigade, but from behind Ortenrosse.

The once arrogant and domineering White Feather dead apostles were now laid in pools of blood. Before Ortenrosse could launch his attack, his subordinates had already been struck down, with wounds in the same location - the waist. All the subordinates were bisected at the waist, their upper and lower bodies separated, and the blood, the source of the dead apostles' power, spilled everywhere.

"Father, save me-"

White Feather struggled, reaching out to his king in a pitiful and disheveled manner.

Ortenrosse halted his advance, his gaze fixed on his offspring through the white pillar of light enveloping his body. He was perplexed.

Aside from blood-sucking, the most distinct feature of dead apostles was their unique physiology - not only immortal and ageless but also possessing various supernatural abilities. The most basic of these, shared by all vampires, was their tremendous regenerative power.

A century-old dead apostles could typically recover from superficial wounds in a matter of minutes, and even limb loss could be quickly regenerated.

For an established dead apostle like White Feather, the recovery speed should have been even faster. But the gaping wound at the waist was not healing, the bleeding showing no signs of slowing down, as if the dead apostles's vaunted regenerative ability simply did not exist.

The culprit behind all this is a simple sickle blade that emits a cold glint in the moonlight, held in the hand of a figure shrouded in a cloak and wearing a skull mask. The tip of the sickle is still dripping with the blood of the dead.

"You are—?" The voice of Trhvmn Ortenrosse remained unchanged as if he paid no mind to the injuries of his subordinate.

"Captain of the Chelon Canticle Brigade, code-named Death. My men have been under your care, White Wing Lord, no, Trhvmn Ortenrosse." 

Death flicked the sickle, shaking off the last drop of blood on the blade.

The missing captain suddenly appeared, but instead of boosting the morale of his men, he only made them anxious.

It turns out that the officers had already prepared for the worst when the Brigade was withdrawing. However, they had no intention of waiting for their demise. They wanted to leave behind a seed, a glimmer of hope. The one they had chosen as the final hope was the captain, Death, who was the strongest in the team and also possessed a unique method of concealing his presence.

To buy time for the captain, the dispersed team members regrouped to divert the Ortenrosse's attention. But the captain, whose life they had sacrificed to protect, not only did not leave but returned to this most dangerous place.

"Captain!"

"Shut up, all of you!"

Shinjii, now in the guise of the grim reaper, brutally interrupted his men's shouts.

"I'm your captain, and what I say goes. Now, all of you, right turn and get out of here, back to the base."

"Captain, you—"

"No more talking, get the hell out of here right now, or I'll have you court-martialed for insubordination."

Abandoning his subordinates and escaping alone was never an option for Shinjii.

The White Wing Lord was indeed powerful, but Shinjii, who had many trump cards, was no slouch either. Determined to end Scathach's immortality, Shinjii did not want to be daunted before the battle even began. More importantly, after months of working together, he had developed a deep bond with this Brigade, and he couldn't bear to let them die for him.

So, it was not the team members who were staying behind to cover for their captain, but the captain who was staying behind to cover for his team!

"You're not going anywhere, not a single one of you!"

Seeing the Brigade members displaying heartfelt camaraderie, ignoring him, Ortenrosse snorted coldly, enveloping himself in pure white light and charging towards the Brigade's vice-captain, Chariot, at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye.

A golden light, more dazzling and majestic than the pure white, tore through the night sky, and with a deafening roar, struck the center of the white light, changing its course just before it rammed into Chariot.

"I said they can leave, and they will!"

Proclaiming this with pride, Shinji, bathed in the solemn golden light, stood in front of the Chelon Canticle Brigade, replacing Chariot.

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