CHAPTER 56: 56 THE REAL ELIZA? (1/3)

After the two bishops left angrily, Herbert, thrown under the carriage, waited for a while before giving up.

Wait?

Wait until the flowers wilt, but there’s nothing worthwhile to wait for?

No more waiting!

After exchanging pleasantries with the good brothers of the Knight Order at the training ground, he was led back to the Monastery by Kaplan the Nun, who was waiting outside the training ground.

The nun had followed the Chief Judge to snag people, but she didn’t run off with him; rather, she stayed behind to wait for Herbert—clearly, she had something to say.

Sure enough, on the way back, she casually recounted to Herbert the encounter between Ivanka and the others in the interrogation room.

Herbert was initially curious, but halfway through, he waved his hand, indicating there was no need to continue.

Though they were dealing with their own people, an interrogation is an interrogation, which can’t be too lenient...

Especially in a world with healing divine skills, the horrifying degree of interrogation can rise by several notches.

The specifics were heartbreaking, simply unbearable for both men and women, and words couldn’t capture the misery.

Understanding the unsaid from the words, Herbert waved it away skillfully, indicating—it’s about enough! Let’s call it a day! After all, we’re all colleagues! I don’t mind...

There was also the aspect of not wanting to listen to more details, but mostly because he really didn’t care about those two people.

Whether they suffered or magically escaped interrogation, he didn’t care much.

After all, he bore no deep hatred; as long as he achieved his own goal, it was enough.

Let it go.

Let bygones be bygones.

Although Kaplan the Nun merely nodded and said nothing, Herbert felt her gaze on him had become a bit gentler.

Goodwill increased!

After returning to the Monastery, Herbert ignored everything else, catching up on the sleep he missed through the night and only waking at dinner time.

"Staying up for a day or two isn’t a problem, but if it goes on too long, sudden death is just waiting to happen..."

Herbert did not want to die young; there were still many things he hadn’t done in his life.

"I still need to increase my strength; with enough power, I wouldn’t need so much sleep."

After analyzing what abilities he had, Herbert understood that the current priority was to continue collecting materials from Monster Girls.

Compared to the grind of the Knight Order’s good brothers, the power gained through Demon Material was much faster and stronger.

Perhaps some might think that power gained this way is fake, not as substantial as power achieved through hard labor.

But to Herbert—it’s pointless overthinking.

With heavens so high above, why seek remote paths instead of close ones?

Since there’s already a shortcut available, why purposely take the longer route?

Is tormenting oneself amusing?

Masochist, are you? If so, add me on We— cough.

Herbert wouldn’t fret over such trivial matters; he never minded the source of power, so long as it was firmly within his grasp, that’s the best.

If he cared about things like that, he wouldn’t have chosen to side with Nenasha from the start, long before he was played by Harmonious God.

Since clarifying the current situation, after dinner, Herbert once again entered the Alien Race prison, mixing and consuming the Essence Blood he conned (on credit) from Eliza with his own blood.

Gulp.

After that, Herbert’s consciousness awoke within the father-daughter chase scene.

"Oh! Again, the first-person perspective of the victim."

How thrilling!

Since none of it was real, Herbert treated it with a drama-watching mindset, having experienced similar scenarios a few times before.

"Cluck cluck, what a show!"

Setting: Under the night sky, a chill castle filled with blood and corpses.

Characters: Father and daughter.

Conflict: Patricide.

The perpetrator was the weakling Vampire locked in the coffin, Eliza Fat, while the victim claimed to be Eliza’s father, let’s call him Prince Fat.

Though he knew of Eliza’s title as "Patricide," why she killed her father was something he could never grasp.

And now, it was clearly a good time to explore the mysteries!

Cheer up, Dear Old Dad, hang on a little longer, try to reveal more information!

Silently, Herbert cheered for Prince Fat, hoping he’d persist.

But sadly, the curtain call was approaching, and Prince Fat had truly reached a dead end.

Too weak, he no longer had the strength to mist or transform into another animal, relying only on his frail legs to run—his right leg was broken.

"Run? Where can you run to?" Eliza’s voice dripped with undisguised pleasure and mockery.

She didn’t chase vigorously; instead, she lingered in his shadow like a curse, savoring the ugly sight of her father’s desperate escape.

Like a beast toying with its prey, leisurely watching as he scurried in all directions.

"No, no no, you monster! I am your father! How can you... ah!"

After running for some time, Prince Fat stumbled and fell helplessly to the ground.

Thud.

He fell hard, struggling to rise and continue, but the person behind him had already lost interest.

"Alright, I’m a bit tired of watching you flee. Let’s end this."

Somewhat disinterestedly, Eliza stepped on Prince Fat’s back, her sharp heels piercing his body, puncturing a heart that had long stopped beating.

Shh—

"Ack!" Prince Fat coughed up black blood, enduring immense pain as he turned to look back, seeing only a mass of blood-tinged black mist.

She didn’t even care to reveal her true self before him.

"I am, your... father!" Prince Fat questioned why things turned out this way.

Where did it all go wrong?

His only response was a cold sneer from within the black mist.

"Heh! Father?"

Eliza mocked, "You think just by forcing blood to turn us into Vampires, there’s a blood bond between us?"

"Ridiculous!"

Prince Fat fell silent.

He knew very well how poor his relationships were with those children he gifted rebirth to.

In the end, he didn’t beg anymore, but with a deep voice, uttered a curse: "You’re guilty, forever burdened with patricide, never..."

And before his curse was complete, a streak of blood flashed, and his head left his neck, rolling on the ground.

"Sin? Hah."

"Everyone sins, including me, including you... we all sin."

"If I am guilty, let the gods punish me."

Finally, after Prince Fat’s head rolled several times, Herbert finally saw Eliza’s face.

Under the full moon, the silver-haired, blood-eyed maiden bathed in the clear moonlight, a slightly maniacal smile on her face, her blood-red cloak fluttering in the wind.

The most striking feature wasn’t anything else—except for her smile.

Madness.

Joy.

She savored the experience.

Eliza sneered, continually spewing blasphemous words:

"But they’re not fit!"

"No one has the right to punish me!!!"