Chapter 182: Crashing into the wall of reality
Kingdom of Mildelar (Elyndra), 9 years earlier.
“En garde, Constantine Serev! This time, I’m really going all out!” eighteen-year-old Zayn Thzraneel declares, leveling his saber at his sparring partner.
“You’ve been telling me you’d go all out for the past hour. Don’t you think it’s about time you actually did?” Constantine replies with an amused smile, casually spinning his massive war hammer between his index and middle finger as if it were nothing more than a pencil.
“Up until now, I was just fooling around. But this time, I’m seriously going all out! Here I come — get ready!”
Zayn bursts toward Constantine, crossing the entire training ground in the blink of an eye.
And yet, Constantine doesn’t flinch. He calmly answers every attack that comes his way.
He nimbly slips past the first slash, blocks the second with the shaft of his war hammer, then capitalizes on a tiny opening in Zayn’s guard and drives a crushing hammer blow into his ribs.
His rib cage cracks… then shatters beneath the devastating impact, sending Zayn flying. He bounces across the packed earth of the training ground again and again before finally coming to a stop.
A bloodcurdling scream tears from Zayn’s throat, followed by a torrent of blood.
But only moments later, his broken bones knit themselves back together, and he rises to his feet once more, his eyes burning with determination.
“I-I wasn’t serious before… but now… now I’m really going all out!”
Zayn is about to charge him once again when…
“That’s enough for today,” Constantine says, dismissing his war hammer. It dissolves back into blood, which spreads into a crimson pool beneath his feet.
“What do you mean, that’s enough? I barely even finished warming up!”
“I know. But like I told you, today’s the summit between the Crimson Requiem and the Generals of the Scarlet Army. As captain of the Crimson Requiem, I can’t exactly afford to be late. I still have another month before I leave for the operation on N’Raeth, so we’ll have plenty of time to continue your training.”
“What a pain… It’s not fair. How much longer do I have to wait before joining the Crimson Requiem? Months ago you told me it was only a matter of time, and yet nothing’s happened!”
“That’s one of the topics we’ll be discussing at today’s summit. One of the Crimson Requiem’s members is almost certain to be promoted to General, and you’re the leading candidate to take that person’s place.”
Constantine’s expression hardens.
“Be patient. And more importantly… watch your tone when you speak to me. You have tremendous potential, which is why I took it upon myself to train you personally. But that doesn’t make us friends, let alone equals. Address me with the respect I deserve… before I reconsider your nomination as the Crimson Requiem’s newest member.”
Zayn lowers his head in shame.
“You’re right, Constantine. I humbly beg your forgiveness for my arrogance.”
He barely has time to raise his head before immediately bowing again.
Constantine does the same.
“Queen Isabelle Valakys. General Levreeshka Dulcar,” they say in perfect unison, their voices filled with reverence.
The two women are approaching from the adjacent training ground. Both are covered in blood, their clothes torn to shreds after finishing a training session of their own.
Yet despite the respectful display, a spark of anger and envy burns in Zayn’s eyes as he stares at Levreeshka.
How the fuck did she become a General? This is fucking ridiculous…
She’s nothing but a goddamn nepotism hire! If she weren’t the wife of the Dulcar family’s patriarch and the Queen’s best friend, she’d be scrubbing barracks floors instead.
Only the truly strong deserve to hold positions of power in the Scarlet Army, and that recommended bitch isn’t one of them!
If she really were strong, she wouldn’t have to hide behind Platinum Death’s authority just to earn the obedience and respect of her own soldiers. And the worst part is that I have to obey her too, unless I feel like being court-martialed for insubordination.
Joining the Crimson Requiem is only the first step. As soon as I’m strong enough to become a General… I’ll never let worthless trash like her reach the top again.
Levreeshka’s gaze settles on Zayn, her expression warm with quiet satisfaction.
“Zayn Thzraneel, your dedication is truly admirable. Not a single day goes by without you pushing yourself through relentless training, and despite your young age, your efforts are already paying off,” Levreeshka says with a faint, approving smile. “I imagine Commander Constantine Serev has already spoken to you about it. At this point, only the official announcement remains. For all intents and purposes, you’re already part of the Crimson Requiem. So… congratulations, Zayn.”
“Your words honor me, General Levreeshka,” Zayn replies, forcing himself to sound as grateful as possible.
Tsk… as if someone like her could ever understand what it means to fight every single day for your goals…
“That said, I should go and prepare for the summit,” Levreeshka adds.
She then turns her gaze toward Constantine.
“You should do the same, Commander of the Crimson Requiem.”
“That was precisely what I was about to do, General Levreeshka.”
Constantine then turns to Isabelle.
“And what about you, Your Majesty? Aren’t you attending the summit?”
“Hell no. Handing Levreeshka the burden of being a General was my way of getting out of those boring meetings. I’m a woman of action, not of endless chatter,” she replies, flexing an arm to show off her muscles.
She then gives Zayn a heavy pat on the shoulder.
“Since this promising young man still wants to train, I’ll be more than happy to indulge him.”
“Y-You really mean it, Platinum Death? You’ll actually grant me the honor of training under you personally?” Zayn asks, almost stammering in disbelief.
Unlike his opinion of Levreeshka, Zayn holds Isabelle in the highest regard. Even he acknowledges her as the most powerful vampire alive.
Levreeshka and Constantine walk away, each heading to their own quarters to wash the blood from their bodies and change into their ceremonial armor — a light, symbolic suit of armor worn only during official occasions.
“Come on, Zayn. Show me the strength of the young man everyone calls the most promising of his generation!”
“Yes, Your Majesty! I won’t disappoint you!”
Saber in hand, Zayn charges straight at Isabelle, while she chooses to fight barehanded.
As Zayn’s blade comes crashing down, Isabelle casually deflects it with the palm of her hand before driving an open-handed strike straight into his stomach.
A sharp, excruciating pain tears through Zayn’s body.
His internal organs are crushed as a river of blood erupts from his mouth.
Collapsed on the ground and writhing in agony, he can’t even force himself back to his feet, despite the fact that his organs have already almost completely regenerated.
“Oh, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard,” Isabelle says with a laugh. “You know, I was sparring with Levreeshka just a minute ago, so I guess my hands are still a little too heavy.”
“T-This… is the kind of strength you use when training General Levreeshka…?”
“Well, you said it yourself, didn’t you? She’s a General, not some rookie. You can’t exactly hold back too much when you’re training a vampire of her caliber.”
Bullshit… I’m sure she’s only saying that to make Levreeshka look good. That weakling would’ve already been knocked out by a hit like that…
Then Isabelle gives Zayn a puzzled look.
“Still, this is strange… It’s been three months since I last trained you, and even though you work harder than anyone else, you don’t seem to have gotten much stronger. Is it possible you’ve already reached your limit?”
“My limit…?” Zayn repeats, a look of sheer terror spreading across his face. “N-No… I’m only eighteen. There’s no way I’ve already reached my peak…”
“And what does that have to do with anything? By the age of eighteen, a vampire’s body is already fully matured. That’s the only explanation for why your rate of improvement has plateaued.”
“That’s impossible… I’m sure I’m just doing something wrong! It’s probably because Constantine goes too easy on me! If you were the one training me, I’m sure I’d become much, much stronger than I am now!”
“It doesn’t work that way, Zayn. You don’t become infinitely stronger just by training with someone stronger than you. Every one of us has a physical limit we simply can’t surpass. Training hard doesn’t raise that limit — it only helps you reach it faster. That’s why, despite your age, your progress has become smaller and smaller. You’ve simply reached your maximum potential far earlier than most.”
At those words, Zayn drops to his knees.
The despair crushing his heart hurts more than any blow he has ever taken, and Isabelle can only watch him with sympathy.
“Don’t misunderstand me. You’re already exceptionally strong—otherwise you wouldn’t be on the verge of joining the Crimson Requiem. But don’t expect to become dramatically stronger than you already are. Instead of obsessing over raw power, focus on refining your combat technique and mastering your Sanguis energy. Those are the areas where you still have plenty of room to grow.”
“I’m sure you’re wrong. There has to be a way to grow stronger… even beyond your physical limits!”
“Hey, you insolent brat,” Isabelle replies with a snort. “Do you really think you know more about this than I do? If there were a way to become stronger than nature allows, don’t you think we would’ve found it by now? You’re hardly the first person to crash into the wall of reality. I struggled to accept that I couldn’t become any stronger myself… but that’s life. Some things simply can’t be changed.”
“I’m sorry, but I refuse to accept that. There has to be a way to become even stronger. And when I find it… I’m going to defeat even you and become the strongest vampire in the entire multiverse!”
A challenging smile spreads across Isabelle’s face.
“Well then… when you find that way, come and let me know.”