Before the Holy Emblem of Life, composed of wheat stalks, flowers, spring water, and a swaddled infant.
Cyril awkwardly performed the ritual gesture of the Church of Mother Earth, then "devoutly" thanked the Mother Goddess for her favor before casually dropping all 2 pounds and 13 soli in banknotes on him into the offering box ahead.
After finishing all that, he turned to the priest, whose towering frame remained imposing even while seated, and said somewhat nervously:
"If I said I only came to admire the radiance of the Mother Goddess, would you believe me?"
The tall half-giant priest looked at him without much expression, making it impossible to tell whether he was pleased, angry, or simply indifferent.
The two stared at each other for a while before Cyril sighed helplessly. "Fine. I'll compensate you for the damage to the cathedral."
"Also..."
He looked at the Vampire lying unconscious by the priest's feet, his eyes filled with speechlessness, anger, sympathy, and a hint of lament.
He felt that he had probably figured out this Vampire's identity. Although the fellow looked miserable now, a closer look revealed that he was rather handsome.
Black hair, red eyes, and disheveled strands that carried a fragile, broken quality beneath his bedraggled appearance. He looked around twenty-seven or twenty-eight, handsome with slightly feminine features, a high nose bridge, and thin lips.
With that face and that streak of bad luck, he had to be the future Mr. Moon of the Tarot Club.
Speaking of bad luck, Cyril felt he was pretty unlucky too. He had only gone out to digest his potion, yet he had run into a Vampire driven mad from going too long without blood—and the thing had fixated on chasing only him.
As his thoughts wandered, the half-giant priest handed him an empty bowl. Seeing Cyril's puzzled expression, the priest explained simply:
"He has fallen into a bloodthirsty state, which is why he went mad. If he cannot replenish his blood in time, he may lose control completely."
Cyril looked at the empty bowl before him and seemed to understand what the priest meant.
"So in the end, I still have to use my blood to feed him?"
The priest opposite him nodded gently. "The blood of a Beyonder, rich in spirituality, will work better. It won't take much—half a bowl will be enough."
"Consider it punishment for bringing a Vampire into the cathedral. Try not to be so reckless in the future."
"Besides, this is also one meaning of the Mother Goddess's radiance. Life is precious."
"When circumstances permit, it is our duty to save lives and sustain them."
Cyril said nothing more. Facing a priest who could swat a Vampire away like a fly, he felt he did not have much say in the matter.
Taking a deep breath, he accepted the empty bowl and placed it on the table before him. Then he picked up a sterilized knife and cut his wrist.
Warm blood immediately spilled out, soon filling nearly half the bowl.
Once he felt he had bled enough, he looked up at the priest. "Do you have a hemostatic potion?"
The priest nodded lightly and took out a bottle of blue-green potion from behind him. "Pour half over the wounds on your body and drink the other half."
"Mm..."
The miserable Vampire lying on the floor twitched his nose, and a weak, hoarse sound escaped his slightly parted lips.
Cyril glared at him in a foul mood. In the end, he still had not escaped the fate of being bled.
Still, the Church of Mother Earth was restricted in its missionary work in Loen. Though he had exposed his identity as a Beyonder before Father Utravsky, he had no ill intentions and had even shown interest in the Mother Goddess's faith. The priest probably would not do anything to him.
While he considered his future, Father Utravsky had already fed the half-bowl of blood to the Vampire on the ground.
Replenished with spiritual blood, the Vampire who had gone mad from thirst quickly woke up and regained his reason.
He propped himself up and looked around blankly, then lowered his head to touch the chest that was still throbbing with pain. Fragmented memories flashed through his mind, and he finally understood his current situation.
Before he could speak, Cyril spoke first. "Father, lock him in the basement. A bloodthirsty Vampire is far too dangerous."
"If he hadn't run into me this time, someone would definitely have come to harm..."
Before he could finish, the Vampire sitting on the ground cut him off. "Bastard! If I hadn't run into you and wasted time, how could I have lost control?"
Apparently realizing that this was not imposing enough, he forced his aching body upright. His dark red eyes glared furiously at Cyril.
"Also, I'm a Sanguine—a noble Sanguine!"
"I'll compensate you for the harm and losses I caused. At worst..."
Before he could finish, Cyril interrupted him. "300 pounds."
The red-eyed Vampire glared at him in disbelief. "Why don't you just rob me?"
Cyril folded his arms and looked back at him. "Isn't that what I'm doing?"
Vampire: "Bastard! You..."
Cyril interrupted him again. "Don't be so irritable. Know your place. You're an unaffiliated Beyonder, and now you're an unaffiliated Beyonder who's been caught. This is the cathedral of Mother Earth."
The Vampire's face alternated between red and white. He repeatedly seemed on the verge of speaking, but in the end, he only managed to force out one sentence:
"Don't you know it's rude to interrupt people?"
Cyril nodded noncommittally. "Can't you tell I'm doing it on purpose?"
Vampire: "Bastard!"
"You're quite polite. Even when you curse someone, you only know that one line."
Looking at the gritting Vampire, Cyril remarked thoughtfully—and then the Vampire turned crimson with rage.
"You damned bastard, I, I..."
Before he could finish, he was interrupted again, though this time it was Father Utravsky.
"Gentlemen, please restrain yourselves. This is the cathedral of the Mother Goddess."
Cyril looked at Father Utravsky, seated there like a small mountain, and apologized with utter sincerity.
"Sorry. I shouldn't have argued with a Vampire."
The Vampire beside him glared furiously, but constrained by Father Utravsky's authority, he could only mutter a weak retort in the end.
"You... remember this. I'm a Sanguine, a Sanguine!"
Cyril shrugged, suddenly losing the desire to tease this Vampire... It felt like bullying a child. There was no sense of accomplishment in it.
After a pause, he looked at Father Utravsky. "Father, may I leave now?"
Father Utravsky chuckled and nodded. "Of course. You have always been free."
"If you are truly interested in the Mother Goddess's radiance, you may find time to come here and listen to my sermons. Perhaps one day, you will truly come to understand the preciousness of life and the joy of harvest."
"I will." Cyril nodded gently, then solemnly bowed to thank him.
"Thank you again for your help. Otherwise, I might have been in danger tonight."
The priest nodded lightly. "I am the bishop here, as well as a priest. You may call me Father Utravsky."
Though he had already known, Cyril still nodded seriously before turning to leave the cathedral.
After he left, the unlucky Vampire cautiously shuffled two steps backward. Seeing no reaction from Father Utravsky, he immediately grew bolder. As he turned around, dense black mist spread from his back and formed a pair of illusory bat wings. Then he shot toward the cathedral doors at tremendous speed.
The next second, the cathedral's prayer hall was filled with pure, holy dawnlight. The illusory bat wings behind the Vampire dissolved into black smoke, and he lost his balance and fell to the floor.
Father Utravsky unhurriedly walked over and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, as casually as a farmer catching a chick beside him.
"That gentleman was right. A Vampire unable to control his condition is extremely dangerous to the ordinary people of this city."
"I... cough, cough... damned priest, let me go..."
"The Sanguine won't let you get away with this..."
Ignoring the helpless fury of the Vampire in his hand, Father Utravsky carried him toward the cathedral basement.
On the street outside Harvest Cathedral, Cyril felt that a large portion of his potion had been digested again and let out a long breath.
"Though it was dangerous, the gains were indeed quite good. If it happened one more time, my Apprentice potion would probably be completely digested."
"Uh... forget it. Sometimes, peacefully digesting a potion is pretty nice too."
"Is that so? It seems you aren't very satisfied with the gift I prepared for you. That really hurts my feelings."
The sudden voice interrupted Cyril's thoughts. When he turned his head, he saw a postman beneath a streetlamp not far away, carrying a messenger bag and wearing a Monocle over his right eye.
∑(°△°|||)︴
Holy shit, the Monocle monster! Save me!
"Ya..."
He had only uttered one syllable before his voice vanished.
Before you continue