“So?” Tobias’s pale face contrasted with his flaring gaze. “He’s meant to sell his products, not indulge in them. Look at me! I don’t eat this pig meat because I make it. A man must never consume what he creates; that’s for others. How can someone be so daring?” He turned to the task enforcer. “Stop! Dispose of that body. I can’t have a notary from the Pure White Ministry catching wind of murder in his presence. Even if he’s just a notary, those lot always travel with two or more ordinary or even advanced-class Sanguines... Pawns, I think they call them.”
The Task-Enforcer gritted his teeth and eyed the smiling Astrid. He picked up his iron-inlaid cane and, in a deep voice, commanded, “Get to work. Those who are done should go feed the live ones in the shed and also check on the Sanguine for its progress. Come back and report to me with the answer!” He then dragged Volker’s corpse and tossed it into the meat cauldron.
“Smash it!” he ordered.
The beastmen, their faces sunken and sad, dragged the ropes, raised the pillar, and let go.
Boom!
The flesh and bones were crushed under the weight of the cauldron. Blood and meat splattered everywhere. But on top of the cauldron’s edge, the leg of the beastman was still quivering.
He was still alive!
At least he had been before the cauldron smashed him to pieces. The beastmen bit down on their torn, flesh-covered lips but said nothing; they could only whimper.
This is the best they can do. Strength naturally equals freedom.
Karl left the wall and used his hands to adjust his tail, propping it slightly on his back.
He, along with a few other beastmen, including Astrid, left the cave after the flesh cultivator had gone.
He passed the remains of the young beastman and held back a sigh.
This damned world!
He stepped out through the narrow entrance of the mountain cave, the faint redness of the sunset seeping into the cave.
Outside, he was greeted by the sight of the red sky, where dust clouds mingled with ashen-colored ones.
The wind blew gently, pushing the falling crimson dust in varying sways. These were accompanied by the rays of white light that shone through the sky. These rays came from the white sun, which perched closer to the west as if waiting to sink into it. But although the sun was white, the swirling red clouds gave it a strange, conflicting hue. The world below was bathed in the dark redness of the sky, the white of the sun, and the blackness of the clouds.
Two white bird-like creatures with long tails flew across the sky, curling around each other like some kind of serpentine dance. They seemed free, yet also without responsibility.
Memories resurfaced. On a stormy, misty night, a man coughed blood, and with a pained expression, he said, “Build them utopia.”
Karl closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the memory to fade back into his mind.
The red-dusted cornfield spread out in vastness, seeming to encompass everything. From his vantage point, he could see the distant mountains—their peaks piercing the red dust clouds. He looked down at the switchbacks, the trail leading down the mountain and into the cornfields.
This was a scene he was used to. Every day for two years, he had seen it. And though he didn’t show it, he did hope to one day not see it... to gain his freedom.
He held back his sigh as he walked down the rocky road, deeply dusted by the falling redness.
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Lord Tobias huffed. As a Sanguine, his physical abilities were above that of the average human. However, he was still just an ordinary class, so the task of running down from the mountain still left him gasping for breath, his head drenched in sweat.
He looked ahead at his white stone mansion, now stained red in a sprinkled manner. The large spires on the roof stretched toward the crimson sky—the roof was different from the wooden ones found in commoners’ houses. His was made from elegant black tiles, fitting for a noble. It was, after all, his family’s estate, one that generations of lords had lived in.
Passing through the large cornfield that stretched out from below the mountain, he eventually made it to his mansion. Red dust gradually rained on it, on the field, and even in the far distance. He looked up at the sky; the vast swirling redness seemed to engulf everything, leaving only a few rays of the white sun to shine on the world. His coat was already getting stained by the falling red dust.
I’ll have the beastmen wash my clothes and the compound, he thought.
Behind him, his butler struggled to keep up, gasping and panting. The toll of running down the mountain was more taxing for a man his age.
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In front of the mansion, three abnormal horses stood. From afar, they seemed ordinary, but as Tobias approached, he could only marvel at the sheer size of the creatures.
They each stood far taller than an average man. Their legs were massive and muscular, with hooves the size of a baby’s head. These horses had stern gazes, like war-hungry monsters eager to charge forward. Tobias had only ever seen such eyes on desperate beastmen making a final act of defiance. But those were intelligent creatures. This was a horse.
“This is a high steed,” the old butler quickly informed his lord in a whisper.
High steeds! Created through a unique evolution? So these are the so-called art created by the Sanitarium. No wonder they look like abominations or the kind of horses one would imagine a giant riding. But whoever dares to ride these must be very brave. A real man, I must say. Tobias felt inclined to give rare praise to whoever was riding the horses. He couldn’t see the rider from the sheer height of the steeds, the piercing light of the white sun, and the risk of dust falling into his eyes.
Taking a few steps back, he got a clearer view.
Sitting on the backs of the high steeds were men in armor staring back at him. The figures were completely covered in a thick layer of specialized armor. The armor had two sets: one underneath that acted as a vest with sharp edges at the waist, and another over it, like a jacket, also with sharp edges. The entire being was encased in a silvery white suit. Below the waist, cloth hung down like flags, their edges embroidered with silvery rose patterns. The helmet had a triangular hole for the eyes, but what lay inside was simply deep blackness.
Tobias quivered, his eyes twitching. “White-Blooded Knights!”
One day, while leaving his manor to track down a merchant who had run off with his money, Tobias stumbled upon a scene where gang members were fighting. This was normal for the area. But then, out of nowhere, these monstrosities descended. He thought they were Sanguines, legionnaires, or maybe swordsmen from the Swordsmen Tower, or possibly even a free-blade. But the speed at which they moved, their brutality—it was maddening. Even as a low-ranking noble, Tobias knew they were in the special class, higher than advanced and ordinary, and just a step below desolation.
But that wasn’t what troubled him. It was what happened when one of the gang members—a Sanguine—managed to knock off one of the helmets. What he saw was nothing. No head, no neck, no anything. These creatures were hollow. They were all living metal. However, he did remember seeing a white liquid leaking from the corners of the knight when it was attacked. Perhaps this was why they were called White-Blooded?
“Mister?” A voice jolted Tobias back to reality.
On a high steed, a young man with grayish-black hair and uniquely gray eyes glanced at the flesh cultivator. The young man wore a gray-white suit with silver buttons lining the right side of his chest. The suit was stained with red dust, making it seem as though he had just come from a massacre. He climbed down from the horse with a jump. He carried a small bag on his arm and smiled as he saw the lord.
“Sir Notary,” Tobias greeted, bowing. His eyes partially locked on the White-Blooded Knights. He feared that the swords on their backs would suddenly descend upon him. But something about the situation felt off. Why would a notary travel with White-Blooded Knights? And two of them, at that! These creatures were the special evolution created by the Sovereign himself. So why? Or could they be men wearing shard armor instead? Even then, legionnaires belonged to the Sovereign.
“Call me Marcel.”
“All right, Sir Marcel,” Tobias said, raising his head. He noticed a small white dot on the side of the notary’s left eye.
A sign of a notary!
“Now, shall we go inside to discuss?” Marcel asked with a smile.
“Yes, of course.” Tobias nodded and took out his pocket watch. He stared at the cracked glass and whispered, “Check for any problems.”
Before he snapped the watch shut, a figure appeared on it, then vanished just as quickly. With that, Tobias relaxed and gestured toward the manor, his eyes shifting between the notary and the White-Blooded Knights.
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Emerging from a full-body mirror in a room that rippled like the surface of a lake, Anette, dressed in a midnight black dress cascading down to her ankles, stepped out. The dress had a high waistline cinched by a brown leather belt. Full sleeves enveloped her arms, with delicate buttons adorning the cuffs. Finally, a ruffled collar graced her neck, giving her an appearance reminiscent of the nuns found in the Dead Finality Temples. She stared out the window at the mountain that housed the pig farm, looming like a giant monolith, with red dust gradually falling like tiny rose petals. Her gaze was drawn to tiny figures trekking down the mountain.
One of them, a young boy with a rigid-furred tail, caught her interest. Even from such a distance, she could clearly see what she wanted.
“I hope he is well,” she said before turning her attention to the three high steeds in front of the mansion.
The two White-Blooded Knights sat silently on their horses, their gaze unreadable since they had no visible eyes. Anette frowned, her fair skin beginning to pale, turning white and gloomy. Her legs started to sink into the ground, like a person gradually drowning in the sea.
Her head soon followed, vanishing into the stone pavement.
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Lord Tobias frowned. He stood with his guest on a balcony that overlooked the cornfields, dust raining down from the dark and red-clouded skies. Some beastmen were already tending to the crops, watering and harvesting the grown ones, while others were packing up the dust. But because of the work they had done earlier at the pig farm, they moved sluggishly—but, of course, this was how these creatures lived. Filth that wasn’t even grateful for the chance to pay off the debt they owed for being born in humanity’s world.
Luckily, the task enforcer was present with his cane, which served as an adequate motivator for the peasant lot.
Tobias turned to Marcel, who was standing beside him on the balcony. “Why exactly did you come so early, Sir Marcel?”
The notary turned, the small white dot on his face more visible from this angle. “It’s a matter of how early I came. Nothing more.”
Liar. You think I don’t know you’re simply rushing to meet that whore Walter! Tobias nodded. “So, what about the contract? Did Mario accept the price of 10 pounds of meat for 100 ments?”
Smiling, Marcel replied, “There seems to be a mistake. I’m not actually here about your contract with Mario.”
“Then what?” Tobias became apprehensive. What was this notary daring to do?
“Nothing much, just an imperial decree from the Empire,” Marcel said with a smile, his tone flat as glass.
“What?!” Tobias exclaimed before quickly composing himself. This was an imperial decree from the Sovereign, the ruler of humanity. How dare he stand before such words!
He bent the knee and lowered his head.