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Chapter 10 - Chapter Ten: Shared Past

Deathly silence.

Tomblike, suffocating silence.

In the turbine fan room, only Rafe's breathing remained—rough from extreme shock and rage.

"...No."

A broken syllable emerged from his throat like a beast's lament.

"This can't be... this is forged... lies!"

He snatched the data pad from Elian's hands, those amber eyes boring into the cold text on screen as if to burn a hole through it.

"Pathfinder." That was his father's honorific within the tribe. Because he always saw farther than everyone else.

"The Great Lie." These words struck like a heavy hammer, shattering the entire world he had built over twenty years.

His life's pursuit, everything he had fought for, bled for, even risked his life against Elian for—the "revenge" that defined him—was nothing but a joke from beginning to end. A massive lie carefully woven by enemies to trap him inside.

His father hadn't died in conflict with vampires.

Quite the opposite—he had died trying to end that conflict, trying to ally with vampires to expose an older, darker conspiracy.

And he himself, the son who claimed to seek vengeance for his father, had been like a fool with blinded eyes, wielding hatred's blade to strike again and again at the very allies his father had tried to save.

This realization was sharper than any blade, more painful than any silver poison. It cut his pride, his honor, his entire reason for existence into fragments.

"AAAAHHHHH——!!!"

He let out a roar filled with infinite pain and regret, punching the turbine blade beside him with full force. The hard alloy was dented deeply, while his knuckles became bloody and mangled.

But he felt no physical pain.

How could bodily wounds compare to a soul being torn apart?

Elian watched him silently, neither stopping nor consoling him. He simply retrieved a roll of clean bandages from his coat. Because in some sense, he understood Rafe's feelings better than anyone.

Rafe's faith had collapsed.

And his... entire past had been completely overturned.

After a long silence, Rafe finally calmed down gradually. He leaned against the wall, drained of all strength. He raised his head, looking at Elian with extremely complex eyes filled with guilt, confusion, and pain.

"...I'm sorry."

These two words came with great difficulty. This wasn't just an apology for his previous rudeness and attacks, but repentance for ten years of mistaken, blood-deep hatred.

Elian shook his head.

"I'm not the one who should apologize," his voice regained some former composure, but beneath that calm lay anger deeper and more terrifying than Rafe's roar.

"We were both just puppets on strings."

He took back the data pad and began decrypting deeper files with focused attention. Rafe forced himself from his emotional collapse and moved closer.

Truth unfolded before them like a peeled onion, layer by bitter layer.

The data pad contained more records about Elian's "sire"—Caspian.

They saw a completely different "father" from Elian's memories.

Caspian wasn't the weary, cynical schemer he appeared to be. Quite the opposite—he was an extremely perceptive, intelligent seeker. Three centuries ago, he had already begun suspecting human manipulation behind the seemingly irreconcilable hatred between the two races.

He spent nearly a century secretly investigating, gathering evidence. He disguised himself as a prince indulging in pleasure to mislead all watching eyes.

And Elian, his most "beloved" "child," had been the most important pawn in his entire plan from the moment of his conversion—and the most innocent victim.

He instilled the coldest survival laws in Elian, teaching him not to trust any emotions, crafting him into a perfect "guardian" and "heir" who wouldn't be swayed by feelings. His staged "self-destruction" served two purposes: creating a diversion to move from light to shadow to fight the Knights, and giving Elian the most profound lesson—see how fragile and worthless emotions are. They only bring destruction.

He had protected his child in the cruelest way. And imprisoned him in place in the cruelest way.

"He knew the Knights' target was him," Elian said, looking at those records with no emotion in his voice. "He faked death to draw away enemies and protect... me."

The records about Rafe's father were even more detailed.

The data pad even contained several blurry surveillance videos shot from a distance.

In the footage, that tall, dignified middle-aged man full of leadership charisma was passionately explaining his ideals to his trusted followers.

"...Hatred cannot make our people stronger. It only consumes our lives and blinds our eyes!"

"...Our enemies were never those vampires living in darkness! But those conspirators hiding behind light, hoping to see us mutually destroy each other!"

"...I've found evidence. And I've found an ally who might be trustworthy. I must meet him. This is our only chance to end this 'Great Lie' that has lasted five hundred years!"

Watching the familiar yet strange figure in the video, seeing the never-extinguished flame of idealism and courage in his father's eyes, Rafe's eyes brimmed with tears.

He finally understood what his father's final look had meant.

That wasn't abandonment.

It was... the heavy hope of entrusting the tribe's entire future to him.

The truth was now clear.

The lies were shattered.

Elian and Rafe sat quietly in that cold, rust-scented darkness. Between them, all barriers, all hatred, all misunderstandings evaporated before this cruel yet heroic truth.

What remained was a deeper, more solid bond built on shared pain and destiny.

"My father..." Rafe's voice was hoarse. "Is he still alive?"

"Very likely," Elian's gaze fell on another file in the data pad. "Such an important 'trophy' wouldn't be easily killed by the Knights. They probably have him imprisoned somewhere as... some kind of sacrifice."

His finger opened the final file—the one with the highest encryption level, marked "Final Gospel."

After complex manipulations, the file opened.

It wasn't historical records or personnel files.

It was a detailed, horrifyingly precise... operational plan.

At the center of the blueprint was a magnificent, ancient Gothic building. Below it, marked in blood-red text, was its name:

"All Saints Cathedral."

The oldest, long-abandoned church in Crescent City. Legend said it was where all the city's underground energy lines (Ley Lines) converged.

The blueprint detailed every step of the ritual, every altar position, every guard deployment. And... the ritual's core.

At the cathedral's central altar, a human figure bound in chains was clearly drawn. Beside it: "Prime Sacrifice: Alpha Blood."

At the altar's four corners were four energy pedestals. One was marked: "Energy Key: The Moonstone."

The other three... bore three names Elian knew all too well. The eldest of Crescent City's three most ancient vampire families.

At the top of the plan, written in ancient text that was shocking to behold, was the entire operation's name:

"'The Great Severance' Ritual Final Execution Plan."

Time: Six days hence, under the blood moon's light.

Objective: Strip all supernatural beings in the city of their power, purify this sinful city, and welcome... the return of God.

All clues had connected.

The final battlefield was clearly laid before them.

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