Mana Exchange Through Blood
1250 Words
For the Empire, the role of a Consul was a symbol of immense power and battlefield dominance—an elite force designed specifically for waging war against non-human races. Their emergence had alleviated the Empire's dire situation. The Empire’s previous struggles stemmed from a simple issue: the lack of high-tier combat power capable of shifting the tides of battle.
The Empire had no shortage of mid-tier warriors, possessed a few top-tier individuals, and had an endless supply of lower-tier soldiers. However, a single ultimate warrior was not enough to alter the course of a war, and while mid-tier and low-tier forces formed the backbone of the army, there were situations where they simply could not shoulder the burden.
For monsters, however...
This profession, known as the Consul, was nothing short of a nightmare—a biological and existential threat, a terrifying entity that had turned the tides against them, forcing them into retreat.
At the heart of this terror stood its creator: Ira.
He was infamous not only for being the architect of the Consul profession but also because, even before becoming one himself, he had already been a harbinger of destruction on the battlefield.
While no monsters developed a general "Consul-phobia," those who had survived Ira's relentless slaughter carried something akin to "Ira-phobia"—a deep-seated trauma, akin to PTSD.
They had witnessed Ira rampaging like a god of death, systematically eradicating their comrades with ruthless efficiency. They had watched him absorb the mana of their fallen allies, turning it against them. They had stood frozen, as their fellow warriors—who had been laughing and strategizing with them moments ago—were melted into oblivion before their very eyes.
And some of that destruction had even been fueled by the mana of their own kin.
Then, Ira would vanish from the battlefield. The few monsters who survived would look around, only to realize that their entire squad—everyone they had fought alongside—was simply gone.
An unbearable emptiness, a void of terror, would settle upon them, urging the remaining monsters to flee like desperate, broken beasts.
For those who managed to survive without going insane, it was already a miracle.
"I’m sorry, but back then, I was still an enemy of the Demon Lord’s domain."
Ira spoke, offering a polite but distant apology.
After all, he had eradicated every last one of Senata’s kin that day. Even if it had been war, even if it had been inevitable—it was still an undeniable m******e.
"I know," Senata responded, shaking her head gently. "After that battle, I returned to the Demon Lord’s domain to report what had happened to the bloodline. And then..."
She paused.
"...the blood race defected."
Ira frowned slightly.
However...
"But the House of Abuniseia did not flee. I chose to remain in the Demon Lord’s domain as the last of my bloodline."
Before Ira could say anything, the vampire girl—Senata—continued. She took a sip of her tea and said, "Many other bloodlines chose to defect. Or rather... because they feared facing a Consul as an enemy, they sought a way to sever their ties with the Demon Lord’s domain at any time."
Senata looked at Ira, who seemed momentarily lost in thought. She sighed.
"Many monster races betrayed the Demon Lord’s domain out of fear. More often than not, that fear was directed specifically at you."
Hearing this, Ira couldn’t help but smirk.
"And yet, now that I’ve become a part of the Demon Lord’s domain, those who defected have ironically ended up as my enemies once again."
Senata chuckled at that realization. Feeling slightly more at ease, she nodded.
"It does seem that way… After that, I became the leader and head of the remaining blood race. But I will never forget that night."
A shadow flickered across Senata’s youthful face—both fear and remorse reflected in her eyes, as if she were reliving that crimson-drenched night.
"I hope you can forgive me..." she said quietly. "For not being able to treat you normally so soon."
In this regard, Senata had always admired Satania.
"I would never blame you for that," Ira said casually. "If anything, I should be the one apologizing."
With those words of courtesy exchanged, Ira decided it was time to move on to business. Clearing his throat, he got straight to the point:
"I came to ask about the tribute situation in the monster-controlled territories."
"Hmm..." Senata shifted into work mode, pushing aside her lingering anxieties. "Out of the seventy-four territories, only forty have confirmed that they will submit their tribute on time before the end of this quarter."
So, thirty-four territories had chosen not to pay tribute on time?
Ira was taken aback by such a massive number. He knew that if they wanted to make progress, they had to restore the Demon Lord’s authority—otherwise, Satania would only become a laughingstock of a ruler.
For now, though, this issue could wait.
"What about the defected Nagas and Merfolk?"
As soon as Ira posed the question, Senata seemed to understand his underlying concern. She absentmindedly played with the bat-shaped hairpin in her silver hair—a small, intricate ornament of black and red that contrasted beautifully against her pale locks.
"I see… This is about the ships, isn't it?"
Understanding his intent, Senata recalled the intelligence reports she had received from her subordinates and answered:
"After leaving the Demon Lord’s domain, they allied with the Gorgon territory."
"The Gorgons?"
Ira’s mind briefly wandered.
If I kill the Gorgon Queen, her mana would make an excellent addition to my Third Wing Pillar...
Realizing his thoughts were still wired for destruction, Ira quickly dismissed them. Monsters were no longer necessarily his enemies—they were now potential allies. He needed to start thinking differently.
"Then…" Ira began, but before he could finish, Senata had already anticipated his next question.
She continued:
"Fortunately—no, I mean, unfortunately—the Gorgon territory is not one of the forty territories still loyal to us."
That was unfortunate (fortunate), indeed…
Acquiring ships through normal means might be impossible now.
Ira sighed. With a wry smile, he nodded in acknowledgment and prepared to take his leave. But just as he turned, a thought crossed his mind.
He looked back at Senata and asked:
"If I remember correctly… the blood race needs human blood to survive. How are you acquiring it now?"
"Not human," Senata corrected him. "Non-monster blood."
She sighed, shaking her head.
"After our repeated defeats in war, we’ve been surviving on livestock blood—cows, sheep… To be honest, it’s disgusting."
She hesitated, then added:
"If possible, we would like to establish a trade for blood. Though, once transported, it would be..."
Senata abruptly stopped speaking.
Her crimson eyes widened.
Ira had casually pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing the pale skin of his neck.
Her throat bobbed.
Her irises darkened into a deep, intoxicating shade of red.
She struggled to suppress her hunger and stammered:
"I-Ira… sir?"
"Let’s exchange," Ira said. "I want some of your mana."
He had no need for two succubi's abilities—after all, their powers of seduction did not stack.
And thanks to his reckless overuse, not to mention the poor quality of the Giant Wasp's mana, it had shattered not long ago.
Senata did not respond with words.
Instead, her actions gave her answer.
- Writer
