Chapter 153: The Bastard Daughter of Baron Feller

A young girl led over a hundred people but was quickly surrounded. Though she displayed great bravery, her youth and lack of experience, coupled with her low rank among the Transcendents, left her vulnerable. She was pinned down by the opposing vampire knight, unable to break free.

As her comrades were struck down one after another, the girl’s twin vampiric rapiers flashed ever more desperately, her strikes filled with a frenzied determination.

The vampire knight, however, was unhurried. He sneered, saying, "Anastasia, you're still as reckless as ever, just like your mother. I'll send you to hell so you can reunite with her."

The girl’s eyes blazed with hatred. It was clear she shared a deep enmity with this vampire knight.

Dubin Alger, unable to stand by any longer, leapt forward, shouting, "Don’t worry! I’ll help you!"

But before he could assist, a South Seraph restorationist knight stepped in, blocking his path.

Charlot Mecklenburg’s rapid rise in rank was partly due to his numerous wartime achievements and partly thanks to his powerful backers.

Poor Dubin had the former but lacked the latter. Despite his accomplishments, he had not been promoted and could only hope Charlot would reward his subordinates after the war.

Having just ascended to the rank of Radiant Knight, Dubin’s improvement had been swift. However, as a mere first-rank knight, he faced a third-rank knight—an overwhelming disparity in strength. Were it not for Dubin’s highly refined swordsmanship, which helped level the playing field, he would likely have been defeated within ten moves.

The vampire knight glanced at Dubin with disdain, mockingly saying, "Another fool rushing to his death."

Charlot, pressing a hand to the ground, leapt lightly into the air. As he passed over Dubin, he casually swung his sword, slaying the South Seraph third-rank knight blocking Dubin’s path.

He then drew a silver rhino pistol and fired six shots in rapid succession, riddling the vampire knight with holes.

The unnamed vampire knight died with a face full of disbelief and resentment.

Each of those six shots was infused with spiritual energy, equivalent to a full-force strike from a Transcendent of the same rank as the bullet’s maker. Charlot hadn’t even used his anti-magic armor-piercing rounds, deeming the opponent unworthy of such costly ammunition.

Though Charlot’s marksmanship was mediocre by nature, he had been training extensively with the Mask of the Cat, studying the shooting techniques of Aubrey Tildon Atwood. While not yet a master, his skill had improved considerably. These six shots were fired from clever angles, catching the opponent off guard and achieving instant success.

Charlot’s dual victories over two Transcendents stunned everyone on the battlefield. He shouted, "Retreat quickly! Their Saint-rank will arrive soon—I’ll cover the rear!"

Whether the South Seraph restorationists had a Saint-rank heading their way, Charlot wasn’t certain. But by saying so, he ensured his allies would retreat without hesitation.

It was a simple battlefield trick he had learned over time: by exaggerating the severity of the situation, he eliminated any hesitation. That tiny moment of indecision could spell the difference between life and death in battle.

The girl, though wanting to press her attack—especially since the two enemy Transcendents in the camp were dead—reluctantly gave up after hearing Charlot’s warning. She led her troops out of combat.

Charlot and Dubin covered their retreat. Once the girl’s group had moved a safe distance away, Charlot launched a merciless counterattack, slaughtering the South Seraph restorationist forces that had surrounded him and Dubin.

This camp had only a few hundred troops, including the two slain Transcendents. The remaining ordinary soldiers stood no chance against a fighter as ferocious as Charlot.

Charlot had honed his swordsmanship through hundreds of duels in the Dreamcrafting Arts against Hughes, and his technique was now unrivaled.

Dubin watched as Charlot executed the Arsilo Swordsmanship with an elegance and swiftness that bordered on the supernatural, cutting down enemies as easily as carving chickens. A pang of dejection struck Dubin.

"If only I’d stayed in school," Dubin lamented silently. "I shouldn’t have let my temper get the better of me and fought with people. If I’d gone to university, maybe I wouldn’t be so far behind Mr. Mecklenburg now."

Dubin had never regretted his youthful impulsiveness—until this moment.

After scattering the enemy forces, Charlot used his Mind Channel ability to transport the camp’s supplies to Machubi. Then, accompanied by Dubin, he swiftly withdrew from the battlefield.

The two quickly caught up with the girl’s retreating group.

The girl performed an imperial salute, her face filled with gratitude. "Thank you both for your help. Without you, we would have been trapped by Carlon and suffered heavy losses."

Charlot asked casually, "Who is Carlon?"

The girl’s expression faltered. To her, the vampire knight was a terrifying enemy—a rising star in Byron’s military who had recently won several battles and whose strength she could not hope to match.

For Charlot to have so effortlessly killed such a fearsome opponent and then ask, "Who is Carlon?" left her momentarily speechless.

This single question reminded her of a particularly powerful senior she had once known—though it seemed Charlot did not recognize her.

Sensing he might have overplayed his hand, Charlot quickly changed the subject. "I am Charlot Mecklenburg, Chief Overseer of the Lukavaro District and Commander of the West Wind Knight Order. My journey to Mostar Castle was delayed due to dozens of skirmishes with Hughes’ forces along the way."

The girl’s eyes lit up with surprise. "So, it was you who reclaimed Silver Dove Castle?"

Her excitement dimmed slightly as she continued in a low voice, "I am Anastasia. You’ve probably heard my name before."

Charlot truly hadn’t. But Dubin, standing nearby, let out a low gasp. "The bastard daughter of Baron Feller?"

Charlot was about to ask, "Which bastard daughter?" but then recalled that Baron Feller’s bloodline had supposedly been eradicated by Lady Nancella.

A possibility occurred to him, and he asked, "Was your mother Lady Nancella?"

Anastasia’s eyes reddened, tears threatening to fall as she replied in a trembling voice, "Yes."

Charlot thought to himself, "This woman cannot be trusted."

Anastasia, choking back sobs, explained, "Lady Nancella didn’t believe my mother, thinking she was a spy sent by my father to lure their forces into a trap. She tortured her relentlessly...until she died!"

A strange heaviness settled over Charlot’s chest.

Though he despised Baron Feller for trusting women too easily, he couldn’t fault Lady Nancella, who had acted out of loyalty to her people and country.

Still, it was tragic to think of such a loyal woman being doubted by her own comrades and tortured to death.

He recited softly, "Do not lament the windswept dust; spring’s clarity will return in time. A gentle heart knows no peace; chaos arises in the stillest waters."

"This is a poem from the New Continent," Charlot said, offering it to Anastasia as a condolence. "I hope it brings you some comfort."

Anastasia didn’t understand the poem’s intricate phrasing, but her face lit up with awe. "I don’t quite understand it, but it sounds amazing. You truly are both scholarly and skilled in battle, Mr. Mecklenburg."

Charlot thought to himself, "She doesn’t understand a word, but that’s just as well."

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