Chapter 230
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Chapter 230: The Scarlet Moon
Centuries of time stretch endlessly.
The memories of the Scarlet Moon reach back six hundred years,
to when she was a young girl in the Kingdom of Dark Light,
the Eruo League, living in a modest village in the Principality of Puerto.
Her parents’ faces and the names of her childhood companions—
all these she has long since forgotten.
They were frail, devoid of magical talent,
members of the Bedell race, ranked at sequence seven,
the lowest among the three human hierarchies.
Sequence is everything.
The gods decreed these immutable rules:
the Bedell people are not slaves,
but their rank confines them to menial labor,
their lives restricted to their villages.
Without permission, they cannot wander,
nor enter the grand establishments of higher races.
Yet the Bedell people possess the power of prayer.
On Sundays, the Scarlet Moon’s heart would lighten.
Together with the villagers, she would kneel in the church,
lifting her voice to the magnificent Savior of Dark Light.
After prayers, the priests would hand out bread and fruit,
and during festivals, even candies and pastries.
For the Scarlet Moon, such moments were treasures,
her fondness for the village and her family growing ever deeper.
Life passed uneventfully, year after year,
until tragedy shattered her world.
Her parents succumbed to a rare, grotesque illness—
a curse, it seemed, draining their lifeblood
and wringing their bodies in agony.
Only the Scarlet Moon survived,
but the villagers now saw her as cursed.
No one dared drive her away;
the “divine decree” forbade such action.
But they turned their backs,
their silence a blade sharper than any word.
“Why…?”
She whispered in agony,
her love for the villagers met only with betrayal.
The bonds of the village were not family,
and family was all she had ever truly needed.
Hunger gripped her.
With no one to help, she awaited death.
But desperation pushed her beyond the village,
defying the gods’ laws,
into the forbidden world outside.
There, she saw it—a floating red stone.
The same stone that had appeared in her home
the day her parents died.
Hunger, grief, and rage consumed her,
and in a moment of madness, she devoured it.
What followed was chaos.
An unbearable hunger overtook her mind,
and when she awoke,
she stood in the midst of her village,
surrounded by blood.
Fear paralyzed her.
Without thinking, she fled,
running from the horror of what she had become.
Over time, she discovered the changes within her:
a growing strength,
a deep aversion to sunlight,
and an uncontrollable thirst for blood.
She realized the truth.
The stone had transformed her,
granting her power but also sealing her fate.
She kept herself hidden,
for the priests of the church had the power of judgment.
If her true name and form were ever revealed,
she would face divine punishment.
Fear became her constant companion.
To survive, she grew stronger,
training relentlessly,
until she mastered the power of the crimson stone.
A century later, she discovered she could create kin,
bestowing her blood upon others.
Her first creation was a girl,
orphaned and alone,
to whom she said:
“From now on, you must sever all ties with your past.
You are my family.”
Thus, the Scarlet Blood Clan was born.
Unlike other bloodlines,
her kin could endure sunlight,
though they despised it.
Their humanity remained intact,
and their desires were easier to control.
But her gift came at a cost.
Each year, she could create only one new kin.
As the source of all crimson blood,
her death would spell the end of her clan.
For centuries, she ruled her kin,
and they called her the Queen of the Scarlet Moon.
Yet even this power could not shield her from adversity.
Her clan was discovered by the church,
forced into the hierarchy at sequence five.
The pressures mounted—
conspiracies, betrayals,
and the relentless decay of her bloodline.
Her people dwindled,
until they teetered on the edge of extinction.
She made a choice.
She would lead her kin on a migration,
seeking refuge in a new land.
Suddenly, a voice echoed in her mind.
“Who?”
The Scarlet Moon stiffened.
She tried to move but found herself paralyzed.
Her centuries of existence had steeled her,
yet this unfamiliar force filled her with dread.
Her body moved against her will,
guided by an unseen hand.
It brought her to a banquet hall,
where her kin knelt in reverence.
“Great Queen,” they chanted.
“You are our ruler, our eternal savior.”
But the Scarlet Moon could not respond.
Her body, controlled by another,
walked silently past them and out the door.
Her mind raced.
“Do not harm them.
If you have business, take it out on me.”
She was led to a hidden realm,
a parallel dimension bustling with life.
There, she confronted the one controlling her:
a faceless being, its presence chilling.
Without warning, her hand struck,
shattering the creature into fragments.
Yet her body knelt,
a posture she had never before assumed.
“Mission accomplished,”
a cold voice echoed in her mind.
Then, it spoke again.
“I am the Savior.
From this day forth,
you shall be a member of the Babel Tower.”
