You’re guilty!

"What do you think about the vampires we hunt, Kay?" Artoria asked, her voice calm, yet carrying an undercurrent of curiosity.

Slaying the vampires had become an effortless task for them. These creatures were weak against holy attributes, making it far too easy for her to bring them to their knees with just a single slash of her holy sword, Caliburn.

One by one, they fell before her, their weaknesses exposed by the divine energy flowing through her blade.

However, she did not forget the commission her father had entrusted to her. Among the massacred vampires, she captured one alive, as ordered, for interrogation.

The others met their eternal damnation, their existence snuffed out without mercy.

Kay, her trusted brother, was the one assigned to the grim duty of interrogation.

His task was to extract every last bit of information from the vampires, while she and Gareth continued their relentless hunt, seeking out any surviving members of the coven.

Whenever they found another, they captured them and brought them to Kay, adding to his roster of unwilling informants.

Kay's responsibility was clear—if one vampire refused to confess or reveal their knowledge, another would be brought in, and then yet another, until their silence broke, and they spilled their secrets.

Artoria and Gareth watched as Kay, diligent as ever, scribbled down the experiences of the vampires one by one in his notes.

His expression remained impassive as he chronicled their stories, his pen moving swiftly across the parchment. Once finished, he approached Artoria, holding the notes out to her.

"You can see for yourself, Princess," Kay said, his tone formal and distant.

Artoria froze the moment she heard him address her with a title rather than the familiar name he used to call her. He had always called her "sister" before, but now, it was "Princess." Something in his demeanor had shifted.

She wanted to question him, to ask why he had suddenly changed the way he addressed her, but before she could speak, Kay had already turned and was walking away, leaving her with the unanswered question lingering in the air.

Perhaps sensing her unease, Gareth, who stood nearby, spoke softly.

"Well, it's not unexpected, sister. You've been formally acknowledged as royalty by our grandfather. As much as Kay is your brother, he's also your subordinate now, and his father was a knight who served under our grandfather. Their sense of nobility won't allow them to address you casually anymore."

"Is there no way to change that?" Artoria asked, her voice filled with reluctance.

She hadn't realized that such a minor shift in status could cause such a rift between her and her family.

The thought that they would now maintain this distance, addressing her with titles and honorifics rather than the close, familial tone of before, weighed heavily on her heart.

What would happen if she became king?

Would they grow even more distant, building walls of formality between them?

Why had Merlin never mentioned this?

As Artoria wrestled with these unsettling thoughts, Gareth, curious as ever, peeked at Kay's notes.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she scanned the pages.

"I never would have thought the lives of these vampires were so complex," Gareth exclaimed. "I always assumed they were just mindless monsters, driven solely by their lust for blood."

Without thinking, Artoria responded, "Isn't that exactly what they are?"

Gareth shook her head, her expression thoughtful. "No, it seems they're not. Take a look for yourself, sister. Their lives are far more intricate than we ever imagined."

To confirm Gareth's statement, Artoria dubiously scanned the notes before her, remaining silent for a moment.

"They are indeed pitiable beings, yet what they did afterward is no different from the actions of their captors."

Yes, the Dead Apostles, whom we or others commonly refer to as vampires, were actually nothing more than preserved food for the True Ancestors. They were forbidden from hunting humans or harming nature. Given their bloodthirsty impulses and destructive tendencies after being transformed into Dead Apostles, they were only allowed to drink the blood of their own kind. As for why these rules were established, well, no one truly knows. Perhaps Crimson Moon was simping so hard for Gaia that it made her create these restrictions for her own creations—beings that were supposed to be superior to humans.

Even the True Ancestors themselves often lost control when exposed to human blood, going berserk and ravenous for more. If they, the True Ancestors, could barely restrain themselves, how could the Dead Apostles hope to endure the same temptation?

Since the extinction of the True Ancestors, the situation has only worsened. With no one left to keep them in check, the Dead Apostles have become more unruly, free to hunt humans at will, earning them the infamous moniker of vampires.

With the True Ancestors dead and the enforcers of these rules gone, they now roam unchecked.

Thus, a combination of flaw creation and Simp Moon is the root cause of the bloodsucking impulse that plagues the Dead Apostles.

If they succumb to it, they are hunted down without mercy.

"Let's go to the grandfather, sister. We've already done what he asked of us," Gareth's urgent voice broke Artoria from her reverie.

She nodded grimly. "Yeah…"

Artoria didn't forget to bring the captured vampires back to the Capital, fully aware that her father would need them to face the guillotine for a public judgment.