At the Research Institute's bar, Andralier's furious tirade still echoed in the air.
The patrons' faces twisted in subtle unease as they swirled their glasses. Behind the bar, the snake-like bartender calmly cleaned a glass, seemingly indifferent to the fiery accusations lighting up the Blood Moon Trial broadcast.
"That's some outrageous blame to place on us," a human Blood Saint said with a cold tone. "Mocking the Church's little lapdogs chasing their tails is one thing. But we've always kept to our research, staying out of politics and public opinion. Look around—every piece of technology in this society, from the machines that craft screws to the programming tools for virtual applications, stems from our decades—sometimes centuries—of hard work."
"We've never harmed anyone. We've tirelessly contributed to the advancement of the Blood Moon Nation. And because we live three times longer than ordinary people, our contributions outweigh theirs by threefold. Yet here they are, blaming us for the failures of their ruling class?"
"They think we're easy targets because we don't talk back?"
"Exactly!" another patron joined in, his Blood Eyes glowing faintly. "We have only two representatives in parliament—barely enough to make a dent compared to other races. We're practically a decorative 'presence.' No wonder they think we're pushovers!"
"It's high time we demanded more seats for Blood Saint representatives!"
"Andralier himself formed his own faction, abusing public power for personal gain, yet he has the gall to accuse us?"
"These political clowns don't know the meaning of integrity. Absolutely shameless!"
"Though…" someone interjected, hesitant, "…Fainanshe's proposal for the Combat League isn't half bad."
The room paused, and then the glowing red eyes of the Blood Saints shone even brighter.
"True, it's a fantastic concept for an entertainment industry."
"Especially if it's no-holds-barred combat. Let's allow cybernetic modifications and bio-enhancements—now that's real entertainment."
"Imagine team matches or battle royales—fight to the last man standing!"
"Or exotic matches where War Zone captures Abyssal creatures to pit against ordinary fighters. Let's see if they can survive!"
"There should also be a division for sorcerers. Maybe not Two-Wings, but One-Wing sorcerers battling to the death? Why not?"
"As part of the prize pool, the Institute could offer free treatment to contestants. So long as they're not dead, we'll ensure full recovery. In fact, I'd volunteer to be a League healer!"
"Pfft, you just want an excuse to conduct another Blood Embrace Ritual! Look at you—past your prime with no bloodline potential left. If the League needs medics, they'll choose newer Blood Saints, not fossils like you."
As the bar buzzed with excitement over combat league prospects, Lorens, a blue-scaled Blood Saint, kept his eyes on the trial's voting stats. Moments ago, Fainanshe had been neck and neck with Andralier, but now the ogre's votes had skyrocketed.
Lorens frowned.
While he vaguely agreed with some of Andralier's points, most felt more like shifting blame.
The Dragon's Lair board members spending stolen money on longevity treatments—was that the Institute's fault?
Fainanshe's mishandling of the 422 Incident—was that due to pressure from the Institute?
Even the yet-to-be-implemented Combat League—should the Institute bear the burden for a potential societal fallout?
Why?
Just because Blood Saints live longer and are more powerful, should they be morally blackmailed by these so-called "inferior races"?
It made no sense.
Lorens turned to the snake-like bartender. "Boss, do you think Andralier has a point?"
"Ssssss…" The bartender placed a glass on the counter and spoke leisurely. "From Andralier's perspective, his accusations against Fainanshe for pandering to the Blood Moon Clans hold merit."
The blue-scaled Blood Saint raised an eyebrow. "Then—"
"But," the bartender continued, "from your perspective, his accusations are pure scapegoating. The Blood Moon Clans are being blamed for things they didn't even do."
Lorens chuckled. "If both sides are right, then who's wrong?"
"No one," the bartender replied, turning toward the screen. "But perhaps the mayor will tell us."
"Male ogre, general education diploma, 24 years old. Enjoys eating Moonlight Sugar before bed, frequently stays up all night, and currently works in oil painting. Favorite food: sour cabbage 'La La Fat.' Habitually indulges in self-pleasure twice a day and is secretly in love with a female ogre. Despite witnessing her enter a hotel with another man three months ago, he clings to the hope of living together, believing his chances aren't gone…"
At first, Andralier listened in confusion. As Fainanshe continued, his expression turned to shock. He interrupted, "You—you went through a memory audit! How can you remember all this? You didn't erase your memories?"
Fainanshe smirked. "I don't trust memory auditors. I erase my memories myself. After passing audits, I restore anything vital—like information about my son."
Gasps rippled through the live audience. It was now painfully clear: Fainanshe was describing none other than his own son.
"Have you lost it, Mayor?" Manken blurted. "The Bloodline Prohibition Act is a supreme law, second only to the Blood Moon Constitution! Investigating one's offspring is a capital crime—punishable by life imprisonment or death. Even if you survive this trial, you'll spend the rest of your life in the depths of Shattered Lake Prison!"
To the others, this was a baffling act of self-destruction.
Many of them had secretly investigated their descendants before, but they always had their memories erased afterward. The risks were too great! Violating the Bloodline Prohibition Act was considered treason—a direct challenge to the Blood Moon Sovereign's authority.
"Indeed, I've broken the law," Fainanshe admitted with a sly smile. "Manken, since you graduated from law school, do you recall the law's significance? Care to explain?"
Perhaps out of shock or lingering respect for the mayor, Manken answered without hesitation. "The Bloodline Prohibition Act regulates reproduction, ensures equitable resource distribution, dismantles outdated family structures, and eliminates inheritance customs. It guarantees that every newborn equally benefits from societal resources, forming the legal foundation of 'equality among races and individuals.'"
Fainanshe nodded, feigning epiphany. "Equality among races and individuals—sounds noble, doesn't it? But can someone explain what it really means?"
"Discrimination based on appearance, race, gender, education, or employment is forbidden," Andralier interjected. "All individuals have the right to dignity and can report violations to the Criminal Discipline Office under the Racial Rights Act. Fainanshe, what's your point?"
The ogre's gaze sharpened, a manic glint in his eyes. "You know my point, Andralier. You've already foreseen it, but you're too afraid to say it. At most, you dare critique the Blood Moon Clans. But your courage ends there."
The audience fell into stunned silence. Criticizing the Blood Moon Clans wasn't bold enough? Did he mean to target… the Blood Moon Sovereign?
Even the other convicts recoiled. They'd prefer throwing themselves into Shattered Lake over hearing whatever madness Fainanshe was about to utter.
In the Criminal Discipline Office, the director swiped away a flurry of call notifications, grumbling, "All these interruptions while I'm trying to watch the show!"
Her haggard face lit up with rare enthusiasm. "Why can't these old fogeys appreciate such a good drama?"
She chuckled to herself. "Fainanshe, let's see how far you'll go."
"The Bloodline Prohibition Act severs all familial ties," Fainanshe began. "From cradle to grave, whether our lives are long or short, we're left without a single bond we can trust."
"It isolates us as individuals."
"The Racial Rights Act, on the surface, eliminates discrimination. But in truth, it fosters it. By forcing different races, genders, educations, and ages to coexist harmoniously, it breeds resentment. Discrimination doesn't vanish—it festers into something subtler, more insidious, more ruthless. It divides us, ensuring we can never unite."
"Andralier, you claimed the Blood Moon Sovereign keeps the Blood Saints confined to research and the Moon Shadows restricted to the Church for our protection."
"I disagree."
"By silencing the Blood Saints, pacifying the Moon Shadows, isolating individuals, and sowing division, the Sovereign hasn't created a society—it's built a livestock farm."
"Blood Moon Nation isn't a nation at all. It's a carefully curated pen for sheep, and we are its shepherd dogs."