A vista full of gore was enough to stagger any onlooker, but for a Fiend… it was an experience much greater.
The endless streams of blood stirred something frenetic from the depths of their being — a bloodlust, where an enemy was a gratuitous presence, unneeded perhaps, but noted if present. That kind of bloodlust grew frighteningly impartial, soon becoming strong enough to where there was no bias toward allies.
A true Fiend was an ally to none, a weapon liable to turn against you. They were condemned to burn bridges. Eventually, a Fiend would even turn on itself, devouring its sense of identity for power.
However, Kieran had not lost his mind and likely would not lose it.
Not because his mind was too strong, but because the powers he wielded aimed to negate each other. The obsession of a Blood Fiend desired to seethe with frenzied vigor, whereas the mysticism he chased sought balance, truth, and tranquility.
