The most fatal thing was, he was a vampire!
Dark types were inherently weak against the purification effect of spiritual energy, which valued order. Murphy was in a situation akin to a hapless mouse being thrown into a vat of sulfuric acid.
He could only grit his teeth and endure, but the pain was too much to bear, his will insufficient to overcome his weakness.
Even though the Demon Sword beneath him -- filled with a demonic lust -- had grown weaker in its resistance, even letting out pitiful cries of mercy, Murphy's own consciousness had started to blur. His uninteresting but lengthy past life and his stimulating but short new life were alternating in front of him like a carousel of images.
A feeling of weakness, like a chain, nudged his will, as though drawing him towards the end of all life.
Death!
Death had never appeared so clearly in his mind before.
