Drifting deeper into the endless void, Asuma's thoughts began to spiral. He saw flashes of the day his village was consumed by flames—the cries of the villagers, the suffocating heat, and the acrid stench of burning wood and flesh. The memories clawed at his mind, dragging him into a pit of despair.
Why did it have to be me? He thought, his body weightless in the void, his voice silenced by the oppressive darkness. Why did I survive when everyone else didn't?
Amid the silence, a voice pierced through.
"Brother…" it called, soft and familiar, tugging at his heart. It was the voice of Anami, his younger sister. But something about it felt wrong. Every instinct screamed that it wasn't her.
"Anami?" he murmured, his voice trembling.
"Brother…" the voice called again, closer this time. Its tone carried a disturbing sweetness, like honey masking poison.
Asuma's fists clenched, his anger rising. "You're not Anami!" he shouted into the void. "Stop using her voice, demon!"
The voice shifted, its tone turning more deranged. "Brother… have you forsaken me? Have you abandoned me? Why? Why? WHY?!"
The words reverberated through the void, growing louder and more frenzied with each repetition.
"Enough!" Asuma roared, his voice raw with fury and pain.
The voice grew softer, almost contemplative, as though it were musing aloud. "She was born from chaos but chose to love. She lived in an age where mercy was death. Wherever she went, mercy followed. No matter how many she helped… mercy followed. No matter how many begged… mercy followed.
"Soon, everything around her was consumed by mercy. They feared her. They detested her. They hated her. They loathed her… yet still, she chose to love them. A witch, they called her. A witch she was. A witch that mercy loved."
The cryptic words sent shivers through Asuma. Before he could process their meaning, the void began to shift, rippling like a disturbed pool of water.
From the darkness, a figure emerged.
She walked with an elegant, almost ethereal grace, her footsteps echoing as if upon an unseen surface. She wore a beautifully crafted black gown, adorned with intricate crosses stitched into the fabric. Her long, flowing black hair cascaded into the void behind her, endlessly merging with the shadows. Her face was obscured by a black mask, its design smooth and featureless, concealing whatever lay beneath.
Above her head floated a decayed black crown, the symbol of royalty long forgotten or forsaken. Her very presence exuded a chilling aura of power, mystery, and decay.
Asuma's body froze, paralyzed by her overwhelming presence. He could do nothing but watch as she approached, her movements deliberate and elegant.
"Who… are you?" he managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.
The woman didn't answer. Instead, she reached out with a pale, slender hand. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, her fingers caressing his cheek as though comforting a frightened child.
Asuma flinched, but his body refused to move. He could only stare into the void where her eyes should have been, hidden behind the mask.
"Boy born from chaos," she said, her voice melodic yet heavy with ancient sorrow. "Prince of darkness. Prince of Mercy. Take my power… take my soul… take my mercy."
In her hand, a black dagger materialized, its blade dripping with a thick, viscous fluid as dark as the void around them. The liquid hissed and steamed as it hit the unseen surface below, dissolving into nothingness. The dagger pulsed with an unnatural energy, its very presence radiating menace and inevitability.
Before Asuma could react, the woman drove the dagger into his chest with a swift, precise motion. The blade sank deep into his heart, and a searing pain erupted through his entire body.
He gasped, his eyes wide with shock. His hands trembled as they instinctively moved to the dagger, but he couldn't pull it out. The viscous black liquid began to seep from the wound, spreading through his veins like a creeping shadow.
Asuma's voice caught in his throat, his mind reeling. He stared at the woman, his gaze pleading for an answer, but she remained silent, her hand still gripping the dagger embedded in his chest.
The black liquid pulsed through his body in waves, each one stronger than the last. His vision began to blur, the void around him shifting and twisting as though it were alive. The woman's melodic voice echoed one final time, her tone soft yet filled with an ominous weight.
"Take my mercy… and with it, know the price of love."
On the surface of the village, the vampire stood motionless, her deranged eyes flickering with faint amusement as she surveyed the unconscious bodies of her challengers. The river of blood that had engulfed Vermis had vanished, leaving behind cracked, desiccated earth. The village itself was a hollow ruin, devoid of life. The villagers and even the Greko she had manipulated were gone, consumed by her magic as if they had never existed.
Her gaze lifted to the sky, her wide grin revealing sharp fangs. The red moon above bathed her in a sinister light, and her laughter echoed briefly before a sudden, brutal force interrupted her reverie.
An unknown figure appeared in a blur of speed, slamming into her with unrelenting rage. The impact hurled her across the remains of the village, crashing her through what little remained of a crumbling building.
"Shall I show you mercy?" a distorted voice asked.
The vampire's head snapped toward the source of the voice, her predatory grin fading as her eyes locked onto Asuma. His appearance had changed. A black crown, decayed and cracked, floated above his head, mirroring the one that women wore. His aura bled darkness, a thick, viscous energy that dripped from him like liquid shadows, pooling on the ground and corroding everything it touched. His sword burned with black flames, its rage so intense that the very earth beneath him melted into slag.
For a moment, the vampire's wide grin returned. "Amusing," she said, brushing herself off as she rose from the rubble.
Without hesitation, she charged at him, her dripping blood sword extending unnaturally, its jagged tendrils whipping toward Asuma with unbridled fury.
Asuma met her attack head-on, blocking her swing with his flame-infused blade. The clash of black flames and blood magic tore through the remains of the village, sending shockwaves that shattered walls and uprooted the earth.
Their strikes came in rapid succession, each blow aimed with deadly precision. Sparks of fire and crimson light illuminated the night as their weapons collided, the air vibrating with the sheer force of their strikes.
"You smell like the Witch," the vampire hissed, her eyes narrowing as she feinted a strike before aiming her blade at Asuma's neck.
"And you reek of blood," Asuma growled, parrying her attack and grabbing her arm in the same motion. With raw power, he slammed her into the ground, creating a small crater beneath her.
Hovering above her, Asuma aimed his blade at her heart, ready to deliver a finishing blow. But before he could strike, blood spikes erupted from the ground, piercing through his arm and leg. He roared in pain, slicing through the spikes with a desperate swing before retreating to recover.
The vampire didn't let up. She raised her sword high, her voice echoing through the village. "Blood Magic: Bloodless Slash!"
A massive wave of crimson energy surged toward Asuma, tearing through the ground as it advanced. He barely managed to block it, but the impact hurled him back like a ragdoll, the force tearing through his magic-infused armor and leaving him defenseless.
Asuma struggled to his feet, gasping for air. His body burned with exhaustion, and blood trickled from his wounds. The vampire grinned menacingly, sensing her opportunity as she closed the distance in a blur, her eyes alight with triumph.
This power I was given… it's fading, Asuma realized, his body trembling. I can't sustain a long fight. The least I can do is buy enough time to escape with Amira and Leon. But first, I need to slow her down.
Closing his eyes, Asuma concentrated, gathering every remaining ounce of his aura into his blade. The flames surrounding his sword grew darker, hotter, and more volatile. As the vampire lunged at him, her blade poised to strike, Asuma shouted, "Fire Magic: Black Flames!"
With a powerful swing, he unleashed a devastating arc of flames that consumed everything in its path. The vampire barely had time to react as the wave of fire engulfed her, obliterating the ground and the ruins in front of him. The intensity of the attack left the area scorched, smoke rising from the charred remains.
Asuma fell to his knees, gasping for breath. His body screamed in protest as he staggered toward Amira and Leon, who lay unconscious nearby. He hoisted them onto his shoulders, his movements sluggish but determined.
Dragging them through the village, Asuma made his way toward the forest at the edge of Vermis. Every step felt like an eternity, the weight of his friends and his injuries sapping his remaining strength. Blood dripped from a small slash wound that had pierced his armor, the pain sharp and unrelenting.
The black aura surrounding him began to dissipate, and the crown above his head cracked and shattered, falling away like dust. The power he had been granted was gone, leaving him vulnerable once more.
The forest was dense, its thick canopy casting eerie shadows that danced in the dim red light of the sky. Despite walking for hours, the crimson hue above remained unchanged, as though the vampire's reality-warping magic extended far beyond the village.
How far is the next village? Asuma wondered, his vision blurring as exhaustion threatened to overtake him. Will I even make it?
Every step grew heavier, and his breathing labored. Amira and Leon remained unconscious, their weight pressing down on him like an anchor. The gash in his side burned, the blood soaking through his torn armor.
The oppressive silence of the forest was broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the distant howl of wind.
As he collapsed near a fallen tree, he cast a glance toward the horizon, his vision hazy. The sky remained red, the bleeding moons casting their ominous light over the cursed land. Despite his best efforts, he was still trapped in the vampire's twisted reality.
Suddenly he heard encroaching footsteps.
Asuma's heart pounded in his chest as the footsteps grew louder, crunching the brittle leaves of the forest floor behind him. A cold sweat ran down his spine. He didn't want to turn, didn't want to confirm what his instincts already screamed at him—that she was still coming.
Is this it? He thought bitterly, his body trembling with exhaustion. I don't have the strength to fight her again. Another confrontation will mean my death.
Slowly, he forced himself to turn, bracing for the worst.
The vampiric woman emerged from the shadows, her once-deranged smile replaced by a calm, unreadable expression. Her body, still half-burned from Asuma's earlier attack, seemed to heal as she walked, the charred skin flaking away to reveal pale, unblemished flesh beneath. Her torn, bloodstained dress shifted and shimmered, transforming into a flowing red gown that clung to her like regal armor, its fabric gleaming faintly in the moonlight.
She stopped a few paces away, her piercing red eyes meeting his. "What are you?" she asked, her voice unnervingly even.
Asuma's throat felt dry. "Human," he managed to reply.
Her gaze didn't waver. "No human has ever faced my alter ego and survived."
The words struck a chord of confusion. Alter ego? Asuma thought, his mind racing. "What do you mean by 'alter ego'?" he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.
The woman tilted her head slightly, as though humoring his question. "The term speaks for itself. My body burns, and my mind loses itself when I lack blood. I become deranged, consumed by primal urges. That was what you fought. Yet somehow, you suppressed it." Her lips curled into the faintest of smirks. "No human has ever achieved such a feat."
Her sudden composure unnerved him even more than her earlier madness. The bloodthirsty monster from moments ago now spoke with poise and clarity, her tone eerily gentle.
"Who… who are you?" Asuma asked, gripping his broken sword for reassurance.
Her smile returned, this time tinged with amusement. "Does it matter, human? Surely, you will find out soon enough. Many know my name, though most fear to speak it aloud." She paused, her gaze flickering with intrigue. "Why don't you use that little trick of yours… What was it called? Envision?"
Skepticism warred with curiosity as Asuma activated the spell, his vision blurring before sharpening with supernatural clarity. His breath hitched as her rank, name, and title appeared before him.
His eyes widened in horror as he whispered, "Camellia… The Primordial Demon of Blood."
His trembling hands betrayed his shock. Camellia, one of the Seven Lords of Darkness, a being of 8-star rank, and a ruler of the demon continent of Noir. The weight of what they had faced—a being of near godlike power—crushed him.
Camellia smirked, clearly enjoying his reaction. "Did that frighten you, human?" she teased, stepping closer.
Asuma took an unsteady step back. "You're… one of the Seven Lords," he said, his voice trembling. "Why… Why would someone like you waste time here?"
Camellia's expression darkened momentarily. "I am her… and I am not her," she said cryptically. "You see, my 'alter ego' is a fragment of who I am, born from my thirst. But the part of me that stands before you now…" She let the sentence trail off, her tone shifting to one of cold calculation. "Let's just say I've taken an interest in you, human. Join me."
Her words hung in the air like a death sentence. Asuma's fists clenched, his fear giving way to anger. "Are you insane? Why would I ever take the hand of a Primordial Demon? You butchered that entire village and blamed it on your 'alter ego.' You think I'd forgive that?"
Camellia's eyes narrowed, her smirk fading into a steely glare. "It doesn't matter if you don't join me willingly," she said, her voice carrying an edge of menace. "Regardless, you will be mine."
Her gaze burned into him as she took another step forward. "Your magic… It was similar to that being, that monster who makes even the Seven Lords tremble. The one we dare not speak of. That power… I will never let it go. And you will never escape me."
Asuma tried to draw his broken sword, but before he could react, Camellia's hand shot out and gripped his wrist with inhuman strength.
"Let go, demon!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the forest. He struggled against her grip, but she was too powerful.
Her free hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his face with an almost tender motion. "Fear not, Prince of Mercy," she said, her voice soft yet chilling. "Your mind, body, and heart will soon belong to the Lord of Blood."
Her fangs gleamed in the red moonlight as she leaned forward and sank them into his neck.
A sharp, searing pain tore through Asuma's body as her fangs pierced his flesh. He gasped, his limbs flailing weakly as he tried to break free, but her grip was ironclad. He felt her dark magic flood his veins, a cold, invasive force that overwhelmed his senses. His vision blurred, his strength fading with every passing second.
As her blood magic coursed through him, his pupils began to glow a vivid red. A symbol of two stars with a horn hovering above it appeared in his irises, branding him with her mark.
Camellia withdrew her fangs, her lips stained with his blood. She smirked, satisfaction gleaming in her crimson eyes as Asuma collapsed to the ground, unconscious and trembling.
"I've found a new toy," she murmured, her voice dripping with delight. She glanced at him one last time before turning and disappearing into the thick shadows of the forest, her red gown trailing behind her like the ghost of a nightmare.
Far away, in the distant continent of Noir, six figures sat in their respective palaces, each one looking up at the sky. Despite the clear night above them, an unseen disturbance rippled through the air, drawing their attention.
One by one, they muttered the same ominous phrase:
"The Prince of Mercy has descended."