Vampire: World of Blood-Chapter 111: Narrow Escape

Beyond the blistering red zone of the mansion dimension, Carlion struggled through the mansion dimension’s labyrinthine halls, his breathing ragged and his eyesight hazy. His once-proud stature was now damaged by serious injuries. His left eye, a gaping socket of raw flesh, bled freely, while his right arm was just a structure of torn meat. His garments were ripped and blood-soaked, a testament to the violent encounter he had just had.

"GHWhhaaa...fuck.... what the hell kind of monster did I run into, how the hell was that able to bypass my inside outside?"

Carlion inquired, his remaining vision trying to keep focus; he was damaged, and strangely, as a Loviatar, his power should increase as he approached death; yet, something was badly wrong in this situation. Not only was he not recuperating, but he felt as if most of his physical prowess had been stripped.

His vision faded as he leaned against the cold mansion wall, leaving a blood streak where his body scraped against it. He clenched his teeth, repressing a cry of anguish, and pushed himself forward with sheer resolve. The exquisite tapestries and gilded mirrors reflected his damaged shape.

Carlion’s legs buckled beneath him, and he tumbled to the ground, the impact sending a new wave of pain and shock through his body. He lay there for a moment, his chest heaving, as the taste of iron filled his tongue.

He needed to rest, yet the mere concept seemed like capitulation. His mind raced as he dealt with the realities of his circumstances. He was weaker than ever, his body betraying him with each passing moment.

"What the hell is even going on, a vampire is supposed to have limitless stamina, and yet why do I feel so tired?"

Carlion asked himself and yet no answer was given to him in this instant.

He dragged himself forward, the friction from the floor pulling at his already ripped skin. His vision dimmed, and he fought to remain conscious, knowing that giving in to the darkness now would mean his death. He reached a corner of the corridor and propped himself up against the wall, his head drooping to the side as he struggled to remain conscious.

"Sigh! For now, I need... to rest...

He muttered, the words barely escaping his parched lips.

His remaining eye searched the hallway, taking in the huge chandeliers and faint footsteps. The area around him shook a little signaling that other battles were still happening around him in the distance. The mansion dimension, with its complex halls and countless chambers, provided little relief. However, that was all he had left.

But as Carlion lay there, he began to look up at the ceiling, he knew what needed to be done.

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"I should thank Eos above; I managed to escape, let alone survive, he hee... I need to tell the others about this. Ella and the others must understand the dangers of approaching that creature. But as I am now, I can’t even move properly heheh... sometimes I’m glad I’m a vampire, but it’s plain to me that I have no choice but to use that if I want to heal these injuries."

Carlion summoned the last of his strength and closed his remaining eye, focusing within. He could feel the souls he’d gathered over ages, a great pool of power waiting to be unleashed. His only hope was the vampiric racial power known as Soul Buying. He could use it to purchase or make anything in existence if he had enough souls to trade.

In this case, Carlion was using soul manipulation in an attempt to heal himself.

He began to imagine a power that could replenish him, heal his wounds, and reverse the damage. His creative mind envisioned the concept of a healing type of power called the Restoration Cocoon. It would be a healing sanctuary, capable of mending his broken body and curing all diseases, even removing inflictions of any kind. However, the cost was staggering—7,34,574,009 souls.

Desperation drove his determination. He had no other choice. He needed to recuperate, gather strength, and fight again. Carlion started the procedure by focusing on his will. His remaining eye flashed with an unearthly brightness as he channeled the souls within him, feeling their energy surge through him. The price was steep, but he had no other option.

"Restoration Cocoon!!"

He whispered, his voice barely audible.

The air around him shimmered, as a cocoon of ethereal golden light formed around his damaged body. As the cocoon hardened, Carlion felt a significant drain on his soul reserves. The power demanded a total of 7,324,574,009 souls, which he readily provided.

On the other hand, to save up on soul usage he placed a condition on it, which was that the cocoon could heal and restore one to maximum health, but needed a fair amount of souls in response to the injury and status effect it has to heal and undo, in this case, Carlion himself had to pay an additional 4,859,221 souls to heal himself.

He felt the souls being siphoned away, each one a spark of life vanishing into the void. The process was excruciating, yet he welcomed the pain. The cocoon grew brighter, pulsating with a soothing warmth that contrasted sharply with the cold dread of his injuries.

As the cocoon completed its formation, Carlion’s consciousness began to fade. The process would take five minutes, during which he would be completely vulnerable. But he trusted in the power he had bought, knowing it would restore him.

Inside the cocoon, healing began. His severed limb gradually began to regrow, sinew and bone joining together with supernatural precision. His left eye socket, which was previously a hollow vacuum, was filled with fresh tissue, restoring the damaged organ. Every gash and tear healed itself with almost miraculous delicacy.

The burning of souls persisted, each one feeding the regeneration process. The grief of their loss was eclipsed by the relief of his healing body. Carlion felt the strength return to his limbs and the vibrancy trickle back into his blood. He could feel the last effects of his injuries being reversed, as his body expelled the last traces of pain and weakness.

Minutes passed in a blur of light and warmth. The cocoon pulsed rhythmically, its glow a beacon of hope in the otherwise grim mansion dimension. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the light began to fade. The cocoon dissipated, leaving Carlion lying on the cold floor, his body whole once more.

He took a deep breath, feeling the air fill his restored lungs. The strength in his limbs was back, and his vision was clear through both eyes. The pain was gone, replaced by a renewed vigor. He had spent a grand total of 7,329,433,230 souls to heal himself of all injuries and inflictions, but the price had been worth it. He was ready for whatever lay ahead, his body and spirit restored.

Carlion stood, testing his newfound strength. He felt unstoppable, the force of the Restoration Cocoon still within him. He was aware that he needed to be cautious with his soul reserves, but he was prepared for the time being. He looked down the blood-stained corridor, determination burning in his eyes.

"That was a close call; for the time being, I should avoid any red zones I observe; that zone of scarlet crimson is plainly a domain within which it is absolute, quite an unfair match-up. But how was he able to bypass my Inside Outside?"

"I should be immune to all physical attacks, including mind and soul ones because my body exists outside an imaginary field, which means I can interact with things from the outside ie my imaginary field without leaving it. But things that operate under this spectrum of time shouldn’t be able to interact with me, so how did that monster bypass that."

Carlion asked himself, clearly puzzled by this turn of events. Nothing was adding up, as everything that monster did went against everything his ichor stood for.

Carlion stood in the dimly lighted hallway of the mansion dimension, his body healed but his mind still reeling from the last conflict. He had confronted an opponent whose strikes had gone beyond physical reality, attacking him on a deeper level than just minor physicality. He had never had an experience like this before, and it left him with more questions than answers.

He began replaying the battle in his mind, attempting to figure out how his opponent had managed to get past his defenses so easily. Each strike appeared to defy the rules of physics, hitting him with a force that felt more like an idea than a physical punch. The blood manipulation, in particular, had been impossible to avoid. No matter how he moved, the red tendrils reached him, their touch as unavoidable as fate.

Carlion’s brow furrowed as he delved deeper into his thoughts. How had his opponent wielded such power? Was it a matter of sheer strength, or was there a deeper, more intricate mechanism at play? He considered the possibility that his enemy had harnessed some form of advanced alchemy base attack, or some kind of magical nature, drawing on forces beyond his comprehension. Or perhaps it was a unique ability ie a blood talent, one that defied conventional understanding.

As he pondered these possibilities, a familiar chime echoed in his mind. A system notification appeared before his vision, its text crisp and clear:

[Notice. Time remaining before the event comes to its conclusion: 3 minutes]

Carlion sighed, the weight of exhaustion settling on his shoulders. He knew that now was not the time to dwell on the hows and whys of his recent ordeal. The battle had been intense, and the last thirty minutes had pushed him to his limits. For now, he needed to focus on survival.

"I’ll think about it later, sigh!"

He muttered to himself, his voice barely audible in the empty corridor.

"For now, I just need to stay low and avoid any more trouble."

e scanned his surroundings, seeking a place to hide. The mansion dimension was a labyrinth of opulence and decay, with countless rooms and hidden passages. He moved cautiously, each step echoing softly in the grand hallway. His senses were on high alert, every sound and shadow scrutinized for potential threats.

Carlion found a small alcove, partially concealed behind a heavy velvet curtain. It offered a limited view of the hallway while providing enough cover to remain hidden. He slipped behind the curtain, crouching down and steadying his breath. The seconds ticked by slowly, each one a reminder of the fleeting time he had left.

His mind wandered back to the battle, despite his efforts to stay focused. He remembered the feeling of helplessness as the blood manipulation ensnared him, the way his opponent had seemed to anticipate his every move. It was as if he had been fighting an abstract force rather than a tangible foe. He couldn’t shake the sense that there was a deeper layer to the confrontation, one that he had yet to understand.

The system notification had given him a clear timeframe: three minutes. Three minutes to stay hidden, to avoid any further conflict. He clenched his fists, his determination renewed. He would survive this, and once it was over, he would unravel the mystery of his opponent’s power.

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