Vampire: World of Blood-Chapter 129: The Golden Warrior

As the golden Aristaeus launched a strong strike that knocked Guiltine back, Merciless raised his hand to the crimson sun above. He could feel the enormous force pulsating from the souls and substance it had absorbed, the power coursing through him like a drug. The experience was exhilarating, reminding him of the limitless possibilities that were within his grasp.

However, he had been having this feeling for a while and knew what it was, but he didn’t expect it to be so strong. Helena the Death Bed had a rare blood talent: soul nourishment. Helena before she was even a month old in the womb developed a very odd and unique mutation derived from her inherent Soul Manipulation by virtue of being a pure-blooded vampire.

But this mutation had more setbacks than benefits, especially as a child given the unique circumstances of it. She was born weak and feeble, now this should not have been the case, but as she matured, her parents found the reason for Helena’s unusual frailty.

Helena, unlike the average vampire, possessed a unique blood talent that radically redefined what a vampire was. She, unlike many vampires, had no desire for blood; in fact, blood made her sicker than anything else, and everything but the vampire’s sexual reproductive organs was naturally dead.

This pertains to all vampires; nevertheless, vampires ichor do beat or move in the chest at times, but this is because ichors are not alive in a sense; it is only the anamolous types 5 that are sentient from level one onward. Ichors do not create sentients or any resemblance of them until they reach their seventh stage, at which point being a great elder establishes itself as a unique law of existence within creation.

Aside from that, all ichor, with the exception of type 5, were thoughtless, therefore any passive effects were just unique characteristics rather than something being acted on. On the other hand, according to Jordan’s memories, vampires have no soul, and their brains, like all other organs in the body, are dead.

However, what keeps these organs alive, not in a physical sense, but in a conceptual sense, is vampirism. Vampires can manipulate their body parts, breathe, move, and even think, and use them normally like any other human if they want to because they are using vampirism subconsciously as a conduit to replicate these effects, which occur in reality as an established fact even when everything is dead.

The only ones that were physically alive, albeit conceptually, as a result of interaction with other organs were their reproductive organs. Vampires can have offspring in the same way as their race or species did previously.

For example, when a vampire becomes a vampire, their entire body breaks apart and rebuilds itself to a peak race condition, after which the ichor power itself is systemized to the power level of what each ichor is capable of, equalizing durability based on the three stages of each level.

In Helena’s case, her blood-to-soul ratio was fucked up, and blood became toxic to her, making drinking difficult; as a result, she found joy in human food, but even more pleasure in the concept of drawing souls into herself and soaking in their essence.

She does not consume souls but rather finds true nutrition and power in soaking the collective essence in the souls she collects. Although vampires do not require blood as nourishment, Helena was different; her very survival depended on it, and as a result, she had to kill to keep living because that blood talent came with a horrific flaw, but the payoff for such a flaw was worth it in the long run.

Because of her relentless killing and many occasions in which she would exterminate countless other races on other planets, committing mass genocides, she became a feared existence, as such she was given a public moniker early in her life, getting the nickname "Helena the Death Bed." Helena would die if she did not kill; killing became a lifeline, which quickly developed into an addiction because the reward she received for her talent was great.

The power of the Threshold she would call it.

Essentially, the more Helena absorbs the soul in the sense of collecting only, as she is empowered by that idea, the more power her ichors unlock. As you know, the more vampires drink blood, the stronger they become until they reach the next level of their ichor evolution.

Each Ichor evolution had a specific function and constraint, with limation becoming more reduced as their level increased and new skills became available in that level category. There is no way around this system, yet Helena was very different in this aspect.

Helena’s threshold came in two forms: a lesser accent and a greater accent. The lesser accent was basically the more she collected souls, there was a random chance that collection empowerment would peak beyond its limits similar to an orgasm, and bloom into something new, unlocking more application to her ichor without the need to evolve, which should be impossible.

This can go on indefinitely, and those applications are unlocked to the maximum of her current level limit, thus if Helena was at the beginning of level 4, the new application would be equal to that. The second is the threshold that allows her to proceed to the next level in accordance with regular evolution.

But here’s the catch: the blooming points themselves are random, with no set soul limit or quality limit; they just happen at random, but one thing was certain: the process of collecting souls and soaking in them was enjoyable, and doing so naturally increased random stats like strength, speed, and anything else related to physicality, albeit insignificantly. This physical benefit was better in the long run, rather than the short run.

As such, Merciless was experiencing the pleasure of collecting the enemy’s souls as well as the sensation of physically strengthening himself, but he did not experience a climax or a bloom point.

To be honest, this feeling was pleasant but annoying at the same time; it was similar to wanting to cum on a spiritual level but your spiritual lover was edging you, stopping you from experiencing that tremendous release.

But at this moment, his hunger for the soul of this new enemy hence he reacting to this being as such.

So, with that said, he looked at Guiltine and ordered him as follows.

"Go and kill that weird-looking golden Aristaeus for me would you."

Without saying or gesturing anything else Guiltine sprang fort into action once more.

Guiltine, undeterred by the setback, quickly regained his footing. His form shifted again, this time taking on a more beastly shape, with multiple limbs sprouting from his back. He lunged at the golden Aristaeus, his claws extending and dripping with aether, designed to cut through anything in their path. But once again, the golden Aristaeus countered, its armor glowing with a strange light that seemed to repel Guiltine’s attacks.

Guiltine’s claws scratched on the golden Aristaeus’ armor, causing sparks and a grating sound to reverberate throughout the cave. The golden Aristaeus moved with unsettling accuracy, dodging Guiltine’s punches with nearly easy ease. Every action Guiltine made was greeted with a counter, and every attempt to subdue the beast was met with unwavering defiance.

Guiltine snarled, his frustration growing as the golden Aristaeus continued to parry his attacks. His form rippled with frustration, shifting through various monstrous shapes in a desperate attempt to find a weakness in the enemy’s defenses. But each transformation seemed to only make the golden Aristaeus stronger, its armor adapting to counter every new form Guiltine took.

Merciless watched the conflict with a combination of fascination and mounting irritation. The golden Aristaeus was plainly no ordinary opponent; it was as if it was something that was specifically meant to oppose his Dampas, posing both an annoying and exhilarating task.

"I see, is it possible the queen has some type of genetic manipulation like myself, interesting so it’s basically two bio users going against each other in this regard."

Merciless said to himself as he continued to watch the battle unfold,

Guiltine’s monstrous form, now a massive jumble of limbs and razor-sharp claws, charged forward with fresh vengeance. He unleashed a barrage of assaults, his claws cutting through the air at lightning speed. But the golden Aristaeus remained undaunted, meeting each strike with a planned response, its golden sword cutting through Guiltine’s shields with lethal accuracy.

Blood splattered across the cavern floor as Guiltine staggered back, deep gashes marring his form. His breathing grew ragged, the strain of the battle taking its toll. The golden Aristaeus, sensing weakness, pressed its advantage, launching a relentless assault that pushed Guiltine further and further back.

Despite his great might, Guiltine struggled. The golden Aristaeus was not only matching him blow for blow but dominating him. Each hit from the creature’s golden blade shattered Guiltine’s body, ripping into his flesh and bone with merciless efficiency. The cavern echoed with the sound of clashing steel and guttural roars from a beast driven to its limits.

Guiltine’s vision blurred as the golden Aristaeus delivered a crushing blow, sending him crashing into the cavern wall. He slumped to the ground, his body trembling as he tried to push himself back up. The golden Aristaeus loomed over him, its blade raised for the final strike.

But before the blade could descend, Merciless raised his hand.

From the crimson sun above, a massive blood-red sword began to form, its blade dripping with a dark, viscous liquid that seemed to pulse with malevolent energy. The sword was enormous, its length stretching across the cavern, its presence casting an ominous shadow over the battlefield.

Merciless spoke in a cold, authoritative tone, injecting his blood with the laws he held like a maestro orchestrating an arrangement of doom.

"Let’s see how well you fair against the product of Grand Order."

Merciless said, as he began to think to himself, what he should add to this weapon that would be a conduit to express Jordan’s laws into reality as a physical effect.

’Hmm let’s see what laws I should use, how about the Law of Miasma, Law of Cellular Explosion, Law of Critical Damage, Law of Lava and Parasites—manifest, yeah let’s see what results this would bloom.’

The blood-red sword, now infused with the power of the laws, descended from the crimson sun, its blade slicing through the air with an unholy force. As it neared Guiltine, the sword began to glow with an intense, fiery light, the miasma swirling around it like a living entity.

Guiltine, sensing the power of the sword, pushed himself to his feet with a roar of defiance. The golden Aristaeus, momentarily distracted by the sudden appearance of the weapon, hesitated—a fatal mistake.

With a surge of energy, Guiltine lunged forward, catching the golden Aristaeus off guard. His claws, now glowing with aetheric energy, tore into the creature’s armor, finally finding purchase. The golden Aristaeus staggered back, its armor cracking under the force of Guiltine’s renewed assault.

The blood-red sword, now hovering above the battlefield, descended upon the golden Aristaeus with devastating force. The blade cut through the air with a deafening roar, its edge glowing with the combined power of the laws Merciless had infused into it.

The golden Aristaeus raised its blade in a desperate attempt to block the attack, but it was too late. The blood-red sword cleaved through the creature’s defenses, slicing through its golden armor as if it were paper. The miasma surrounding the sword seeped into the golden Aristaeus’s wounds, corroding its flesh and armor with a sickening hiss.

The Law of Cellular Explosion took hold, and the golden Aristaeus’s body began to convulse violently as its cells were torn apart from within. Blood and miasma sprayed across the cavern as the creature’s body erupted in a series of brutal explosions, each one more violent than the last.

Guiltine watched, his breathing heavy, as the golden Aristaeus’s form was reduced to a mangled, burning husk. The miasma continued to eat away at its remains, leaving nothing but a charred, smoking crater where the once-mighty creature had stood.

But the blood-red sword was not finished. The Law of Critical Damage, which had been lying in wait, activated with a vengeance. For every nine strikes Guiltine had landed, the sword now delivered a catastrophic blow, amplifying the damage tenfold. The golden Aristaeus’s body, already ravaged by the miasma and explosions, was torn apart even further, its very essence shattered by the relentless assault.

And then, as if to add insult to injury, the Law of Lava and Parasites activated. The ground beneath the golden Aristaeus cracked open, molten lava bubbling up to engulf the creature’s remains. From the lava, parasitic entities emerged, their writhing forms burrowing into the golden Aristaeus’s shattered body, consuming what little was left of it.

The battle was over, and Guiltine stood victorious although not really but his efforts were valiant nonetheless, though barely. His body was battered and bloodied, his form flickering as he struggled to maintain his monstrous shape. But the golden Aristaeus was no more, its remains nothing but ash and twisted metal.

Merciless lowered his hand, the blood-red sword dissolving back into the crimson sun above. He watched with satisfaction as the last of the golden Aristaeus was consumed by the lava and parasites, its existence erased from the world.

"Good! That should do it, the effects were far more potent than I realized."

Merciless said softly, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light.

"But if this is the work of the queen then I have aching feeling that this is only the beginning."

Guiltine, his body still trembling from the battle, turned to face Merciless. There was no need for words; the bond between master and creation was strong, and Guiltine knew what was expected of him.

The crimson sun above flared brightly, casting an ominous glow over the battlefield. And as the light bathed the cavern, Merciless could feel the surge of power from the souls and tad bits of the cellular matter he had absorbed.

The sensation was intoxicating.

"Hehehe... it appears that I was right. The soul of that golden Aristaeus was very strong, and soaking in its essence feels so good... but this is unusual. Why doesn’t this creator have any memory? If anything, it’s just pure blankness, like if it was intended for this exact moment, hehe... so this queen is actually more intelligent than I originally thought. It figured out I can access genetic memories, even the ability It has shown I cannot copy. Almost as if it took away in concept the moment I killed it."

"Hmmmm... how troublesome... this is something new, even for the likes of me... deleting genetic traits from afar, I never tried something like that before, and yet this queen is doing this like it was nothing."

"This is a clear distinction from what I am able to do with my biokensis indeed."

Merciless said to himself, that this was something he was experiencing for the first time, and for the first time, he had a genuine sense of unease.

So with a sight, he waved his hand forward and summoned the rest of his creations, their figure followed him, as he stayed silent in pure wonder. The battle was far from over, and there were still many enemies to be slain, and many souls to be harvested.

Merciless couldn’t help but smile as they marched deeper into the heart of this nest, which housed one of countless Primix Dimension inhabitants. The thrill of the hunt, the intoxicating pleasure of the souls, and the challenge of confronting adversaries who were designed to counter his every move—it was a nice feeling, to say the least.

"So this is that Michellian joy father was talking about ha? Not going to lie I kind of like it."

Merciless said as he continued to walk forward with his creation.

The golden Aristaeus was only the first of many. And with each victory, with each soul absorbed, Merciless knew that his power would only continue to grow, until he stood unrivaled, soon enough when he reached the peak in the far future he would be ready to go god hunt.

The carnage was far from over, and Merciless intended to revel in every moment of it.

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