Vampire: World of Blood-Chapter 178: Ascension III

Merciless floated, a disembodied will in an endless void. He wasn’t dreaming in the way he was accustomed to — no control, no manipulation. This was different. He was aware, but not fully. It was as though his consciousness drifted just beneath the surface, unable to rise. He knew this was a dream, but he couldn’t twist it to his will, not this time. Here, he was simply... present.

In the black expanse, several objects emerged from the darkness, looming yet distant. The first that caught his attention was a tree. A gnarled, twisted entity that pulsed with faint but primordial energy — Qlipoth, the representation of vampirism itself, but unlike any form he had encountered.

Merciless was aware of the power it held, for it was his. This tree wasn’t just any expression of vampirism; it was his vampirism. It beckoned him closer, though he had no body to respond with.

He was only will — a disembodied force. Yet, he felt a pull, his very essence being drawn to the tree. A voice, familiar yet distant, rang out, delicate and chilling. The voice of C2, the will he had chosen to govern his vampirism, whispered through the void.

"What do you desire?"

The tree asked, the voice resonating from its ancient flesh and malevolent-like bark, vibrating deep within the roots.

Merciless responded though it wasn’t a response born of conscious thought. It came from a deeper place, a raw, primal part of his concept of being itself. His mind and body, even in this dream, were mere vessels for the answer leaking from his very core.

"Glory."

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His words echoed into the darkness, unwavering and absolute.

The tree quivered slightly, its bark rippling as though it were alive, absorbing the power of his answer.

"What is glory?"

The tree asked.

Merciless reply, unfiltered and unrefined, came forth without hesitation.

"Glory is the right of victory."

He began, his voice strong and devoid of doubt.

"It is the power to defy all odds, to rise above even in the most despairing of circumstances. When hope fades, when it becomes clear that hope itself is a lie, glory stands as proof. Proof of strength, proof of triumph. The power to conquer through one’s own will, without reliance on the crutch of hope, and to stand victorious by effort alone."

The tree pulsed with light, faint threads of energy weaving through its twisted limbs. It seemed to react to his words, feeding on them, growing with each one.

"Selfish... ignorant!"

The tree remarked, though without reproach.

"Yet, it is this very selfishness, this desire, that pushes you to grow. Desire is power, the most ancient and pure of any other power for it is the answer to all things, the only answer born from selfishness. It is the force that shapes the world, bends reality."

The voice of the tree hummed with satisfaction, relishing the power behind Merciless’ desires.

"But tell me, if given this glory, what would you do with it?"

Merciless’ response was immediate, as though the answer had always been there, waiting for the question.

"I would take revenge."

He hissed, his voice dripping with venomous hatred. His hate was all-encompassing, a black storm raging within his being.

He continued, his words spilling out with raw emotion.

"I would impose my ideal upon the world, for my ideal is the only true one. Those who caused me pain — the gods, I would make them suffer. I hate them. I hate them with every fiber of my being. I want to drag them down from their thrones, to corrupt them, to see their worlds crumble beneath their feet. They would see my pain, feel it, and they would know it was because of me. They cursed me, damned me... and for that, they will fall."

The hatred that had long festered within Merciless surged forth, unbridled. His memories, vivid and sharp, replayed in his mind: the curse, the betrayal, the gods who had turned their back on his family which resulted in his suffering. Every drop of agony they had inflicted upon him would be returned tenfold.

For a moment, the void seemed to pulse with his fury. Even without a body, Merciless could feel the weight of his own rage. It was all-consuming, relentless, a black fire that burned brighter with every passing second.

The tree remained still, absorbing every word, every ounce of hatred. Then, it spoke again, its voice soft but filled with purpose and gratitude for the reply its master had given it.

"Good."

There was a sense of satisfaction in its tone.

"You, in your waking moments, gave me the name Qlipoth the word itself has no meaning for that is not its true name, inspired by the distorted legends of your world. But with your glory, we shall uncover the truth behind the myth that has been forgotten, and let it be reborn anew through our branches. The essence of the real tree is one twisted by the collective idea of Malevolence. Its power will one day be yours... in glory, we shall dominate."

The tree paused, its presence growing even more oppressive as its roots seemed to sink deeper into the void.

"There are others here waiting for further rebirth through correspondence. You will meet them, and in their presence, be raw in your desires. Be selfish in what you seek, for this is how you will rise. Now, enjoy this power, and prepare for what is to come."

With that final declaration, the tree’s voice faded, and Merciless felt something change. His will, his very being, felt stronger, more complete. In this black void, he wasn’t just a dreamer. He was becoming something more. Something far greater than he had ever imagined.

Yet he was still incomplete, he needed more.

Merciless drifted out of the domain of Qlipoth, the strange, pulsing tree of vampirism vanishing as quickly as it had called him in. It seemed that for now, the tree had fulfilled its purpose, sinking back into the sea of correspondence.

He could still feel its raw power, vague glory pulsating deep within him, simmering beneath the surface.

As Merciless looked around the dark expanse, the seven sources that had previously surrounded him were now gone. Or rather, Qlipoth was gone, as if her duty had been satisfied for the time being. Six others remained their presence faint yet undeniably there, pulsing with an ancient, dormant power.

But one source in particular stirred now, its call beckoning him, even if in a restrained manner. This one was different; familiar and yet quiet, as though hesitant to fully awaken. Its power felt suppressed, waiting for Merciless to reach a level of readiness that had yet to come.

Still, the call was undeniable.

His will carried him toward it, an unseen force drawing him closer. And when he finally stood before the source, a sensation unlike any other washed over him; gratitude, warmth, a connection that defied reason.

It was then that he saw it.

A massive snake, its body coiled and bound in chains of suffering. Its purple-and-black scales shimmered beneath the neon-blue light that surrounded it. The snake’s black sclera contrasted sharply with its piercing neon-blue eyes, which stared directly into his being.

Its enormous form was pinned by giant rods, driven deep into its flesh, restricting its every movement. And yet, despite its imprisonment, the snake exuded an aura of immense power and knowledge.

From the numerous wounds inflicted by the rods, its blood; a radiant neon-blue liquid leaked into the space around it, forming a containment field that held the creature in place.

The blood trickled down to nurture a smaller, golden snake swimming freely in a small pool beneath the giant serpent. This smaller creature moved with grace, unburdened by the suffering of its progenitor, basking in the flow of life that was gifted to it.

Merciless’ connection to the golden snake was immediate and absolute. It was a part of him — he could feel it as though the creature’s very existence was tied to his own. If it were to be harmed, he knew instinctively that he would suffer alongside it.

Before he could fully process this feeling, the great serpent spoke. Its voice was strange, both male and female, as though the words of many beings were layered upon each other. The sound was otherworldly, resonating deeply within his subconscious.

"So you have finally come... Heir?"

Merciless responded without hesitation, although his words seemed to rise from a place deep within, beyond his immediate understanding.

"Yes, mother... I seek that which lies inactive."

The snake’s eyes narrowed slightly, observing him, measuring his worth with a gaze. Its many voices blended into one, thick with both pride and sadness.

"Strong you are, child, but not ready. As extraordinary as your growth may be, the power of our blood demands more than strength alone. Ichormancy, the magic of our bloodline, is not merely something to wield; it requires insight, knowledge, and years of experience — exposure to the excess of the world. Your blood carries the potential of our lineage, but it will not awaken without the proper understanding."

The snake’s massive form trembled under the weight of the rods that pierced it, yet it showed no sign of pain. Its neon-blue blood continued to flow into the pool, nurturing the smaller snake below.

"The countless memories and experiences that swirl within you are not enough. It is not borrowed knowledge or strength that will awaken your true potential. My blood, our blood, only answers to you — and to you alone. Desire is the key, and desire cannot be taught. It can only be acquired through exposure to the world’s many temptations. To master Desire, you must first be a prisoner to your own cravings. Only by understanding what it is to want, and to want deeply, can you control it."

Merciless stayed there silently, unable to move, trapped by the weight of the snake’s truth. He knew that his path was far from complete, and though his strength was unparalleled, there were still many steps left to take.

He could not leave this place without further enlightenment, and the snake sensed this.

It sighed a deep, guttural sound that reverberated through the space.

"Very well... I cannot awaken the ichormancy in your blood, not yet. But I can guide you, help you develop further, push you toward the path of the Profane, so that one day, you may realize the true meaning of our bloodline power."

The snake’s gaze bore into him, demanding an answer.

"Tell me, child, what is the greatest sense of pleasure? To feel, to see, to taste, to hear, or to smell?"

Merciless thought carefully. To him, sight was paramount. Seeing was believing, seeing was understanding. More than feeling, more than hearing or tasting, it was sight that mattered most.

"I choose to see."

The serpent seemed pleased, its many voices once again harmonizing.

"And what do you wish to see?"

Merciless did not hesitate to answer, as he already knew what he wanted to see.

"I want to see the truth. The world, in all its fullness, without deceit or veil. I want to see the paths people walk, the desires that drive them, the sins they commit. I want to see everything rawest form."

The snake let out a soft hiss of approval.

"If given eyes, what shall you use them for? Simply to see? Or for something more?"

This time, Merciless paused. What was the true purpose of the vision he desired? Slowly, the answer came to him.

"I want to experience everything in raw detail. Not just to see, but to truly witness the essence of existence."

The snake was satisfied, its form shifting slightly within the neon-blue liquid.

"Good. The right choice was never about choosing one pleasure over another, but rather about understanding the core of your desire. With the power of sight, born from desire, you will begin to see the world as it truly is. But remember, the path of the Profane is one of indulgence, and only by walking this path can you wield the full power of our clan’s blood. Your journey has only just begun... be mindful of what you look at, for there are things out there that eyes alone were never meant to see... be careful... and be profane, and when you are ready we shall meet again when the time is right."

With that, Merciless felt the world around him begin to fade, the serpent’s voice drifting into the background as his consciousness was once again cast out.

Merciless once again found himself floating within the Sea of Correspondence, the void that had become so familiar yet remained shrouded in mystery. The snake-like source that had spoken of desire and vision had sunk back into the deep, its purpose fulfilled, for now, leaving behind five remaining sources.

Each pulsed with a different kind of power, an invitation that seemed to beckon him deeper into the fabric of his own origins.

This time, another source called out to him, a cave, vast and foreboding, with a power so immense that he could feel its influence even from afar. It was unlike anything he had felt before, a presence so overwhelming that it could likely kill him without even stepping beyond its threshold.

Yet, the source was not the entity within the cave itself. Rather, the cave acted as a doorway, a gateway to the immense being hiding within, a representation of their mysterious connection.

Compelled by the pull of this unseen force, Merciless moved toward the cave. His steps felt weightless, as though his mind were suspended between consciousness and oblivion. He was aware yet not aware, present yet distant.

Upon reaching the cave, a presence emerged, one he recognized almost immediately. The figure stepped out of the shadows with an air of familiarity, her appearance as striking as ever: Æthelthryth.

The first time he had encountered her here, he had been formless, unable to speak, his intentions and emotions the only means by which they had communicated. But this time was different. He could speak.

Æthelthryth’s sharp gaze immediately found him, and her lips curled into a smile, one hand on her hip.

"So, it seems you took my advice and fed on more of our kind."

She remarked, her voice laced with amusement.

But from amusement, then came confusion.

"But I sense something... strange. A fall from someone of the fifth lineage, not the first. Odd. You should be devouring the spawnlings of the first lineage to strengthen the bond between us, yet you consumed a fifth lineage and somehow increased our connection. How in the world did you do that?"

She asked, somehow Æthelthryth was now speaking properly, as if to accommodate Merciless.

She studied him closely, her ancient eyes narrowing as she considered the mystery.

"Ah, I see. You finally have a silhouette here. Last time you were... less complete."

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Merciless remained silent, but now, for the first time, he could speak if he wished. He knew Æthelthryth wasn’t truly part of the Sea of Correspondence; their bond was something else, a connection that neither of them yet fully understood.

Æthelthryth stepped closer, her curiosity piqued. She placed a hand on his chest, her fingers tracing patterns over his visible intangible form, just a dark mass with glowing neon blue and purple eyes, as if deciphering something hidden deep within him.

"Something... in your origin."

She muttered to herself. Her touch grew more deliberate, her eyes glowing as she tried to unravel the mystery.

Suddenly, something strange happened. The Sea of Correspondence seemed to reach out toward Æthelthryth, as though it recognized her presence. Merciless couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening, but he could hear their voices, Æthelthryth speaking in an ancient tongue, a language he only vaguely understood.

"...more power..."

"...on the verge of ascension..."

"...escape the blood of an unworthy king, for he has in concept but not by blood..."

Æthelthryth’s expression shifted from surprise to realization.

"I see."

She murmured, her gaze locking onto Merciless with newfound clarity.

"So I was right. You are indeed my mate... or at least, you will be."

A gleeful laugh escaped her lips, her voice full of both amusement and satisfaction.

She straightened herself, her demeanor becoming more serious.

"So, you need my help to complete your ascension to a level 5 vampire, hmm? A pity your mind isn’t entirely with you, but no matter. I’ll help guide you through the ritual of rebirth... correspondence seems to be forcing you to take, in order for you to complete your ascension."

Æthelthryth leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with intent.

"But first, I need to ask some questions, and you will answer, for in this state, your desires are as clear as day.... your every answer shapes the path of your rising power."

Her tone left no room for hesitation. She began her questioning, her voice piercing through the haze of his mind.

"What do you see yourself as? A king, a monster, a god, a devil, or a future spawn, or something else?"

Merciless didn’t know what to make of the question at first, but something deep within him stirred. The answer was already there, buried beneath layers of identity.

"A chimera."

he replied.

"The blight of many where purity is not affected. I am the all-in-one, an abomination in creation — or that is what I strive to be."

Æthelthryth smiled, clearly pleased with the answer.

"A fine answer. But there’s more."

She continued, her tone growing sharper.

"If given a crown... if offered a new path, free from one king but under another, without tyranny casting its shadow over you... what would you do with your position? And what would the world around mean and represent to you as a progenitor?"

This question was trickier, but once again, Merciless allowed his desires to guide his words.

"I would be better. Stronger. Crueler. Wiser. Selfish. The world would be my possession, and I would leave my mark on it. My creations would be free, but I would claim them as mine. Those who I deem special, I would demand their love without question, their loyalty unbreakable. If I were king, if I were progenitor, I would rule like a virus; a plague, a blissful sickness. Free, but never able to forget where that freedom originated."

Æthelthryth let out a dark, delighted laugh.

"Selfish desire upon selfish desire. My favorite. Very well, I’ve heard enough. I see now what you truly want."

Her gaze shifted as her power surged, and Merciless felt something deep within him change. His very origin began to shift, to reshape under her influence.

"Still a Michellian vampire you are."

She said.

"But only in name. You will retain all that you’ve devoured, just like I have. A bench eater, hmm? But now... you shall be reborn. Unlike Eos, who can only create lesser spawnling beings, the shift in power allows me to craft something of greater quality."

"While all others can only produce sixth-to-eight-generation spawnlings, I can create fifth-generation ones. From this point onward, I promote you to a fifth-generation spawnling.... for Eos created the vampires in distinction... then I shall now create the Morningstar Vampires."

"But keep in mind that I am different. The only beings that can surpass me now are the originators themselves, for I am a second-generation originator. Unfortunately, I cannot match their power, as that is the curse we purebloods bear. Embrace being a chimera; after all, impurity is the strongest and most liberating power of all."

She stepped back, her voice taking on a tone of finality.

Like the queen siring a new knight.

"Your true name shall be Merciless Minerva Morningstar. That last name once belonged to a powerful king of Hell. No longer, for his reincarnation is held by my hands. Your fantasy shall now undergo a major upgrade. To fully master it, you must take the throne of Pride that is currently vacant in Hell, take the trials under Lilith to complete my blessing."

Æthelthryth raised her hand, and Merciless felt his consciousness begin to detach from the domain once more.

"I now crown you, Merciless, my rightful chosen. The Arbiter of Depravity. The sinful judge."

With that, the cave began to fade, and Merciless once again was cast out, his mind drifting back into the Sea of Correspondence as Æthelthryth’s final words echoed in the back of his mind.

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