Vampire: World of Blood-Chapter 98: Monster

As the bitter smoke cleared, showing the desolate battlefield, Zakcry stood in the wake of complete devastation. The world around him was a ruined and desolate landscape; a large part of this black sea that held his weapon was erased from existence, leaving behind a massive scar on his kingdom.

The air was thick with fragments of annihilated matter, and a heavy hush descended on the scene as if the world itself recoiled in terror at what had happened.

Everything that Zakcry’s deadly weapon, Oblivion, had struck had been reduced to the concept of zero—erased from existence—and disappeared with no trace. Oblivion’s power was so great that it obliterated not just reality but even the fabric of imaginary space.

Concepts and even the essence of life were not spared; the blade natrual flames were infused with negative energy, and as a result, destruction was the outcome.

Negative energy is one of the 34 known extant energies within the energy spectrum, which is a wheel of many energy types one can manipulate through practice and study. Of course, affinity plays a massive role in becoming an energy practitioner, as one needs to be compatible with a certain energy type if they even dream of cultivating and controlling their energy type to higher levels.

However, what Zakcry was doing was not the case; he himself was not manipulating negative energy at all, not one bit; Zakcry was incompatible with this energy type. Zakcry himself was a faith-energy practitioner.

Faith energy in and of itself is an energy that revolves around the concept of "worship." There are many things one can do with faith energy, but the first and passive attribute to being a practitioner of this energy type is the ability to gain a constant power boost through the collective belief of others.

In Zakcry’s instance, he was able to employ faith energy because his warriors, and most importantly, his trusted living bioweapons manufactured from his ichor, known as "Reward of the Hunted," basically worshipped him like some kind of god. And with his ability, he could make living biological weapons by transforming an opponent’s organ into a weapon.

Normally, this power only had the capacity to create a living weapon from the organ of the person he murdered, while giving the weapon 10% of the original stats and powers that person originally possessed.

If it was a third-party corpse and he attempted to construct a weapon from the body organs of someone he had not killed, he would be unable to do it. However, if someone gifted him an organ, he could use it to construct a weapon. However, before presenting the organ to him, the individual had to be the one who murdered said thing in the first place before gifting it to him, or the organ would just be useless.

In the beginning, Zakcry had to slay immensely powerful beings to harness their essence, extracting a mere 10% of their formidable power. This grim task was not undertaken alone; he did so alongside an elite cadre of powerful vampires, bound to him by an unbreakable pact. This pact ensured that every fallen foe on their blood-soaked battlefields would be returned to him, intact and ripe for his dark craft.

Fortuitously, his sire was none other than the King of Old Annwn, Arawn the Unspoken. Arawn, a legendary figure whispered about in the darkest corners of history, is widely revered as the progenitor of two of the most feared vampiric arts: the occult practice of Voodism and the soul-warping reincarnation techniques. These dark arts, woven through soul manipulation, have cemented Arawn’s place as a mythical architect of vampiric power.

Arawn embodies ancient power, a force that commands rightful fear and reverence. Among the first Azamite vampires to stride through Hellmora in the age of the gods, his presence is etched into the annals of dread. The true extent of Arawn’s powers remains shrouded in mystery, known only to the king and the other six progenitors.

Such was the terror he inspired that he forged an unbreakable pact with the seven great vampiric families, vowing never to unleash his formidable abilities upon them. Or so the legend goes. Within the vampire community, Arawn’s name is spoken in hushed tones, a symbol of unrivaled fear, especially in the Azamite community.

The man before Merciless, his presence radiating sheer menace, was none other than the wielder of Oblivion, now settling from its lethal fury. This living sword is the crown jewel of his arsenal, the most formidable melee weapon—a queen among his armaments. Complementing Oblivion is his Reduction Armor, a king weapon offering unparalleled defense. His weapon, Magma, stands as a knight, while the rest of his collection consists of Pawn-class tools, formidable yet overshadowed by these mighty instruments of destruction.

Oblivion herself was created from the spine of a skilled negative energy practitioner who had studied the technique for over 700 years. These individuals are referred to as high humans, and they are ordinary people who have transcended their humanity via the practice of cultivating an energy type. If this world had something resembling a Wuxia cultivator, these humans were as close as it got.

As such, Oblivion was a weapon capable of controlling and increasing negative energy to a deep degree, indicating an advanced class level of expertise overall. And now that his ichor had reached low level five, he was a high-class vampire, and his ichor power and physics evolved as he progressed up the vampire power hierarchy.

And this marked the fifth stage of his ichor. As a result, it could encompass a wide range of skills and uses; in Zakcry’s instance, what was once 10% is now 100%, implying that he can create the same amount of power when the person’s organ is changed into a weapon.

In Oblivion, he used an advanced technique of negative energy, which is an energy type derived from cardinal energy and deals with the complete extent of quantum and dimaginary physics. Negative energy is the energy that brings the concept of mathematical subtraction into reality.

As a result, the flames produced by Oblivion consume everything, annihilating them to the point that they approach the concept of zero.

Oblivion has a tremendous capacity, and depending on the capacity meter, she can unleash various degrees of destructive power.

So, when he attacked Merciless, he burned everything down to the concept of zero, leaving nothing in his wake.

"Even I am unsure if a Michelleian can come back from something like that."

Zakcry said it with an unsure look on his face.

However, at that moment, Oblivion speaks to her master in an urgent tone.

"Father!! Quickly dodge to the right now."

Zakcry, ever attuned to the precise intuition of his weapon, moved with a speed born of countless battles. In a fraction of a heartbeat, he darted to the right, his instincts honed to perfection. Barely a nanosecond later, before he could even process the motion, the impossible unfolded before his eyes.

What he witnessed was beyond any anticipation—a reality-defying moment that etched itself into his very being. The world seemed to hold its breath, and time itself felt like it had paused, emphasizing the sheer magnitude of the unexpected event.

As foretold, Zakcry’s swift dodge was immediately followed by an eerie stillness, as if the world itself had frozen in time. Amid this unnatural pause, a colossal wind blade materialized, hurtling toward him with unimaginable speed.

He barely evaded the attack, but not without consequence. Blood sprayed through the air as he glanced down to see his left arm severed, cleaved cleanly in half. The sheer force of the strike and the abrupt loss left him momentarily stunned, a testament to the relentless danger he faced. The scene was brutal, but it didn’t end there.

In that split second of near-fatal interaction with the attack, Zakcry felt a fleeting but intense fear. The moment he evaded the strike, his wound began to transform. His severed arm started to disintegrate into dust, the degradation spreading rapidly upward. The horrifying speed at which his limb crumbled sent a chill through him, as if the very essence of his being was under assault, threatening to unravel him completely.

"Oblivion!!"

’Im on it father.’

The flames of Oblivion erupt from the blade’s tip like a laser, and the attack from the sword itself quickly begins to reverse direction, moving upwards as the laser redirects back downward hitting Zakcry’s shoulder, and burning off the remainder of Zakcry’s arm, before the flames begin to fade. However, the rotting wound was adequately dealt with, leaving Zakcry with only one arm to work with.

But the danger was far from over. Something was profoundly wrong. The entire world, his own personal domain, was being dominated by an alien force. Such a shift could only be orchestrated by someone wielding power over space, time, and boundaries equal to his own. The air around him grew unnaturally cold, and frost began to creep across the battlefield. The temperature plummeted rapidly, and the atmosphere crackled with a palpable tension. An unseen adversary had entered the fray, matching his formidable abilities.

But right then and there, voices began to ring out from Zakcry’s mind.

’Father... im cold!’

’It hurts...it hurts ithurtsithurts!!..

’what happening, my power its getting weak... no its fr....

’Mia... mia... father Mia, she is not responding!!’

The voices of Zakcry’s children began to shout out to him, some puzzled, some in danger, and many scared at the unforeseen circumstances.

From the epicenter, where Merciless had braced to take the attack, a massive, swirling purple mist began to materialize. It froze the very concept of space and time around him, causing reality and fiction to blur and intertwine. The shift between dimensions was palpable, the boundary lines dissolving into a chaotic meld. Frozen spatial ripples spread outward, distorting the air with their icy grip. Amidst this surreal, chilling vortex, the ominous reflection of Crimson Dawn loomed in the background.

The purple mist began to shoot upward and form thicker clouds, aiming high into the sky. As a thick blanket of dark purple clouds began to cover the sky rapidly, a powerful and cold breeze began to surround the land. The very space between the boundaries of reality and fiction was frozen completely.

The cloud’s expansion rate was mind-boggling, far surpassing the speed of light. In a mere five seconds, it swelled to colossal proportions, reaching a diameter of 15 billion light-years—an expanse that dwarfed entire galaxies. This immense cloud, stretching across an almost inconceivable distance, seemed to defy the very laws of physics, leaving a vast ice age that stretched across billions of light years.

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At this time and moment, the concepts of time and space were frozen within reach of the ice clouds. As purple snow soon began to fall upon the world, and the moment it touched down, everything in its path began to slowly decay away.

Zakcry, who was wearing unique king-grade armor that mitigated all status effects by 90%, was partially immune to the time-stop world. As he observed, he got heavier, and his speed decreased significantly.

"Oblivion, how are you holding up?"

Zakcry remained cool and observed the event while checking on his daughter. He considers his weapons to be his beloved creations, similar to children.

’I’m well, but my power feels tougher to wield than normal for some reason.’

’I guess we are in the same boat.’

’What the hell even happened?’

Oblivion was perplexed by the current situation.

"To be honest with you I myself do not know, but it’s definitely him for sure."

And Zakcry was indeed right.

’Father, something is behind that thick mist that is clearing up.’

Oblivion said, and that was when they both saw it for the first time.

Zakcry’s body convulsed at the very sight of it.

Zakcry was correct. The heavy mist dissipated, revealing a tall, black figure. This strange blackness surrounded the beast, which was at least four meters tall, and seeped into its very existence. Its skin, which was already a deep, darkish color, darkened even more, absorbing ambient light and becoming a living silhouette against the frigid landscape.

Merciless stood changed; his wings, large and bat-like, spread out, throwing a shadow across the battlefield. Dark tendrils emerged from his flesh, twisting and writhing with life of their own, culminating in razor-sharp claws gleaming with a dark, blue radiance. His eyes burned with an intense, demonic light that pierced through the darkness, casting a deep, eerie blue glow.

The environment surrounding him became suffocating, and the frozen ocean cracked with the sheer power of the black energy emanating from his body. The very air appeared to pulse with a lethal electric charge, quivering around him.

He had a massive black horn that curved around him like a crown, and his body was clothed in black armor from head to toe, which appeared to be an upgraded version of his Chimera armor.

But, putting that aside, he was presently bursting with an amazing amount of power; previously, he felt tremendously powerful; nevertheless, it was as if he was in a different reality entirely from this one in his current form.

Merciless glances down at his claws, his speech garbled by the spooky echo as he goes along.

"So this is the power that is widely feared by all clans; damn, I could see why, clan Nosferatu are a pain in the ass to deal with."

’The first form boosts one’s overall power by three times, while the second form boosts that already-boosted multiplier by 30 times, bringing the total multiplier to 90. As a result, my final nosferatu form progresses from peak level 4 to mid-level 5. However, it is not permanent; I have less than five minutes to finish this battle, and I won’t be able to use it for another five hours.’