Vampire: World of Blood

Merciless floated once again in the Sea of Correspondence, a void of endless nothingness, stretching in all directions with no horizon, no light, no hope.

Darkness was so profound that it felt as though the abyss itself was lost within itself. Out of the seven sources of power he had encountered, six had been countered.

Five had questioned him, forcing him to confront his desires, sins, and ambitions, while one offered him soul fragments to devour, and in there he found a small soul fragment that belonged to his old self.

Yet, one final source awaited.

One more power.

And then he saw it.

Familiar.

Comforting, even in its grotesque, terrifying form.

The malformed heart, his Ichor, pulsating with a blood-red glow, veined with a crimson aura that seemed to twist reality around it. Tendrils writhed, eyeballs blinked, and the heart seemed to twitch in anticipation.

Darwinism, his unique power.

It was the very essence of his vampiric abilities, the ichor itself is what makes all vampires unique, as such this was his uniqueness, the core of his power over biology. This organ, more monstrous and beautiful than ever, began to pull him in, drawing him toward its pulsating mass.

Merciless didn't resist. Why would he? This was his.

His source, his power, his evolution.

As he neared the heart, something strange happened.

The malformed organ… spoke. No, it wasn't truly speaking, not in the usual sense. The words were broken, fragmented.

But they were unmistakably his own voice.

His ichor, posses his voice, as it spoke out to him.

"What… is… Darwinism to you?"

Merciless cocked his head, a twisted smile curling on his lips. Oh, how delightfully absurd. His ichor was asking him questions now.

'How fun....

Merciless said to himself... his old personality mending into his new one, but the new one still took charge as the old personality belonging to Merciless was slowly merging with the current Merciless.

As such Merciless reply was straightforward.

"Ain't it a fucked spectrum of Biology good sir?"

He chuckled, his voice laced with chaotic mirth.

But his ichor responded back.

"Need... more... not... enough... too vague...

It said, causing Merciless to tilt his head, and nod in agreement; causing him to reply as such.

In that moment Merciless threw his head back and cackled into the infinite blackness, his laughter jagged and wild like shards of broken glass. The ichor's question hung in the air, gnawing at him, but he reveled in the chaos of the moment, his body twitching with manic energy.

"More detail?! Oh-ho-ho-ho, now we're getting greedy!"

His voice broke into a frenzied snicker, hands flailing theatrically.

"You want the juicy bits, huh?! My unfiltered response? Hmmmmmmmm!!... Aight! Fiiine, I'll indulge you."

He spun in place, arms flung out like a ragdoll, his voice bouncing in a singsong rhythm.

"Darwinism?! What does it mean to me? What the fuck does it even mean to anyone?! Pfft! Hah! It's a game, a bloody, stupid little game! Survival of the fittest? Nah, that's for the unimaginative! Survival of the one who can cheat the best!"

His voice rose and fell with chaotic glee, each word more unhinged than the last.

"Imagine, good sir, a battlefield, yeah? Blood, bones, broken dreams splattered everywhere—yummy, right? And then there's me."

He laughed, throwing his head back.

"Not just surviving! Oh no, that's boring! I'm devouring, absorbing, shapeshifting, taking in all the juicy bits, twisting them into something new! Heh, heh! I'm the fittest, but only 'cause I made the rules, rewrote the whole damn thing! Darwinism to me, you see, is that I am the whole bloody theory!"

"Life… and death."

He and death he said as he continued while spreading his arms wide in a mockery of philosophical reflection.

"One flows into the other then loops back again. Life is death and death, well, it's just life with a different coat of paint, isn't it?"

The ichor twitched as if considering his words, its chaotic energy matching his own.

It seemed… satisfied.

Or so Merciless thinks.

Then it asked another question.

"What… is… your… idea… of life?"

Ah, now this was more interesting.

Merciless's grin widened, eyes gleaming with that familiar, dangerous spark.

He cracked his knuckles as if preparing for a battle of wits.

"My idea of life? Now that is a good question if I do say so myself...

Merciless said, thinking a little harder about this one.

But his answer came nonetheless.

"Where to even start?...

He said and continued.

"Life is a beautiful, unholy mess!"

He gestured with a wave of his hand.

"It's a bloody, unfair joke, like someone took all the rules, threw 'em in a blender, and poured out it cup and give it to me, telling me to drink that shit, I may want it, but it doesn't mean I get to say what I can do with it! And you...you fleshy, blood-plump thing...you still think there's some sense to it all, don't you?"

He made a sweeping, exaggerated gesture to the void, his fingers twitching like a mad conductor orchestrating a symphony of nonsense.

"Look around! Do you see this? This vast, empty abyss of nothing? That's life! Wrapped up all neat and tidy in a fragile skin of order just waiting to burst open and spill its messy guts everywhere. Ah, it's delicious!"

His words did not make sense.

Or rather that was the point.

Life didn't make sense; in the end, we are all just here to suffer, might as well make existence as fun as possible while it still lasts of course.

He twirled around back to his ichor meeting its many eyes, laughing like a man who had lost the plot entirely.

"They tell you, don't they? They say life's fair, that everyone's got an equal shot at making something of themselves. Equality, pfft! What a steaming pile of bullshit! Some people get their cozy little castles and happy endings while the rest of us, well...we're rotting in the muck, aren't we? Rolling around in the filth like the universe's discarded toys...

He said that part with a little bit more seriousness than usual, with a sad expression.

"Isn't it grand?!"

Merciless stopped, tasting the bitter truth that dripped from his words like venom.

"But here's the punchline, good sir... life's a paradox! Both logical and completely insane! It's predictable in all the wrong ways, yet full of surprises—just when you think you've got it figured out bam! The world pulls the rug out from under you and leaves you in freefall! That's the fun of it!"

He leaned closer to the pulsing heart, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"At the end of the day, life is what we say it is. It only has meaning because we give it one; cause there was none to begin with. And me? Oh-ho, I've decided it's a game, that's how I cope with all the bad things around me! A delightful, chaotic game where the only rule is to win at any cost and believe me, I'm going to win, no matter how unfair this game called life is."

His words dripped with playful malice, every syllable a dare to the universe itself.

"And that is your question answered."

The ichor's malformed heart gave a single, slow pulse in response. No emotion, no judgment—just a quiet, unsettling acceptance. The tentacles surrounding it twitched like a beast waiting to strike, wrapping tighter, coiling with sinister intent. Then, with eerie calm, it posed its next question, pushing Merciless further into the abyss of his own chaotic philosophy.

"If… given… life… what… will… you… do… with it?"

The Ichor asked, prompting Merciless to respond.

"Men your quite the talker for an organ ain't yah."

"Answer... need... answer."

It said, to which Merciless replied.

"Yeah...yeah... I heard yah big buy... don't get your right ventricle into twist now will yah."

He said.

And continued.

"If given life I wish to become the ultimate life form. A being so biologically perfect, it becomes an impossibility. Something that defies every law of logic, something that transcends the very nature of existence!"

He clenched his fist, eyes gleaming with manic glee.

"I want to be more than a god, I want to be a monster, among monsters, or a concept so vague, it is impossible to comprehend with mere words or ideas. A creature so perfect it sends shivers down the spines of the divine! Oh, I'll evolve and evolve until even the gods look like pitiful children."

He said, pouring his heart out into that reply.

And the heart throbbed with an ominous rhythm, but again, it seemed to accept his response without fanfare. Then came the final question—a question that felt heavy with meaning. It seemed to ripple through the very fabric of the void itself.

"What… do… you… desire? To… live? To… die? Or… to… exist… with leverage… over… both... with limited but powerful extent?"

Merciless's grin faltered, just for a second, but his eyes darkened with savage determination. He could feel the gravity of this question. This wasn't just about power—it was about purpose.

The very core of his existence was being laid bare.

"To live?"

He repeated, his voice soft, contemplative for once.

"To die? Oh, how quaint. As if those choices are enough for someone like me. No, no, no…

His grin returned, more dangerous than ever.

"I choose revenge... hence fort I must live."

His voice dripped with venomous glee, his eyes wide and wild.

"Revenge on those gods who thought they could control my fate. Revenge on the universe that dares to put me in chains. To live or to die? What does it matter if neither can stop me? If I cannot die, what's stopping me from taking my revenge forever? I will live, not just to survive, but to destroy everything that stands in my way!"

He leaned closer to the pulsating heart.

His hand on its surface as if it were a pleading gesture.

"Revenge doesn't end until one of us is dead. And if I can't die, well… guess who's winning this little game?"

The ichor pulsed, stronger and more vibrant than ever.

Its chaotic, grotesque form seemed to ripple with new energy, its tentacles coiling tighter around itself as though it had absorbed every twisted desire Merciless had confessed.

"Then… live… and… devour."

With that final statement, the heart's tendrils shot out, wrapping themselves around Merciless, pulling him deeper into its core. The dark and crimson aura enveloped him, and as the ichor consumed him, he felt everything—his desires, his power, his revenge—merge with the very fabric of his being.

With this, Merciless evolution had begun, and so has his Ascension.

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