Chapter 09: Fighting | Part 2

Internally, I celebrated what seemed like an easy victory, but an unsettling feeling nagged at me.

Something was amiss. Instead of crimson liquid gushing from his neck, it was empty. A sense of dread washed over me, though it was too late.

Vancha's entire body swelled up before exploding with a thunderous roar, hurling me high into the air.

"Arrgh!"

I tumbled backwards, my senses thrown into disarray. Simultaneously, a painful roar escaped my throat.

Following the explosion, that golden glow clung to my skin like lava leeches.

I felt it sear and mercilessly burn me. The pain intensified with each passing second, booming and scorching.

Glancing downwards, I discovered that where the energy had adhered, monstrous blisters had sprouted, oozing blackish blood and emanating the stench of singed flesh.

With a pained grunt, I attempted to tear away the remnants of clinging energy, only managing to tear more flesh apart.

Struggling to rise, I found myself unable to do so. Instead, I sank to my knees, gasping heavily. I had never endured such agony.

Through the haze of pain, a presence registered. Spitting blood, I looked up and was met with the sight of Vancha standing a few feet away. His body remained unscathed, not even a speck of dust on his clothes.

"Pathetic," he sneered, his eyes brimming with disdain as he gazed up at me. "You're nothing more than a worthless, pathetic maggot."

He approached me with deliberate steps. Before I could react, he seized my neck with one hand, effortlessly lifting me off the ground.

"You don't deserve a merciful death to end your suffering," he continued, his words fading as my vision blurred. "But first, I want to witness the terror in your eyes as you beg for mercy."

"I will never...give you that satisfaction, you son of a bitch."

He forcefully slammed me against the wall, the sound of my bones creaking drowned out by the intense pain coursing through my body.

Vancha laughed mockingly as he observed my struggle. In that moment, something snapped within my mind.

A primal instinct clouded my senses, and a burning thirst consumed my throat.

"Finally losing control?" He taunted, a grin spreading across his face as he prepared to throw me aside.

But I refused to give him the satisfaction. I clung to his arm with every ounce of strength I had. In that instant, my fingernails grew about three centimeters long and dug deep into his flesh.

Despite his relentless assault, I refused to release my grip. My eyes turned red in the darkness, my fangs elongating. With a roar from deep within my throat, I sank my teeth into his arm.

"You're insane!" he grimaced and conjured a sword made of energy to harm me.

His sword plunged into my chest, causing blood to gush out. However, I continued to absorb his life energy. It was repulsive, far from the euphoria I experienced when I first lost control and drank the delicious blood from that vial.

"You... Are you healing?" He asked in surprise, relentlessly thrusting his weapon through me, piercing all the way to my back. "What are you? Clearly, you're a vampire, but you should have perished from consuming my Inquisitor Pathway blood."

He struggled to push me away while talking about unknown concepts. He whipped out his sword and swung it to decapitate me. However, I swiftly evaded the strike, narrowly avoiding the blade.

The sword grazed my face, leaving a deep cut on my cheek, and sliced through my shoulders. Then, with a clean thrust, the sword blade pierced through my flesh and bone. My arms fell lifelessly to the ground.

"Why are you smiling?"

Indeed, a twisted smile adorned my bloodstained face. Despite the loss of my arm and the ceaseless flow of blood, along with sporadic eruptions of bloody blisters on my skin, I continued to smile, unsettling Vancha.

Never before had I derived such enjoyment from a fight. It wasn't solely due to the adrenaline rush of confronting my adversaries, but also the satisfaction of witnessing my enemy's desperation. Something within me was twisting my mind in an unusual direction.

I didn't offer a response. Taking advantage of his momentary imbalance, I seized him by the shoulder and sank my fangs into his neck. He growled as the energy surrounding his fists burned me.

Yet, as I drank his blood, I felt an uncomfortable tingling sensation, healing my wounds. I even sensed a faint mental connection forming.

In that moment, after consuming a certain amount of blood, a word surfaced in my mind.

—Mental Intrusion—

Along with that name, fragments of information emerged. It was an ability. I was taken aback, momentarily stunned, and Vancha certainly didn't miss the opportunity.

His body swelled and exploded, forcefully propelling me backwards.

Ignoring the flames devouring my skin, I observed him reappear several meters away. His face had turned paler, and he was panting irregularly. It seemed that utilizing that ability twice had taken its toll on him. Additionally, I had consumed a substantial amount of his blood.

Licking my lips, a smile crept across my face. Seizing the momentary calm, I spoke softly.

"Hey, Vancha, you want to know what's so charming about me?"

He glanced at me, his breaths coming in exhausted gasps.

"What?" He blurted out sharply.

My smile widened, and I replied, "My eyes."

He couldn't resist looking into them. It was his mistake.

—Mind Intrusion— I whispered in my mind.

In an instant, his pupils dilated, and his expression became vacant. I felt my consciousness leave my body and enter his mind. The connection was fleeting, and I was soon expelled.

However, it proved to be enough.

When I first acquired the skill of Mental Intrusion, I learned the following: By establishing eye contact with the target, I can activate this ability to immerse myself in their dreams or their mind. The connection only lasts for a few seconds before being severed. Upon awakening, the target experiences disorientation and temporary mental lapses, granting me an advantage in combat or escape.

I took advantage of Vancha's dazed expression. Thanks to the blood I had consumed, my strength had not yet deserted me entirely, allowing me to launch myself forward with full force.

Despite having only one arm at my disposal, I sent him sprawling with a brutal lunge. My fists pummeled his face relentlessly, delivering an unstoppable barrage of blows.

The sound of bones shattering beneath my knuckles snapped him out of his daze, but all he could manage was feeble attempts to push me away, accompanied by curses. He lacked the energy to employ that infuriating bomber man ability.

Then, a sickening, wet "crack" reverberated through the air. His eyes bulged in disbelief as life escaped him. In place of his head, there remained nothing but a gruesome, bloody mess and scattered brain matter.

In the face of my triumph, having taken a human life, I didn't feel the slightest unease. Instead, if I were to see my reflection in a mirror, I would witness a chilling smile, my sharp teeth stained with blood.

I believed it was all over, but I sensed another presence. This was not good.

My body was mangled, blood gushing from me, and repulsive wounds covered my form. If there were any more enemies, I would surely meet my demise.

*Thump-thump!

Suddenly, my heart raced in a different manner, not out of fear but with a sensation akin to joy. That familiar connection I always felt was there.

Slowly, I turned around. In the moonlit alley, I laid eyes on her for the first time.

She was a cute girl, with long silky hair as white as snow, flowing down past her knees. Her skin was smooth and pale, matching her hair.

Her eyes, a deep crimson, framed by arched eyebrows and adorned with long white lashes. Clad in black gothic attire that draped her petite figure, she resembled a fragile doll.

A slight smile curved her thin lips. To my astonishment, she extended both arms toward me, inviting me to embrace her.

"Come, take me, Damien~"