Capítulo 2: The Cursed Bloodline

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...

'I'm drowning.'

'It's dark.'

'It's cold.'

'Where am I? Did I die?'

Mercy questioned himself inwardly as he was lost and descending into the deepest depths of an unknown destination. The more time passed, the farther he began to sink in this sea of pitch blackness.

It felt like a never-ending sea of darkness that was slowly engulfing him, as his essence of being and its totality melted away in this cruel region of nowhere.

He began to descend, but the deeper he went, the more the abyss consumed him. He soon became nothing more than bones as his flesh and blood dissolved and merged with the black waters itself.

'I'm... I'm melting away, it hurts, but in a wonderful way, this pain, is it wrong that it feels so good? Who would have imagined that pain could make a person feel this free? I feel as if I've broken free from the bonds of mortality itself. I see, so this is the liberty of the body and ascension of the mind, an entirely new perspective is the best way that I can describe this feeling.'

Despite having any eyes, he could still see clearly, as evidenced by the appearance before him of a series of strange boxes with unearthly designs. As part of their design, these boxes included multiple tentacles, malformed limbs, and nerve-racking eyes. Mercy thought it was a dreadful piece of art, but it was strangely beautiful to him.

He soon saw one.

Then one soon becomes two.

And two became four until an uncountable number of these Lovecraftian-style boxes emerged in front of him, sinking beside them as others floated alongside him.

He had no idea what these boxes were, but a strange emotion came over him, telling him he needed to pick one soon or his life would be worse than hell itself.

And with such a strong desire, he grabbed one at random, each with a different design. But the concepts underlying each stayed the same, and to be honest, he was dissolving at such a rapid pace that he didn't have the luxury of choosing a box based solely on design.

As a result, he simply picks one at random, and his left arm fully dissolves at this point; yet, the box is squishy and mushy, giving him a morbid feeling as slimy mud drips down his skeletal hand, or what is left of it.

But, being actually handicapped there is only one way to open such a disgusting-looking item.

To open it, he puts it in his mouth and bites down hard with his bony teeth, ripping the lid of the Lovecraftian-style box

What happened after that was unexpected.

Soon after, a strange and malformed heart with tentacles, eyeballs, and extra unknown facial deformities that amalgamated with its design emerged from the box, surrounded by a frightening black and dark crimson aura.

Without notice, it began to rush into the core of Mercy's chest, causing his misshapen body, which was nearly dissolved to nothing, to quickly regenerate, and his missing deteriorating bones started renewing themselves at a rapid pace. The veins and arteries began to weave and spread throughout his entire body, followed by organs, blood, flesh, and ultimately skin and hair.

'aghWHHAAAA... its hurts....w-w-Whatzz Ze ghell is tis pwain...

At this time, he has on the verge of passing out from the pain of regeneration... and unlike earlier, where the pain was actually fitting and warm as if he were in a fetal position within his mother's wound. The actual rebirth of everything was an excruciating experience that no words could ever hope to explain. It was actual suffering, the kind of suffering that exists solely to make one as unhappy as possible.

...

After all was said and done, Mercy's eyes opened, only to be met with darkness once more.

"Agh. Ha. I...I... I am alive?"

Mercy inquired, his head slanted from left to right.

"Wh...ere... Am I?"

'Oh. You assimilated quite nicely.'

'Ha, that voice; no way, it-it... it couldn't it be.... right?'

Mercy was taken aback by the reality that had hit him, recollections of opening his door just to be propelled across his living room at supersonic speeds to the kitchen where he was impaled by a blunt wooden leg of his dining table.

'No way, are yo... are you perhaps?'

'Perhaps what my child?'

The voice asked, only for Mercy to respond.

'That kid, Michelle?'

Asked Mercy who was still stunned by what had happened up to this point.

'The one and only.'

'I see so what happened was true, but to think I almost died, so tell me where am I?'

What Michelle told him, on the other hand, caused him panic.

"You've been buried 12ft under the ground, in short, we buried you alive."

"You What?!!!"

Mercy screamed in fear as he attempted to stand, but he smacked his head on something hard.

*Blap*

'What the hell is this, and why is it so cold? And so hard?'

'Hahaha. That was amusing as hell, but you need to calm down because I'm not trying to murder you; in fact, I'm trying to help you.'

'You call burying me alive helping me?'

Michelle, on the other hand, just responded.

'Well, when you think about it, you're technically dead, recall what happened to you.'

'Ah.'

Mercy calmed down as he remembered being on the verge of death, but there was something incredibly perplexing to him. No, it wasn't a conundrum; he had a hazy understanding of what may have happened to him if Michelle's comments were indeed true.

There could be no better explanation than his transformation into a vampire. That was the only possible explanation for how he evaded death doors if the legend was right.

He only has to affirm it.

'So tell me Mr. Michelle di-di-did I become a v-Va-Vampire?'

'Well, hehehe... luckily you recognize that, but yeah, I made you my Blood Kin.'

'Blood kin, as in servant?'

'Normally, if I were just any vampire, that would have been the case, but no, to be honest with you. You are not my servant; rather, you are my kid, son, my own flesh and blood.'

'You are what the church would term a true vampire; in the vampire class ladder, that title alone is above practically every other league of vampire title, the lowest being a peasant class vampire, the highest being a true elder; do you have any questions, my child?'

Michelle inquired nonchalantly, however Mercy found it odd that someone with a childlike appearance was calling him a child.

But, to be honest, there are more pressing concerns at the time. So, without further ado, he began to ask his questions.

The first question been.

'Why did you save me?'

'... Ah. Why did I sustain you? Well, the answer is your heritage, and I just thought it was intriguing that fate can be so ironic.'

'My family, why so?'

Mercy inquired because he was still skeptical of Michelle's motives and what he gained by saving a nobody like him. It was particularly strange given his family's lack of distinction, but Michelle proceeded to explain his reasoning.

'I fell in love with a woman a long time ago, but our love is outlawed by vampire laws. To us bloodsuckers, the laws of our world are more important than anything else because they provide a source of balance. Your great great great grandmother was my secret lover, but a vampire cannot fall in love with a witch.'

'A witch... Do you mean to tell me I'm a witch's descendant?'

'Your forefathers were previously known as the great Morgan family. It was a household where only the best of the best magic users were trained. Their magic was so powerful that distorting reality was as natural to them as breathing, but even then, a witch or a warlock was nothing more than an ordinary person, the only difference being. The fact that they were direct descendants of Evara, Adama's wife, commonly known as the first man, as a result of this, it allowed them to strike a bargain with the gods to combat us, the creatures of the Dark.'

'However, when your ancestor and I fell in love we had a child together, and the Gods and the first progenitor found out. And as retribution for our misdeeds, the first progenitor degraded me to the lowest position among the seven elders and forced me to kill my own child with my own two hands.'

'As for my dearest beloved, she was cursed by the Gods, and they doomed her entire family, and the Morgan house was no more; because of our union, they lost their power, beauty, fortune, and honor. Cursed to walk the lands as pigs for the rest of their lives, and even their descendants suffer for their sins; in short, your family is cursed.'

'Fortunately, the dark side is more forgiving with our type, thus the curse of endless misery that previously plagued the Morgan family name is no longer there because the Morgan family no longer exists; it perished with the old you. As I transformed you into one of my own, you shall no longer be known as Mercy Minerva Morgan, but rather as his highness, Lord Merciless Minerve Elderblood II, from this day forward.'

'My second, and hopefully my last child.'

Merciless was taken aback by the revelation; he had no idea his family had such a dismal history of being loved by the Gods only to be abandoned by them.

It's no surprise that he was apathetic to the very idea.

If this was true, he had to do it, he had to kill every God, Shrine to Shrine, Church to Church, Cathedral to Cathedral, Pantheon to Pantheon, because the Gods didn't give a damn about him, his pleas were disregarded, and they took everything away from him simply because two people fall in love. They had to die, they had to pay and to think they had served them for eons only to be disgraced.

His mother, father, heck, his entire family suffered as a result of those scumbag Divine beings. The same could not be true for the 1st, but it was the Divines who ruined his life.

Every Lego he step on was their fault.

Every heartbreak he went through was their fault.

Every betrayal he had experienced with close friends was their fault.

His grandmother's embarrassing death was their fault.

His mother's death was their fault.

His father's death was their fault.

They stole everything from him, and it all made sense to Merciless now.

God never loved him, none of them did.

Merciless pondered how his life would have been different if his fallen family had still been magic users.

Would he be happy?

Would he be popular?

Would he be loved?

Would he be rich?

These inquiries were unavoidable; the short but terrible reality had pained him in more ways than one; his chance to uplift his bloodline, his family name, had been stolen away from him, to lift the curse.

In a way, the Gods got what they desired in the end.

But who would have guessed fate had such peculiar ways of repaying him?

So Merciless decides right then and there that the Gods owe him a large debt, and he will collect every pound, not missing a single cent.

He couldn't, not after what they'd done to him.

Fuck God.

Fuck religion.

Fuck the very concept of the divine.

Praise Chaos!

Liberation!

And blood!

From this day forth.

Merciless Minerva Elderblood II vowed to be the most merciless vampire to ever roam Hellmora's surface.

The Gods will pay one day, but in this condition, he is nothing more than a newborn baby. So he responded to Michelle, with the same, no, even more determination.

'Michelle, I have a request.'

'Ohhh, and what might that be?'

'Please show me how to be a vampire; I really want to... NOOO! I need to study the ways of the night walkers; please share your wisdom with me.'

...

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