Vampire: World of Blood-Chapter 155: Mastered Form Merciless I

In the vast expanse of Merciless’s conceptual world, Carmilla found herself suspended within an overwhelming sea of memories, powers, and emotions, all rushing into her consciousness like a tidal wave. Her transformation was complete, and she was now irrevocably fused with Merciless vampirism, which had long since become a vital part of his very being.

She felt a sudden, intense connection to all that Merciless was—his powers, his experiences, his very essence. It was as if her own existence had been rewritten, bound to his in ways that transcended physical form or simple connection.

She could see everything.

His powers, drawn from beings so far beyond human comprehension, passed through her mind like fleeting echoes.

As her consciousness merged deeper into his memories, she saw the truth more clearly. Unlike her initial impressions, Merciless had not fought gods or conquered celestial beings—his journey was far more human, far more tragic, yet still steeped in power and darkness.

He was only a month and some days old. He was a fledgling in terms of his terrifying potential, but his vampiric life, short as it was, had been nothing but a hurricane of transformation and growth.

Personally speaking, she had never seen or heard of a fledgling that grew to a level 4 vampire so easily in a mere month, and a couple of days.

This was abnormal, extremley so, she was confident that Merciless had broken multiple records in the growth department for sure.

However, she couldn’t say the same for his human life.

In one case, he had power before becoming a vampire, while in another, he was just a normal human; she strained to establish a connection, but realized Kael’s memory barriers were distorting Merciless’ recollections to some degree.

However, with what she got, she grasped most of his human life or the instances that were not sealed behind these barriers.

Carmilla could now see how his family, generations before him, had been cursed by the very gods they once worshipped. A divine punishment stretched over four generations, damning his bloodline to suffering, degradation, and misery.

The gods his forefathers prayed to; cruel and indifferent deities in her opinion, had marked the Morgan family for an ancient crime.

Their worship, once a source of strength, had devolved into a never-ending chain of tragedy, trapping each descendant in a loop of pain. This curse had an indelible impact on Mercy Morgan, the man who would one day become Merciless Minerva Elderblood II.

Carmilla could see Mercy’s upbringing with greater clarity now. The brutality, the poverty, the never-ending pain; his family was condemned to rot in the lower depths of society, no matter how hard they tried to escape.

Each generation was punished, and any attempt at happiness was crushed by the divine punishment imposed on them.

Mercy, the Morgan family’s youngest member, was no exception. His life had been filled with anguish, broken spirits, and an unwavering sense of hopelessness.

Although it was kind of sad, this kid was forced to be fucked up from even his human years, some of the unholy shit Mercy did to get what he wanted, may it be attention, entertainment, or just anything in general was just unhinged.

Cannibalism...

Arson...

Murder...

Harm...

Theft...

Blackmail...

He even encouraged suicide to the point he made others commit suicide, almost as if his words alone can corrupt individuals with weaker mindsets...

However, the most fucked up part of him was this curse.

Which essentially bends reality around him, turning every speck of happiness against him in some shape or form; unfortunately, Mercy’s strange existence made the curse difficult to kill him; seeing through Kael’s walls or the easier one of the multi-layered seal placed around his memories, she was able to view some glimpses of Mercy unusual powers as a kid before Kael sealed them away.

For example, Mercy was once practicing parkour to be like his father, but as a result, he slipped and fell off a six-story building and landed on a metallic spike below, which impaled him from numerous directions at once. However, his ability passively activated upon his death, resurrecting him by superimposing his prior self’s heal state seconds before he was injured; blood vanished in the present, but the bent rod remained.

However, Mercy was healed nonetheless, as his present injuries were overwritten by the past state deleting the present state of injuries.

But from these memory fragments, she took from the weaker barriers Kael set up, she witnessed things Merciless has done that no kid his age should be able to.

Carmilla found herself immersed in one of Merciless’ fragmented memories, feeling the experience as if it were her own.

Normally, the power now known as "Kryte Elxisus" had saved him countless times, but this memory stood out, not because it was more powerful than his prior abilities, cause it wasn’t rather it just shows how inhuman Mercy was as a kid.

She watched a younger version of him, just seven years old, and kind of chubby at that time, trying to hike alone. He had been training, determined to lose the weight he struggled with. Yet, no matter what he did, the extra pounds remained stubbornly in place.

What struck her, though, wasn’t the struggle with his body—it was the sheer impossibility of what she saw next.

This boy, not even eight years old, had somehow managed to climb one of the steepest mountains in Helmora, its jagged cliffs towering four miles high. And he did it in under 20 minutes.

But this is where things took a dark turn. As Carmilla continued to observe the memory, she saw young Mercy in the midst of one of his climbs, scaling the sheer rock face like a beast possessed. It was then that disaster struck.

A massive chunk of mountain stone, roughly the size of a park slide, came crashing down from above, hurtling toward him with deadly force. For a brief second, it seemed like his end had come.

Yet, in that instant, something extraordinary occurred. The fat that clung to his young body began to shrink, his form shifting before her eyes. His body seemed to know instinctively what to do as if some hidden power within him was responding to the imminent danger.

Carmilla could hardly believe what she was seeing.

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Her mind was racing.

It’s as if his body is rewriting itself to survive.

Mercy’s body rapidly transformed, his excess fat burning off and converting into raw energy that surged through him like an unstoppable force.

In seconds, the once-chubby child grew into a towering figure; a six-foot muscular colossus, radiating power. His body was now more than human, a vessel of pure strength that could only last for a fleeting moment.

But in that brief span of time, Mercy reacted. With a single leap from the cliffside, he propelled himself upwards, meeting the falling boulder head-on. His fist collided with the massive stone, and the impact was nothing short of cataclysmic.

The boulder shattered into dust under the sheer force of his punch, as if struck by a divine hammer. The power of his strike was so immense that a shockwave erupted, forming a pressure wind cannon that tore through the mountain itself.

The force didn’t stop there. The blast reached the very sky, carving out a massive, 70-meter hole in the clouds above, as though his punch had punctured the atmosphere itself.

But just as quickly as the transformation came, it faded. The immense energy drained from his body, leaving him frail, thin, and weak, he was basically a bony and malnourish kid at that moment.

His once-massive frame collapsed as his body became so feeble that he couldn’t even hold himself up.

He fell, lifeless, to the ground.

Carmilla watched in awe and horror as his body hit the earth, broken and dead. For any normal person, this would have been the end. But this kid was far from normal in so many ways that it was unsettling.

Even in death, his strange ability kicked in again, a force that refused to let him stay dead. His body resurrected itself, the once frail and emaciated form filling out once more, returning him to his previous chubby state.

It was as though death itself had no hold over him, his power was constantly rewriting reality to keep him alive in the weird way it does.

Carmilla’s thoughts swirled.

’What exactly is this power?’

It was basically something that defied the natural order.

As Carmilla continued watching the memory fragment unfold, she had to remind herself: Mercy, in this moment, was still human.

He hadn’t become Merciless yet, hadn’t been turned into a vampire. And yet, what she saw was far from anything resembling normal humanity.

Initially, she theorized that perhaps he was some sort of superhuman. His strength, his ability to survive the impossible, it all pointed in that direction. But the more she focused on the memory, the more certain she became that he wasn’t like the other superhumans she’d encountered before, well at least in memory that other Ceridwen documented.

He lacked the mental qualities and special esper-like aura typical of those gifted with superhuman abilities. They always had an air of invincibility, a certain spark that set them apart.

Mercy, though?

He didn’t have that.

No, his essence felt off—less evolved, like a diluted version of something much darker. His abilities weren’t polished, nor were they deliberate; they seemed more like survival instincts, kicking in at the last possible moment.

It was as if his very existence was programmed to keep him alive, no matter the cost.

’He doesn’t feel like a superhuman.’

Carmilla thought, but more like… a lesser version of a spawnling.

Spawnlings, she knew, were creatures born from twisted lineages, beings shaped by strange and often cursed forces products of the Originators of course. They weren’t quite full-on eldritch monsters like their spawn parent, but they weren’t normal either.

But spawn-like qualities, that power felt like something like authority, just way weaker in general.

And that’s how Mercy felt to her; something incomplete.

The strange curse that twisted his family for generations, must have warped him somehow, leaving him in this odd, liminal state between human and something else.

Or that was just one theory, or maybe his current form is a product of sick experimentation of some sort, honestly, she didn’t know.

Something that wasn’t fully awake yet, but still powerful enough to grant him these miraculous abilities.

’No wonder the curse couldn’t fully kill him.’

She mused.

’This kid might be a product or irony, a curse that makes the family go through unimaginable suffering, but as a result that suffering is responsible for this kid’s existence.’

"Hmm... either way I think it’s time, I existed this place."

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