Vampire: World of Blood-Chapter 96: Fade To Black

"ACTUALIZE WORLD BREAK!!"

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"What the hell is this place even supposed to be?"

"What... no!!; I... wait, my voice, my sigth, even my ears—everything is cast in darkness, im talking, I know I am, yet, why do I not feel the sensation?"

Zakcry said to himself that a confused gasp would be evident on his face if he could feel any sensation at all to begin with.

He knew he spoke, yet there was no voice or audiable tune that escaped his mouth.

He knew he wanted to move, yet like water without a vessel, there was nothing to call a body, and all sensations became numb to an absolute level.

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Like a dark world when one has no eyes, his world was quiet; there was nothing to behold in any form; his entire perception and all other forms of sensation were suddenly cut off.

And as sure as day, confusion soon turned to concern, and then from concern came fear, as Zakcry was unable to grasp what was going on around him.

Panic raced through him, and he let out a choked gasp that died before it could turn into a scream. Darkness. Absolute, stifling darkness surged at him, taking his sight. He clutched at the air, his gaze straining against the inky darkness, but there was nothing.

Even the familiar background hum of his own body and the constant press of air in his ears had disappeared. He was lost in a sensory wasteland, a chilly nothingness that seemed to drain the air from his lungs. His mouth twitched, a primal cry rising in his throat, but only quiet returned.

The feeling of speaking, the awareness that he was creating a sound, lingered there unanswered, a terrifying separation.

"Oi, what the hell is this? Get me out of here, Magma. Where are you? No, where am I? Magma, can you hear me?!... OIIII MAGAMA!! MAAAAGGGMMMAA!!"

The primal cry died in his throat, a strangled breath crushed by the oppressive darkness. Panic, a voracious beast, tore at him from inside. His wide, useless eyes peered into nothingness, mocking his struggle. Even the monotonous hum of his own life, the steady cadence of his breath, and the soothing thrum of his heartbeat had fled.

He was lost in a sensory wasteland, a chilly nothingness that drained the oxygen from his lungs. His mind, long a fortress of reasoning, cracked under the constant bombardment. The quiet served as a canvas for his sanity to crumble, an orchestra of horrors performed on the shattered strings of his perspective.

A guttural sound, a whine that became a frantic wail, came from his chest. But the sound was unheard, and the cry went unanswered. The horror, a frigid, slithering serpent, curled around his heart, tightening with each passing instant. This wasn’t simply darkness; it was a living nightmare, eroding everything that defined him.

His rationality, once a trusted friend, now threatens to forsake him completely. Corruption, like a greedy mouth, consumed his thoughts, leaving behind a cold emptiness that reflected the reality outside. He was lost, a lone voyager stranded in an infinite ocean of emptiness.

’Im... scared...

’This isn’t me...

’Why am I behaving like this?...

’Something isn’t right?...

’Wait... who am I again?

The oppressive darkness was his constant companion. Time, once a steady march accented by the rhythm of his own heartbeat, had transformed into a formless void. He existed in the present moment, with the concepts of "before" and "after" vanishing like smoke in the nonexistent tapestry that was his reality.

He continued to fumble for anything, anything, in the inky vacuum. But his hands, once so familiar, or the phantom pain of what he believed a hand to be, now felt strange, numb extensions of a body he no longer knew. Were those his? The question flared briefly, like a fading ember in the thick fog of his consciousness.

Memories, once vibrant tapestries woven with laughter and sorrow, began to erode at the edges. Faces, once cherished, dissolved into hazy forms. Names, once pronounced with love or contempt, become murmurs in the wind, their meaning forgotten. He urgently wanted to grasp a single thread—a single defining event that defined who he was.

But the harder he tried, the faster they faded away. His own name, which had long been a distinguishing characteristic of his identity, was like borrowed clothing, ill-fitting and foreign. Was he a warrior? A scholar? A lover? The roles merged, and their significance faded.

He let out a moan, a meaningless sound. Even fear, a primordial feeling, was losing its grip. He was a wisp of consciousness drifting in a sea of nothingness, his sense of self fading away like salt in an endless ocean. The only certainty that remained was the chilling emptiness—a huge, echoing nothingness that threatened to swallow him whole.

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...die...

Those were the final words he said, and they came like a turtle strolling along its way with an injured leg. Who knows how long each word took him to speak until the statement was complete? It may have been years or even seconds, but the truth remained that his mind was disappearing.

However, outside of this sensor-deprived reality, Alebo Merciless was in another room, watching events unfold in front of him, because what was once a different world created from the accumulated memories within Merciless was now a different one designed specifically to deal with such a tremendous threat.

A black sphere began to whirl in a clockwise rotation in the center of Crimson Dawn; the sphere was greater than ten meters in size and floated a few feet above the ground. Zakcry was at the center of the orb, absolutely motionless and immovable, as if he had been turned off.

"Hmm, nice... it appears that utilizing Ultimate Veil to hide all of his senses from his body was the proper choice, and that adding the order of mental deterioration: type lesser, a couple hundred times was the right call. And to ensure these attacks succeeded, I utilized my coordinator to ensure they struck him directly...as orders were having difficulty knocking him down in one go because many orders did not reach him at all, most likely due to a level difference that was most likely greater than mine."

"And to add another layer, I used Abadis’ blood talent to slow down his perception of time." This implies that what was intended to be a second for me is 100 years for him. I also utilize Ophelia’s power to conceal the vampire’s natural ability to ignore the passage of time; this power permits the vampire mind to remain intact, so what would happen if that was removed?"

Albedo Merciless stated, as he hovered and sat aloft in ennui, his eyes reaching as far as his Crimson Dawn, that he could see and hear in all corners of this scarlet world, which he created.

"Hmm...it should be done now; I’m pretty sure his mind is already at its breaking point. He’s been in there for 128 seconds and counting, after all.

With those phrases out of the way, Merciless’ attack was ready; it was nowhere near the magnitude of Abadis’ World Break; in fact, his version is a better description. For Abadis, World Break was an attack in which she fused all of her planets down to the conceptual level and reactivated them all as one Omega planet with her monsters, horrible effects, and the terrain that each planet produced on one super planet.

This was Abadis’ unique attack using her ichor, an ultimate assault she has repeatedly refined to ensure that if she utilizes it outside of training, it is as destructive as possible. As she reached level 5, it just became stronger, but Merciless did not have that type of power with Abaid’s "World of Evolution," since he had the power of what it was like at its lowest point, which was its default state.

To do this, he must re-cultivate it to its previous level of potency and efficacy. As such, like Picasso, Merciless had to create his own version, which he accomplished. It was nothing like Abadis, of course, but in classic Merciless form and reasoning, it was his own incredibly devastating ultimate attack.

Because Zakcry tanked his Stasis ionized Purple in the previous room, thousands of blood crystals imbued with Aether sprang out of thin air, each the size of a large city. However, they were not normal crystals; rather, they were spatial containers, with each containing a different world made via shapeshifting, and each world was the size of Crimson Dawn. You may think of these crystals as containers for thousands of distinct pocket dimensions.

They float apart like red ice in water. In the background, a giant translucent hand stretches out invisible from the world, but with a flick of the wrist, these words begin to move to the hand will. Looking down on his creation, his neon blue eyes flickered with malevolent intent.

"Good, it took me around thirty-two seconds to create this, but its complete, now then! Let us see how you fair against my world break lava boy."

The black sphere that served as Zakcry’s prison transported or, better yet, actualized back to the location where Zakcry had originally existed, with the only change this time being the floating garden of Crimson Aether Crystals that now surrounds Zakcry from every angle in this star-sized world within Crimson Dawn.

But in Merciless’ eyes, all he saw were little fragments floating in front of him, his massive shape many times larger than the world itself, which appeared to him to be a box with countless red crystals within. The box itself was tiny enough to fit in the palm of his hand if held directly.

But that wasn’t the point; this was his notion of world break; it wasn’t about destroying the worlds and recreating them as one and gathering a vast army of aliens to fight for him. Merciless had no method of recreating what Abadis could accomplish with her own Ichor, which she had trained and developed over the years.

Instead, he had to rely on what his own Ichor naturally gave, and this was the solution to that impervision. Because at the very heart of this fragment-filled world, which was created by his chimeric handy work of combining and utilizing numerous different abilities to make this feat feasible. Zakcry was at the epicenter of the impending onslaught. And, without notice, the box began to shrink rapidly as crystals encircled and collided on all sides, hitting and rubbing with one another.

This was World Break.

Merciless begins to shrink the space inside the box, causing the different worlds to collide with one another, gradually increasing pressure to the point where the worlds themselves begin to collapse and break apart, erasing the world from existence as they break apart into atomic particles.

As the weight of a thousand distinct worlds begins to surround and press him into nothing from every angle. The red box began to lose its shape and disintegrate, soon becoming to the like or crumble paper under the intense force of the pressure pressing it cruelly and without mercy.

Eventually, a little crumbled clump of Aether crystals the size of a marble could be seen, and the crystal itself materialized in Abledo Merciless’ hands as he looked at it with a smug and terrifying smirk on his face.

"Heheh, you made me put forth some effort to kill you, which was rather fun. But it’s time I consumed the souls trapped in this cluster of Aether; I can’t let them go to waste, now can I?"

Albedo Merciless murmured this as he opened his lips wide. The cluster of Aether was flung right into his mouth, and he swallowed it whole with no effort at all.

Merciless continued devouring souls one by one, as he walked away after getting up from his sitting position.

"That was quite the first vampire battle; man, if I had this strength earlier, I could have easily folded that human; honestly, I know what Brunhilde did to me triggered my advancement to the peak level of level 4. But I have no idea what she did to me; I definitely need to visit her about it."

Commented Merciless.

"Sigh lets see who is le...

*STABBB!!*

Albedo’s comments were cut short by a massive lava lance that ripped his upper and lower jaws apart and stretched his throat. As lava and blood started spewing from his mouth.

A monstrous geyser burst from his maw. It wasn’t a scream anymore. A molten lance, a spear of volcanic fury, ripped free from his throat, destroying the bone in its path. His jaw, once a proud emblem of his unyielding fortitude, had transformed into a hideous mockery. The upper and bottom sections parted in a horrible shower of red and molten rock.

Muscles in his throat, built for yelling demands and laughing, writhed in a grotesque ballet. They stretched, impossibly thin, as the lava lance, grotesquely veined in scarlet, began its diabolical rise. Chunks of scorched meat, charred by the hellish fire, spilled from the ragged jaws. A lone, glistening eyeball, fortunately bereft of sight, lolled from its socket, a silent witness to the chaos.

In that moment of perplexity Merciless head Zakcry voice.

"There you are, you obnoxious microbe, so this is your true body; well, then, I will not let you leave my grasp now that I caught you, you bastard. Let us see how you enjoy it when you are forced to play on someone else’s playground."