An Eldritch Legacy: Sin & Sacrilege

The next scenes could only be described as gruesome...

The girl fought with everything she had, her entire body straining for the chance to breathe another second.She mutilated her enemies whenever she had the opportunity for even a brief recovery, making sacrifices that would have earned her kinship with the battle-hardened.

Corrupted blood had long caked over her skin like a shield, and with every breath, she drained it of the Aether it contained.She lost an arm, half her face, and part of her legs during the brutality.

The people had become desperate, using every opportunity to deliver hell to the girl. While their power and weapons were stripped from them inside the dome, it didn't make things any easier for her—if anything, it made it worse. They fought with raw, unrefined energy, beating her into submission using only their bodies. It became a battle of flesh. Though she alone had a weapon, it didn't offer much of an advantage.

They could have killed the girl ten times over, even with the handicap. Yet it seemed fate had other plans—she would not fall so easily.

A strange power kept interfering, making her faster at the critical moments when she would have otherwise lost her head.

...

It made her attacks more ruthless, more cunning. Though this was her first real fight, the girl had become a skilled warrior in this short session—even if she more resembled a savage wielding a knife than a trained soldier.

Still, it was impressive.

The mercenaries had inadvertently helped the Count train his first broken pet.

Her mind, overwhelmed by violence, moved with whatever force was guiding her body.The mercenaries died in waves... their ears torn out or savagely sliced, their heads disappearing into the basket as if she were collecting flowers in a garden.

It was strange indeed.

Blood flowed down the slope, glittering in the serene night like precious gems.Even with their corrupted hue, the sight was almost beautiful.

Her breath came steadily now, blood dripping from her face, her blade, and her strange gray-stained hands.The basket remained clutched in her other arm—pristine, untouched.

They came at her, desperation overriding fear. Two at once.

She fell to one knee, blade raised like a kitchen knife, slashing upward with wild precision.One throat opened. Another hand—cleaved at the wrist.They fell, screaming, and she stood again.

As she fought, a voice echoed inside her—distant, ancient.

Kill them. Consume their fear. You are more than these ants could ever hope to be."

"Their deaths only fuel you. Kill them and show them the might of death... and the serenity beyond the grave."

She didn't know whose voice it was—it wasn't hers.It felt like home.

She didn't deny it. She welcomed it.

Eight mercenaries lay dead. The others hesitated.

Their courage shattered—not by the dome, not by the Count—but by the child with glassy eyes and blood not of this world.They broke ranks, scrambling backward.

She did not chase. She stood, the basket untouched, her blade dripping gray and black.Her smile remained, now stained crimson.

Those that had already given up hope came to beg for quick deaths, and quick deaths she gave, for although she had become a monster in what felt like the fastest monologue ever, she still wanted to give mercy.

Of course there were those that feigned it, seeking to take advantage of the situation, but their heads would roll faster than the wind.

And until the last mercenary was killed, she did not stop taking their lives.

In the end, she collapsed in pools of her own blood plus those of her victims.

Krael clapped slowly, eyes alight with amusement—and something deeper: fascination.

He was truly fascinated with the peasant. This was the most fun he'd had in a while, and he did not regret pushing her to the edge like this...

Now she lay in her own blood, beaten and broken... but with a smile on her face, even as she breathed what could have been her final moments.

But Krael wouldn't allow his pet to die so soon. He was anticipating the fun they would have in the future.

"I was still saying... collect the heads and hearts... but leave evidence for Uncle Dearest. I believe a bloodstained slope would make for a fine paint job."

Adler, meanwhile, stepped forward and collected all the hearts; he did it with a professionalism that made one wonder whether he did this for a living. He would cleanly separate the organs from their former owners. Laying them beside the heads of women and men of various races—some so mixed it was hard to place them in any racial echelon.

He gathered them like he was picking flowers on a rainy day...

And then Krael understood why the muffins had initially smelled of hot flowers.The joke was quite fitting for the sight...

After he was done, the dome rippled, and the bodies disappeared—leaving behind only the girl, blood-stained on blood-stained cobblestones, holding a pristine picnic basket in one hand and a clean dagger in the other.

Adler had been nice to return them to her, where she had failed to collect.

Krael was tempted to hire an artist to capture the scene—it was so inspiring.

But God knew how expensive those bastards were. Not to mention how hard it was to find Pathwalkers who walked the path of creativity or lesser creation.

"Adler, take us to the estate dungeons now!"

"Prepare for the peasants awakening ritual... It seems history would have me break noble strata today."

"But who cares? no one in this world tells me what to do."

Adler: "..."

Narrator/Observer: "..."

Deranged Entity: " __ "

Krael was in a hurry. If they didn't act quickly, the girl would truly die...

So he did notice the weird gazes of these entities.

They had to complete the awakening—to balance out her existence.

And it wasn't as if he had done things on a whim...

He knew exactly what was needed to complete her awakening—something that should have been impossible if she weren't part of a noble bloodline.

The reason he had sent a greenhorn to her first, risking her death so soon, was because of a message he had received...

Unlike before, this time the message wasn't formed from his own blood...

But from the blood of the mercenaries.

It had glowed into reality, forming scripts with the fabric of reality as the canvas, revealing certain truths...

[SUBJECT: Unnamed...][RACE: ...???][STATUS: PARTIAL AWAKENING...] CONSTANT DEATH....][CONDITIONS FOR AWAKENING:– THE HEART OF HER FIRST KILL– THE MORTAL CENTRE OF ALL WISDOM– EYES TO THE SOUL– HEART'S BLOOD– RUTHLESS SAVAGERY[LEGACY: ?....][LINEAGE:....???][BLOODLINE:....?][DOMINIONS AWAKENING COMPLETED:

- OF PATH– OF BODY– OF BLOOD– OF OATHKEEPER– OF NAME & NATURE– OF WEAPON

- OF SOUL

- OF TALENT]

[NO DOMINION OF AETHER DETECTED...][PREPARE PROPER RITUAL FOR AWAKENING... OR DEATH AWAITS THE QUEEN...]

Seeing the information had stirred something in him... so he pushed her to do what she did. While he had initially planned to stop at her first kill, his curiosity grew...

Then he saw her weaken... and he wanted to end it...

But she insisted on finishing it herself...

And he was impressed.

So now, he would make sure his pet had a successful awakening.