The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

As Desmond arrived at the wide-open area, his vision blurred, struggling to maintain clarity amidst a torrent of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. The urge to unleash his wrath upon these humans clawed at his consciousness, yet he valiantly suppressed it, determined to resist its insidious pull.

His gaze alighted upon the stone chair, compelling him to move forward with an unthinking grace. Without hesitation, he sank into its cold, unyielding surface, not a flicker of peculiarity or hidden mechanisms revealing themselves.

As Desmond settled into the stone chair, a weight descended upon his eyelids, tugging them downward, inexorably sealing his vision.

...

When Desmond's consciousness returned from the abyss, he jolted upright, a resounding "Ha!" escaping his lips. He scanned his surroundings, finding himself in a plain room, solitary and enshrouded in darkness that stretched into the infinite abyss.

Only the spot where he stood was illuminated by a soft glow, a stark contrast to the all-encompassing shadows.

The searing headache, caused by a haunting voice that goaded him to commit heinous acts, dissipated, leaving him with restored equilibrium.

"Here I am again," Desmond mused aloud, his voice echoing in the stillness of the strange room. There was no mistaking his location; this peculiar chamber held countless memories for him.

*grunt*

Abruptly, a thunderous grunt reverberated through the air, accompanied by the hot gust of breath that caressed Desmond's face. Without delay, a colossal creature emerged from the inky darkness, its scales as black as the night sky and its teeth gleaming white as milk.

Behind the fearsome beast, a serpentine tail undulated rhythmically, wings unfurled, and a long neck bent forward, fixating its gaze upon the fragile human before it.

"K...i...l...l," the creature hissed, emitting a noxious odor that assailed Desmond's senses. Its slitted pupils remained unflinchingly fixed upon him, devoid of any intention to retreat. Baring its formidable teeth, it sought to intimidate the human intruder.

Desmond sighed wearily, shaking his head as he surveyed his surroundings. "Is that truly what you desire?" he questioned, his gaze unwavering as he met the black dragon's piercing eyes.

"Y...es," the black dragon mumbled, momentarily stupefied, as if its mind had not dared to entertain such an audacious response from the human before it.

"Hoooh." Desmond smirked, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes, as he circled the imposing head of the black dragon, his gaze traversing every inch of its majestic form.

This black dragon was the very creature Desmond had faced when he obtained the blood, a fusion of various sub-dragon species. The blood had been purified, containing a staggering 99% resemblance to the original dragon's essence.

Everything had appeared ordinary until this point, until his consciousness was inexplicably drawn into this mysterious realm, encountering the enigmatic black dragon.

"Hmm, from whence do you hail? How did you manage to find me when your kin have long been extinguished?" Desmond's magenta eyes narrowed, brimming with insatiable curiosity. Despite the towering disparity in height between him and the dragon, he remained unflinching, his hands instinctively reaching out to touch the dragon's iridescent scales.

Unbeknownst to him, as his fingers brushed against the dragon's rugged exterior, Desmond found himself momentarily ensnared in the black dragon's memories. He experienced, to some extent, the essence of being a dragon, the torrent of emotions nearly ensnaring his own mind in times past.

"R...r..r.r." The black dragon appeared unable to process Desmond's inquiries, emitting only a low grunt. It refrained from launching an attack, its massive body coiling and its gaze fixated upon him with an air of eerie calmness.

Desmond, upon hearing the black dragon's response, did not feel disheartened. He understood from his previous experiences as a dragon that the stronger he grew, the more likely those peculiar memories would inundate his mind once again.

In this momentary daze, Desmond found himself lost in thought. The black dragon's seemingly courteous demeanor did not strike him as odd; after all, he had vanquished it in battle before.

"Then send me back—"

*boom*

Before Desmond could finish his sentence, the strange room trembled, accompanied by a resounding roar from the black dragon that reverberated through the ceiling.

His body swayed, struggling to regain balance as he lifted his head. "What the fuck." A strange expression etched across his face as he beheld a visage of his own decapitated body, displayed vividly on the ceiling screen.

His mouth agape, no sound escaping his lips, Desmond's eyes remained fixated on the visual projection without blinking. Despite his body appearing lifeless and a pool of blood forming beneath it, he felt no sensation when he touched his own neck.

Perhaps the numbing effect of his mind shielded him from the pain, allowing him to think with clarity as he witnessed his own demise.

"So, this is how I die?" Desmond uttered helplessly, devoid of sorrow or regret. Trapped within this enigmatic realm, he was powerless to alter his fate.

The black dragon unleashed a mighty roar, directed repeatedly at the visual screen. Observing this, Desmond grinned, finding amusement in imagining the black dragon as a loyal guard dog barking ferociously at an intruder approaching its master.

Suddenly, his pupils dilated upon witnessing his body gradually reforming before his eyes. "Oh my god..." Shock enveloped him as he discovered the astounding capabilities of his reconstituting body. Yet, his expression darkened as he witnessed numerous assassins closing in, relentlessly stabbing his newly reformed form.

"Fuck you all! How dare you desecrate my body!" His heart throbbed with pain as he watched countless wounds perforate his flesh. Yet, when he spotted one of the assassins aiming for his heart, an inexplicable warmth surged within him.

Desmond touched his chest within the confines of the peculiar room, feeling his heart beating fiercely while emanating an eerie black light. His gaze also caught sight of another black light emanating from the black dragon by his side.

But as he intently stared at the black dragon, his vision slowly faded.

When his eyes fluttered open once more, he found himself back in the wide-open area. The scene of his body being repeatedly stabbed played out in slow motion, allowing him to discern the myriad expressions etched upon each assassin's face—anguish, fury, glee, even fear.

As the slow-motion sequence concluded, Desmond regained his senses with his eyes fixed on the ground, discovering his mouth capable of movement. He attempted to utter the word "stop," but to no avail, only witnessing yet another trickle of his own blood tainting the ground.

*clank*

Just as the clash of blades among the assassins reached his ears, his vision abruptly returned to the seat where his lifeless body sat. Like an unseen puppeteer, he could now feel his throat and tongue, enabling him to speak.

"Ah...sorry to keep you waiting." His voice dripped with icy detachment, laced with a tinge of bloodlust. With his words, numerous transparent screens materialized one by one, overlaying his vision.