By The Blood

But...Karl thought. She’s just a girl. She had her own dreams, her own desires. And here he was, planning to kill her.

He glanced at Fredrick again, realizing that he had no choice. No power to refuse, no means to fight back. He couldn’t even evolve on his own without seeking memories that threatened to change who he was...

There’s no such thing as justified evil, Karl thought, lowering his gaze... A sigh escaped his lips.

He would do this. But not because he wanted to, but because he has to. He would not succumb to loving it. Never.

Turning to Fredrick, Karl asked, “How can you be useful?” His tone was unexpectedly assertive, a sharp contrast to his usual cold and almost timid demeanor when dealing with Fredrick. The man was unnerving.

Fredrick’s smile widened, his head tilting slightly in amusement. He placed his hands proudly on his hips, looking almost like a pleased mother. “I have evolved twice, Son of the Fallen. One is a vampire, though I sacrificed the ability to drink blood for branch reasons.”

A vampire that doesn’t drink blood? Karl thought, intrigued despite himself.

“It has an ability called Claw of Corrosion,” Fredrick continued. “It allows for bone claws that can quickly dry—or perhaps burn up—the blood and organs within a body once impaled.”

Claw of Corrosion? Karl’s mind turned, imagining the power to drain the life out of someone of a true vampire, even if Fredrick no longer needed to drink blood.

“Can the claws be detached from the body?” Karl asked, his voice cold.

“Yes,” Fredrick responded without hesitation.

“Give it to me,” Karl demanded, his tone firm. A probing.

Fredrick’s smile widened further, a strange glint in his eyes. He extended his hand, and Karl watched as Fredrick's finger rapidly elongated, turning a sinister black.

The nails sharpened into deadly tips, more like menacing spikes than claws. Veins bulged grotesquely along the length of the finger, throbbing like a living thing.

Silently, with no change in expression, Fredrick grabbed one of his elongated fingers and snapped it off with a low, crack. He handed the clawed finger to Karl.

“Once it enters her body—like stabbing—it will do the rest. Although, if she has some defense, there might be complications. But I doubt she has any.” Fredrick smiled, his voice softening. “A mother has a sense for these things.”

Karl took the claw, examining it with cold detachment. The weight of it felt wrong in his hand, but he knew it was necessary. He looked back at Fredrick, the thought settling deeper into his mind. In the end, they just want me to be a king, a ruler... a sovereign. They want to be commanded.

Karl had slowly come to realize that both Annette and Fredrick wanted to serve him. Annette did so without question, without seeking confirmation or even acknowledgment. But Fredrick? He only seemed to follow when Karl showed authority—when Karl took charge.

They wish to serve. They wish to be a resource. They wish to be ruled. The thought stirred something within Karl. Then shouldn’t I accept?

Karl opened his eyes, allowing the memory to merge with his body.

"You did well," Fredrick said with a smile. "That’s it for today. Or do you have something else in mind?"

Karl glanced at him before looking back at the alleyway. The muffled voices of the beggars returned to his ears. He heard their whispers about him. The Child Killer, they called him.

But in that moment, the world grew crisp. The winds and faint distant sounds became clearer before fading into an almost echoing silence. The world started to blur, darkening into a shadowy scene.

A figure in a billowing red cloak stood on a cliff, overlooking a city consumed by flames. The screams of women and children assaulted his senses, everything drowning in agony and terror.

The figure’s face was obscured, hazy like the rest of the scene. But then, the blurriness began to clear, revealing only the figure’s mouth while the rest remained vague. The lips curled into a sinister smile and said, "To conquer, and to kill the gods. I am emperor!"

The dream shattered like glass smashing against a wall. Karl opened his eyes, his head immediately throbbing with a mild headache accompanied by a distant ringing.

This memory was different. It was clearer than the others... and the raw emotions were strangely familiar. Karl exhaled deeply.

What did this mean? Was he accepting the memories, or were they accepting him?

Nevertheless, it confirmed one of his suspicions:

it seemed that killing someone or being in certain intense situations could trigger a memory.

But apart from that, something feels off about this memory, he thought. Why do I feel that experiencing more extreme situations will unlock another power? Is this some kind of intuition?

Karl took a deep breath, pushing these thoughts aside. He would have time to consider them when he began tracking down Harrison.

He glanced at Fredrick. Since I already know where Harrison might be, should I just go? But he's a Sanguine, which means I might not be able to handle him alone. And I can’t exactly take Fredrick with me, Karl thought for a moment before saying, "I need you to come with me somewhere."

Fredrick smiled. "Where to?"

"To see Harrison," Karl answered briefly.

Pausing as if weighing his options, Fredrick finally said, "But I can’t do that. If a Cognizer were a god, they’d be considered omniscient."

So the Cognizer can learn what I do through her evolution? She can see from a distance, read minds, or... Karl stifled a sigh. It was clear that he lacked the imagination to fully grasp the scope of powers that could come with evolution.

Instead, he looked at Fredrick. "Can’t you just stay close? Watch? The condition was not to receive any 'direct help,'" he suggested. He said this to trigger Fredrick's protection when in a dire situation. Though he wasn't sure whether the man... would even help.

There was a brief silence before Fredrick nodded. "As you wish."

Karl studied the man for a moment. Is he starting to act like Annette? He felt like sighing but resisted, instead asking, "Do you know where the Amadora slum is? There's a brothel there."

Fredrick’s face twitched for a moment. "Yes, I know it."

"Then let’s go," Karl said. Is the slum important to him? He reacted to it. Although he noticed Fredrick’s twitch, he didn’t ask about it. And besides, he wasn’t sure what to ask.

The two leaped from the building, moving swiftly across rooftops, cutting through the mist as they went.

Although he had expected it, Karl still hadn’t fully grasped the stark contrast between the slums and the rest of the city.

Amadora was packed with buildings so close together it resembled a hive. They were made of either wood or stone, but each was so worn with holes and cracks that sleeping in the open seemed like a better option.

The streets were uneven, with broken cobblestones and bumps large enough to topple a carriage. Despite the myths surrounding the mist, several people still roamed the streets, carrying glass lanterns. Beggars lined the roads—some sleeping in the cracks, others leaning against walls.

Has desperation made them abandon their beliefs? he wondered. But even if he didn’t fully trust the myths, he understood that this world was strange. A world where all legends were likely based on some truth. After all, creatures considered myths in his world were real here. What else could exist?

He walked along the street, keeping his head low as task enforcers led their beastmen. The scent of blood, meat, and iron mingled to create a nauseating odor. It was a smell Karl knew well, one he had become accustomed to after years of slaughtering pigs.

To smell this here too. He sighed, glancing downward. The mist curled around him like a flowing stream. Killing two people in one night.

He passed several beastmen curled up on the ground, shivering. Most still had their tails, but it was only a matter of time before some noble would inevitably request them.

Karl recalled the words of the thug. He stepped lightly, trying to avoid drawing attention, but despite his care, he felt the tremors beneath his feet.

The ground shook as though a hammer were pounding it, accompanied by the clang of iron that echoed from all sides.

The forge factories, Karl realized, lowering his head further. Though Fredrick was following from the rooftops, it was clear that standing out in a place like this was a mistake. Well, not exactly clear, but Fredrick had mentioned it.

After walking for a while, he finally spotted the alleyway. Just as the thug had described, there was a young girl in a red shirt, clutching a dog in her arms. She seemed barely four years old, her arms so thin they looked like his fingers. Even the dog didn’t bark or move—both were likely too weak to do so.

Such people exist in the empire? he thought, finding it ironic. This was the empire that claimed humanity as the dominant species, yet they allowed their own people to suffer. However, the thought stirred no real emotion in him for the girl.

He casually passed the girl and entered the alleyway.

The path was narrow and close, with uneven ground and small bumps of stone scattered throughout. Dust was everywhere, though the mist helped to obscure most of it.

In certain cracks and potholes along the walls, the dim light from glass-encased lamps flickered, casting a deep red glow that made the alleyway seem like it was drenched in blood.

The beggars lining the walls looked like corpses in the flickering light, huddled around the lamps to gather what little warmth they could.

Seeing this, Karl was reminded of one of his memories: a vast city consumed by fire, blood, and the screams of the dying. He remembered the overwhelming dread that accompanied it. How could that be the memory of someone who remained a child for over a thousand years? he wondered, sighing as he continued walking.

He had long suspected that something was wrong with "Karl." Maybe Karl grew up at some point. Perhaps that’s part of his evolution—to mature and then revert back to a child, he speculated.

Walking down the blood-tinted alley, he approached a brown door at the end.

The brothel? He glanced at the two men standing by the door. Is this where the meeting is happening? The place Harrison could be? If so, the question is, what position does he hold? As a member of a secret faction, it would make sense for him to have a significant rank within the gang. Perhaps he's even a leader. If that’s the case, trying to kill him could be... He stopped in front of the door. No windows? he noted.

The two thugs, dressed in bloodstained white shirts tied with ropes around their waists, stood with stern gazes. Their shirts, now more red than white, were paired with black trousers, indicating they were likely not devout followers of the Pure White God. They each held daggers with teeth-like edges. A chain-dagger? Karl wondered, though their cold stares didn’t bother him. Their suspicion was natural—they didn’t know who he was.

"What do you want?" the thug on the left asked.

The man had long, thick hair that twisted into large locks, cascading down his back. His masculine face was paired with sharp, dark eyes.

A Maw tribesman? Karl thought. He knew that the Maw people were a tribe that had been conquered and absorbed into the empire. They were known for their physical strength—said to have the strength of one and a half men. Their distinct features were their locks and overly rugged faces. As for the other thug, he appeared to be an average Canen.

"I'm here for the meeting," Karl said, his face remaining stoic.

The two thugs exchanged glances. "And you are?" the average-looking thug asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

These guys... They probably won’t let me in unless I prove something to them. Karl considered the situation. Sanguines are both feared and respected for their power. Since they don’t know who I am, the best way to gain entry is to demonstrate that power.

He remained silent for a moment, then slowly curled his fingers into a fist. With a swift movement, he clenched his hand and slammed it against the ground.

Bang!