27 | Tempered by Blood

‘Am I dead?’

…

‘No I can’t be, not yet…’

It feels like I’m floating in a void.

Emptiness.

The kind of emptiness you see when you close one eye—cold and absolute.

“Don’t ya sleep on me ya bastard! Get yer ass up!”

Whispers and memories swirled through my mind—indistinct yet familiar.

Regret clawed at me for not living a better life—a normal life.

‘...Maybe I’m really dead this time. I hope.’

In my mind, I slapped myself in the face.

‘No… It’s too early for me to give up… I can’t die now…’

Plip.

Plop.

Drip.

I opened my eyes, choking. A thick, metallic taste coated my tongue, and a terrible feeling of nausea washed over me. A dull, rhythmic pain pulsed in my skull, sending sharp flickers of light through my vision.

Squish.

I grimaced as my fingers dug into something soft beneath me.

Corpses formed a macabre mattress, which seemed to have broken my fall.

Above me, a body hung limply, impaled on a jagged stalagmite. Blood steadily dripped from its torn form, pooling onto the spot where I was just moments ago.

I sank my fangs into a nearby corpse, drinking hungrily despite myself.

“Huff, ha.. Ha…”

I wiped my mouth on my tattered sleeve, exhaling shakily.

I winced in pain, pulling broken fragments of arrows and splintered spears out of my body.

The cavern reeked of decay, an unbearable cocktail of rot and iron. Stalagmites jutted from the ground, some impaling two or more bodies, their eyes lifeless. The bodies, left undisturbed for days, have bloated and twisted, their wounds black with decay, wriggling with maggots. Pools of blood had long since congealed on the floor into a dark, tar-like substance.

Above, narrow shafts of dim, blue light streamed through the gaping hole in the ceiling.

I shifted, attempting to lift my wing, but a sharp bolt of pain ran up my spine. I winced in pain, noticing how it was bent at an unnatural angle.

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‘Looks like I’m not getting out of here for a while.’

I formed water, mixing it and heating it up to loosen the congealed blood.

I pulled weapons from the hands of stiff corpses, examining their slightly rusted, jagged edges.

Creating a makeshift crucible, I began the difficult process of tempering the blood. The thick mass separated, burning away the impurities. What remained was a rich, red viscous liquid. At first, my hands quivered. I hadn’t weaved something so intricate in a long time. The first attempts were shoddy, the threads refusing to hold their form.

But I did not give up.

With each attempt, the strands became stronger and more refined. The first strands began to take form as I pulled the tempered blood from the crucible. I slit my palm, letting the blood mix freely into the fabric. My fingers found their rhythm as muscle memory took over. Time flew by, measured only by the distant dripping of blood and the sound of my breathing.

Sweat dripped down my face as I worked the liquid day and night, folding layers of the blood-forged fabric over itself. When the final piece was complete, I dipped it into a basin of my own blood. The dress drank greedily, binding itself to its creator.

A low hum seemed to resonate throughout the cavern, the dress seemingly pulsing as though it was alive.

I exhaled deeply, marvelling at the sight. This was no mere garment. This will be my banner—my crown.

‘It’s beautiful,’ I thought, a single teardrop dropping onto the dress.

As if it was natural, it flowed over my body, fitting snugly.

[Crimson Regalia Forged!]

[Level up!]

[Level up!]

[Level up!]

…

[Crimson Regalia]

Forged from the maker’s own blood, sweat, and tears. Although its craftsmanship may be crude, its power is undeniable.

* Power increases in proportion to amount of blood absorbed

* Grants a certain probability of completely resisting spells

The skill ‘Blood Favor’ will be generated*

The skill ‘Blood Pact’ will be generated*

Across the continent, a system notification echoed.

[A legendary artifact has been forged!]

[The Demon Lord’s legend is being written]

From atop a mountain of corpses, I stood.

Alone.

A single being against the world.

And I survived.

[Defiance obtained!]

[Defiance]

Against all odds, you’ve survived.

Gain a stack of increased damage for each enemy that outnumbers you.

“Not… Yet…”

Glancing upwards, it seemed that the sun had begun to rise. I marked the seventh notch on the cavern wall, wiping sweat from my brow.

‘They should be back soon.’

The invaders should be gone by now. Most won’t be able to stay in our territory for long, lest they fall victim to a terrible curse.

Intense burning and blistering.

Skin turning red and sloughing off in sheets.

Hallucination and delirium.

And finally, fleshing rotting from the inside out.

Due to these truly horrific symptoms, raids are rarely carried out and last no longer than a few hours to a day.

Absorbing what remained of the blood, I promptly left the cavern, gagging at the stench which seemed to linger in my nostrils.. The smell of rot was going to make me vomit. Setting the bodies on fire, I whispered a silent prayer for the fallen.

The farm is a complete mess—broken shards of glass and corpses were scattered everywhere. The mixture of blood and the blue liquid had congealed into a shiny, semi-transparent substance, squishing under my feet.

“Urgh. Well, here we go. Everything in the pit!”

Creating a wave of water, I washed everything down into the cavern, then sealing it with earth magic. I patted myself on the back for a job well done.

The end of the tunnel opens out to a bay, complete with sand and palm trees. The blue water sparkled in the light, making it a sight to behold. A salty breeze ruffled my unkempt hair as I sat down, leaning against the stone wall.

I squinted. A fleet of ships was rapidly approaching over the horizon.

“About time you guys got back,” I muttered under my breath.

I’m glad.

“Hey uh, can I go now,” I pleaded. “I swear I’m fine.”

I’m currently in bed, with Asmodeus perched atop my chest, shoving spoonfuls of gruel mixed with blood down my throat.

Ever since she got back, she had been fussing over me like crazy.

“I think your terrible cooking is actually doing more harm than good.”

It might just be the stone blackened from the fire set in the castle, and I don’t know how, but somehow Asmodeus found a way to burn the gruel.

“You promised…” she said, averting her gaze. “Promised.”

I stared into her eyes. “I didn’t promise anything. And I’m here now, aren’t I? I’m fine.”

A thick silence filled the room.

Bernard sighed. “Would you just get off of her now? She is fine. I, uh, got cookies?”

“Cookies!” Asmodeus hopped off my chest, knocking the air out of my lungs.

“Ouch.”

She turned back to me. “And where did you get that cool dress? I want one too!!”

He sighed incredulously. “Eat your snacks and let’s go. The people need help rebuilding their homes.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t using this as an excuse to avoid doing any work, are you?”

“I- erm, de-definitely not!” she sputtered, wiping the crumbs off her lips.

And so, things returned with a semblance of normalcy.