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Araksia, a member of the Tremor clan and half-spider woman, had been the mate Desmond had shared his bed with for the past five hours. Seeing the woman who now looked 95% human instead of the anticipated 50%, Desmond thanked the gods he didn’t believe in.

Although falsely grateful for his luck, Desmond’s expression was neither that of a happy man nor that of someone who had just had a good time with a lady. Had she been here to see it, Claire would probably have recognized the coldness in Desmond’s eyes now.

Having had enough rest, Desmond rose from the bed as the deep scratches and bite marks on his body regenerated at an insane rate. Looking back at the woman on the bed, Desmond smiled, not with happiness or enjoyment, not even pride; no, he smirked.

“I hope this works.” Desmond muttered as he moved closer to the sleeping woman. Ignoring the smirk on Araksia’s face, Desmond placed the palm of his right hand on the girl’s forehead and focused on the tattoo on his wrist.

In the past, Myrilla had told Desmond that his understanding of the stigma on his wrist was wrong, being more of a temporary side effect of sorts than an actual power he could depend on. Myrilla had even told Desmond to try to minimize the use of stigma as much as possible to speed up the assimilation process.

Unfortunately, Desmond had few options in his current situation. Using the stigma was one of the few ways he could deal with one of his main problems; the lack of identity.

Looking at the stigma that it had changed since he assimilated Nicolai’s blood, Desmond sighed wearily. He hoped the side effects weren’t so drastic this time. The circle of black and white feathers that now encircled Desmond’s wrist like a bracelet began to glow. Then, verses that embarrassed him to death came from Desmond’s lips. Deep down, even though it was convenient, Desmond couldn’t wait to be rid of this strange power that made him act like a person with the eighth-grade syndrome.

As the verses finished, black and white feathers swirled around Araksia’s head, and Desmond gained access to the memory that he was seeking. Based on his previous experience of looting that C country commander’s memory and his spiritual battle with Nicolai, Desmond had free reign over the memory and subconscious of Araksia. She wasn’t even awake enough to offer resistance.

.....

Asleep, engulfed in post-sex pleasure, Araksia’s consciousness was at its weakest point. That was exactly what Desmond was aiming for. Like a surgeon deftly wielding his scalpel, Desmond maneuvered around Araksia’s memory. He made incisions where he needed to insert false memories.

Seeing the dozens of memory sections waiting to be edited, Desmond further increased his concentration and the stigma’s power output. Resisting the enormous pain of the backlash of using the stigma, Desmond began creating false memories.

In this part, the experience of fighting with Nicolai came in handy. Desmond mimicked the memory fragments he obtained from Nicolai, filling Araksia’s memory sections with nothing more than items drawn from his imagination. In essence, Desmond first created a fake memory fragment within his own mental realm before inserting it into Araksia’s memory.

The process was grueling and extremely difficult to carry out. Still, Desmond was able to maneuver his way around the task. Interestingly, the process of creating false memories was quite similar to what Desmond did to himself years ago when he sealed his past and forgot about it.

Once all the false memories were ready, the most difficult and delicate part came; the integration. Skillful as Desmond was, inserting fragments of one’s memory and consciousness into someone else’s mind was absurdly challenging.

Under normal circumstances, Desmond wouldn’t have the chance to even attempt something like what he was doing since no one would allow him access to his conscious and subconscious mind as well as his memory.

At this point, Desmond was already covered in sweat, and blood tears ran down his cheeks. You could see how the stigma of black and white feathers had already covered 85% of his right arm and was getting closer and closer to his shoulder, spreading a sensation of searing pain and paralysis.

Desmond knew he was playing with fire, but this time he had to risk it. A look of hate and contempt flashed across Desmond’s eyes as he glared at Araksia. However, he still gritted his teeth and endured the pain as the integration of memories began.

To give realism to the new sequence of false memories mixed with true memories, Desmond had to connect both memories while harmonizing the flow between them. To achieve this, Desmond had superficially read a good deal of Araksia’s recent memories. Only by understanding the woman who would own the new memories could Desmond achieve integration.

Desmond’s hatred for Araksia came precisely from the memories he had read. Only at that moment did Desmond fully understand what kind of abominable and disgusting creature the woman he had slept with was. Realizing that his mind was wandering, Desmond dismissed all unnecessary thoughts and concentrated on the task.

Like a skilled tailor, Desmond wove the false memories with the real ones, creating a whole new sequence. The process was slow due to how careful Desmond had to be at every step. Since he was not a master of the mind or related arcane laws, the only reason Desmond could use the stigma for this task was due to his own understanding of memory and spirit that he acquired during his battle against Nicolai. However, the stigma was that he was doing most of the work, costing Desmond dearly.

Desmond had already lost all feeling in his right arm. Some doubt could be seen flickering in his eyes as he realized that the stigmata were getting dangerously close to his heart. Fortunately, Araksia’s new memory was ready before things got worse.

Deactivating the stigma, Desmond felt one last burst of the stigma’s backlash, spitting out a mouthful of blood in the process. Desmond could only look at his now immobile right arm with a wry smile.

However, he was somewhat content to feel how his regenerative abilities were already working on healing the physical damage. As for spiritual damage? Desmond could live with an intense migraine for a couple of days. The pain was nothing more than an old friend to him.

Too exhausted to do anything else, Desmond flopped back onto the bed next to Araksia. Looking at the naked woman with a body as tempting as a succubus, Desmond showed nothing but contempt. A part of Desmond told him to fuck the damn bitch again, to use her as a toy since that’s the only thing she deserved to be. However, Desmond only glimpsed those dark thoughts, acknowledged them, and let them go. With his bloodlust satiated, Desmond could easily ignore the urges born of his new bloodline.

Although sex with Araksia had been pleasurable, almost as much as sex with Aisha had been, Desmond had zero interest in doing it again with the spider woman. Unlike the sensual, perky, and very hot Aisha, Desmond harbored nothing but a deep disgust for everything Araksia was. So, sex for him was nothing more than a way to make the woman drop her guard to mess with her mind. Now that the task was done, Desmond had no interest in doing it again.

Lustful as Desmond was by nature, he would a hundred times rather do it with Claire or Sasha. They were women he loved more deeply, instead of complete strangers, not to mention spider-woman.

Deciding not to think about it anymore, Desmond closed his eyes. He chose to rest for a few hours until Araksia woke up to see how the woman whose memory had been altered was behaving.

As he waited, Desmond could feel the black and white feathery stigmata that covered his entire right arm pulsing with pain and energy, and he instinctively understood two things. First of all, even when he regained the functionality of his right arm, he would not be able to use the stigma again for a while. The second thing he understood was that, for some reason, the assimilation process with the beast’s soul had sped up instead of slowing down.

Desmond could only guess that it had something to do with the nature of what he had just done. Although the focus was the memory, what Desmond did involve a lot of the spirit, which must have somehow accelerated the beast’s soul’s spiritual assimilation.

“It seems that soon I will be able to forget about this strange but useful thing. I wonder what will change when the beast’s soul fully assimilates?” Desmond muttered a little excitedly.

As if she was looking to ruin Desmond’s mood, the despicable woman beside him started making strange sounds as she woke up. The six spidery, ruby-red eyes on Araksia’s forehead glowed as she regained consciousness. Desmond could see in the girl’s human eyes that she had her attention fixed on him.

With a smile that a newlywed and hopelessly in love wife would have, Araksia spoke to Desmond. “Good morning honey, were you waiting for me? You’re always so kind, you almost don’t look like those despicable, spoiled children of the Darkblood clan, but that’s to be expected since you grew up away from your family.”

Desmond hid the malice he felt towards the woman very well and responded. “Don’t say that, my little spider. I’m still a pureblood member of the Darkblood clan, even if I was raised on the other side of the continent.”

Fully accepting the false identity Desmond had planted in her mind, Araksia treated Desmond as a lost member of the Darkblood clan who grew up far away and returned home seeking recognition.

With a smile that bizarrely mixed affection, ambition, and malice, Araksia responded. “Don’t worry, honey; although I’m not a very powerful member of my clan, I still have many connections. I’ll help you blend in with the high society in the city.”

Desmond nodded and pulled the woman into his embrace, showing the most false and empty smile. Araksia was swept away by the warmth, and soon lust overtook her. She was ready for another round with the handsome vampire she had known for a few months. Out of Araksia’s range of vision, who was already shaking with the anticipation of another round of unbridled sex, Desmond had a terrifyingly cold expression.

“The game has started.” Desmond thought. Araksia was, naturally, the most basic starting point Desmond needed to investigate the five powerful families in the city and plot against them. Now that Desmond had an identity and backup to hide behind, it was time for the most dangerous game of deception and intrigue to begin.