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Though he might sound cruel and heartless, especially after having manipulated and used her the way he had, Desmond never considered leaving Araksia alive, not after seeing firsthand what kind of person she was. To be fair, there wasn’t a single denizen of this world who deserved mercy, at least not one Desmond had ever met.

At that point, Desmond was still unaware of what had happened to that world, something that even someone like Myrilla considered an unforgivable sin. However, Desmond realized that what had happened to that world affected everything in it, and no life form had resisted its effects.

The little organic life that still remained on the planet’s surface was all hideous, violent, and carnivorous, in some cases cannibalistic. It didn’t matter if it was a plant or animal life form. It was like seeing a decaying world slowly but surely turning into a bizarre version of hell, not a pretty sight.

But none of that mattered now; Desmond’s only mission in this unholy place was to rescue Lilith. To fulfill his goal, Desmond had to retrieve the keys to the five heirs and find Lilith’s grave to free her. Although there were still three keys to recover, Desmond already had plans for these. His biggest problem, finding Lilith’s tomb, was solved during his duel with the heir to the Darkblood clan.

One can imagine Desmond’s surprise to see the huge underground cave and the massive ancient stone wall that served as the entrance to Lilith’s tomb being used as a dueling ground by the clan.

Upon inquiring discreetly, no clan members seemed to know about Lilith’s grave. Everyone treated the place as some kind of ancestral land convenient to fight on due to its apparent indestructibility. Though tempted to curse the Darkblood’s simplistic mentality, Desmond didn’t bother.

Through weeks of living in this world, Desmond had already noticed that the deterioration of sentient beings on this planet had already reached an unbelievably high level. In many cases, despite their primarily humanoid forms, the inhabitants of this place were already closer to being beasts than anything else.

The five main clans could be considered the five most resistant species to the strange essence that desecrated and corroded this world. Even then, they could hardly be regarded as people anymore. The way they spent most of their time indulging in some form of depravity, they couldn’t be blamed for not being too bright.

.....

Oddly enough, even then, some things from more civilized species remained, like convivial language, opulence, and so on. Desmond didn’t know what to attribute this strange and highly selective level of latent sanity within the five clans, but he certainly didn’t think it was anything close to a redeeming feature.

The simplest truth is that Desmond hated this world and every person in it. Not only were the memories of Nicolai and Lilith’s fate there to remind Desmond how low his residents had sunk, but Desmond himself had also experienced much cruelty.

Worse still, to survive and to achieve his goal, Desmond had been the perpetrator of much cruelty, more than he could handle without feeling affected. Memories of his preparations to face Araksia’s brother flashed through his mind again, and Desmond couldn’t help but wince. Not interested in getting lost in memory lane, Desmond left his lover’s corpse dead on the floor, along with a bunch of napalm-type alchemy grenades.

As he walked out of the mansion a minute later, Desmond snapped his fingers, and a fiery inferno instantly devoured the place, swallowing Araksia’s corpse one second and leveling the mansion the next. Although Araksia didn’t have many of her servants living with her, their screams of agony as they were devoured by the flames were still deafening, not that it mattered or made a difference to Desmond.

Passing through the front door, Desmond was met by the guards and, without any prompting or warning, decapitated both of them with a single lightning strike from his sword, < Heaven’s End>. As soon as their heads flew into the air, Desmond put the sword away again, afraid that the unholy substance in the air would infect the weapon, something he knew could happen.

The scent of the two fountains of blood he had left behind mingled with the scent of burning flesh and the screams of agony, giving Desmond an unpleasant instinctive feeling of longing.

Desmond did to this feeling what he had done to all those strange urges he got from his bloodline: he acknowledged it, accepted it, and let it go, a process he was rapidly getting better at. Little by little, Desmond was becoming someone who could control his impulses and instincts in a way he had never been able to before, a slight improvement that came at a high cost.

One would imagine that the burning mansion would attract attention in a normal city, which it would, but this was not an ordinary city. Desmond could see from his position at least one or two fires, that and some other kind of disaster happening somewhere in the city. The screams of the burning people were not a drop in the ocean of madness, misery, and pleas for help that was the city.

Putting aside how convenient it was for a city as insane as this to operate in secret even without trying, Desmond made his way to his next destination. Given the hour, Desmond knew he had to hurry, or someone might find his target before someone did. That would be bad enough, especially with Desmond’s preparations still in place.

Uptight and frankly paranoid, Desmond hurried over to the mansion of Araksia’s half-brother, Elvar Tremor. As the new heir to the Darkblood clan, Desmond should have been recognized at the mere entrance to another heir’s mansion, but that wasn’t the case, though that didn’t surprise him.

Due to strong racial traits and incest, the members of each clan shared uncanny appearances, making it nearly impossible to tell the members apart unless they introduced themselves clearly.

At least in Desmond’s case, he had the necklace, the heir’s key, to prove his identity, so he was quickly brought before Elvar Tremor, another heir. Seeing Elvar’s purple skin, Desmond frowned; it seemed he had arrived too early. “Shit, fuck it, it’s time to improvise.” Desmond thought, knowing that it would be difficult to change his plans too much.

Knowing more or less the social modus operandi of the members of the five clans, Desmond made the first move, hoping to buy himself enough time. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, heir to the Tremor clan. I’m afraid we haven’t been formally introduced; the name is Desmond Darkblood.”

Seeing Desmond’s graceful introduction and demeanor, something that exceeds the average for elegance among a bunch of demented nobles, Elvar Tremor smiled approvingly. However, there was still a wariness and natural paranoia in his eyes that prevented him from lowering his guard to anyone.

“Welcome to my humble abode, Desmond Darkblood, the newest heir to the Darkblood clan. It seems some congratulations are in order.” Elvar responded politely.

Desmond shook his arms and responded. “No need to worry about it, my acquisition of this title is quite recent, and I still haven’t gotten used to it. Also, the reason for my visit was originally something else.”

The humility shown by Desmond had the opposite effect, causing Elvar to become suspicious, his six eyes could be seen glimmering, and his spider legs tensing as if he was preparing for something, but he still responded cordially. “I have been informed. It seems Lord Desmond has quite exquisite taste when it comes to blood; I did not expect my half-sister to capture your palate, not with her filthy blood, at least.”

Desmond spoke with mock, suppressed anger. “Well, I must say that your sister is a pleasure; in many ways, her lineage is of little importance.”

Elvar smiled, revealing a pair of spider fangs protruding from the corner of his mouth. “Well, if true, I may have to prove how delicious my sister is; I hope Lord Desmond doesn’t mind.”

Following his part of the script, Desmond unleashed a blast of bloody power and stomped his foot, leaving a webbed mark on the thick stone floor. Barely keeping his smile from breaking into anger, Desmond responded. “I’m afraid I’m too jealous of my food and my women, and your sister falls into both categories. I’m sure Mr. Elvar would understand.”

The anger displayed by Desmond made Elvar relax; he preferred someone genuine and reckless over someone calculating and manipulative, a great irony in his current situation. However, Elvar could not be blamed for being deceived; after all, the anger shown by Desmond was real, and his motives were deceitful.

Desmond had found out a while ago that Elvar’s diet was very special and ill, something Araksia shared, and that was where Desmond’s anger came from. Even Desmond, someone who could normally chill his heart to do what was necessary, felt sick and self-loathing when he decided to use Elvar’s diet against him.

Noticing that Elvar’s skin showed a faint but noticeable blue coloration, Desmond had complicated feelings. His plan had worked, and another heir would soon fall before him, but Desmond still couldn’t fully accept the cruelty it took to achieve it.