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Moonlight-white hair and ruby-red eyes weren’t the only changes brought on by Nicolai’s outburst. An Aura never before present spread out, covering Desmond’s body. For lack of a better way to describe it, the Aura was almost like blood, red and thick, filled with a sinister and deadly feeling.

Like a psychotic demon, Nicolai let all precautions go to the wind and fully exploited the potential and power newly infused into Desmond’s body to attack with everything he had. The maelstrom of blood that Nicolai’s soul had become was trying to devour Desmond’s soul completely.

Anger, resentment, pain, longing, and rejection accompanied Nicolai’s attack, who, in his anger, no longer bothered to try to protect himself from the assimilation of memories. Desmond’s soul, which was nothing more than a small blue sphere inside the vortex of blood, defended itself with all its might.

Unlike the hell of aggression and madness that Nicolai had become, trying to drown him and devour everything, Desmond’s soul was as stable and solid as a well-polished gem.

Desmond focused all his spirit and willpower and held himself as close and defended as possible. Like a boat fighting the fury of a storm, Desmond’s soul stayed afloat, sailing through troubled waters, enduring Nicolai’s wrath with his calm.

Nicolai had utterly lost his sanity because of Desmond’s words, which was exactly what Desmond was aiming for. Since Nicolai had delved into Desmond’s mind to try to attack using his loved ones, Desmond repaid him in kind.

The difference was that Desmond received back the love he gave to others. At the same time, Nicolai, unable to bear the final rejection, destroyed what he loved with his own hands. Nicolai had died in his attempt to destroy what he could not possess, and Desmond took advantage of that, telling him something unbelievably similar to what she had told Nicolai in her last moments.

Desmond was not an expert in spirit fighting or possession, but he had strengthened his resolve and willpower to abnormal levels. Now, he could even fight Nicolai’s invasion instinctively. But Nicolai was different, though also inexperienced in spiritual fighting. At the end of the day, Nicolai was the invader, and Desmond was the idiot who let him in by injecting himself with his blood.

.....

So, realizing that Nicolai was slowly gaining ground, Desmond used one of his moments of clarity to start psychological warfare with Nicolai.

As expected, the arrogant and dismissive Nicolai danced like a puppet under Desmond’s manipulation. As he became more and more unstable, Nicolai’s attacks became stronger yet, less effective.

It was not the same to be hit by a lead sphere of a couple of pounds whose weight was concentrated due to its molecular density as to be hit by a cotton pile of the same weight. The weight could be the same, but the lack of concentration and density made all the difference.

Unlike Nicolai’s will, which turned into a loose pile of sand under Desmond’s machinations, the latter’s will was a fucking diamond; no amount of sand was going to make a dent in it.

Trying to put one last nail in Nicolai’s belated coffin, Desmond added. “Maybe you’re right; I doubt anyone still remembers your ridiculous existence. You were like a child who became too strong, using your powers on a complete whim. What did you achieve in the end? The eternal glory you dreamed of, your reign over all the dark races, even the woman you longed for; you lost everything due to your arrogance and stupidity. They used you as a pawn, and you still thought you were the king. I’d be surprised if your race still existed even to remember the bastard who betrayed his progenitor.”

Nicolai felt someone driving stake after stake through his heart, a strange feeling for someone who no longer possessed a body, but that didn’t make it any less painful.

Although he had been in a deep sleep while his soul dwelt in the blood Desmond used, Nicolai still had thousands of years to think about his past. Even in his slumber, Nicolai had had plenty of time to realize certain things, including how he was used as a pawn.

Nicolai was an arrogant bastard who disdained all lesser blood, but concern for his race was carved deep in his blood. Enough time had passed for Nicolai to get over his anger. Still, the despair at the thought of how he had betrayed his progenitor and virtually doomed his entire race with her, Nicolai lost his mind.

Of course, Nicolai had a plan. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone through so much trouble to hide from who destroyed him and planned his resurrection. If Nicolai had fulfilled his plans, then all his past would not matter. He would be able to recover everything that was rightfully his.

Even the survival of his race wouldn’t matter at all. Once he took Lilith under his yoke, together they could rebuild his race, enslaving the rest of the dark races with his sheer power.

After all, Nicolai hadn’t been destroyed just because of his arrogance or the capricious way he abused his powers. Such was too common in his world. To some extent, lack of arrogance meant weakness in Nicolai’s world. If they didn’t prey on or abuse and enslave the weak, it could only mean that you were weak yourself.

No, Nicolai had been destroyed because his blood and power had been used to destroy the progenitor. But destroy was not the right word for what they did. No, as the most powerful and dark progenitor of all, the progenitor of his race could not be destroyed that day; they had sealed her.

All of the above were things that Nicolai knew and should remember. But under Desmond’s constant provocation, Nicolai was plunged into madness; he could no longer think about his plans or anything else. Nicolai wanted to shut up the jerk who’d rubbed salt into those old wounds he’d mistakenly thought healed.

Nicolai lashed out with reckless abandon at Desmond, trying to drown him, destroy him, and consume him. Nicolai was too blinded by rage to realize that he was the one growing weaker with time. At the same time, Desmond continued to stand his ground with composure and calm.

Desmond had just gone through a near-death experience, only to be saved at the last minute. Desmond learned a lot from that experience and what happened afterward, and to Nicolai’s fateful misfortune, Desmond’s conviction was in the prime of his life.

And then, Desmond made a move on him. Having waited until Nicolai’s offensive subsided, Desmond conducted his will. He shot it like a spearhead into the core of Nicolai’s soul.

The pool of blood that Nicolai’s soul became could not defend itself. Nicolai barely raised a curtain of blood before it was punctured like a sheet of wet paper. Then, Nicolai was invaded by a sensation that was very familiar to him, something almost nostalgic.

Standing there in a small pool of blood within Desmond’s mental realm was Nicolai looking down to find a beam of light piercing his heart. It was there that Nicolai realized where that familiarity came from. That was exactly how he felt when he was stabbed in the back and destroyed.

In one last moment of clarity, Nicolai realized the cruel irony. Just like it happened once in the past, Nicolai was dying. It was almost as if he remembered it. Nicolai looked around him; Desmond’s mindscape was now stained red from his earlier attacks, littered with small screens playing some of his memories.

As his soul collapsed, unable to sustain itself after Desmond’s attack, Nicolai thought of something that filled him with bitterness and resentment. “Now, I am nothing but memories.”

Nicolai died at that time. Having lost everything because of his arrogance, his selfishness, and folly, even his plans to resurrect failed. Nicolai died, thus fulfilling the spiteful curse placed on him by the woman he had coveted.

Nicolai became nothing more than memories Desmond owned now. Memories Desmond would use to make amends before letting them be buried in the sands of time.

Unknowingly, Nicolai had set events in motion that would strongly influence the fate of his home world and a small portion of the multiverse. Nicolai had clung to his sanity and his soul for millennia, surviving inside a vial of blood, hoping to resurrect, only for his death to serve as a little push that turned the gears of fate.

In a way, Nicolai was as important as he believed himself to be; it just wasn’t the way he wanted it to be. Fate didn’t need Nicolai; it only needed his blood... And the memories of him, nothing more than the memories of him.

Nicolai’s death was like his life, a cruel joke filled with bitterness and irony.