Reborn in Blood: The Trials of a Leech. Book 2 - Bloody War

An 80 percent increase in all learning, and a 145 percent boost in learning any blood-related abilities. Incredible. This will greatly enhance my abilities, but only if I maximize my gains through focused training and diligent study. Knowing that Vorthan and demons like him possess all the knowledge I could ever need, I realized Vorthan alone wouldn’t be enough to transform me into an unbreakable demon. So, I’ll use him as a conduit to summon those with the necessary skills and power, putting them to my service.

At that moment, I sensed something—a growing feeling of unease. It didn’t take long for me to understand what was happening; my tattoo made it clear. One of the demons I had made a pact with was attempting to break it, exploiting loopholes I had accidentally left open. I traced the thread of hellish essence linking us and followed it to his location.

As I navigated the dark tunnel, I saw an imp peering through a hole leading to the surface. A quick assessment told me this wasn’t my target. “Go fetch the first Gnasher and the Hellhounds I summoned. And while you’re at it, bring Vorthan,” I snarled.

The imp scurried away in fear, having realized who had given the order. I continued forward. I was close to my target; I could feel his presence. But there was something else—a demonic presence, not in physical form but spiritual, like the souls of my alternate selves. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but unmistakably there.

With a swift motion, I cut my wrists and began my work. My blood flowed, hardening into the armor around my body. I crafted two weapons: a short spear in my left hand and a long sword in my right, designed to enhance bleeding and hinder any healing abilities. I sheathed the sword on my back, where it latched securely onto my armor. I gripped the spear with my right hand, preparing to throw, and began running toward the exit.

As the light at the tunnel's end drew nearer, I infused the spear with eight Hemorrhage curses, packing them in as deeply as I could. The spear trembled, on the verge of exploding and cursing me, but with my newfound powers of sin, I dominated the curses, forcing them into submission. I gave them a single command: to pierce the traitor deeply, then explode, tearing them apart from the inside out.

The spear struck its target, burying itself halfway into the Gnasher's flesh before exploding. As the force of the blast tore through the air, I grabbed the sword from my back and used Hemoportation to teleport behind the demon, facing them both as they stared toward the smoking hole in the ground. The Lording Imp's face was wide-eyed with shock, while the Gnasher struggled to keep its insides from spilling out.

"So, it was the newest Gnasher who dared to betray me," I said, my voice cold and measured. "And you," I turned my gaze to the Imp, "I thought you wanted to help train me, not corrupt my demons. But now, I sense something else—a connection between you both. I see you managed to slip your demon into my summoning. My pact prevents them from speaking of this in this plane, but if they can show someone that is allowed." I gave them a look that mirrored the one the half-angel used to give me mixed with a look of disdain and quiet fury. Torture wasn’t usually my style, but this time, I could make an exception.

The Gnasher struggled to turn towards me, collapsing to its knees, using one hand to try and stop the blood gushing from its wound. The Imp’s head, floating in the air, turned slowly to face me, a mixture of fear and disbelief etched across its features.

"That's impossible," the Imp stammered. "You should still be in the middle of your trials. No one but the Archdemons and Great Grandfather has completed them this quickly."

I laughed, a dark, mocking sound that echoed through the chamber. "What are you rambling about? I finished both trials nine hours ago. I broke all the records. How long did it take you? Weeks? Months? Or was it years? Tell me, you pathetic creature, how long did it take you?" I reveled in the fear radiating from the Imp as its expression darkened with each word.

Title Gained: Demon Blood Prince

As a new heir to the thrones of the Twin Kings, you have been baptized by its power and are now able to touch the souls of those who enter pacts with you or enemies you have forced into submission out of fear. By consuming the souls of those you choose, you gain their knowledge and a portion of their stats. You are now a part of the Royal Throne War. 665 Different Demons also are in the running. Fight them to gain the right to become king or sit out and watch.

I gave the message a quick read, leaning against my sword. Once I finished, I glanced back at the Imp, who looked like he was losing his mind. His gaze darted toward something I couldn’t see, and his expression grew more frantic. The fear radiating from him was intoxicating, almost divine. I could smell it, a scent that only seemed to grow richer and more fragrant as his terror intensified. My hunger stirred, and I licked my razor-sharp teeth, letting my instincts take over as I advanced toward him.

Standing over the Imp, I leaned in close, just inches away from his trembling form. He looked up just in time to see my hands reach out and grab him, my sword clattering to the ground. My helm opened, revealing row after row of jagged teeth. The Imp screamed, desperately trying to summon back the fragment of his soul, only to find that he couldn’t. His terror was palpable as he struggled in vain. “Attack him! Free me!” he shrieked, commanding the Gnasher to strike.

But when the Imp turned to the Gnasher, he saw it was frozen solid, encased in a thick layer of blood-red ice, unable to move. Tears streamed down its face—a Gnasher was crying from fear. The sight seemed to shatter the Imp's last vestige of sanity. “You... you monster! What are you?” he spat, his voice quivering with a mixture of horror and disbelief.

I bit down, sinking my teeth into the Imp’s soul fragment, savoring the fear and pleasure that washed over me with each bite. As I devoured the last piece, I felt fuller than ever before. A glance at my stats confirmed it: Intelligence had increased by 10 points, while Charisma had gone up by 15 and 5 Hellish Essences. The knowledge I absorbed was valuable—it revealed the identities of the demons the Imp had made pacts with and what their essences felt like. This would allow me to kill them on sight. I also gained some unexpected knowledge of sword fighting techniques, though I wasn't sure why the Imp had that.

Turning my gaze to the Gnasher, a renewed hunger surged through me, driven by the fear radiating off him in waves. I extended my right hand, and my sword flew into my grasp, the handle slapping against my palm. With a thought, I made the blade grow longer and thicker until it reached a towering ten feet. Then, using Hemoportation, I teleported above the Gnasher and drove the massive sword down, impaling him.

As the Gnasher's soul began to leave its broken body, trying to return to the infernal plane from whence it came, I grabbed it mid-air and began devouring it, piece by piece, while casually perched on the crossguard of my sword. A noise echoed from the tunnel. I looked up, still chewing on the Gnasher’s soul, to see a group of demons emerging. These were the ones still loyal to me, untouched by other pacts. They halted, eyes wide with fear, as they watched me consume the Gnasher’s soul, which sobbed and begged for mercy with each bite. All of them were frozen in terror—except Vorthan. He stared at me in awe, on the verge of worship, as if he was about to bow down and pledge his eternal allegiance.

Listening to their whispers, I began to understand why the Imp had been so terrified. Gnashers were not supposed to feel fear—unless their soul was under threat or in pain. My insatiable hunger and the act of consuming the Imp must have terrified the Gnasher to its core, making it fear me in a way it had never feared anything before.

The other Gnashers radiated the same palpable fear as the one I was currently devouring. I could see their eyes darting towards the tunnels, ready to bolt and hide from my sight. Their fear was intoxicating, a heady aroma that only fueled my hunger further. I could feel it growing, gnawing at me with every moment.

Vorthan, sensing the shift in my gaze, snapped out of his awe and shouted to break my focus. "Master, don’t let the title control you! If you keep eating souls to feed your hunger, you risk becoming a devil. You’ll be twisted and warped beyond recognition. You can finish this soul, but if you consume too many, you’ll lose many of your powers—your blood magic will be stripped away. You’ll become a devil, bound to the corruption of their sick magics!"

His words hit me like a splash of cold water, cutting through the haze of my hunger. The thought of being controlled again, especially by something as basic as my appetite, infuriated me. My pride and wrath surged, boiling within me at the idea of losing control, at the very notion that my own instincts could betray me. A notification blinked persistently in the corner of my vision, but I ignored it for now—I had more pressing matters to address.

I looked down at my demons and focused on the feeling of each pact I had made with them. Reaching out with my senses, I traced the tangled cords entwining their souls. Most were still bound to me alone, but there was one exception: a Hellhound, the lowest-ranked among them. She preferred to stay on her own, separated from the others. She was leaner and not as tall, suggesting a build focused on agility.

"Vorthan," I called, my voice steady, "if I can’t consume them, then what should I do? I'd rather kill a demon outright than let it return with my secrets." I finished the last of the Gnasher’s soul, the taste of its fear still lingering.

Vorthan hesitated before answering, his tone careful. "You can break their souls with brute force or use magic to do it. Destroying the soul will erase the ego and malice, leaving behind only the Hellish Essence and some stats. It’s less than what you gain from consuming them whole, but it keeps you free from the corruption that comes with soul consumption. And the chances of gaining knowledge is decreased leaving only a small chance, unfortunately, since we aren't higher-ranked demons yet, I can't refine the souls for you. Forgive me for my uselessness, Master," Vorthan said, slipping into one of his tangents again.

I tuned him out and checked the gains from the Gnasher. +8 Hellish Essences, +12 Str, +14Vit. Knowledge gained, Interesting this teaches me how to take less damage when getting hit. How to turn move and position myself. This will help in later fights.

Turning my attention back to the demons, I spoke, my voice cold and devoid of emotion. "I will not give second chances—not to the likes of you. If any of you step out of line, this will be your fate. And for those who have dared to make pacts with me and another, this is what you can expect."

Grasping the handle of my sword, I used Hemoportation to teleport behind the Hellhound, thrusting my blade toward her. She must have sensed the attack, for she dodged at the last possible moment. Or perhaps she knew I was going to strike. It didn’t matter; the tip of my blade still severed her hind leg.

She tried to flee, but I was ready. Channeling more than half of my mana, I controlled the blood inside her body, yanking her backward with a forceful tug.

The Hellhound flew toward me like a ragdoll, spinning wildly in the air. I braced myself, gripping my claymore tightly, and swung with all my might, delivering a powerful vertical slash. The blade cut cleanly through the Hellhound, killing it instantly. As the lifeless body hit the ground, I let the sword drop and reached out, catching the soul that was trying to escape. With both my strength and mana, I crushed it in my grasp, squeezing until all that remained was a small, glowing red orb.

"It's a shame," I muttered, examining the orb. "I actually like dogs. But you can't keep something that bites the hand that feeds it."

Vorthan spoke up, his voice cautious but eager to assist. "Now, Master, please take that and press it against your tattoo. It will do the rest, purging any fragments of ego or malice. But do it slowly so you can acclimate to the sensation. If you rush it, you'll end up with even less than what you should gain."

Following Vorthan’s instructions, I pressed the orb against my tattoo. I felt it sink into my skin, and a faint wisp of energy began to drift away, like the slow leak of air from a balloon. It was subtle, but even that slight loss irritated me—there wasn’t much energy left to waste. Not wanting to lose anymore, I concentrated, using my mana to trap the escaping essence and draw it toward my heart, where my core power resided.

As the energy flowed into me, I felt its effects—like a parched throat being soothed by cool drops of rain. The sensation was invigorating, each droplet of energy refreshing me and restoring a fraction of my strength. +2 Agi, +1 Hellish Essences.

Pulling back, I assessed the results and realized I hadn’t gained much from this method. A flicker of doubt crept in—had I made the right choice by listening to Vorthan? If I had consumed the soul instead, perhaps I would have gained more power.

I shook off the thought and sighed, feeling the familiar surge of Pride fortifying my mental resistance. The new title I had just acquired began to settle, its influence waning as I regained control over my own mind. The tug of the title's power no longer felt as overwhelming.

Giving the demons one last look, I delivered a clear command: "Obey and thrive, or die. Now get back to work—seal up this entrance and erase any traces that we were ever here."

With my orders given, I pulled the blood from the demons I had killed, making it easier to hide any evidence of what had occurred. I let the rich, warm liquid flow, sating my other hunger. I hadn’t tasted blood since before the trials, and now, with all that behind me, I felt a bit more settled—though just barely.

Finally returning to my throne, I turned my attention to the notification that had been persistently flickering in my vision. Its constant intrusion had been a growing annoyance. But as I opened it, my mood shifted dramatically, a dark satisfaction replacing the irritation.