Kiss of the Vampire volume 3
"The Void"
Mission 6: The Weight of Worlds
The violet void felt like drowning in your own memories. No ground, no sky—just endless shards of broken time floating around them, each one reflecting a different nightmare. Rolien's heart hammered as he stared at the towering figure across from him. Xexaria, the Outer God of Rot and Decay. Her body wasn't solid; it shifted like a mountain of festering flesh, tumors bubbling and popping, eyes—hundreds of them—blinking out of sync across her form. The stench hit him like a wall: old graves, spoiled meat, the kind of rot that crawls into your lungs and stays there. Every breath burned, and the air itself seemed to decay around her, turning crisp snow into slush that ate at his boots.
She didn't move like a fighter. She oozed forward, her massive limb dragging trails of black sludge that hissed against the void's shards. "Little key," her voice gurgled, a thousand throats speaking at once, wet and choking. "You open doors… but can you close the ones that hunger?"
Rolien's prosthetic arm hummed, violet spirit energy crackling along the seams. Fear clawed at his gut—this thing wasn't just strong; it felt wrong, like looking at the end of everything. But he forced his stance wider, Hollowveil Forge glowing brighter. "I'm no key," he muttered, voice shaking just a little. "I'm the guy who's gonna slam this door in your face."
Xexaria's laugh bubbled up like boiling tar. Her limb swept low, slow but unstoppable, carving a trench through the void that spewed rot in its wake.
Rolien jumped, twisting midair. His arm shifted—Gerbarra Mode locking in with a mechanical whine. He fired a point-blank blast of violet plasma straight into her mass. The impact exploded in a shower of pus and shadow, but the rot just reformed, closing the wound like it was never there.
She countered without pause. Tentacles erupted from her side, whipping toward him with the speed of cracking whips. Rolien blocked the first with his forearm—the hit rattled his bones, spirit energy flaring to absorb the decay—but the second grazed his side, burning through his coat like acid. Pain shot through him, hot and nauseating, his skin blistering instantly.
He gritted his teeth, landing in a skid. "Come on… that all you got?"
But inside, doubt gnawed harder. This thing doesn't bleed. It just… keeps coming.
Outside the domain—or what felt like outside—Deyviel and Kieth were locked in their own hell.
Deyviel's dragon aura clashed against Lancer's molten wrath in a storm of fire and blood. Every swing of Yamato met Lancer's blade with explosions that shook the ruins. Deyviel's arms ached, sweat mixing with blood on his face, but he pushed through, dragon arm slamming into Lancer's guard and forcing him back a step.
"You're done!" Deyviel roared, slashing in a wide arc that carved molten lines across the snow.
Lancer laughed, eyes mad with fury. "You think you can end me here? I'll burn you to ash!"
Kieth, in Decade's blazing form, shifted rapidly—Rider punches and kicks chaining into a blur that hammered the remaining Sin remnants. But his eyes kept flicking toward the violet void where Rolien had vanished.
"We gotta help him!" Kieth shouted over the clash, landing a Rider Kick that vaporized a wave of zombies. "If Rolien goes down in there—it's over! He's the key to getting us out of this mess!"
Deyviel parried Lancer's overhead smash, the impact driving him to one knee. "We can't just abandon this fight! If we run now, Lancer and the Sins will spread this rot everywhere. We end it here—or the multiverse pays. No more jumping realities, no more resets. We stop it at the source!"
Kieth gritted his teeth, shifting to Build Genius Form and unleashing a drill punch that scattered more undead. "Damn it, you're right… but if he dies—"
They both froze as the battlefield shifted again. Their friends—the Black Knights—were losing ground fast. One by one, knights fell back, wounds piling up, auras flickering. Yumi's arrows slowed, Mizuno's blade trembled, Ethan roared as he took a hit meant for Alicia.
"They're… they're dropping," Kieth whispered, horror creeping in.
Deyviel's eyes widened. "No…"
Just as they turned to charge in—Ben landed in front of them like a thunderclap, his greatsword buried in the ice, aura flaring silver and fierce.
"No," Ben said, voice low but absolute. "Keep going. I'll hold them off."
He straightened, eyes locked on the Sin horde pressing in. "Make sure you kill those bastards up there."
Before they could argue, more figures dropped from the smoke-choked sky—Kliev, Maya, Mizuno, Ethan, Yumi, and Alicia, landing in a defensive ring around Ben.
"Go now," Ethan growled, flames still licking his fists. "We got this."
Maya nodded, Yamato steady in her grip despite the blood on her sleeve. "We must end this—so their grip on this containment space they put around our world gets destroyed. So we can redo things here… by jumping back in time."
The words hung heavy. A final chance. A reset paid for in blood.
Lancer charged from the shadows, aura boiling. "You think you can—"
Ben shot him a look—one cold, unyielding glare that made even Wrath hesitate, his step faltering, body trembling involuntarily.
"Damn it, you freak," Lancer snarled, voice shaking despite himself. "You're always in my way. Why don't you just roll over and die like your family?"
Ben's eyes darkened, but his voice stayed ice calm. "Well… be quiet. I'll deal with you soon enough. Just you wait, you monster."
The air crackled with tension. Lancer froze, rage twisting his face, but something in Ben's gaze held him back—like staring into an abyss that stared harder.
Deyviel and Kieth exchanged a glance—grief, resolve, fire.
They nodded.
And ran.
Toward the violet void. Toward Rolien. Toward the god waiting to devour him.
The ruins blurred past them, snow whipping in their wake. Behind, Ben and the Knights formed the last wall—blades raised, auras flaring against the tide.
The war wasn't over.
But the heart of it had just begun.
The violet void wasn't just empty space—it felt alive, breathing with a cold that seeped into Rolien's bones, like the place itself resented him being there. Shards of frozen time drifted around him, each one a jagged mirror reflecting fragments of worlds that never were: cities crumbling under rot, friends screaming as their bodies melted away, his own face twisted in agony from timelines he couldn't remember living. The air tasted wrong—metallic, stale, like breathing in the dust of forgotten graves. Every step felt heavy, as if gravity changed its mind halfway through.
Xexaria loomed across from him, her massive form shifting constantly, tumors bubbling and bursting across what passed for skin. Pus dripped from open sores, hissing where it touched the void, and her hundreds of eyes blinked out of sync, some weeping black tears, others staring with hollow hunger. The stench hit Rolien in waves—rotting meat mixed with something sweeter, like overripe fruit left to ferment. It made his stomach churn, but he forced himself to stand taller, prosthetic arm humming with violet spirit energy that felt like the only warm thing left in this place.
She didn't attack right away. Instead, her gurgling laugh rolled out, wet and endless. "Little key… you fight with borrowed light. But rot claims all in time."
Rolien's heart pounded, fear twisting in his gut like a knife. He'd faced demons, gods, even his own doubts—but this? This felt like staring into the end of everything. His arm trembled slightly, the Hollowveil Forge flickering as doubt crept in. Am I really the "key"? What if I break instead?
He shook it off, raising his fists. "Come on then. Let's see if rot can handle a little fire."
Xexaria moved—slow at first, her limb dragging like a dying tree branch. But then it whipped forward, fast and heavy, trailing sludge that ate at the void itself.
Rolien dashed sideways, his boots scraping against nothing. He countered with a spirit-infused punch—violet energy coiling around his fist like a living flame. The hit landed on her limb, exploding in a burst that tore chunks of festering flesh away. Black ichor sprayed, sizzling where it hit his armor.
But it reformed almost instantly, the wound bubbling closed.
"Pathetic," she gurgled, her voice a chorus of drowning throats. Another limb swept low, aiming to crush him.
Rolien jumped, twisting midair. His prosthetic shifted—Gerbarra Mode locking in. He fired a point-blank beam of violet plasma straight into her mass. The impact detonated, carving a gaping hole that spewed rot in all directions.
Xexaria recoiled, shrieking—a sound that clawed at his mind, making his vision blur with phantom pain. But as he landed, panting, a faint ping echoed in his head. His system—always quiet during fights—flared to life.
[System Notification: High-threat entity detected. Analyzing awakened Spirit Core (Dimension). Proceed? Y/N]
Rolien gritted his teeth, dodging another sweeping limb that shattered shards of time around him. Yeah, he thought fiercely. Do it. Analyze.
The system hummed.
[Analysis in progress… Spirit Core: Dimension (Awakened). Core ability: Manipulation of spatial fractures and dimensional lines. Allows user to perceive and interact with "scars" in reality for enhanced mobility, offense, and defense. Warning: High miasma interference detected. Merging compatible skills to counter entity (Xexaria - Rot/Decay). Stand by…]
Rolien's eyes widened as he parried a tentacle with his forearm—the impact jarring his bones, rot burning through his sleeve. "Merging? Now?!"
He didn't have time to question it. Xexaria pressed harder, her limbs multiplying, whipping in from all sides. Rolien weaved through them, his movements sharper than before, like the void itself was guiding him. He felt it—the faint lines in space, scars he could almost touch.
The ruins stretched out like a graveyard under the blood-red sky, snow churned into mud and ash by the endless fighting. Deyviel and Kieth didn't slow down—they couldn't. Ben and the others were holding the line back there, buying them seconds with their lives, and every heartbeat wasted felt like a betrayal.
Deyviel's boots pounded the cracked ice, Yamato gripped tight in his hand, dragon aura flickering blue around him like a shield against the cold despair creeping in. His chest burned from the run, lungs raw from the tainted air, but he pushed harder. Rolien's in there alone with that thing. If we don't make it…
Kieth ran beside him, Decade armor sparking with each stride, his breath coming in sharp bursts under the helmet. "Keep moving! They're catching up!"
Behind them, the horde poured out of the shadows—a writhing sea of Sin Zombies, their bodies twisted mockeries of humanity. Gluttony ones with bloated, gaping maws that drooled black sludge. Lust forms with elongated limbs and exposed, pulsing veins that throbbed like they were still hungry for touch. Envy zombies with jagged claws and faces warped into permanent sneers, eyes burning green with jealousy.
The first wave hit like a flood.
A pack of Lust zombies lunged from the left, their chains—flesh fused with metal—whipping through the air with wet cracks. Deyviel twisted mid-stride, Yamato flashing in a low arc. The blade sliced clean through the nearest one's torso, black blood spraying as it folded in half, still crawling forward on broken arms. Pain shot up his shoulder from the recoil—these things were tougher than they looked, their rot eating at his ki with every contact.
"Left side!" Kieth shouted, shifting forms in a burst of light—Faiz Axel for speed. He blurred ahead, photon kicks hammering into a Gluttony zombie's chest. The impact caved its ribs with a sickening crunch, sending it tumbling back into the pack. But more surged forward, their mouths opening impossibly wide, jaws unhinging as they tried to swallow him whole.
Deyviel leapt over a sweeping chain, landing with a roll that brought him up close to a cluster of Envy zombies. Their claws raked the air where he'd been, green energy trailing like poison. He spun Yamato in a tight circle, dragon aura igniting the blade. The slash carved through three at once—heads rolling, bodies collapsing in sprays of dark ichor. But one got close, its claw grazing his arm. Pain flared hot and sharp, the wound bubbling like acid. He hissed, shaking it off, but the burn lingered, slowing his swing just a fraction.
"They're adapting!" Deyviel yelled, kicking a Lust zombie in the chest hard enough to cave its sternum. It flew back, crashing into others and buying them a breath.
Kieth switched again—Build Genius Form—gears spinning as he unleashed a drill punch that bored straight through a Gluttony's bloated gut. Black sludge exploded outward, coating the snow. "No shit! Keep pushing—we're almost at the void!"
The horde pressed tighter, a wall of rotting flesh and glowing eyes. A massive Envy zombie—once a vampire noble, now twisted beyond recognition—barreled through the front, claws extended like spears.
Deyviel met it head-on. He planted his feet, dragon arm flaring as he drove a punch straight into its face. Bone cracked under his knuckles, the impact reverberating up his arm like hitting solid stone. The zombie staggered, but its claw still raked across his side, tearing fabric and flesh. Blood welled hot and immediate, pain lancing through him sharp enough to blur his vision for a second.
"Damn it!" he growled, twisting to slash Yamato across its neck. The head came off in a fountain of black, but the body kept coming for a heartbeat longer, collapsing only when Kieth's Rider Kick smashed through its chest.
Kieth landed beside him, panting. "You good?"
"I'll live," Deyviel muttered, pressing a hand to the wound. It burned, the rot trying to spread, but his aura pushed back, sealing it slow. "Come on—Rolien's waiting."
They ran again, the horde howling behind them like a tide that wouldn't stop. But ahead, the violet void loomed larger, a tear in reality pulsing with unnatural light.
They were close.
And the war wasn't waiting.
Inside the void, Rolien fought like a man possessed. Xexaria's limbs crashed down, each one heavier than the last, rot spreading where they hit. He dodged, countered, his spirit energy flaring brighter with every exchange—but he was tiring, blood dripping from cuts that wouldn't close fast enough.
Then—the system pinged again.
[Analysis complete. Merging compatible skills with Spirit Core (Dimension) to counter entity ability (Rot/Decay). Merging initiated…]
Rolien's eyes widened as power surged through him—hot, sharp, like lightning in his veins.
[Congratulations! Successful merge of skills.]
[Dimension Slash → Equinox Slash (Level 1): A blade strike that severs dimensional lines, ignoring physical defenses and decay-based regeneration. Cuts through rot by fracturing the space it occupies.]
[ Hammer Strike + Dimensional Manipulation → Dimension Fist (Level 1): A punch that targets the internal structure of the opponent by folding space inward, bypassing external defenses. Deals catastrophic internal damage; applicable to all Jawbreaker arm modes.]
[Quick Dash + Dimension Step → Blink (Level 1): Instant short-range teleportation along dimensional scars. Allows seamless repositioning in combat, evading attacks or closing gaps without momentum loss.]
[Jawbreaker New Effects Unlocked:]
Gerbera Beam Cannon: Now fires Dimensional Beam—pierces through decay and rot, fracturing spatial integrity on impact.
Punchline Mode: Can now strike spiritual or divine beings without physical form, disrupting ethereal essence.
Overdrive Mode: Temporarily stuns spiritual or divine entities by overloading dimensional lines around them.
The surge hit Rolien like a second wind. His prosthetic arm glowed brighter, lines of violet energy tracing new patterns. He felt it—the world opening up, scars in space he could touch, step through, cut.
Xexaria lunged, her limb sweeping in a wide arc that spewed rot.
Rolien smirked through the pain. "My turn."
He Blinked—vanishing in a flash of violet, reappearing behind her. His fist ignited with Dimension Fist.
The punch landed square in her mass.
No external damage—but inside, space folded, crushing her core from within. Xexaria shrieked, her form convulsing as rot bubbled violently.
Deyviel and Kieth burst through the rift like twin bolts of lightning, the violet haze parting around them with a sound like tearing fabric. The void hit them hard—the cold sank into their bones immediately, heavy and wrong, like breathing through a shroud soaked in old blood. Shards of frozen time drifted past, each one whispering glimpses of horrors: friends dying in ways they hadn't yet, worlds crumbling under rot that never ended. The stench was overwhelming, a mix of spoiled meat and wet earth after a grave's been dug up, clinging to their throats and making every breath feel like swallowing poison.
Deyviel landed first, boots skidding on nothing, Yamato already drawn and glowing with that fierce blue dragon fire. His heart slammed against his ribs—not just from the run, but from seeing Rolien there, battered and bleeding, facing down that… thing. Xexaria's massive form shifted and bubbled, tumors popping with wet sounds, her hundreds of eyes blinking in chaotic waves. Deyviel's stomach turned, a wave of nausea hitting him hard, but anger burned hotter. Rolien's alone in this hell… and he's still standing. I won't let him fall.
"Rolien!" Deyviel shouted, voice raw as he charged forward, dragon wings flaring from his aura to propel him faster. Relief flooded him seeing his friend alive, but it mixed with this sharp guilt—we should've been here sooner.
Kieth dropped in right beside him, Decade armor humming with energy, his breath coming quick under the helmet. The void's wrongness pressed on him too, like the place was judging him, picking at old wounds from his own world. But seeing Rolien holding his own? It lit a fire in his chest, that same stubborn protectiveness he'd felt since they crossed paths. No way I'm letting this rot take another brother.
"We're here, man!" Kieth called out, shifting mid-stride—Faiz Axel for speed, blurring forward to flank Xexaria. "Hang on!"
Rolien glanced back, sweat and blood streaking his face, his prosthetic arm sparking from the strain. For a split second, his eyes lit up—real relief cutting through the pain, like seeing them was the first good thing in this nightmare. A tired grin cracked his lips despite everything. "Took you long enough, idiots."
The three stood together now—Deyviel's dragon aura roaring blue and fierce, Kieth's Rider energy crackling in multicolored bursts, Rolien's spirit power glowing violet and steady. The void trembled around them, Xexaria's form rippling as her eyes—all of them—fixed on the new arrivals. Her gurgling laugh rolled out again, wet and mocking, but there was an edge to it now, like she'd just realized the game changed.
"More… keys?" she rasped, limbs dragging forward with trails of sludge that hissed and ate at the drifting shards. "Rot claims all… in time."
Deyviel stepped up first, Yamato raised, his voice low but burning. "Not today." He felt it—the bond with these two, strangers from other worlds but brothers all the same. No way he'd let this thing take them. His dragon arm flexed, scales shimmering as he charged straight at her core.
Kieth flanked left, shifting to Build Genius Form in a whirl of gears. "Let's crank this up!" He laughed, but it was tight—adrenaline masking the fear gnawing at him. This god-thing was wrong on a level that made his skin crawl, but with Deyviel and Rolien here? He felt unbreakable.
Rolien took the right, his prosthetic shifting to Gerbera Mode with a mechanical whine. The new power surged through him—Dimensional Beam charging with that sharp, space-bending edge. Doubt still lingered in his gut, but seeing them fight for him? It steadied him, turned fear into fuel. "Together," he said, voice firm.
Xexaria lashed out—tentacles whipping in from all sides, fast and heavy, spewing rot that burned the air.
Deyviel met the first head-on, Yamato slashing in a wide arc. The blade cut clean through, but rot splashed across his arm—pain flaring hot as it tried to eat his flesh. He gritted his teeth, dragon aura flaring to burn it off, then countered with a thrust that pierced deep into a limb.
Kieth blurred in from the side—drill punch roaring as he bored into another tentacle. The impact exploded in a shower of pus, but he twisted away before the rot could touch him. "Gross! This thing's like fighting a walking sewer!"
Rolien Blinked—vanishing and reappearing above her, Dimensional Beam firing in a piercing lance. It punched through her mass, fracturing space inside her. Xexaria shrieked, form convulsing as chunks sloughed off, unable to reform right away.
The three pressed harder—Deyviel slashing low to sever limbs, Kieth shifting forms for rapid strikes that hammered weak points, Rolien Blinking around to land Dimension Fists that crushed from within.
Xexaria reared back, her eyes blinking in rage. "You… dare?"
She slammed down, limbs crashing like meteors. Deyviel blocked one with his dragon arm—the force drove him to a knee, pain shooting up his spine. Kieth took a hit to the side, armor cracking as he flew back. Rolien dodged with Blink, but a tentacle grazed him, rot burning deep.
They staggered but didn't fall.
Deyviel rose first, blood dripping, grinning through the pain. "That all?"
Kieth laughed, shifting back to full power. "Nah. We're just getting started."
Rolien's eyes hardened, spirit energy flaring brighter. "For everyone waiting outside."
The three charged as one—dragon, Rider, spirit—into the heart of rot.
The void roared with their fury.
To be continued…