Chapter 3
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- All Mangas
- Corrupting the Heroine's First Love
- Chapter 3 - Thirteen Siblings Reimagined
How could I muster pity for humans when I was devoid of humanity myself? If anyone warranted compassion, it was I, burdened by my unfortunate fate that had cast me into this miserable realm.
“Shall we retrace our steps? My vitality is waning,” I declared, unfurling my wings without awaiting a reply, soaring into the heavens.
***
I pondered whether my weariness would dissolve upon returning to the tower. An oppressive weight permeated the air, bearing down on my shoulders and agitating my restlessness.
The tower resided in a place untouched by sunlight. Enveloped by perpetual darkness, the air held a musty, damp quality. Demonic corpses dangled from elevated perches, while lesser subjects gathered below, imbibing the blood trickling from these gruesome decorations. This sight only deepened the weariness that consumed me.
Compelling myself to overlook these scenes, I hastened my steps into the tower.
A solitary lamp hung on the wall, casting its light unevenly and creating flickering luminescence that accentuated the tower’s desolation. Silence reigned, yet faint howls of the wind outside were discernible. The tempests raged ceaselessly, akin to vengeful specters striving to breach the tower’s defenses. At times, it felt as though the wind bore the lingering echoes of those fervently seeking entry but unjustly denied. If so, these howls likely encompassed the voices of my forsaken siblings—swallowed by the lava that consumed them. Among the abandoned, cherished elder siblings resided in my heart.
“Join me, Karina.”
“I shall protect you. Our father’s dictates need not bind you.”
“Follow your own desires,” their echoes reverberated within my thoughts.
In my darkest hours, they shone as guiding lights—beacons of hope. After countless futile attempts to end my own life, I summoned the courage to endure my harrowing reality, guided by their legacy. Only in their presence did I relinquish the pursuit of death and contemplate a potential future. Foolishly, I entertained the notion that their presence could alleviate the shadows.
Yet, now they all lay deceased. Incapable of meeting our father’s expectations, they were deemed failures and eradicated. Lesser subjects were dispensable—their life essence extracted, their remains left to meld with the molten rock. Our father exhibited scant patience, thrusting their life forces into me even before their dissolution was complete. Agonizing affliction and profound sorrow engulfed me, yet his resolve remained unwavering.
Thrice, twice, and finally, thirteen times.
With the injection of the thirteenth mana core, the last vestige of my humanity, frail as it was, expired. From then on, I was but a subject—an artificially constructed entity, a life woven from the threads of my siblings’ deaths. The privilege of ending my own existence was forfeit, for their spirits journeyed alongside me.
As the wind’s piercing screech escalated, I steadfastly tuned it out, rejecting its whispers.
[Art thou well?]
Hiron’s voice resonated within my ear, emerging from its concealed haven at my neck. Bound to me, the serpent was exquisitely attuned to my emotions, employing vibrations to convey speech only I could perceive.
“I am uncertain.”
[Thy disquiet is palpable.]
Was it so? Was that the sentiment pervading me?
Pausing briefly, I lowered my gaze, surprised to find my palms trembling. Unbeknownst to me, the tremors had begun.
Inhaling deeply, I regained composure.
[The demise of thy kin is not thy doing.]
“I know,” I replied.
Exhaling at length, I pressed my lower lip between my teeth. Acknowledging this truth only exacerbated the sickness festering within me and deepened my disdain for this place.
All would be well. The time was nearing when ending it all would become my prerogative.
Pushing aside my tumultuous reflections, I hastened my pace.
Abruptly, footsteps approached from behind. The accompanying creaks identified the source before I turned to face it.
Confronted by the darkness, I beheld luminous eyes—radiant orbs nestled within skeletal sockets.
Silent, I surveyed him as he drew closer. Traces of humanity lingered in his form at my creation, now long eclipsed. Reduced to a spectral skeleton, his appearance was incongruous for a lich. His mana core, nestled within his skull, lay exposed. Had his appearance evolved from dwindling vitality?
Though sheltered from the winds by our surroundings, his ebony robe fluttered as he advanced. The vibrations of his joints and the clatter of his bones conjured unease, his determined steps inciting fear in all who beheld him.
Casting my gaze downward, aligned with his ankles, I took a slow breath. Then, adopting a casual tone, I greeted, “Father.”
“Where is Saladin?” he inquired. His jaw moved eerily as he spoke. His voice resounded—rough and serrated as iron chains.
“I am uncertain.”
“And where were you headed?”
His gaze bore into me, laden with implications. Understanding its significance, I mustered an unassuming smile, hastening to join him.
“To you, Father,” I affirmed.
His contentment was evident. Curving in a way a skull might not, I intuited his smile. He led, and I followed, dutifully.
***
A groan slipped from my lips.
Despite experiencing it countless times before, the searing pain remained an experience I could never grow accustomed to. Turning my head away, I bit down on my lip to stifle any sounds that threatened to escape. My right arm remained tense, and my skin felt stretched.
Father silenced me with a hushed gesture. “You need to relax,” he urged, “Your resistance is preventing the blood from flowing in.”
With considerable effort, I gradually eased the tension in my arm as he advised, yet the pain only seemed to intensify. Beads of sweat dripped from my forehead, yet Father’s grip on the syringe tightened, and he continued with his task.
My gaze dropped to the object lodged in my arm. The syringe had been fashioned from the bones of a dwarf and held a blue viscous liquid—gorgon’s blood. These blood infusions had become a regular part of my life over the decades.
During my early years, the powers inherited from Medusa had been erratic and difficult to control. Not only did they manifest irregularly, but my command over them was also limited. Father had devised a solution to this predicament: he began injecting me with gorgon’s blood. He believed that not only would the blood harmonize with my constitution, but it would also enhance my strength as the blood of my demonic ancestors increased in potency.
His theory proved correct; with each infusion, my strength grew. However, the pain accompanying the process never diminished.
I gasped, taking advantage of the pause as Father refilled the syringe to release the breath I had been holding.
My head hung low as I wiped the sweat from my brow. My arm bore no traces of unblemished skin; it resembled a mass of disfigured flesh. The wounds were a temporary side effect of the infusion and would heal eventually, even if left untreated.
Nonetheless, I despised the sight. Or, perhaps, I simply wished to avoid enduring this suffering any longer. Yet, this was my reality, one I had to endure until the day came when I was ready to escape.
“The reaction to the injections has slowed down. It’s an indication that your body is adapting well to the gorgon’s blood. Now, pull your hair to the side. I need to inject this into your neck as well,” Father instructed.
Despite the obvious signs of my excruciating pain, he hummed contentedly, evidently in a good mood.
“You know,” he began, “I brought some hydra blood with me today. I wanted to give some to you, but unfortunately, I didn’t have enough. It’s a pity.”
“Who is it for then?”
“Saladin, of course. Who else?”
The hydra, a rare dragon with nine heads, was the topic of discussion. I was not certain how Father managed to acquire its blood, but his evident joy was a testament to its significance.
Upon hearing his response, I averted my gaze and sealed my lips shut. Though my breathing grew labored, I struggled to suppress my restlessness. Instead, I focused my mind on recalling the original plotline. As far as I remembered, Saladin gained draconic abilities after receiving the hydra blood. However, the descriptions had not delved deeper than that.
Draconic powers…
After catching my breath and regaining my composure, I spoke, “Father, please grant it to me.”
“Oh?” His hands paused in their movements at my words. Then, in a lower tone, he inquired, “And did this request stem from concern for Saladin?”
Turning to face him, I met the hollow sockets that peered down at me. While there were no emotions to read, I discerned the sentiment concealed behind the inhuman façade. In response, I flashed a casual smile.
“No,” I answered.
Concern? Such a benevolent emotion was not something I could feel. If Saladin gained those draconic powers, it might trigger his Second Awakening. Should that occur before I escape—or, more crucially, before the God-Demon War—it would shatter all my plans. I could not allow that to happen.
“It’s because I want to become stronger.”
My response appeared to amuse him, as he burst into laughter. Although his skeletal form could not convey emotions, his mirth was evident in his voice.
I heard the clinking of vials, then watched as Father approached, holding one in each hand. One contained gorgon’s blood, while the other held hydra’s blood.
“Quite the ambitious child, Karina. Do you wish to surpass your current strength?” he asked with a chuckle.
“I want to surpass Xile.”
My answer seemed to please him, prompting a hearty laugh as he reached down to stroke my hair.
“You’re a commendable girl, Karina,” he said with satisfaction.
Before I could fully process what was occurring, my hair had been pushed aside, and a jolt of pain surged down my spine. Clenching my teeth, I willed myself to endure. It would be over soon; I just needed to bear it a little longer.
***
Exhaustion enveloped me, and I crumpled onto the bed upon returning to my room. The searing pain that had ravaged my heart left me in such torment that I lacked the energy to lift a finger.
[How art thy holding up?] Hiron inquired. observing me from its position around my shoulders. [Thou doth not look well.]
My response remained silent, met only by a disapproving click of Hiron’s tongue. Subsequently, I felt the serpent bury its head against my back while its tail quivered with agitation. Ah, Hiron was angry.
[Canst thou not eliminate that wretched lich?]
Twisting my neck to face Hiron, I met a pair of black eyes brimming with rage. It was the sort of profound fury that only Hiron, who was intimately aware of the extent of the abuse I had endured at Father’s hands for the past two decades, could generate.
While I grasped Hiron’s perspective, I could not share its emotions personally. Regardless of what Hiron believed, I did not consider myself wronged. In Father’s eyes, I was a mere test subject, designed to exhibit unwavering obedience. If blame were to be assigned, it should fall on me for reincarnating as a test subject despite having previously been human. I recognized this line of thought as fruitless and stowed it away, choosing instead to rally myself.
I sighed, holding Hiron close. “I understand your feelings, but I can’t kill Father.”
[Why not? Just decapitate him and flee!]
“If I did that, I’d be captured before I even got close to the other side of the world.”
[But—]
Unable to contest my reasoning, Hiron abandoned its efforts to articulate its thoughts and descended into a fit of hissing.
As Hiron said, in technical terms, I possessed the strength to end Father’s life in an instant. This applied to both me and my siblings who resided within the tower. Our restraint from such actions was grounded solely in the fact that he was our creator. For that reason, Father commanded our respect and affection. If I were to murder him and attempt to escape, my siblings would pursue me in retaliation, and I would be torn apart.
[How long must I stand idly by, watching thou endure this treatment?] Hiron shrieked. [I cannot take it any longer. I shall be the one to eliminate that vile lich if need be! Afterward, I shall—]
“Hiron,” I intervened, cooing as I embraced its form and caressed its trembling head, “what I mean is that I don’t currently intend to kill Father… At least not yet.”