Vampire: World of Blood
Chapter 222 222: This Place Again

Gurgggllee!!....

The rhythmic rush of water surging upward echoed through the void, a haunting counterpoint to the silence of the abyss. Below, a figure drifted deeper into the inky, lightless depths, her body a shadow swallowed by the endless darkness.

It was like a neon blue rose that fell into a dark sea, lighting its way as it went down.

Time had blurred... minutes? Hours?.... years... who knows...

Yet despite all that, her consciousness flickered on and off like a dying bulb, fading and reigniting in a relentless, repetitive cycle. Each plunge into oblivion sharpened her awareness upon return as if the sea itself were a whetstone grinding her mind, sharing her mindscape as one would sharpen a knife to cut.

She felt it... the drastic changes in her body.

"It's cold... very cold...

She said, only to fall back into a state of mental death once more, but never truly perishing.

When her thoughts sputtered awake, they burned brighter, clearer, as though her very neurons were reforged in the blackness that seemed to destroy her from the inside out.

Memories collided with newfound clarity.

It was as if she was evolving somewhat.

A raw, hungry metamorphosis of the psyche, as if centuries of mental discipline had been compressed into these moments of drowning and revival. And her body... it thrummed.

Memories of Muscles remembered movements she'd never mastered. Bones hummed with a density that defied the sea's crushing weight.

Yet this place was no ally.

When Anastasia first fell into this familiar blackness, the water had felt like her enemy, as if it were trying to cast her out, or rather it tried to cast all out.

It devoured her, cell by cell, dissolving flesh and fracturing thought with venomous patience. Agony became routine: the sear of lungs collapsing, the snap of tendons unraveling. But each death birthed a grotesque revelation. A strand of hair, a shard of memory, a half-formed scream—these fragments clung, defiant. And from them, she regrew.

Not in body, but in memory... yes, memory is the information in one's existence; even without a soul, memories can bring back the dead.

The soul itself was just a vessel, nothing more, nothing less.

Her cell was a memory.

Her pain was a memory.

Her experience was a memory.

Everything, everything in this world, the blackness of the sea... the air in the sky, the germs on the ground, the heat from a volcano, the pleasure of sex, emotions—all of it is by nature when it comes down to it being raw information of being; as such, they were memories inside a vessel, without information.

The vessel gives memories a place in reality. Mind and body work together to achieve something beautiful, and that is existence in reality.

Memories are changeable things; as such, all are memories; even one's own origin is a memory of the first instant of one state of being.

The body, or the corporeal form, is everything that is visible and can be felt with any perception of sense in one's logical field of existence.

Even in non-existence itself.

Corporeality as a concept was the shell or the idea being true regardless of the form. For corporeality is a concept of existence, and the role it plays, in reality, is the most important of any concept that exists, even more so than memories themselves.

They can alternate into anything and everything that is, will be, and can be.

But that "can be" requires something tangible to validate its existence, even in the face of paradoxes or seemingly illogical foundations. At its core, corporeal logic dictates that there is no room for ideas that lack a definable, logical structure within reality.

In other words, the corporeal concept is the embodiment of logic as it manifests in the physical world. Anything that exists must take on a form, a shape, a structure, or a presence that can be observed, measured, or understood.

Without form, there is no basis for proof, no anchor to reality. Thus, before something can be deemed logical within the framework of existence, it must first be given shape. Only then can it be tested, proven, and accepted as part of the tangible world. In this way, the corporeal and the logical are inseparable; reality demands form, and form demands logic.

All things, no matter their nature, perceive themselves as something, a distinct entity with a visual identity that defines their sense of being.

This identity is their form, the shape through which they understand and interact with the world. Without form, there is no anchor for existence, no way to function or assert presence. Form is the foundation of purpose and action; it is the lens through which reality is interpreted and navigated.

Whether tangible or abstract, everything requires a form to exist meaningfully, to operate, and to fulfill its role within the broader tapestry of existence. In essence, form is not just a physical attribute; it is the very essence of being something, the framework that allows all things to define themselves and, in turn, be defined.

And that was exactly what Anastasia was experiencing at this very moment.

Her mind anchored the process.

However faint her awareness, however, shattered her sense of self, a kernel remained, a glowing ember of who I am.

Around it, her body reassembled itself, molecule by molecule, or rather memories of them; it didn't matter; form is form, even in the context of memories.

It was as though her existence were a story she refused to stop telling. The sea raged, corrosive and infinite, but her regeneration outpaced it, adapting and hardening. She was no longer just surviving the abyss.

She was dissecting it.

A cold realization struck: this was familiar. Not the pain, but the mechanism.

Her master's voice surfaced in her splintered thoughts—Memory Skin, he normally called it. The art of weaving memories into flesh, resurrecting the dead from the loom of recollection. But this was different. She wasn't replicating some forgotten warrior or summoning information of power through memories.

She was the memory.

And she was alive.

Every rebirth was a choice, a refusal to let the darkness unspool her into nothing. The sea could shred her a thousand times; she would just recreate herself back together, each iteration sharper, fiercer, and more real.

Truly, her mind turned back on because of this.

She had too much time to think.

"What a monster... this is his power... yet he lends it to me... did he foresee that the sea of gifts would behave like this towards me?"

"...honesty... is this how he sees the world... as nothing more than memories... raw information that can be applied to a vessel to classify it as tangible proof of being something?"

In the bigger picture, Anastasia was right; Merciless was born from birth with an immense affinity to three concepts of existence: Mind, Body, and Origin.

Notably, every life has an affinity to a greater concept of existence; however, very few are born with multiple affinities.

But that aside, this affinity is what would help them improve their cultivation template, to first master the laws in the lower realm, then, upon transcending the lower realm and ascending to the higher, that law gets connected to the greater concepts above.

Practitioners of those concepts fight for the singular notion of it in the higher realm, forming a battle for that concept on the leaderboard, but that aside.

Anastasia, at this moment, her form was complete.

Or rather, it has reached a state where the sea no longer breaks her down to nothing.

From there, her body began to glow neon blue; however, she was completely naked in this place.

But she did something no other person had done but Kali.

She stops her descent into the Sea of Gifts.

And take a good look around her. Just like the process of becoming a vampire, that being the ritual process of choosing your ichor before you fade into oblivion... she now finds herself in the same place as before...

"To think I would see this place again, but I see no boxes... rather all I see are eyes."

"Hmmm, I see... I get the gist of it already, so that is how it is... but why do I feel like my arrival here was meant to rebuild me in particular in some way, subjective from any that comes here... it was like Master set up everything beforehand."

And that is exactly how it is... however, as Ana looked around to choose her eye, she suddenly heard a voice.

It was the voice of a woman, and just hearing it filled Ana with primal dread like she had never felt before.

"|-|03 f@$(|n@tin9... $0 y30 @7# tH3 onE T0mA recommend....

The moment that happened, she turned around, and that was when she saw it, and that being nothing but the presence was there.

"W...who are you?!...

The voice then replied, this time more clear...

"I am the essence of all that is force, from me came power, I am the idea of the cosmic, the body of Aether, I am the Almighty, and all that was, is, or will be inevitably rely on me for continuation."

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