The Bloodbath Odyssey; I reincarnated to become the cursed

"Blood will rain."

"Blood…"

"Blood... will... rain."

Simma was descending, agonizingly slow, but his fall lacked gravity, devoid of wind, sensation, or breath. Suspended in a dreamlike plummet, his eyes remained shut, and his skull throbbed violently. The only thing echoing through the cavernous silence of his mind was a singular phrase:

"Blood will rain."

Then, abruptly, his eyes flew open, and his foot landed on something, something solid. He looked around and realized he was in an empty room. The room was derelict and suffocatingly dim, lit by a rusted wall sconce fixed to the right. It held a candle that was almost spent, nearly out.

 It was the only one lit among a gallery of dead candleholders hanging from the ceiling and lining the bricked walls.

Cobwebs hung like drapes across every surface, all around the place, and the only thing Simma could make out was a tiny rat squeaking at the far end of the room by a door, trying to get its fat ass underneath its threshold.

Simma felt heavy, his limbs were leaden, and his eyesight seemed to dwindle. He wanted to take a step forward, but his foot was too heavy to move, it felt like he couldn't walk at all, like invisible shackles clamped his ankles in place.

He just stood there, gazing at the rat. He wanted to help it. The way it struggled frantically to pass made Simma feel that maybe what was behind that door was very important to it.

"I... I have to help him," he murmured. The pity etched on his face was unmistakable.

"Do you, though?"

The rat replied to him in a deep voice that sent shivers searing down his spine. He tried to dilate his squinting eyes, what did he just hear? The rat said something to him. Did he just hear animal language?

"Don't be ridiculous," the voice said yet again, but this time, it didn't come from the direction of the rat. It came from behind him. Unfortunately, he couldn't turn to look at his back. He was still as though affixed to one position and that if he tried to turn something like an invisible wall stopped him. He was immobile, an anchored statue with eyes as his only tool.

But he could look in front. The rat was now squeaking loudly, its little fragile bones cracking, and it made Simma uncomfortable. It was as if he was attuned to the rat, that everything the rat felt, he could feel too.

His legs felt too heavy. Why couldn't he move? what was this that was holding him in place? He kept on looking at the rat as it slowly floated into the air, twitching.

"Stop! You are hurting it! I SAID STOP!"

But the owner of the voice gave out a loud deranged laughter that echoed around the four walls. His voice was very deep, but the annoying part was that it was something profoundly and unsettlingly deep, and yet very good.

Simma's blood was running violently through his veins, and it was as if he could feel every careful step the owner of the voice took, walking in an arched pattern toward his front.

Curiously, Simma waited, until finally, the man stood fully in front of him. A round-edged hat perched on his obsidian hair, the shadows from the hat covering half his face. He wore an over cloaked suit that draped to his knees. His smile was the stuff of nightmares, mischievous, knowing, and cruel.

Simma, now seeing the strange man, couldn't help but notice the mischievous smile on his face, it always was. He just stood, baffled, gazing at him. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"The suited guy…" he muttered beneath his breath, astounded and squirming. What in the world was going on? The man from each of his dreams was right in front of him. How was this possible?

"Pathetic, weak, soft, and feeble, that's what you are," the suited man sneered, tilting his head before raising it. There was something different in his aura, and Simma quickly figured it out, this was not the normal suited guy he normally saw in his dreams.

Something was off about him. This one wasn't bearded, his face was very smooth, and his eyes this time weren't azured, they had a red ringed color in the iris. But there was something else, he couldn't see it clearly but, they looked like etchings all over his skin, like runes with a no definite pattern.

It somehow looked like a tattoo but also looked like a birthmark, but what kind of birth mark would stretch until it reached someone's neck and then have this dim red glint.

But the voice chuckled more.

"You should stop examining me and listen. These people you are going through all this pain to help? They don't deserve it. They will only curse and rebuke you. They are undeserving of salvation."

Simma looked at him, still rooted to the spot. His eyes turned to the rat in the air, it was still squeaking, and its pitched squeaks rang high in his head. He winced as he said,

"Who are you?"

Walking toward the rat with death written all over his face, and his eyes interlocked deeply with the rat, he turned to Simma and replied:

"You've already named me, and you already know me. Don't you? I'm the suited guy," he replied, his eyes glinting, and his voice laced with a hysterical mystery.

It hit Simma, he recoiled inwardly. How was he able to see through his skull, into his thoughts? It wasn't fair here, and whatever this place was, he wanted to leave badly. Very confused, he asked,

"What does that mean?" His voice rasped.

"I'm inside of you. Basically, I'm you. I share everything with you, and the way I like to call it, I'm the better version of you,"

He replied, his cold stare lingering in the very dim light. He turned back to the rat, and with one final squeak, it collapsed to the floor.

"No!" Simma snapped. But the truth was…He didn't care anymore. What the suited guy had said was all that occupied his mind now. They were insidious, embedding themselves into his consciousness, and he was left with no choice than to deliberate on it.

But the suited guy had turned to him once more, how he was drawn by the mercy he had on that little vicious animal.

"You are weak, just like him. Just like all of you. Even a rat has a better advantage over you… If only the others had listened to me, they would have lived longer."

Now it was as if the suited guy was adding fuel to his inquisitiveness, making it itch all the more.

"The others? What do you mean by the others? Some people have been here too?" Simma asked.

"Yes, of course, some people have been here, and they didn't make it out alive… But do not panic. I'm only here for you," the suited guy said.

But the deed was done. The impact had landed. Simma was now shaking. If only he could move, what the fuck was wrong with his dumb disobedient legs? Fear now covered his sweaty eyes.

But nevertheless he asked.

"And how do I trust that you won't just snap me like you did to that rat??"

The suited guy's lips curled. as he replied,

"You don't... cause I might"

He was enjoying the moment. But Simma didn't know what to do. He didn't want to die, not yet. Not this way. Probably not this time. He looked at the suited guy. If there was something he should do, then he was willing to do it and not end up like the others.

He mustered some courage as he released the question, after much deliberation.

"What do I need to do?" he asked, his voice sounding like it hid embarrassment.

Now the curled lips turned into a full grin as the suited guy answered:

"It's simple. Kill..."

"Don't listen to him," came another voice from the edge of the room cutting suited guy off his words. How they managed to enter without opening doors startled Simma.

The voice was still deep, almost the same as the one that was already speaking, but more subtle.

Simma's head turned immediately toward the voice. Luckily, it didn't come from behind this time. It came from right in front of him.

The man wore the same attire as the suited guy already standing there. They looked like identical twins, if not the same, it actually left simma thinking - that maybe they had Cinzel's power's of making clones. But the difference was in their eyes, and the beard.

Simma now stood like someone in deep destitution, his confusion now risen to the core as he stared at both of them. Just then he noticed it, the one that had just appeared latter was the normal suited guy he sees in his dreams.

"…If you want to get out of here, don't listen to what he says," the second suited guy said to him. But his voice grew muffled as he spoke, and it was as if Simma could hardly breathe. The remaining candle on the wall was almost out. A loud ringing filled his head and what felt like sharp needles were pocking all over it.

And as the candle faded, Simma was losing consciousness, Maybe the candle was like the time he had. He listened hard to the words of the second suited guy:

"He's my nemesis, h…" The words that came after were glitchy, as if spoken through shattered glass, and then...

"…just you… only you can undo…"He tried to listen as best as he could, but his head was throbbing harder, as if his heart was beating in there...

"…connect your Az…" but...

Simma was now fading.

"…All you need to do is…"

But the light was off, and just at that exact time, cracks spread across the floor like webs. With a rattling sound, the floor beneath shattered, and Simma was falling again... slowly... but now, his eyes weren't closed like they were before.

The space he was in seemed so dark, like a shadow, and empty as a void. He couldn't quite grasp what was happening to him. But at least the pain was now dwindling.

"…"

He felt a sensation flop through his body, and then he heard a voice in his head. It was almost as though he could see the words of the voice, like they were being scribbled into his mind's eye as it spoke:

[Simma ---]

[Progress inquired]

[Bloodline aspect: Rare]

[Azrax aspect: Rare]

[Rank: Aspirant]

[Attribute: |Designated|, |Strong-willed|…]

[Exhibit: ---]

[Appraisal: Arena Battle Completion]

Simma didn't know what was going on. Enough suspense for one day, he really wanted to know what was happening to him. But at that instant, his neck gave out a sharp pain, and then, his eyes snapped open.

At first, fixed blurrily onto something. But when his vision cleared, it wasn't something. It was someone.

And the person was Zolomon Theus.

With an unsettling smile on his face.

"Hello, Simma."