Fleshcrafting Technomancer 3 Embraced By Hell

The testing of Dra Root was a critical moment of any n.o.bility scion's life. On the scene, several junior and senior members of house von Karsten stood. But as Klaus stretched his hand toward Kilian, in an unexpected twist, the dra surrounding him started circulating in the opposite direction. As he sensed this, for the first time in decades, Klaus' eyes widened in disbelief.

Formless energy crept into Kilian's body, spreading through his veins, organs, and soul! That energy had neither scent nor signature, only the strange phenomenon of making dra flow in reverse informed Klaus as to what it really was.
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"No...no...noooo!"

Klaus clenched his fists, smashed them on an adjacent oak table, and snarled in indignation! But the force didn't listen, it never did. In the middle of Kilian's forehead, circles of red light emerged, and his body spasmed under violent jolts of foreign energies.

The red light dispersed, leaving behind a five centimeters long slit. Around the slit, bulging veins spread, Kilian's pupils vanished, and before the terrified von Karsten kinsmen and women, a third, vertical and crimson eye opened on his forehead!

"He's been tainted...tainted by Fehl."

The nearby relatives realized, and indeed, they were right. The people of this world may not know or fear G.o.d, but they knew and dreaded the devil. Its name was Fehl!

Fehl was a name, a race, an Arcane Discipline, a plane, but most importantly, a taint. Just like Dra was omnipresent, permeating all corners of the world, Fehl existed in all places, in every breath, in water, in the sky, and the earth. All breathed it, but in some, it would one day trigger a reaction: the Fehl Taint.

Most arcane researchers believed the taint linked to an unidentifiable gene present in some but absent in the many. Others, however, argued Fehl sentient, and that in its perpetual depravity, it chose its victims. Regardless of the truth, those tainted by Fehl would instantly develop a mutation, becoming Fehl Mutants.

If there was one thing the world didn't tolerate, it was the Fehl Taint. Though made superior to their peers, Fehl Mutants typically started out harmless. But once exposed to Fehl Magic, the taint would gradually worsen until they finally morphed into Fehl Beasts—creatures of pure madness driven solely by hedonism and destruction.

Who could tolerate them?

That added to the fact that mutants and beasts aside, only Fehl Daemons could use that horribly powerful magic, regardless of race or affiliations, all hunted the Fehl-tainted. For those unable to conceal their mutations, dark forests and secluded cults were their sole options. How could such a man remain the heir of the von Karsten?

Kilian's existence had suddenly turned into a time ticking bomb threatening to wipe out this ancient house! And as he regained his consciousness, as he swept his "kinsmen" and read in their faces the reality of his situation, Kilian couldn't restrain a chuckle. Even as Klaus boiled with fury, Kilian chuckled.

"Hahaha," amused; he was utterly amused. The situation was far too entertaining. It was as if fate spat in all their faces, Klaus' more than his. For four years, Klaus dedicated himself to teaching Kilian all he knew and making him the perfect successor of his house. But now, he had no other choice but to destroy him. How amusing indeed. How frustrating indeed.

Kilian now knew he would get no chance of revenge, no opportunity to appease the souls of the dead, souls that still kept him awake at night. He would die within six hours, maybe less. Again, death readied to embrace him, and this time, he didn't believe another miracle would occur. The second chance...wasn't enough.

How frustrating, how infuriating! But regardless of how wronged he felt, Kilian couldn't control destiny. Klaus too couldn't, so he waved for his kin to depart and locked himself in his study. The kinsmen promptly left, knowing that in the following hours, a blaze was inevitable.

For a whole hour, Klaus wept tears of rage and bitterness, cursing Fehl for playing him so. But at the start of the second, he stood up and walked out of the door. His red, moistened eyes faced Kilian with a contrasting, stony gaze.

"Kilian, I'm sorry," Klaus stated, even as his tears trickled down.

"Don't be; I wouldn't be," Kilian replied in a matching tone. Hearing this, Klaus curled his lips into a smile and stepped out. Kilian closed his eyes. There was only one way to execute the Fehl-tainted, formulated by the Grand Orders, and upheld by the Arcadian Dynasty: The Baptism of Fire.

Klaus returned half-an-hour afterward, personally binding and leading Kilian toward the execution ground. In the middle of Kars, the stake awaited with rabble gathering and n.o.bles observing from a distance. Klaus could have taken care of this privately. But bolder than the average n.o.ble, he planned to use the event to increase his prestige, by openly putting justice above family ties, thereby milking Kilian for one last time.

Before the common rabble and n.o.bles, Klaus tied Kilian on the wooden stake, then turned to face the populace, speaking eight words the n.o.bles would firmly engrave in their minds.

"Even my son is not above the law!" Amplified by a minor sound spell, the words thundered throughout the execution grounds, gripping the thousands of gathering commoners.

And with that one declaration, Klaus snapped his fingers, instantly setting the stake ablaze. This was no ordinary flame. The "baptism" required the tainted to burn for three hours, not one more, not one less. And so Kilian watched the flames rise from the bottom of the stake to embroil his legs and make a slow rise toward his head.

It hurt.

It hurt like h.e.l.l.

Hurt so much that his mind snapped, that his howls died in his throat, becoming frenzied laughs that alongside his third, crimson eye, gave him the look of a maniacal devil. Spurred on, the rabble tossed stones at Kilian's burning frame, but when compared to the flames searing his flesh, how could they matter?

The guards promptly contained the rabble's rage, returning order to the Baptism of Fire and ensuring nothing would derail the burning. Kilian couldn't close his eyes, they swept the gathered individuals, going from one face to another until they locked back on Klaus'. There, he stopped. At some point, it seemed the pain reached such a threshold that Kilian's brain forced him into a.n.a.lgesia, allowing him to spend the final minutes of the "baptism" without agony.

Klaus faced him all along, not missing an instant of the three hours long burning.

"I do not want to die," Kilian whispered as the fire covered his chest. On the scene, only Klaus could hear the words.

"I will not die. Even if I must claw my way out of the pits of h.e.l.l, I will return, and drag you into a cage of eternal d.a.m.nation." It was a statement, a promise, a pledge, Klaus welcomed it with a faint smile.

"I will be waiting," he accepted the improbable challenge.

Red light flickered within Kilian's crimson eye. The third hour ended, bringing alongside it a dazzling conflagration that burned what remained of Kilian into ashes. Thus, for the second time, Kilian perished.