After losing my arm, I never underestimated my opponent again. No matter the number, no matter the size, I cut them all down as equals. Over this past year I’ve ascended more than 200 floors and it shows no sign of stopping any time soon. My hair is down past my shoulders but I can’t tell if it’s red or silver anymore. My body is covered in scars from my neck down. Strangely enough, wounds left on my face don’t leave a mark after being healed.

The necklace around my neck that was suppose to be given to my mother showed me that I still had family to protect. I wore it to remember my family was still alive. Every time I would lose myself to bloodshed and violence, I would look down at the necklace and it would drag me back to reality. That I was trying to fight for a purpose. It was only temporary as I slipped back to living for battle after just a few fights. This state would last for weeks to months at a time, and whenever I did it left a blank spot in my memory. If I was to try to remember all that would come up would be a red image of something dying.

The daemon’s blood was awakening more and more and I noticed that my wounds would begin to close faster and faster, but my arm never once started to regenerate. It seemed that lost limbs aren’t simple wounds.

I was fighting countless daemons, but I was also fighting with myself. Constantly trying to regain control over myself, trying not to be locked up by the need to fight.

I don’t want to fight anymore. I need to fight. But I want to rest. But rest would mean I wouldn’t be able to kill during that time.

I could feel the daemon blood eating away at my human half. My morals, my memories, my soul. I had no control over how I felt or acted. I didn’t want to think about anything but fighting, and killing. But I was tired, really tired. I wanted to go home, even though my home was long gone. I wanted a place to call my own and I didn’t want to be alone anymore.

Death and destruction are my friends and family now. I thought that for a while, wherever I went the lives of the daemons around me were extinguished, whether the fight was easy or difficult, they died and I didn’t. I guess I was thankful for that much.

Every once in awhile, when I had brief control over my own thoughts, I would think of Lux. Was she okay? Was she struggling? I had sincerely hoped that she would never have to see me in a state like this. I was bruised, bloodied, scarred, and worst of all, insane. I couldn’t keep track of my own thoughts and I had a hard time controlling myself. I wouldn’t want her anywhere near me the way I am now. I feared that I would hurt her.

I almost didn’t want to leave the labyrinth because I was becoming something that belonged here. But I had to, for the sake of the only people I cared about, and for those who are facing meaningless hardships because of others. I had to get stronger and leave this hellhole. Forged by countless life or death battles I became strong. Eventually, another year passed and I rose above the rest of the daemons. For the last 20 or so floors, nothing dared attack me because of the thick killing intent that seeped through my pores. I didn’t bother killing them, if I engaged them and slaughtered them one sidedly it wasn’t any fun. So I wasn’t interested unless they would put up a fight.

Around the last few floors there was another orc who didn’t think much of me, so he attacked with a club similar to the one that made me lose my arm. I parried his attack with ease, and then sliced off his arm, from the elbow down. After, I rushed in and pierced his throat, and ended his life.

Boring, it was all too boring. Nothing in here had the potential to entertain me anymore. Even so, I continued to walk on. When I got to the last floor before the entrance, there was something waiting for me. It was a daemon that I had never seen before.

It’s hair was a distinct silver color, it was covered in various scars like it had been through quite a few battles. There was a five 0’clock shadow that was messy and when he looked at me, there were shining blue eyes. The most alarming thing that I saw, was that he was missing his left arm. The final boss was myself I was fighting a perfect copy of me.

“While I’m not technically a daemon, or you, I’m still both. I’m a manifestation of your daemon blood. If you can defeat me you’ll have control over your bloodline completely. Don’t get cocky just because you’re able to cut down some low class daemons with ease.” It’s voice was an exact copy of mine as well.

“Will I be able to control this bloodlust too? What about my thoughts? Will they continue to be scrambled and dominated by my need for battle?” It was a good time for him to appear, I could ask questions while I was in control of my mind for a bit.

“Sorry kid, that comes with being a daemon. You’ll have to learn how to control that on your own,” He drew a copy of oblivion and began walking towards me, “For now you should worry about me and not what comes after.”

My blood began to boil and I knew that this was going to be the hardest fight I’ve had to far. We clashed swords, neither one of us gaining an advantage over the other. We swung and parried each other constantly. Dodging and locking swords. I tried to stab at him, he parried my blade and went to stab me and I was forced to dodge. He slashed at me and I dodged out of the way and went to limit his movement by landing a strike on his leg and he immediately repositioned his sword to meet mine.

No matter what one of us tried to do we both had an answer and a counter. This went on for several days. It was so much fun. A constant state of life and death was placed before me for an entire day.

The stalemate eventually broke and it was because of a single mistake. Up until that point both of us had been fighting perfectly, not giving a single opening to the other. Perhaps it was because of impatience or fatigue, but he swung his sword a bit too far, and I immediately capitalized on it. I charged in during the half second he was unsteady and stabbed right through his heart. Until this, neither one of us had sustained an injury due to the other.

“Congratulations kid, you now have complete authority over your bloodline. Remember though, if you use it, your old man will kill you with a single thought. He’s an existence that the current you cannot fathom. However your growth might never stop, and maybe one day you’ll be able to stand as an equal with him, possibly even stronger.” With a smile he began to fade away, “Good luck.”

With that I had conquered the labyrinth. There was no other beast in this place that could harm me. The red light from Oblivion enveloped me in a warm light that made me feel comfortable. It’d been so long since I saw natural light that all I wanted to do was get out of here. Little did I know that the warm glowing light had set off a chain of reactions that caused the heavens to go mad.

I walked out and surveyed the area around the labyrinth entrance. Everything was still dead and I wanted to get to the sunlight as soon as possible. After spending more than 2 years in the dark all I wanted was the warm light against my skin. As I was rushing to leave this area, a sudden pain started to take over my body. The contract was once again usable and agony began to flair out. The daemon’s blood was clashing with the dragon’s blood that was suppressed until now. I was awake long enough to see two human silhouettes begin to approach me when the feeling of being torn apart by the separate bloodlines caused me to pass out.

I awoke in the starless world. It was the first time in a long time that I was here. “Long time no see, Noctis. What a sorry state you’ve ended up in without me.” I had no way to answer him, because he was right. I was going mad, I lost a limb, and I was covered in battle scars.

“Your body is currently being destroyed, Noctis. Your father didn’t anticipate such a violent reaction when the blood from the contract and the blood of the daemon met up inside your body. The way I see it, you have about a 10% chance of living as it is now. And even if you do live, there will be permanent damage that will be debilitating.” His words were like that of a doctor, telling the patient that they have a year before they die. The only difference was that I had about 30 minutes to an hour.

“I’m sorry that I was unable to help you when you were stuck down there, when you needed someone to make you stop.” His voice was filled with regret. Regret that he couldn’t protect someone who he had come to care for like his own child.

I was dying. There was nothing I could do to stop it either. All I could do was wait here and hope for the best. I was used to death and prepared for it a long time ago. That’s what it means to take someone’s life. If you’re willing to kill, then you’d best be willing to die as well.

Is what a normal person would have thought. But I wasn’t in the right mind at that time so my thinking was much more drastic. As the two bloodlines were struggling to break free from my body, repulsed by the other I did something that I probably shouldn’t have. I fused them together inside my body and then my consciousness couldn’t even be found by Exidium after that.