Sovereign of the Karmic System

In a remote corner of space, was a cultivator.

Young only in appearance, with long blond hair that went down to his lower back, he wore a loosely fit red robe, which was undone down to his waist, revealing his lean, yet defined physique. Under a pair of sharp blonde brows, two sanguine globes roamed the skies, scouring the scenery as he sat onto a delicately made outdoor chair.

This young man appeared to be relaxing, taking in the spectacular scenery while kicking his feet up onto a short garden table, both located, alongside a second unused outdoor chair, on what appeared to be a small balcony at the edge of a dark room. In his hand was a glass chalice, halfway filled with a mixture of alcohol he had just found, and blood.

As he brought the grim concoction up to his flaring red lips, he sipped it, allowing for it to cover his mouth completely before finally swallowing it. He was thoroughly enjoying it, just like he was enjoying the scenery that appeared in front of his eyes. A sky on which large multicolored globes danced around one another with a regular motion, orbiting around the planet he was staying on.

These large planets never clashed with one another, and simply roamed the skies, hindering the sight of the starry sky, but forming a spectacle that was uniquely rare to witness all across the multiverse.

"Sect leader, it is time." Said a voice that came from behind him.

As the blonde cultivator turned around, he noticed the beautiful figure of a short, jet black-haired woman dressed in a simpler, yet similar attire to his own. She was standing in the middle of a room, right in between a large wooden door, a polished desk, and a neatly done king-sized bed.

This woman was bowing politely, showing great respect towards the blonde young man, who slowly stood up, and walked towards her. Once just a step away, the man pinched her chin, and lifted it until the woman was staring at the ceiling. He then moved his face closer to her neck before inhaling deeply, taking in the woman's scent.

Naturally, the beautiful woman did not move. She knew that the one she called sect leader was not smelling her perfume, or her natural scent.. But the smell of her blood, as it flowed through her veins and all over her body. She did not fear it, after all, as anything the man would have chosen to do to her, she would have felt honored about.

"How many?" The blonde cultivator asked, as his long and pointy tongue threatened to brush against the woman's neck.

Trembling in her own skin, the woman responded, "Fif-Fifty thousand, my lord." As she finished speaking, the fingers that had pinched her chin let go of her, and she was once again free to move. She slowly turned to look at the man, and on his face, she saw an ecstatic expression.

As if having lost interest in the woman, the blonde cultivator walked out of the room, and past several dark corridors, until finally, he stepped into the light, where a small platform of neatly cut stone awaited him. He was now standing at the peak of a black castle, which ruled over the land like a mountain of polished onyx.

On this round platform a dozen more cultivators awaited his arrival, each standing as part of two curved lines that followed the platform's edge, separated by the entrance the blonde cultivator had just walked out. In the middle of the platform, was a one meter tall sacrificial altar, round in shape, and with engravings that seemed to have been consumed by the sheer amount of blood that had flown through them.

On top of the altar, lay a young woman dressed only in a double layer of bandages that covered her breasts, and a simple loincloth, which covered her private parts. Her wrists and ankles were bound by a black rope, forcing her in the lying position no matter how much she struggled.

Satisfied by the woman's appearance, the blonde cultivator stepped closer to the sacrificial altar, then turned to his left, where, connected to the platform, he saw a thousand steps tall staircase filled with men, women, children and elderly individuals, each standing on every step. The line of sacrifices, of course, continued far past the bottom of the stairs, and in between mounds of brown matter whose nature was, from that high up, hardly distinguishable.

At the sight, the man felt incredibly satisfied. After having fought his brothers and sisters for the past two thousand years, he had finally managed to obtain the position of the Blood Sect leader. A position that came along with control over what, for the past century, had become the main headquarters of the sect.

Today was the day of his investiture, and as tradition dictated, he was to perform the sacrifice himself, hoping that the aspect of Sacrifice would notice his contribution, and grant him a boon. It was fortunate, he thought, that he enjoyed slaughter, or this might have felt like too much work.

While excited about what was to come, however, the blonde cultivator could not help but feel a tinge of regret. He was now the leader of the Blood Sect, the highest of all of Sacrifice's champions, and yet, he was missing something.. The arts he had longed for time immemorial, the teachings of his former master.. The Blood legacy.

"If only I had received his legacy.. Today would have been perfect." the blonde young man thought as his bare feet tapped onto the cold stone. The tied woman, as she saw him approach, began to squirm in panic. The thought of what was to come had sunk her into a deep desperate state, which prevented her from noticing as the rough rope started to dig into her skin, and draw blood.

Strangely, however, the man did not hurt her. Instead, he lifted his hand, and gently placed it on top of her wavy red hair. Then, with extreme gentleness, he started to caress her head. His strikingly handsome face, while tainted by the terrifying sight of his blood-colored eyes, was morphed into a caring expression, which he used to calm the woman down. "Shh.. All is going to be okay." he whispered to her.

The woman was utterly terrified, and the sudden end of her struggle did not symbolize a regain of her composure, but a fall into an even deeper state of fear.. One where the prey would inevitably stop struggling, for all hope was lost. Only mercy could have saved her now.

As her wide eyes looked at the blonde cultivator's creepy expression, she felt the warm touch of his other hand onto her stomach, then, a sharp pain. Muffled by the layers of cloth that was used to gag her, she let out a blood wrenching scream that completely covered the noises of the man's hand sinking into her flesh, and digging through her entrails.

Sustained by the healing essence the blonde young man's hand was injecting into her forehead, the woman could do nothing but experience the excruciating pain, unable to even die. She could feel his hand push through her intestines, then into her thorax, until finally, it reached her wildly beating heart.

With his arm in up to his elbows, the man gently wrapped his fingers around the woman's beating heart, and finally, after the minute long torture, he stared deep into her eyes, and closed his hand into a fist, crushing the most vital of her organs into a red paste.

Finally, the woman had died.

Once the first of many sacrifices were killed, the man removed his arm from the woman's corpse, and immediately after, dived into the wound head first, eager to taste the shiny red and warm liquid that had pooled into her caved belly. Like a doe that for the first time had tasted water, he drank a mouthful of fresh blood then stopped.

He then stood back up, and with half of his face covered in blood, he cut the woman's hands and legs loose before roughly pushing her off the altar, causing her body to roll out of the platform, and down the side of the castle wall. As her body reached the bottom of the descent, she became part of the scenery.. One more clump of rotting flesh on top of mounds formed by millions of corpses, all stacked one onto another into several brown-colored hills.

Extremely satisfied, the blonde cultivator looked ahead, where in the sky, hundreds of large platforms floated. Each carrying thousands of red-robed cultivators that bowed in honor of their new leader, and in honor of the lord they served.

"To Lord Sacrifice." the blonde cultivator uttered with a tone that reached the far end of the planets.

"PRAISE BE, PRAISE BE, PRAISE BE!" The tens of thousands of cultivators chanted in response before one of the twelve cultivators that stood behind him approached the top of the staircase, grabbed the following offering by his arm, and pushed him towards the altar, where the blonde cultivator awaited for him in a state of pure ecstasy.

What followed were weeks, months of needless slaughter, at the end of which the entire platform, as well as the body and clothes of the blonde cultivator, were completely soaked in blood.. The oldest of which being black and dry, while some of it still ran warm.

At some point, during the sacrificial ceremony, the body of the sect leader had started to glow with a bright red power. A power that was connected to him, and strengthened his gift of sacrifice.. For its nature was the existential power of Sacrifice itself, which he had produced to honor his lord.

While the actual aspect of Sacrifice did not care, nor knew about this tradition, the many cultivators took the increase of existential power on their leader's body to be a boon of their lord, and almost a sign of recognition. An act to which they responded to by prostrating themselves until their foreheads touched the floor, and their knees pressed against their chest.

"Long live the new Blood Emperor!" they yelled to the top of their lungs.

Seeing this, the blonde cultivator felt on top of the world. He was staring at his subjects, at the power inside the body, and at his new empire with sheer satisfaction. A feeling that was diametrically opposed to that of the twelve men and women who stood behind him, for they were the other candidates to his position, who had been forced to give up their ambitions if they wished to keep their lives.

Their feelings, however, were not the blonde young man's concern.. For he was now drowning in pleasure. His arms, both covered in the freshest and most lucid blood, stretched outwards, and he let the light of the stars and the devoted chanting bathe him.

But just when he felt his spirit was about to reach the pinnacle of existence, the chanting suddenly stopped, replaced by a soft murmur. Confused, he opened his eyes only to find that he was not standing alone anymore, but that next to him, was a young man. A young man who, like him, stood at the edge of the platform, looking down at the rivers of blood he had created, and at the mounds of corpses that lay at the bottom.

The young man had arrived in absolute silence. He had appeared like a ghost, and without saying a word. No one had felt his presence, the powers of his body, or the movement of the surrounding mana. If they could not see him with their own eyes, they wouldn't have believed he existed.

As he noticed Daniel's arrival, the blonde cultivator approached him. He had no intention of talking to him, for he could feel that the man's ki and spiritual essence were at a slightly lower level than his own. Yet, as he took a step forward, he froze in place. A cold and indifferent voice started to play in his mind. "No form of sacrifice is more valuable than the sacrifice of one's own life.. Would you not agree?" Daniel asked.. Not only to the blonde young man, but to all cultivators present before taking a short pause.

"Would you like me to help you?" he then asked.