Damian had crossed more than a hundred ters, and there were still about eighty-five ters between him and the tomb of the progenitor of vampires.
Only now was he finally beginning to feel the pressure holding him back, just a little.
The entire two-hundred-ter radius of the territory of the Blood of the Night King had been transford into so sort of domain that severely restricted movent, power, and abilities of anyone who entered its space.
What's interesting about this was that to create a domain like this, you need a lot of energy, and when we say a lot, we an a lot, to convert an entire land, even if it's only two hundred ters in radius, into a domain governed by specific rules.
A domain is sothing created by a being of imnse power or a group of powerful individuals.
A domain can be created anywhere, on a piece of land, an entire world, or even empty space, as long as the creator has the power to form it, sustain it, and feed it enough energy to maintain its existence.
Within a domain, the master of the domain is like a god.
They have the power to do anything inside it.
Upon creating the domain, the master gains the ability to establish specific rules that anyone who enters must obey.
Take the First Tower Realm, Solarta, for example, it could be considered a domain with the System as its master.
The upper level limit in Solarta was 200.
Anyone who reached level 200 could no longer level up while in that realm.
Any Awakened being who surpassed level 200 couldn't enter the First Tower Realm again, or if they did, their level would be restricted back to 200.
And it wasn't just magic users, cultivators, too, everyone was limited in their power when inside the First Tower Realm.
Similarly, the Blood of the Night King had created a domain, knowingly or unknowingly, with a two-hundred-ter radius that imposed so serious restrictions.
As soon as Damian placed his feet onto the Land of Blood, he felt his connection to his form transformations, energy control, even the bloodline ability of the Brenlith Clan, everything, simply vanish, as if he had never possessed them.
Right now, he could only use his pure physical strength, his mind, and his willpower to push back against the Blood of the Night King trying to devour him whole.
It was only because he refused to give in that the Blood of the Night King was forced to use force to pull him into the darkness and consu him.
The other vampires didn't have the will or intent to go against its will, because they all carried the Vampire Progenitor's blood or influence in their essence.
Since it was his blood that turned into the monstrous Blood of the Night King, they simply couldn't resist it.
But Damian was a vampire of his own essence, the purest form of vampire, without the influence or essence of the Vampire Progenitor in him.
The Blood of the Night King had no sway over him.
Damian continued to walk, even though thousands of tendrils made of the Blood of the Night King grabbed every part of him, trying to devour him by subrging him into the blood.
But its strength wasn't enough to stop Damian.
After a few more minutes, Damian had crossed about 150 ters, and only 50 ters remained between him and the tomb.
Right now, the resistance from the blood territory was getting insanely powerful.
It wasn't just the tendrils of blood pulling him, Damian was also up against a mountainous, invisible pressure assaulting him from all directions.
Without stopping, Damian continued walking toward the tomb of the Vampire Progenitor, now only 20 ters away.
"Give up…"
"W-What the hell?" Damian's eyes widened.
He was sure he had heard so sort of whisper.
He wasn't sure if he heard it in his mind, in his ears, or if it was even real or just his imagination playing tricks on him, but he was sure sothing, or soone, had just said:
"Give up…"
Damian heard it again, and this ti, it felt stronger, more real than before.
"What is happening?" Damian wondered as he crossed the 185-ter mark.
Suddenly, everything went silent.
The creepy, sloshing sound of the blood tendrils disappeared.
The freezing cold and the burning hot sensations he had felt until now were gone, and he started to feel…
Nothing. Then, his vision darkened.
Damian, who had been using his full strength to walk the remaining 25 ters across the Land of Blood, suddenly felt all the pressure vanish as if it had never been there.
He now found himself standing in a foreign place.
Everything was dark, as if he were standing in a lightless, warmthless void.
He felt cold, and this ti, it was a very uncomfortable kind of cold. His body began to shake, unable to withstand it.
As far as he could see, everything was darkness, endless and empty, and he was standing in pure blood reaching up to his knees, which also seed to stretch into infinity.
"What is this?" Damian felt weak, incredibly weak, the kind of weakness he was all too familiar with.
It was the sa weakness he felt before the System descended on Earth.
He felt like his poor, sickly self again.
His breathing beca labored, and every ti he inhaled or exhaled, a sharp pain ran through his chest, followed by heavy coughing.
"What the hell?" Damian tried to move, but he couldn't, as if his legs were stuck in concrete.
"Co on… What's happening here?" Damian tried his hardest, but no matter what, his legs were stuck.
He couldn't move an inch.
"Why are you struggling so much?"
Damian heard a voice, not far from him.
Before he realized it, a figure was standing in front of him. A figure made of darkness itself.
The only thing Damian could see in that darkness were two nacing, blood-red eyes with vertical slits, looking down at him.
"What the hell are you?" Damian asked.
"… that's irrelevant. I'm just a spectator... I asked you a question," the being with the blood-red eyes said.
"Why are you struggling so much when you know it's all just a... dream?"
"D-Dream? What the hell are you talking about? Where am I? What the fuck is going on?" Damian asked with an extrely agitated expression.
First, he didn't know where he was or how he got here, it was the sa disorienting feeling as falling into a dream without knowing when or how it started.
Secondly, he could feel nothing.
No connection to his abilities, powers, form transformations, or the nurous energies he had once possessed.
"Yes, a dream. Ever since you got into that accident, you've been dreaming."
"In fact, your world being invaded by monsters, you gaining powers… up to everything you think happened, everything was just a dream," the figure cloaked in darkness said.
Its red eyes glowed, but Damian couldn't see the grin forming on its giant, fanged, crooked mouth, dripping with blood.
"…What… what the hell are you talking about?" Damian instantly went into a defensive mode.
He didn't understand.
He couldn't make sense of what this being was trying to say.
"I guess it's pretty hard to accept reality after being trapped in that lucid dream of yours, isn't it?" the figure said.
"What lucid dreaming… what reality? Is this a trick? What are you saying? Who are you?" Damian asked, trying to take a step back from the mysterious figure, but unfortunately, his legs were still trapped in the blood, which only made Damian more agitated.
The figure sighed, as if feeling pity for him. "I'm you..."
"The you you created in your mind, to cope with the pain."
"What… what are you…?" Damian didn't know what to think.
A dozen whispers crawled into his ears, making it hard for him to concentrate or comprehend what the red-eyed figure was trying to say.
"Let put it straight, okay?" the red-eyed being continued.
"Everything that you think happened, from the regression to the trial of the Blood King, everything was a dream."
"Dream? What do you an, dream?! It's not… don't you fucking lie to … Let go! Let out, right now!" Damian shouted as his breathing grew more intense.
The pain in his chest grew even worse, it was becoming harder and harder to breathe.
"Give up…"
"Let it go…"
"Let it consu…"
The whispers in his ears intensified. It now felt like hundreds of beings were whispering around his head, all in creepy monotones, and it was starting to seriously hurt.
"No matter how much you want to deny it, it's the truth. Everything was a lie, Damian… Sothing you created to cope with the pain of being alone all the ti," the red-eyed being said.
"No… that's not true… it can't be true…" Damian held his head, dismissing everything the being was trying to make him believe.
"You are alone…"
"Give in… Give up…"
"Let it take control…"
"Give up control…"
The whispering intensified to an unbearable degree.
It felt like thousands upon thousands of beings were creeping into his mind, testing his ntal strength, whispering to him again and again to give up.
"Give up, Damian," the red-eyed figure shrouded in darkness said, its creepy smile widening even more as blood flooded out of it like an overfilled fountain.
"Your pain is real. Your loneliness is real… But everything else is nothing but a dream."
"No… this can't be it," Damian shook his head, unable to withstand the pain in his mind.
The whispers kept growing more intense, the pain in his chest becoming unbearable.
He dropped to his knees, limping, barely able to balance himself with his hand.
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