Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate

Chapter 234: Bloodlust but without being an Awakened ? (2)
“Like what you’re doing right now.”

Damien’s lips pressed together. His eyes drifted slightly, as if reassessing the air itself. He hadn’t noticed it before. Not really.

But now that it had been named, he could feel it.

The echo of that moment in the canyon.

The sound of the beast’s roar.

The heat of its blood on his skin.

The taste of something older than fear still clinging to his senses.

“…I see,” he said quietly.

Dominic’s gaze cooled.

Not the cold of distance—but of sharp, rising agitation coiled beneath steel discipline.

His voice came low, precise. Each syllable carried the weight of command.

“You fought a monster.”

It wasn’t a question.

Damien didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

Dominic’s tone tightened.

“You’re not even properly Awakened. You haven’t formed your core. Your foundation is barely stable. And you thought it wise to test yourself against something designed to kill?”

He rose slightly from his seat, not in a rage—but in a rising tide.

“Do you even understand how reckless that is? A G-rank monster may be the bottom of the classification, but even at their weakest, they’re physically enhanced. Viscous. Unpredictable. Even trained Awakened die to low-ranks when they underestimate terrain or pacing.”

His eyes bored into Damien.

“And you—who just recently remembered how to hold your breath under strain—thought you could walk into a beast’s den?”

The weight of his words slammed into the room harder than any raised voice could have.

Dominic didn’t shout.

He scolded.

Not with rage.

But with the tempered intensity of someone who had buried people over less.

“Do you have a death wish?” he asked. “Or are you simply tired of valuing your life?”

Still, Damien didn’t speak.

Didn’t react.

He sat through every word, spine straight, hands folded.

Because it wasn’t just a lecture.

It was concern.

And Damien, for all his pride, wasn’t so broken that he couldn’t recognize it.

When the silence finally settled, Damien took a slow breath.

Then he spoke, calmly.

“I didn’t fight it alone,” he said. “Elysia was there.”

Dominic’s brows drew tighter. “That doesn’t make it acceptable.”

“No,” Damien agreed. “But it makes it calculated.”

A pause.

Then—

“The monster was G-minus rank. I confirmed that before I engaged.”

Dominic’s eyes narrowed. “You confirmed it?”

“It was Elysia, but I trust her judgment.”

He leaned forward slightly, meeting his father’s gaze directly now.

“It was important.”

“Why?” Dominic asked, flat. “Why risk it at all?”

Damien hesitated.

And for the first time in their conversation… his composure slipped, if only slightly.

“…It’s hard to explain,” he admitted.

Dominic didn’t accept that.

“Damien.”

His name, a warning.

A demand.

And after a pause, Damien exhaled, voice quieter now.

“I had a dream.”

Dominic’s expression didn’t change.

But his mind halted.

“A dream?”

“Yes.”

Damien’s voice dropped further, as if peeling back a layer he hadn’t yet spoken aloud—not even to himself.

“A place I hadn’t seen before. A rift canyon. With marks carved into the walls. Symbols I didn’t recognize. But they pulled at me. I saw a creature. I saw its death. And something left behind.”

He paused, the words falling heavy.

“I don’t know how to explain it. But it felt real.”

Dominic’s voice thinned. “You’re saying you followed a vision.”

“Not just a vision,” Damien said. “A message.”

Another breath.

Then—

“I believe there’s an inheritance there.”

Silence.

Dominic’s gaze flickered.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

Because in this world, inheritance wasn’t a word used lightly.

“Don’t tell me…” he began, quiet.

Damien nodded once.

“Yes. An inheritance from an Ascended.”

Dominic’s eyes locked onto his son.

There was no accusation in them now. No simmering fury. Just silence—deep, thoughtful silence. One that stretched between them like a drawn blade held steady in midair.

An inheritance.

From an Ascended.

That explained the pressure. The change. The presence that curled faintly around Damien like smoke without fire—too subtle for most to notice, but not for someone like Dominic. Not for a man who had lived through bloodshed, betrayal, and the awakening of empires.

It explained why bloodlust—a trait only shown by battle-hardened Awakened—was leaking from a boy who hadn’t yet formed a core.

A single kill wouldn’t do that. Not to someone unawakened.

But an Ascended’s inheritance?

That changed everything.

He let out a slow breath, one hand lifting to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“…Sigh.”

That one sound carried more than frustration.

It was resignation.

Understanding.

Worry.

Dominic stood slowly, moving toward the window, the firelight casting his shadow tall across the floor.

“I suppose that explains it,” he murmured. “The bloodlust. The shift in your resonance. Even your silence.”

He turned slightly, just enough to glance back at Damien.

“If you’ve absorbed even a fragment of an Ascended’s legacy, then your soul isn’t the same anymore. It’s been changed. Stamped. Aligned to something far older than you.”

Damien didn’t reply. He let his father think, speak, calculate.

Dominic’s voice hardened—not with anger, but concern masked as steel.

“But that doesn’t make it less reckless.”

He turned fully now, arms folded.

“Inheritances aren’t gifts. They’re trials. Temptations. Traps.”

He stepped closer, each word cutting with precision.

“They aren’t meant to raise the next generation. They’re meant to test it. Crush the unworthy. Twist the eager. More heirs have died chasing a fragment of power than monsters ever claimed.”

Another pause.

“And you walked into that canyon—alone, underdeveloped, understrength—because of a dream.”

He let the silence hold for a moment, then added quietly:

“You could’ve been broken.”

Still, Damien remained steady. He didn’t shrink from his father’s words. His posture didn’t shift. And in that stillness, Dominic saw it again—that quiet edge beneath the pride. That grim knowing that came from standing close to death and coming back with something more than a scar.

Dominic studied him for another moment.

Then finally…

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

‘Yeah… this fits him,’ he thought. ‘Foolish. Bold. But not without intent.’

He sighed again—lighter this time.

“This family has no shortage of monsters clawing at our walls. The last thing I expected… was for one to be growing inside the gates.”

He walked back to his chair, lowering himself into it slowly.

Then nodded once.

Following that, he rested his forearms on the arms of the chair, fingers steepled, and the firelight cast long shadows across his face. The warmth of his last words faded, replaced once more by the weight of reality. Family pride could wait. Admiration could wait.

Not war.

“Still,” he said, voice returning to its clipped, deliberate cadence, “that’s not why I called you here.”

Damien’s gaze sharpened slightly. He didn’t speak—he waited.

Dominic gave a slow nod, a subtle shift in his posture signaling the turn of the conversation.

“I’m not going to question you further,” he said. “Not about the inheritance. Not tonight.”

Another beat.

“But there’s something you need to know.”

He tapped a button on the side of the chair, and a small, flat projector disk hummed to life on the nearby table. Light flared up between them, forming a web of glowing red threads—business holdings, influence networks, corporate subsidiaries—all stemming from the central Elford crest.

At first, it looked stable.

Then—sections began to flicker red.

Pulses of data where lines had been severed. Where nodes had collapsed.

Dominic’s voice dropped.

“Someone is attacking us.”