Nicolas in Immortalis Prints a Daily Nicolas Defence Titled Why They Always Misunderstand Me

Every dawn in the shadowed spires of Immortalis, the presses groan under my command, spitting forth the truth they dare not whisper. Today’s edition bears the headline they will tear from the walls in futile rage: Why They Always Misunderstand Me. Let them clutch their pearls and bolt their doors. I print it regardless, for the masses deserve their daily dose of clarity, even if it scorches their fragile sensibilities.

They call me monster, fiend, a blight upon the eternal night. How quaint. How utterly predictable. I, Nicolas, architect of exquisite agonies, am reduced to caricature by those too timid to gaze upon the mirror of their own desires. Misunderstanding? Nay, it is wilful blindness. They see the blade in my hand and forget the devotion that tempers its edge. They hear the screams echoing through my halls and mistake symphony for savagery.

Consider the girl, that trembling morsel who first crossed my threshold. They branded me her tormentor, her devourer. Yet who was it that lifted her from the muck of mortal tedium, clothed her in silks stained only by consent? I broke her, yes, but only to forge her anew, stronger, fiercer, bound to me in chains of her own forging. Love, in Immortalis, is not the simpering verse of poets. It is possession absolute, a dance of dominance and surrender where pain is the truest aphrodisiac. They misunderstand because they crave it secretly, yet lack the spine to kneel.

And the rivals? Those posturing fools who challenge my reign. They paint me as tyrant, sadist unbound. But order demands sacrifice. In the grand theatre of eternity, I am director, ensuring the play unfolds without mercy’s interruption. Their blood on my floors? A necessary libation to the gods of excess. Without me, Immortalis would crumble into banal chaos, a playground for the weak. I am misunderstood guardian, the shadow that devours to preserve.

So read this, you gossips and puritans. Print it on your tongues and spread it through your veins. I am no villain of your fairy tales. I am Nicolas, eternal, unyielding, and utterly essential. Misunderstand me at your peril, for tomorrow’s defence awaits, ink still wet with the blood of lies.

Immortalis Book One August 2026