Caught in the sudden, unexpected intimacy of Asher’s body pressed against hers, Isola’s thoughts raced, a whirlwind of anger and disbelief.
Just as she was beginning to think he was not vulgar like the other nobles, was he now trying to take advantage of her?
Her eyes flared with fierce determination as she was prepared to shove him off. But just as she was about to act, something within her stilled. His breath, shallow and uneven, tickled her neck, his body lay heavy and unresponsive against hers.
This wasn’t the lecherous advance she had thought; Asher was unconscious, his body alarmingly weak and limp.
And she immediately understood why. Just like what happened to her, the Mother Kraken had not only siphoned his lifeforce but his bloodforce as well.
A person’s bloodforce could be understood as the essential energy that was both sustained and transmitted by the blood through generations. It was a mystical power that pulsated within the very life fluid of an individual, originating from their lineage and ancestry.
But having one’s bloodforce siphoned was even more dangerous than having only their lifeforce siphoned.
As Isola crouched down, carefully laying Asher’s unconscious form onto the cool floor of the pavilion, she was acutely aware of the lethargic pulse of his heart.
His energy was ebbing away, after getting ruthlessly drained by the Mother Kraken, leaving behind a frail shell that would break within a minute or two.
Her gaze hardened as she contemplated the situation. Here he was, the man who tricked and used her to make her people surrender, the man who held the fate of her people in his grasp with no telling what he was going to do with them all.
It would be so easy to let him slip away, to watch as his life force dwindled until there was nothing left.
A dangerous light shone in her eyes. If he died now, no one would suspect her even if they investigated his death since she did nothing to him.
Yet, a part of her recoiled at the thought. She remembered his words in the Kraken’s belly, the moment where she realized how her life can hold more meaning.
And despite the bitterness that lingered in her heart, some of his words he said at that time still resonated within her.
With a sigh, her gaze softened as her eyes began to glow with a new resolve.
She could hate him, yes, but if he has to die, it shouldn’t be like this.
And the next moment, a stream of water slowly rose from the pool as a soft melody filled the air.
Lost in the labyrinth of unconsciousness, Asher’s mind was a tempest of darkness and pulsating pain.
Each beat of his heart was a hammer blow, echoing through the void that had become his existence.𝑜𝑽xt.𝗇t
Yet, through the disorienting blackness, a melody pierced, a beacon of sound that broke through the desolate silence, carrying with it a message, a woman’s voice weaving words into a blend of soulful music.
“Upon the crossroads of light and dark, a choice awaits…”
The voice was surreal, ethereal, the words laden with a melancholic beauty. It was a lament, a plea, a question, and a challenge, all wrapped into a five-sentence melody. It sang of choices, of futures uncertain, of the power to build or destroy.
His pain, a constant, oppressive companion, seemed to lose its intensity under the song’s influence.
The harsh hammering in his chest softened, becoming a rhythmic lullaby that echoed the melody. His body, battered and worn, seemed to find solace in the tune, a soothing balm that eased the gnawing discomfort.
“Will the heart of steel bring a dawn, or an endless night…”
“His actions, a storm of fire, can nurture or devastate,”
“The children of the abyss, their fate within his sight,”
“A dance with danger, will it be our salvation, or invite our plight?”
The woman’s voice seemed to wrap around him, like a warm, comforting blanket in a chilling winter night.
It was a lifeline in the darkness, an unexpected reprieve from the torment. It was as if the song was healing him, mending his wounds, and providing him with a sense of tranquility he hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity.
As the final notes of the song echoed in his mind, Asher felt a sense of peace settle over him.
The throbbing pain ebbed away, replaced by a soothing calm. His heart steadied, his breaths deepened, and for the first time since his collapse, he felt a flicker of strength returning.
It was as if the song, mysterious and beautiful, had breathed life back into him, giving him the strength to continue to fight the battle that raged within his body.
Submerged in the abyss of unconsciousness, the woman’s voice trailed off like a dying echo, leaving Asher adrift once more.
The void was soon filled with a new scenery that just seemed to have been born out of nowhere.
The scene materializing was one of chaos and destruction – a land of dark green fire and shattering volcanoes, eerily reminiscent of his own Dimension of the Damned.
It was a twisted tableau of hellish proportions, a vision of damnation that sent a shiver of foreboding through his very soul.
Suddenly, Asher felt an ethereal tug, as though invisible hands had hoisted him from the fiery landscape.
He was soaring through the infernal sky, the scorching heat and acrid smoke replaced by an inexplicable coolness.
It was then that he heard it – a voice, gruff and weary with the weight of countless years, its tone laced with a sorrow that cut deeper than any physical wound.
“Forgive me for doing this…” The voice rumbled, laden with regret and an undercurrent of resentment and grim determination, “But I won’t let you get condemned to Eternal Damnation like me.”
The words hung in the air, a chilling sentence that instilled a sense of unease in Asher’s heart.
Who was this man? And why did he speak of damnation? As if in response to his confusion, the image shattered, the hellish landscape and the mysterious voice dissolving into the blackness.
A blink later, Asher found himself being gradually pulled from the depths of unconsciousness, the darkness receding like a receding tide.
His eyelids felt heavy as he struggled to lift them, the world around him coming into focus in blurry patches.
The transition from the terrifying scene to the tangible reality left him disoriented, yet filled with an inexplicable sense of dread and anticipation.
He couldn’t shake off the disturbing premonition that the dream had left behind, its cryptic message echoing ominously in his still throbbing head.
Bleary-eyed and disoriented, Asher blinked against the familiar darkness of his royal chamber as the bright rays of the dark sun made its way through the large windows.
How could it be morning already?
Confusion threaded through his weary mind. The last thing he recalled was talking to Isola in the Gloaming Pavilion, and now he was here, in his own room, on his own bed. How had he ended up here?
As if summoned by his thoughts, a voice broke through his confusion, “Asher,” Rowena’s voice held a note of worry as her face swam into his vision. The strange dream he had still lingered in his mind like an afterthought.
“Rowena…” He managed to croak out her name, his voice rough and dry. As he made an attempt to sit up, a wave of dizziness crashed over him. Rowena was quick to react, her arm slipping around his back to steady him, her touch firm yet gentle.
“You should know better than to be so reckless with your life,” Rowena chided him, the sternness of her tone softened by the concern etched on her face.
“I didn’t realize…” Asher defended weakly, shrugging lightly, “I felt fine or I thought I was…’ Asher remembered how his HP was stable and wasn’t decreasing.
Rowena shook her head, a silent reprimand, “You should heed my warnings next time. The siphoning of your bloodforce was more serious than even I anticipated,” Guilt flashed across her face, briefly replacing her usually cool expression, “I thought my blood energy would keep you stable longer… but that Kraken, it took more than it should have.”
“I’m sorry…” Asher raised his hand, silencing her tirade of worry, “You can scold me as you like, I know I messed up.”
The sternness on Rowena’s face softened, giving way to a more gentle expression, “I’m not angry at you, Asher,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, “I’m scared. Since this war began, I’ve felt… close to losing you a few times. Even though I know you mean well, I can’t stand that feeling.”
As her words hung in the air, Asher shifted, his arm snaking around her soft waist, drawing her closer, “I know and I’m really sorry,” he murmured again, the words heavy with determination, “I promise I won’t be so careless anymore.”
And with that, he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her glistening soft lips, a silent way to reassure her, though he indeed decided to not be so careless anymore.
The gentle exchange of their morning kiss soon began to evolve into something deeper, more passionate. The taste of her, the soft sighs she made as he deepened the kiss stirred an all-too-familiar heat in him.
Asher was tempted to lose himself in the intoxicating feel of her, blaming it on his morning libido.
However, Rowena was the first to pull away, her face slightly flushed, her eyes sparkling with suppressed desire, “I have to go, Ash,” she said softly, her voice shaky, “I am going to talk with Moraxor soon.”
A hint of disappointment flashed through Asher’s eyes, but he understood. He nodded, though not before insisting, “I’m coming with you.”
There was a flicker of hesitation in Rowena’s eyes. She knew of his weakened condition, but he was adamant, and she saw the stubborn resolve in his eyes, “Fine,” she conceded, her voice carrying a note of worry, “But you must be careful. You might not be able to use your mana. It’s a side effect of having your bloodforce siphoned.”
His eyes widened in surprise, “Damn…When can I use it again?” he asked, the concern clear in his voice.
Rowena sighed, her gaze softening, “I don’t know exactly. It could be a few days or weeks,” she admitted, “But once you’re fully healed, you’ll be fine.”
Asher felt it was a bummer, though he thought that he could focus on building his influence and learn more about these Umbralfiends in the meantime.
“We can leave whenever you are ready,” With that, Rowena stood, her eyes lingering on Asher for a moment longer before she turned to leave.
Just as Rowena left, the door opened again, revealing Merina who came in and deeply bowed, concern etched on her face, “Master, I hope you are feeling better.”
Asher’s expression turned serious, “Merina,” he began, “what exactly happened after I collapsed?”
Merina slowly raised her gaze to meet Asher’s, “Isola alerted me when you collapsed, Master,” she informed him, a hint of awe in her voice, “The royal physician was surprised at your condition, he expected it to be worse. It seems… Isola might have saved your life.”
Asher chuckled, his eyes narrowing, “Isola, huh?” He mulled over the information.
Merina added softly with a hint of hesitation, “I know she is still our enemy in a way, but she seems to be a nice girl, Master.”
He shrugged, a knowing smile on his lips, “Perhaps, but don’t be quick to judge anyone, Merina,” Asher’s words were a reminder, a lesson from his own life, though Merina had no idea of it.
And then, switching the mood entirely, he gestured towards his lower body, a playful smirk on his face, “Now, it’s time for you to be nice to my little friend down there.”
“Y-Yes, Master,” Merina’s cheeks flushed with a rich reddish hue as she nodded and walked over to him and kneeled before his angry, caged dragon.
And what followed was the sound of sinful moans and grunts.