Chapter 79: Alas, Come Lick

Frederick collapsed to his knees, the pain stifled in his throat, unable to cry out. Tears welled up in his eyes as the girl's slender shadow loomed over him, her indifferent blue eyes fixed on him as she drew out the crimson blade from his throat.

Why?

Annie did not answer him, for the question was also choked in his throat. Then, he heard Annie's voice, cold and harsh, not at all like that of a little girl:

"Sacolas... why did it have to be you pervert who came?"

"Pervert? I don't much appreciate that insult. Anya of the Third Order, I have a new task for you—for you, the actress who are too absorbed with reporting worshippers of Outer Gods instead of focusing on your real duties."

A... Anya?

He awkwardly lifted his head, seeing a black mist condensing into a human form on the ground. Panic gripped him—the high priest of the Shadow Temple was just a legendary tale to him, like a fairy tale.

"Hello there, little one."

He saw the man in black robes bend down as if without bones, his entire body like a spring. He brought his face close to him, staring at him with only two black hollows for eyes.

"What do you think of this performance? Is the rating excellent, good, or failing?" He smiled warmly like a genial young man. But his smile only filled Frederick with dread.

Frederick struggled to keep his eyes open, his limbs immobile, unable to utter a word.

His consciousness began to slip away, bit by bit.

"You truly are a heartless woman," Sacolas squeezed out two tears made of black mist, and sighed with a sorrowful voice, "Why did you have to harm such a kind little audience? At least let me hear his review of the play before sending him to sleep peacefully."

"Where is the actor playing this boy?" She seemed disinterested in engaging with Sacolas.

"He will be here soon, no need for you to worry," Sacolas wiped away his tears in an instant, his head turning 180 degrees to look at Anya. He smiled, his tone as calm as if reading from a script, "The Imperial mages have located the whereabouts of two dark wizards, both in Cast City. One has just been discovered at the Francis Academy, and the other—Nierse Istria, personally named by the Empress, is near the central district."

Dark wizards... the tyrant Empress... Frederick struggled to think. He began to ponder the connection between them—he didn't know why he was thinking about this, perhaps it was just an unconscious desire not to die so easily.

"Hm, well then, I'm off, Sacolas . The task of disposing of the body is left to you."

Annie... no... don't!

The head turned another 180 degrees, staring at him.

"Ah... My deepest apologies, for as footsteps draw near, I must conclude this act with haste and deal with you in this manner."

His vision began to blur.

He heard the sound of boots on the ground, and an eerie laughter echoed from above his head.

The boot pressed down on his waist.

My body?

He felt his flesh melt away from his waist, turning to ash, he felt himself lose weight, then disperse like smoke.

......

Salser woke up amidst a strange odor, and due to an improper awakening, his head buzzed with a ringing sound.

He coughed as he sat up in bed, walking to the balcony and opening the door, his hands feeling weak due to his groggy head. The air was cool, and the blue moonlight fell on his face, making him a bit more awake—it seemed to still be the middle of the night. Among the tall or low buildings, looking down the dimly lit streets towards the distance, it seemed that a great fire had erupted far away. But Salser didn't pay it much attention—that was the city guard's business, not his.

Salser felt his throat was a bit hoarse. He blinked, wiping away the tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes from just waking up, and turned to close the balcony door. No blood, no pursuit, no explosives, everything was so calm... no, what had woken him up?

He couldn't be bothered to find the switch for the arc lamp, so he opened the balcony main door instead.

In an instant, the cool light filled the room, revealing the silhouette of a woman in just a white shirt.

Caren seemed somewhat surprised, yet also appeared indifferent.

"You're awake?"

She leaned against the headboard, her chin resting on her bare knee, a pale arm holding a lock of hair. She hadn't noticed him at first, but now it seemed she had. She let go of her arm, her fingers falling on the bed. Like snowflakes drifting down from the night sky, her long white hair gently spread out.

The strands of hair, like a roll of silver-white silk, draped over her shoulders. Her arm trembled slightly, and the shadow under the moonlight swayed with it.

"I smell the scent of blood," Salser told her.

"Your sense of smell is quite sharp too. Now that you mention it, I think you'd be better off barking like a puppy."

Caren's hand that was holding her hair let go, and her other arm also fell. Her slender arms and legs were wrapped in white, dreary bandages, and her neck was also encircled with a collar-like bandage—bandages that soaked in dark red blood.

"Is that so?" Salser stared at her limbs for a while, then, with a blank expression, he sat down on the edge of the bed, "Why don't you try barking first?"

"Woof," Caren softly spoke.

"......"

"Alright, the poor and helpless girl in front of you has fulfilled your perverted and unreasonable request," she gave a faint smile, "So, what are you going to do next?"

"......How about helping you heal?"

"This is unnecessary, Salser," Caren's expression was hard to read, "Do you know about demon-possessed constitution?"

"In theory, it's a body capable of replicating the abilities of demons. This includes, but is not limited to—the demon's regenerative power, the spectrum of light they can see that humans cannot, the frequency of sounds they can hear that ordinary humans cannot, the Warren they can connect to, and the complete replication of the demon's senses, among others," Salser said, "Although there are some records in the data I studied in the past, I have never encountered any living beings that fit this description in my actual work."

"......Although I wanted to belittle your lack of intelligence with knowledge from demonology, you know more than I expected," Caren seemed dissatisfied with this, "But there is a drawback..."

"The body's capacity to endure."

"That's right too, after all, I'm someone whose physical strength is so poor that I can't even match a child. Sharing the demon's senses is one thing, but if the demon's power is also bestowed upon me, it's like using a dull knife to cut my skin—I would get hurt unintentionally and inexplicably, so I have to wrap myself in these bandages just to move around."

"So you're saying this is my fault?"

"Hmm... although I want to say it's your fault, your involvement is relatively minor," Caren closed her eyes and thought for a moment, "The senses I share from you are roughly half and half, but I've also gained strange healing abilities from you."

"......To what extent of healing ability?"

"A heart shattered wouldn't lead to death," Caren said, "Although I haven't tried it, I definitely feel that."

"......Then what about these injuries?"

"Healing only means healing..." She removed the bandage from one arm, "But the injuries still show up the same, like this."

The moonlight fell on the slender forearm, and that arm—as if cut by an invisible blade—suddenly split open with a small wound, which then slowly healed after a moment.

"Should I now appropriately show sympathy?"

"That's what you said, but I don't seem to see any sympathetic gaze in your eyes, and your tone also seems quite natural," the moonlight brushed past her calm eyes, caressing her softly contoured cheeks, "It seems—you are a very cold-blooded military hound." She gently stroked the wound that reappeared on her forearm, raised her index finger, and pointed it at Salser standing in the darkness. "As a way to express your apology to the poor and helpless nun in front of you, could you satisfy my request—bark for me to hear?"

A drop of blood fell from her fingertip onto the bedsheet, spreading out like a torn petal.

"Or you could lick the drop of blood off my finger," she smiled, "But you have to do it like a puppy."

Then, the room was enveloped in an eerie silence that lingered for a while.

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