My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Chapter 575: Chapter 577: Fever

Abellona bit her lips when he said that. She subconsciously touched the black mark on her neck. There was a sinister type of magic traveling through her body.

She was hot, like she was burning up. Her insides were on fire, her body filled with so many injuries.

Worst of all, her mind was clouded with all these desires she never knew she had.

For what it was worth, she didn’t remember much either. She wished she could tell him how she got the curse from Ashcroft, but it had all happened so fast...it was a blur.

At least it seemed so in her mind. It was like she had subconsciously created a mental disconnect between her actual memories and the cruel reality.

Now she could only vaguely remember Damon getting cut in half and her battle cry—or rather, her scream. In reality, it was just a helpless scream she had made, maybe to give herself a little courage as she faced the overwhelming might of Ashcroft.

What happened after, she did not know.

She could only remember the pain. Her own screams still echoed in her ears. But somehow...somehow she had managed to gather both parts of Damon and flee to this dungeon.

That was all she could remember. How she got to the dungeon, she really didn’t know. All she knew was that Damon had mouthed something about going to the dungeon.

She recalled coming here though it was blurry. She remembered pouring her potions on him and failing. She used the potions he gave her and they had a modest effect.

”I’m sorry...the potions didn’t work...”

Damon narrowed his eyes. What did she mean by the potions didn’t work? He finally noticed the small scrapes that seemed half-healed on her wrist.

”Did...you use forbidden magic? Is that why you seem so weak?”

She bit her lips. Forbidden magic was magic deemed too dangerous, or magic that touched upon a taboo.

Such taboos included sacrifice, or invoking the names of unorthodox entities in exchange for a result.

The forbidden magic she had used, in this case, was at a personal cost to herself.

Abellona turned away, shaking her head softly.

”It’s nothing. I only lost a bit of blood. It’s of no consequence.”

Damon closed his eyes. It looked like she had lost more than just a bit of blood. That too, after having survived Ashcroft.

He really had no words. This woman... she had done all this, and she didn’t need to. If she had done the bare minimum of keeping him alive in any state, even a malformed one, she would have had a better chance of surviving. But she had gone above and beyond to preserve him.

Damon reached into his shadow storage and pulled out some more potions. From where he lay, he opened a vial. However, instead of drinking it himself, he passed it to Abellona, who had slumped down, laying her head against his shoulder because she could no longer sit up without something to lean on.

Her red eyes stared weakly at him before she slowly reached her hand to take the potion, pouring the contents into her mouth. Damon reached for another and opened it. Just like the first time, he didn’t drink it himself. He passed it over to Abellona.

She put down the first vial, shaking her head.

”You need this more than I do...”

Damon didn’t speak. Only his eyes stared down at her, the soft breath from her reaching his neck.

He pushed the vial toward her, saying nothing. Not because he didn’t know what to say, but because he couldn’t say it. It was better to let his actions speak for him.

Realizing she had no other alternative but to comply, Abellona slowly nodded and took another vial. As the contents flowed down her throat, she felt her wounds stirring, bones knitting back together, torn flesh and muscle restoring themselves.

These were the best potions she had ever used. She felt no trace of impurities. She could drink a million vials without any side effects.

If she had been in better straits, she would have wanted to know who the alchemist behind them was.

Damon, seeing her condition improve, finally took out a vial for himself and drank it slowly, closing his eyes to allow the potion to do its work.

His body had been cut in half. Having gotten a moment to himself, he was starting to wonder how his organs had not scattered.

”I wonder if the cut will leave a scar.”

He had been cut in half, after all. He should at least be allowed to muse.

”I doubt that...” a soft voice whispered in his ear.

Damon tilted his head slightly to find Abellona laying her head on his shoulder. It seemed she was still not in the condition to move freely. She must have wanted to rest too. It had been quite a tiring ordeal.

He smiled softly, in a way she had never seen him smile before. There was none of that casual arrogance in his eyes.

”I’d really hate that...having a thin line across my waist. What will I tell people when they see it...”

His voice was soft and low, like he didn’t want to be heard.

”That I was sliced in half by a lowly goblin.”

Abellona’s face was still feverishly red, her breath shallow. Even so, she smiled. Her face so close, he was overtaken by her fragrance.

”You...could tell them you were in a battle with the legendary Ashcroft. Having faced him twice, this scar would be your proof...”

Her soft whispers made him smile a little.

”Yeah, no one’s gonna believe I fought Ashcroft. They’d think I’m crazy, telling them I fought a myth.”

She held his hand weakly, glancing at him. Her red eyes carried an intensity he was unfamiliar with.

”I’ll vouch for you. No one is crazy enough to call Abellona of Destruction crazy.”

Damon smiled lightly.

”I would...”

She whispered softly.

”Except if they’re you, of course.”

Damon narrowed his eyes with a trace of suspicion. He glanced at Abellona.

”What kind of curse is this...”

She smiled, her hand trembling as if afraid he would find out.

Damon didn’t care. He used his appraisal skill. When he saw what the curse did, he glanced at Abellona, his gaze moving across her body, her torn clothes, her long legs, the redness of her face, her sudden attitude, why she was hiding it.

It all made sense now. He couldn’t help but curse in his mind.

’Damn you, Ashcroft...’