Under the sway of the symbiotic pact, the invocation that sought to expose the clandestine wisdom of the shadow demon turned out fruitless. The spell’s failure struck the two Annihilation Cultists present with more shock than a risen corpse would have caused.
Moreover, the “death crow” was among the most formidable shadow demons in terms of magical capabilities.
The slender woman, draped in a black skirt, stared in disbelief at the quietly standing, apparently “resurrected” figure before her. Concurrently, she sensed an anomaly with the “death crow”, a being she was bound to through chains extending from her collarbone. The shadow demon repeatedly issued perilous signals, even making attempts to break the connection with its master and retreat to its mystical realm. At last, she reacted, deftly seizing the chain beneath the death crow with one hand and clenching thin air with the other while locking eyes with Duncan: “Something is awry… You are not the deceased… Who are you?”
“Before that, tell me who you are,” Duncan gazed at the woman before him, then shifted his focus to the silent man nearby, who still clutched his “crowbar staff” and maintained a safe distance from him. “Let me venture a guess… You are evidently no envoy of the death god; you tricked the guard with… let’s say ‘deception skills.’ You came for me, or more precisely, for the body I am currently occupying. Is my guess accurate?”
The woman in the black skirt opened her lips slightly, her mouth moving as though to speak, but Duncan failed to make out her words. In the next moment, she abruptly raised her previously clenched right hand, and the faint murmur from her mouth morphed into a spine-chilling shriek! Concurrently, the “death crow” demon perched on her shoulder spread its wings wide. Bound by the symbiotic pact, this shadow demon was forced to repress its inherent fear and launch an attack on Duncan.
A palpable pressure emerged, accompanied by an abnormal trembling and distortion of the ground beneath them. The earth around Duncan started rippling like liquid, and several colossal black thorns, akin to bone spurs, erupted from the ground, curling themselves around him!
However, Duncan displayed no sign of evasion – primarily because his terrifyingly fragile temporary body couldn’t execute such swift maneuvers. He merely observed the encroaching thorns as they enwrapped him.
Then, a radiant spiritual flame burst forth from within the thorny snare, instantaneously reducing the spell-summoned thorns to a mound of ebony ashes, with a few scattered sparks fading into the wind.
“I told you, you would do better to hurl that crow on your shoulder at me. That might actually give me a slight fright.”
Duncan sighed resignedly, but as his words trailed off, he perceived a disconcerting sensation in his body.
He lifted his hand instinctively, and the next instant, he was aghast to see cracks forming on both his hands.
These were not wounds inflicted by the earlier thorns, but spontaneous cracks. As Duncan watched, the cracks continued to expand, as though the skin and muscles of this body had suddenly lost their vitality and suppleness, rapidly fracturing in the dry, icy air.
The cracks oozed only a meager flow of blood, while desiccated, shriveled fragments persistently fell from the wounds to the ground. Within a matter of seconds, Duncan could distinctly sense the already feeble body becoming even more delicate.
He observed the strange metamorphosis of his body with a sense of wonder, then shifted his gaze to the woman in the black skirt across from him, “Is this another effect of the curse? Did it finally take hold?”
The woman in the black skirt seemed as if she was still reeling from the shock of the utter annihilation of her “thorns.” Her complexion had grown notably paler, and the death crow on her shoulder drooped its head in exhaustion. However, upon hearing Duncan’s words, a faint smile crept across her face, “Ah, it seems this body is nearing its breaking point… That makes things significantly simpler.”
“Nearing its breaking point?” Duncan echoed involuntarily, apparently inferring something from her words and demeanor. But before he could voice his thoughts, the woman in the black skirt issued a cold command, “Attack.”
Her command set the silent, gaunt man beside her into motion. He stared blankly at Duncan as the floating demon, resembling a combination of smoke and a jellyfish, pulsed rhythmically. A mass of dark matter, sizzling with vapor, burst from the jellyfish-like body, barreling toward Duncan like an incendiary projectile!
However, the “acidic cannonball” had already transformed into a faint green hue midway through its flight and crumbled before reaching its intended target. The dissolution was soundless and left no trace.
Duncan looked bemusedly at the exploding mass of dark matter, “I tried to tell you, this thing doesn’t…”
Before he could finish, the smoke and sparks hanging in mid-air had disappeared. As the smoke cleared, he noticed the silent man nearby lifting his staff toward him—its tip splitting in the middle, revealing a large-caliber gun barrel.
“Bang!”
The gun barrel erupted with a blast of flame, but the sound didn’t permeate beyond the mortuary platform—the woman in the black skirt had already raised her finger to execute a silencing gesture.
The large-caliber bullet sliced through the air, generating a muted rumble within the hushed vicinity. Duncan’s eyes tracked the bullet’s final trajectory, but he made no move to evade. He merely glanced sideways at the silent man, host to the jellyfish-like demon.
The next second, his vision plunged into darkness.
The potent impact of the specially crafted bullet obliterated his head, leaving nothing above his neck.
Duncan’s body swayed, stood still for a contemplative moment, raised its hand to probe the area above its neck, and found nothing. It then extended its hand toward the woman in the black skirt and the silent man, gesturing rudely before collapsing backward.
The woman in the black skirt fixated her gaze on the eerie and terrifying headless body.
She witnessed her partner blow the body’s head off with a single shot, watched the body raise its hand to feel its vanished head, and saw the bizarre actions that a headless body shouldn’t be capable of!
Whatever it was, the entity that had inhabited that body had undoubtedly not perished! It had merely departed, a transient banishment.
Coming to terms with the dangerous situation, the woman in the black skirt resolved to abort the mission for the day. She quickly turned to her companion, “We need to leave. Once we’re out of the graveyard, signal the others. Something is critically wrong today…”
The taciturn man holding the peculiar staff remained frozen for a moment, as if failing to comprehend his companion’s urgency.
He stood in quietude, and along the inky chain jutting from his throat, a fleeting spark of green danced and extinguished.
That spark had once journeyed along the chain, seeping into his flesh and blood, signifying his heart was already set ablaze.
“Hey, are you listening?” The stern and impatient voice of the woman in the black skirt resounded again, “We must depart swiftly, lest our upheaval today attracts the guardian’s gaze!”
The lanky man with the staff nodded and gradually pivoted around.
“What just happened to you?” The woman in the black skirt scrutinized her comrade but swiftly dismissed her concern, “Nevermind, let’s move at once, Duncan.”
“Indeed,” Duncan responded with a smile, “It wouldn’t do well to tarry here.”
The woman in the black skirt nodded, readying to pivot around and tread up the path, but just as she made her move, the “death crow” that had always nestled on her shoulder suddenly erupted into a harsh, eerie caw. The bones of the shadow demon rattled and the obsidian smoke swirled as it abruptly swiveled its head to fixate a stern gaze at Duncan, emitting peculiar cracking sounds while its wings flapped erratically.
Behind Duncan, the jellyfish-shaped shadow demon levitating in the air spontaneously combusted. Amidst the dense black smoke and blazing fire, the incorporeal jellyfish demon was reduced to cinders within seconds, and the chain binding the symbiote released a series of harsh clinking sounds, crumbling into fragmented links on the ground.
The woman in the black skirt abruptly froze, receiving an overwhelming sense of dread and a portent of doom through the death crow’s link.
She even vaguely experienced the visual feedback of the death crow’s gaze – when the demon on her shoulder swiveled to face Duncan, a jolt of pain surged through her brain, reminiscent of a needle’s prick. An indescribable array of distorted light and shadows swarmed her reddened vision, as though her retinas were set ablaze!
Typically, shadow demons don’t possess hearts; they operate purely on instinct. When facing colossal danger, they wouldn’t extend the same courtesy to their masters as Dog would to Shirley, taking their mental wellbeing into account.
“Ugh—” The woman in the black skirt released a low groan, instinctively backpedaling in pain and confusion. She found support on a nearby street lamp, her eyes wide with terror as she gawked at the familiar yet alien, slender figure standing at the precipice of light and shadow, “What… what are you?!”
Duncan cast a glance at the grotesque skeletal creature perched on the woman’s shoulder (undeniably more repulsive than Ai) and then at the black ashes scattered behind him, sighing in regret.
“Ignorance indeed can be bliss,” he shook his head, “but it seems your fortune has worn thin.”
