Yvette’s consciousness remained alert despite everything; she was intentionally choosing not to respond.
First, she didn’t quite understand the strange state she was in—weak, infected by aberrant factors yet still mentally clear.
Second, she felt that if she acted as if she were completely dead, perhaps it would give Rosalyn a reason to abandon her, to escape without feeling bound by obligations or gratitude—a valid excuse that would allow her to get away guilt-free.
If she were Rosalyn, she would certainly run away, after all; she still had the hope of returning home. Why would she choose to die here? Her teacher’s life couldn’t possibly be more important than her own. Even if the roles were reversed, if Rosalyn were the one nearing death, Yvette, being a rational thinker above all, would merely attempt to help but wouldn’t be foolish enough to sacrifice her life for a student.
But stubborn as a mule, that girl refused to leave, insisting on staying here and dying with her!
Damn it, it was enough to drive her crazy—ah no, it had made her feel alive again!
With a furtive glance at her still-battling student, a strange emotion welled up in Yvette.
Why hadn’t she transformed yet?
She had long since given up on recovery; any other creature would have transformed by now. Why, despite everything, did Rosalyn still feel mentally sharp, without that maddening descent into madness?
That didn’t seem right. She could sense subtle changes within herself, changes so minuscule they weren’t visible on the surface but were occurring at a microscopic level, making her feel itchy and as if she were on the brink of transforming.
Just then, unexpectedly, as if to fulfill her wishes, a wave of profound drowsiness engulfed her thoughts, invisible threads pulling her consciousness down, deeper and deeper…
It felt akin to sinking into cold seawater; the final light above rapidly shrank into bright spots.
For some reason, at this moment, a sense of calm washed over her. She coolly observed the scene unfolding, more like a bystander than a drowning person.
Then, at the boundless depths of the ocean, she saw two peculiar things.
One was a grotesquely swirling mass of black and red, constantly writhing like a living creature, starkly mismatched with the surrounding seawater.
The other was a small, slippery tendril, soft and boneless, seemingly born from the purest shadows.
She hesitated momentarily, her gaze landing on one of the black tendrils. In the next instant, it glided toward her like a fish in water, obediently resting in the palm of her hand.
After several minutes of fierce fighting, Rosalyn finally reached her limit, her mana completely depleted. The effects of her Crimson Armor and Muscle Release faded, causing her battle blade to slip from her fingers, leaving her unable to pick it up.
At that moment, she had returned to being the helpless noble lady she once was, akin to when she first traversed the Abyss. This time, however, her teacher wouldn’t come soaring down like a heroic figure draped in vibrant clouds, vanquishing all terrors in her path.
Fatigue crashed over her like an unforgiving tide as she staggered backward toward her teacher’s fallen form. Surrendering to her exhaustion, she allowed herself to collapse, indifferent to whether she would be infected by aberrations or be reduced to bones. In her last moments, she only wished to be near her teacher.
In the next heartbeat, she felt a cold little hand pressing against her injured back, supporting her.
Before she could register the touch, she saw countless pale threads, like millions of needles, precisely and ruthlessly piercing through each loathsome carcass surrounding her—whether it was the writhing Tide Insects on the ground or the flying aberrations spitting corrosive acid from the skies.
They flooded in, a sea of them!
The next second, an even more horrifying scene unfolded.
The white threads piercing the flesh swelled grotesquely, like activated, terrifying feeding appendages, visibly pulsing with the strength of avid consumption.
Greedy suction extracted every ounce of vitality from the aberrations, causing the hundreds of creatures, regardless of their size or strength, to transform rapidly into dried, desiccated husks, resembling leaves blighted of moisture—in no time, only skeletal frames and skins remained.
Faced with such a ghastly spectacle, Rosalyn swallowed hard, feeling an icy chill radiate from her core. Yet as she turned to see the source, she was met with a familiar yet strangely altered face. Nᴇw ɴovel chaptᴇrs are published on 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭•𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦•𝘯𝘦𝘵
It was her teacher, but also not entirely her teacher.
The most conspicuous change was in her teacher’s once-clear white sclera, now a cavernous, bottomless black. Though her irises remained unchanged, they seemed to glow vibrantly, emitting a striking crimson light in the darkness.
This singular transformation of eyes utterly altered her demeanor. From a delicate, pure, and somewhat aloof doll-like girl, she morphed into a chillingly alluring witch exuding an aura of malevolence—much like an ancient, sealed deity of chaos from mythology.
Moreover, her teacher’s methods were remarkably befitting the image of a dark god. The once shimmering silver hair that flowed like moonlight now writhed as if alive, expanding and extending into wriggling feeding tendrils, siphoning the tainted flesh and blood from the aberrations, replenishing herself.
Utterly evil… yet radiating a breathtaking beauty that struck fear.
Truly, she was still remarkable; even in transformation, she remained distinctly unique, unmatched by any.
Rosalyn felt a surge of emotion, raising her hand to wipe away her tears. She thought to herself that if she must die at the hands of such a teacher, being consumed by her would indeed be a worthy end.
After exchanging a glance with her teacher’s unsettling black-eyed crimson gaze, she instinctively shut her eyes, awaiting her fate.
Unexpectedly, instead of the anticipated death, she received an incredulous question: “What are you closing your eyes for?”
Dumbfounded, she blinked open her eyes, her rain-drenched lashes fluttering, and stammered, “I was waiting for you to kill me…”
“Why would I kill you?” Yvette asked in confusion, momentarily mistaking the situation and thinking Rosalyn was soliciting affection. The notion caused her, a lifelong bachelor, to feel slightly bashful—it took her a moment to collect herself and redirect her thoughts from the taboo.
“Teacher, weren’t you transformed?” Rosalyn suddenly grasped the situation, her tear-streaked face lighting up with surprise. “You didn’t transform!”
“Technically… I did, but I’ve retained my consciousness and haven’t been overtaken,” Yvette explained, feeling within herself the tumultuous state she currently existed in.
This was astonishing.
However, noticing more aberrations steadily approaching, she harnessed her renewed mana to propel herself into the air, lifting Rosalyn with her, swiftly escaping from the area and heading for their designated retreat point.
The summer storm of the island raged, lead-gray clouds roiling and tearing at the low skies. The booming thunder echoed as rain cascaded down like an impending doomsday, assaulting windowpanes like a battering ram.
Once securing the raging storm outside, Yvette washed off the blood from her body in the bathroom. After emerging, she and Rosalyn took their seats in the soft-lit living room, initiating a thorough review of the day’s events.
Naturally, the primary focus was on Yvette’s unprecedented transformed state.
“Teacher, how are you feeling now?” Rosalyn asked while rubbing her damp golden hair with a towel. She couldn’t help but question, her gaze cautiously scanning Yvette, “Do you feel that maddening urge to consume everything around you?”
Yvette shook her head, meticulously assessing her body’s state. After a moment, with focused mental control, the darkness in her eyes gradually receded, and the crimson glow faded, reverting back to her original dark red hue.
“You’re… back to normal!” Rosalyn exclaimed in surprise.
“I tested it in the bathroom; the ‘Black Eyes’ constitute a transformable state and incur no mana cost,” Yvette said.
“So, teacher, now you essentially have two forms? The ‘Normal’ state and the ‘Aberrational’ state?”
“From the current perspective, yes.”
“How cool… just like you, teacher!”
“Next is the second ability.” As she spoke, switching back to her black-eyed state, her silver hair gracefully floated, undulating like a living serpent. “It’s a form of simple tentacular transformation. Furthermore, I now seem capable of creating a tentacle from any part of my body and adjusting its size…”
With her palm open, a white tendril soon emerged from the skin on her hand, flexibly twisting and changing, capable of retracting to a thread-like thinness or rapidly expanding to the thickness of a python.
Rosalyn couldn’t help but reach out to touch it; the sensation was cold and slippery—quite terrifying.
Yvette continued, “…the known abilities of these white tentacles are twofold: one is hardening, which can be used as a weapon, and the second is devouring, allowing me to suck the flesh and blood. If targeting an aberration, I can directly absorb its aberrant factors. As for the normal biological flesh and blood, I can also consume it, transforming it into mana.”
“Doesn’t that make you invincible?” Rosalyn exclaimed in shock.
“Not quite… as every use of the tentacles does require consuming aberrant factors. In essence, I can exhaust the aberrant factors in my body by continuously using these abilities, ultimately losing the ‘Black Eyes’ capability and reverting to a normal human.”
“Eh? Aberrant factors… won’t they replenish?”
“That’s the strange part: aberrant creatures only need to eat normally to gradually increase their concentration of aberrant factors, but I can’t. I can only maintain this ability through external consumption,” Yvette elaborated, feeling quite perplexed.
Overall, it felt like a state of aberration without fully succumbing to it.
“I see, that’s quite peculiar…” Rosalyn murmured, pondering. After a moment, she seemed to recall something and asked somewhat cautiously, “That… teacher… this should be a big secret for you, right? Can you really let me know about it…?”
Yvette glanced at her, silent.
Rosalyn’s expression changed momentarily, then she smiled faintly and dropped the topic, redirecting the conversation towards the events of the Nest battle. She then alternately expressed her focused attention, cursing the Dual Blade Demon for its treachery, marveling at Yvette’s elaborate deception, and lamenting the unforeseen consequences.
In their detailed debriefing, the storm outside gradually subsided. Through the large windows, a radiant full moon emerged from the thick blanket of clouds, casting a serene silver sheen upon the two figures inside.