Chapter 64 The Rose and the Snake 4
Black jade-like curly hair fell on the forehead, and the deep eyes were like two bottomless cold pools in the dim light.
He didn't look at Abraxas who came in. His slender fingers were casually flipping through a thick ancient book spread out on the table, and the pages made a rustling sound.
His posture is elegant and leisurely, like an aristocratic scholar taking an afternoon nap.
However, the moment Abraxas stepped into the room, the air seemed to freeze. The pale flames in the fireplace flickered, the light flickering. The invisible, suffocating pressure suddenly intensified tenfold, like a heavy mountain pressing down on Abraxas' shoulders, causing his breath to stagnate.
Voldemort finally raised his head. His gaze fell squarely on Abraxas, or more precisely, on the bouquet of dazzling red roses in his hand.
The gaze was calm, without the anger or sarcasm Abraxas had expected, only a pure, cold inquiry, like looking at a laboratory rat.
However, it is this extreme calmness that is more chilling than any rage.
"Malfoy," Voldemort's voice sounded, low and pleasant, like the strings of a cello, but tempered with ice.
"An... unexpected visitor."
His gaze slowly shifted from the rose to Abraxas's face. In the depths of his deep eyes, a flash of scarlet light flashed like a lurking poisonous snake.
"And with such a... unique gift."
He stretched out his bony fingers, his fingertips hovering a few inches above the rose, without actually touching it, as if the delicate petals were stained with an invisible poison.
His crimson eyes flickered between the petals and Abraxas.
Abraxas forced himself to straighten his back and meet those frightening eyes.
There was no retreat in the gray-blue eyes, only a deep icy lake.
"Your Excellency Voldemort," he began, his voice steady, without a trace of emotion, "It is an honor to see you again."
He extended the red rose in his hand forward with an elegant gesture, as if he were presenting a diplomatic document.
"It's just a small gift, not a token of respect."
He didn't pronounce the damn line "You are the only starlight in my darkness."
The system panel flashed a warning red light before his eyes: [Detected missing critical message! Host, please add it immediately! Otherwise, the mission will fail! Countdown: 00:05:59!]
The piercing threat was like cold needles pressing against his nerve endings.
Voldemort did not take the bouquet.
His eyes wandered between Abraxas's face and the rose in his hand with interest, and the corners of his lips curled up in a very faint but cold arc.
"A greeting gift?" He chuckled, and the laughter was particularly clear in the quiet study, with a kind of all-knowing mockery.
"Malfoy, your lies... are even more clumsy and... amusing than I could have imagined."
He slowly stood up, walked around the large desk, and walked towards Abraxas. The hem of his black robe brushed silently against the dark carpet, and every step seemed to step on a human heartbeat.
Abraxas could clearly see the fine golden lines on the fingertips of his left hand, which emitted a faint and eerie glimmer in the dim light.
Voldemort stopped just a step away from Abraxas.
He stretched out his hand, but not to take the bouquet of roses. Instead, he gently brushed the delicate petals with his pale, slender fingers.
The movements were gentle, yet carried a chilling, playful tone.
"Red roses? Symbolizing passion, love, and desperate devotion?"
Voldemort's voice was very low, like a whisper among lovers, but every word was as sharp as an icicle.
"Such a... naive and false symbol. It is unworthy of you, Malfoy."
He applied a little pressure with his fingertips, and a rose in full bloom instantly withered and charred under his fingers, turning into a small pile of ashes that floated down.
He withdrew his hand, his gaze like a cold probe, locking firmly into Abraxas's gray-blue eyes.
"Since you're going to give me a gift, why not give me something...that's more in line with your true nature."
Before he finished speaking, his free left hand moved very covertly under the wide sleeve of his robe.
A cold atmosphere instantly spread out!
The bouquet of beautiful red roses in Abraxas's hand underwent a strange and terrifying change in full view of everyone.
The bright red petals were like being doused with strong acid, quickly turning black, rotting, and melting.
The emerald green branches and leaves twisted and swelled, turning into black thorns covered with sharp barbs that squirmed like living things!
The ribbon that originally wrapped the bouquet turned into a tiny, pitch-black poisonous snake with two scarlet eyeballs embedded in its triangular head!
It wrapped itself around the rotten flower stem and suddenly opened its fanged mouth towards Abraxas' wrist, spraying out a small stream of dark green poisonous mist with a sweet and fishy smell!
Everything happened in a flash!
Abraxas' pupils suddenly shrank!
Voldemort's malice and aggression were laid bare before his eyes.
He almost instinctively wanted to shake off the horrible thing in his hand, but at the moment the venomous snake opened its mouth and spewed out poisonous mist, a cold and powerful restraining force suddenly grabbed him!
It's not magic, but more like a constraint forcibly imposed by the system - making it impossible for him to discard this "gift" immediately!
"laugh--!"
Severe pain! Like a red-hot iron pressing hard against my skin.
Although Abraxas had tried his best to retreat before the poisonous mist was sprayed out, the edge of the dark green poisonous mist still swept across the back of his right hand that was holding the flower stem (which was now a wriggling thorn)!
The skin that came into contact instantly felt a terrible burning sensation, as if the flesh was being devoured and corroded by invisible flames.
Several dark green blisters appeared on the back of the hand at a speed visible to the naked eye. The blisters burst, and pus with a fishy smell flowed out. The skin quickly turned black and ulcerated, revealing the bright red flesh underneath.
The intense pain was like countless poisonous needles, spreading wildly upwards along the nerves in the arm.
Fine beads of cold sweat instantly broke out on Abraxas' forehead, and his face turned as pale as paper, but he clenched his teeth tightly and did not make a sound of pain.
He suddenly raised his head, his gray-blue eyes were like quenched ice, burning with cold anger, piercing straight at Voldemort who was close at hand.
And Voldemort, with the attitude of an absolute controller, was admiring his painful expression and the horrible corrosion that was rapidly spreading on the back of his hand.
"That's right for you, Malfoy."
Voldemort's voice held a cruel pleasure as he leaned forward slightly, his cold breath brushing against the side of Abraxas' face, which was tense with pain.
"Cloaked in a gorgeous and noble exterior, underneath...it's filled with venom and calculation."
His crimson pupils were like the abyss, reflecting Abraxas's painful yet stubborn face. "I accept your 'meeting gift'. Are you satisfied with this 'return gift'?"
Abraxas endured the excruciating pain, but the corners of his mouth curled up into an equally cold and bloody arc.
Instead of throwing away the horrific creature that was wriggling and spewing poisonous mist in his hand, he used his intact left hand to fiercely grasp the thorny flower stem!
The sharp barbs instantly pierced his expensive gloves and pierced into the palm of his hand. Blood oozed out, staining the dark thorns red.
"Extremely satisfied."
Abraxas' voice was a little hoarse due to the pain, but it was filled with a kind of madness that was determined to perish together with his fellow sufferers.
"Thank you, Your Excellency... for expressing your... 'importance' towards me in such a passionate way."
He deliberately emphasized the last two words, his gaze meeting Voldemort's crimson pupils without flinching.
Just then—
[Warning! Warning! Novice mission: 'Give Red Roses' failed!]
[The key message is missing! The key props have been maliciously damaged! ]
['Crucio' (Compensatory Version) penalty will start in 10 seconds! 10, 9, 8...]
The cold system countdown was like a death knell, ringing wildly in Abraxas' mind!
At the same time, he felt the snake-head silver staff tightly held in his sleeve. From within the staff, an extremely subtle yet heart-pounding sound came—"Crack."
A crack as thin as a hair, yet extremely clear, appeared silently on the smooth and hard yew wood staff.
As if foreshadowing that something more important in his body had quietly cracked open under the immense pressure and erosion of dark magic.
Voldemort's scarlet pupils narrowed slightly, and he keenly caught the fleeting throbbing in Abraxas's eyes, which was a deeper throbbing that went beyond physical pain, and... the extremely subtle sound of shattering that seemed to come from the depths of his soul.
The curve of his lips deepened, as if he had found more interesting prey.
And at the moment when the countdown in Abraxas' mind reached zero, when the excruciating pain was about to pierce his soul like a blood-red thorn, a cold and resolute flame ignited in the depths of his gray-blue eyes that had lost focus due to the pain.
His left hand, which was stained with his own blood and venom, not only did not let go of the deadly thorns, but instead clenched them even tighter, as if he wanted to crush the pain and the malice inflicted by Voldemort in his palm!
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