Chapter 87 The Rose and the Snake 27
Voldemort's scarlet pupils suddenly contracted!
He suddenly reached out and roughly pinched Abraxas' jaw with two fingers, forcing his face to straighten.
The cold touch from his fingertips made his heart shudder.
He leaned down, his scarlet eyes like searchlights, locking onto Abraxas' neck—there was nothing there except the blue veins beneath the pale skin.
The scarlet light just now seemed to be just an illusion.
Was it the dissipation of magical energy from the severely injured and dying? Or... the residual contamination of power in the eyes of that elf CC?
CC! Voldemort's mind instantly flashed back to the corner of the garden, the old elf still curled up in the scarlet rain, his eyes burning with the same magical pupils.
It must know something! That strange totem reflection!
"Bring that elf here! Now!" Voldemort shouted at the empty and cold stone chamber without even turning his head.
The voice echoed between the stone walls, carrying an unquestionable command.
He knew that there were Death Eaters lurking outside the manor, waiting for action.
Soon, the heavy stone door of the stone chamber was pushed open.
Two Death Eaters dragged in a small, soaking wet, shivering figure and threw him roughly onto the cold stone floor.
It’s CC, the house elf from my hometown!
The bandage on its arm had long since fallen off, and the wound had turned white from being soaked in the scarlet rain. Its turbid green eyes widened in horror, but deep in its eyes, the two balls of cold and violent scarlet light were still burning steadily like will-o'-the-wisp.
In the dark stone chamber, it is particularly dazzling.
Voldemort released his hand that was pinching Abraxas' jaw, turned slowly, and his scarlet pupils were like a whirlpool in the abyss, locking onto CC who was curled up on the ground.
He approached step by step, each step carrying a heavy sense of oppression. He squatted down and looked into CC's burning scarlet demonic eyes.
"Tell me," Voldemort's voice was low and hoarse, like the whisper of a devil, with a strange magical fluctuation that tried to invade the other's soul.
"The power in your eyes... where does it come from? What do you see? He..." He pointed at the unconscious Abraxas on the operating table, "... and what's the connection between him and the thing inside him?"
He deliberately guided and tried to connect the scarlet in CC's eyes with the abnormality in Abraxas' body, looking for a "reasonable" explanation for the prophecy - such as being contaminated or cursed by the elves.
CC's body was shaking violently, and a terrified "gurgling" sound came from his throat.
It seemed to want to avoid Voldemort's gaze that seemed to be able to devour the soul, but its scarlet pupils were uncontrollably and staring into Voldemort's scarlet pupils.
In this invisible struggle at the soul level, strange changes suddenly occurred.
The two balls of burning crimson light in CC's eyes suddenly grew brighter, like two miniature blood moons.
A cold, chaotic fragment of will filled with endless pain and violence, like a flood bursting through a dam, followed the gazes of the two people and rushed into Voldemort's mind savagely!
"Hiss...hiss...Naji...ni..."
“It hurts…it hurts so much…tear it apart…bite it off…”
"Cold... damp... dark... master... abandoned..."
"Hate... all... living things... deserve to die..."
"Blood...his blood...can...connect...can...devour..."
Countless broken images, sharp screams, confused perceptions and twisted resentments exploded wildly in Voldemort's mind.
He saw the dark and damp cave, the remains of a giant snake slough, and the discarded, rotting offerings. He felt the unforgettable cold despair and the all-consuming malice of being abandoned in the endless darkness by the person he trusted the most.
And at the core of these chaotic fragments, there is always a vague but extremely clear idea - a greedy desire for the blood of Abraxas Malfoy!
It was as if the blood was some kind of... medium of connection and devouring?!
Voldemort groaned and jerked back, forcibly severing the terrifying mental connection! He staggered to his feet, his face extremely ugly due to the confusing information he had just received.
The scarlet pupils flickered violently, filled with uncertainty.
Nagini? His snake? Abandoned caves? The vengeance of the elves? And... a thirst for Abraxas' blood? What the hell is going on?!
Could it be that this spirit's power and resentment came from... the remnants of a failed Horcrux experiment from his early years? And could Abraxas's blood activate or attract these remnants?
Instead of solving the mystery of the prophecy, this confusing information made the water even more muddy!
"Uh...ho ho..."
At this moment, a painful and strange groan came from the operating table.
Voldemort's head whipped around.
On the operating table, Abraxas, who had been unconscious, suddenly began to convulse violently.
His originally pale face quickly turned into a strange bluish purple, and his lips turned a terrifying dark purple.
He scratched his neck unconsciously, as if something was strangling his breath.
A trickle of dark purple blood mixed with foam slowly flowed out from the corner of his mouth.
Poisoned?!
Voldemort's pupils shrank! He instantly thought of Clarisse's furtive movements in the garden and the flash of blue between her fingernails! The water demon's heart poison?!
Almost at the same time, the system panel in his mind burst into a dazzling red light and a sharp alarm:
[Warning! Host's vital signs are rapidly deteriorating! An unknown poison intrusion has been detected (water demon heart toxin)!]
[The poison corrodes the magic core! A violent conflict occurs with the remaining magic of the brand!]
[Forced Command Upgrade: 'Embrace of the Redeemer' enters deep healing mode! Please immediately channel mana and suppress toxins on the target!]
[Failure Penalty: Synchronization rate increased to 80%. If the host dies, the capture target's magic core will be permanently damaged by 50%! Countdown: 30 seconds!]
"Bastard!" Voldemort roared angrily! Forced! Punished! He had become the personal therapist of this damned Malfoy!
However, he couldn't afford the cost of punishment!
80% synchronization rate plus 50% magic core damage is enough to make him fall from the altar!
His scarlet pupils swept across Abraxas's bruised face and the thorn marks on his chest that were pulsating and contracting violently again due to the erosion of the poison, and a trace of cold determination flashed in his eyes.
He no longer hesitated and stepped forward to the operating table.
The blood-stained left hand pressed against the thorn mark on Abraxas' chest again. This time it was no longer to explore, but to forcibly output his cold and pure dark magic, trying to suppress the rampaging toxins in his body and the two conflicting magics (his own Malfoy bloodline and Voldemort fragments).
“Buzz!”
Two powerful magical powers collided violently in Abraxas's body, which was on the verge of collapse.
One was the remaining Malfoy blood magic with an icy blue chill, and the other was the dark magic force forcibly injected by Voldemort, which was as hot and violent as magma.
They fought fiercely at the thorn brand, fighting for control of the body.
Abraxas' body twitched and trembled violently like a rag doll in the wind.
Veins bulged beneath the skin, like twisted earthworms.
The gray-blue eyes suddenly opened a little under the stimulation of severe pain! The pupils were dilated, but they reflected Voldemort's close-up, scarlet pupils full of violence and impatience.
"Ahhh!" He let out a scream that was not like a human voice, and a mouthful of blood mixed with icy blue cold air and scarlet sparks spurted out, splashing all over Voldemort's hands and face.
Voldemort's body shook slightly as he was splashed with the hot blood, which was filled with conflicting magic.
He wiped the blood off his face carelessly, his scarlet pupils fixed on Abraxas' chest - the center of the fierce collision of ice-blue and scarlet magic.
Deep within the violently pulsating and contracting thorn brand, the outline of an extremely tiny object emitting a deadly cold light was becoming clearer and clearer with each contraction of the brand.
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