Chapter 9 Traces "He still has a chance."
The magnificent new outfit worn by the beautiful and holy son of the gods was torn beyond recognition by an unknown, foul aura. All the buttons on the front of the garment had snapped off, and his clothes and trousers were open, revealing crisscrossing, horrifying wounds on his body.
Some of the wounds had already begun to scab over, but others looked as if they had scabbed over and then been broken open to drain blood, becoming incredibly red and swollen.
Any color would stand out starkly against the Son of God's snow-white skin.
Especially those red marks were still visible around the neck and wrists.
It was ambiguous, but it looked more like pain. The son of the god, with his eyes tightly closed, was in so much pain that he could hardly stand, his body swaying. Buster subconsciously reached out and put his arm around the son of the god's waist, letting him lean on his shoulder, but he didn't realize that his own brows had furrowed into a mountain.
It's hard to say whether I'm in a worse state now or when the Storm Leader had just rescued me.
The Son of God leaned on Buster's shoulder, his pale face appearing like fragile porcelain in the dim light. His eyelashes trembled like butterfly wings, casting a delicate shadow beneath his eyes. His lips were so pale they almost blended into his skin, with only a trace of blood at the corner of his lips, like a red plum blossom blooming in the snow.
Dazzling, alluring.
The scars, grotesque and menacing, strangely blended with his sanctity, creating a fragmented beauty.
Like a desecrated statue, the more damaged it is, the more it evokes a chilling sense of pity.
Buster's fingertips accidentally touched his waist, through the thin fabric.
But he seemed completely unaware of how exaggerated his strength was, and a suppressed and disordered breath escaped from the Son of God's throat.
His disheveled blond hair was soaked with cold sweat, a few strands clinging to the corners of his slightly reddened eyes, as if stained with tears. His body unconsciously curled up slightly, as if trying to protect himself, but powerless and only able to rely on Buster's support.
Buster, who had never felt any emotion because of his rudeness before, was surprisingly at a loss for words. Especially when he noticed that his lover, Mark, was still staring unblinkingly at the Son of God.
I wonder what kind of treatment Madonna is getting!
Are the Stormwind Bandits going bankrupt?! Where did they put all those good medicines?! How come he still has so many wounds after so many days of recuperation?!
He immediately became agitated and simply took off his leather vest and put it on the son of the god, turning it inside out.
The completely sealed back of the clothes perfectly concealed the disheveled son of the gods.
He rolled his eyes at Mark's lover, who was startled by his murderous gaze and quickly looked away.
The slime's filth was rapidly repairing its body, which should have been the best time to attack, but Buster, considering that he needed to settle the princess and the fool beside him, used the time to set up a protective barrier for the two of them instead of attacking.
"Stay here and don't wander off." Buster drew his greatsword and planted it in the ground, coldly instructing him.
The wind blew from below, and Buster's half-open gray-brown shirt swayed wildly in the gale, his short black hair styled into a wild and arrogant look by the wind.
In a secluded corner, Mark's lover looked at the giant sword, then at the beautiful, fragile, and androgynous face of the man, his dark pupils slowly constricting.
Whoosh!
A hurricane suddenly struck!
Buster's figure flashed out like lightning, the shriek of his greatsword slicing through the air intertwined with the filthy roar, creating a chaotic scene. He leaped down, landing on the filthy aura in the blink of an eye!
But that thing had no real physical form. Buster's flames tore apart that mass of matter, splitting it into several pieces from the middle!
But unexpectedly, the place where the foul air originally stayed had nowhere to be supported!
Fortunately, Buster was experienced in combat. He quickly inserted the greatsword horizontally into the side of the mountain wall, stabilized his body, and with a slight exertion of his arm, he flew up directly around the hilt of the sword.
Immediately afterwards, he kicked the mountain wall, pulled out the greatsword, and spun around to slash upwards!
Flames erupted from the giant sword toward the sky, instantly illuminating half of the mountainside, allowing the Storm Leader to see the entire underground landscape.
He couldn't help but furrow his brow.
There were many pillars hanging on both sides of the mountain wall, resembling wooden stakes. Before, because there was no fiber optic cable, Buster had a feeling about them but didn't pay much attention to them. Now, by the light of the fire, he could clearly see the true appearance of those pillars.
It was all done by humans!
Most of these people were wearing the same clothes as Mark's lover, but there were also outsiders who were different from the locals.
They probably heard the rumors about the nobles from the locals and came here specifically to try their luck.
The human remains were shriveled and blackened, their skin tightly wrapped around their bones, as if some force had drained all their life force. Their empty eye sockets were wide open, and their mouths were twisted into silent screams, as if they had experienced unimaginable pain before death.
Even more bizarrely, these human remains were all entangled in some kind of viscous black substance, like prey on a spider web, or like puppets deliberately manipulated, their limbs twisted into unnatural angles, hanging on the mountain wall, swaying slightly with the movement of the foul air.
Mark's lover was terrified when she saw this scene, terrified by the human remains hanging all over the mountainside.
But he couldn't look away; his worry for Mark overcame his fear. He prayed, trembling as he searched for Mark among the dried-up bodies. He was terrified of seeing his lover among the corpses, yet desperately hoped to find him.
Finally, in an inconspicuous corner, he found Mark's figure!
“He’s over there!” Mark’s lover shouted, pointing to a swaying, withered figure on the opposite cliff face, tears welling up in her eyes.
There's no mistake! Those are Mark's clothes, and he's still wearing the bird whistle I gave him!
He's still alive! Although his skin has been sucked dry, he's not completely dead yet!
Buster was also looking for someone when he heard Mark's lover say that. He ignored the turbidity churning around him, immediately transformed into a blazing flame, and sped off in that direction.
Just kidding, his purpose in coming here wasn't to punish evil and eliminate wicked spirits!
Flames pierced the sky as Storm Buster carried the tattered Mark back to the stone platform where they were.
"Mark!" Mark's lover, tears streaming down her face, threw herself onto the half-finished dried man and wailed.
Mark was indeed still alive at that time, but he had absorbed too much of his life force and had become a withered old tree, his life about to end.
Buster was also anxious. He wished he could carry Mark back to the ship right now and have Madonna put the medicine in Mark's mouth!
"Storm." The son of the god, who had remained silent all this time, suddenly spoke.
His voice was soft, yet it pierced through the chaotic battlefield like a clear spring. Buster turned around abruptly and saw that the Son of God had somehow appeared behind him, his pale fingers still tightly gripping the collar of the oversized leather jacket.
The son of the gods' golden hair fluttered in the wind stirred by the foul air, and the unhealed scars on his neck were faintly visible through the strands. His eyelashes were lowered, casting a trembling shadow in the firelight.
For some unknown reason, Buster's heart also trembled slightly.
It felt as if I was being brushed by those long, feather-like eyelashes.
“He still has a chance.” The beautiful son of the god tilted his head toward the murky canyon. “Deeper underground, there you can find the answer.”
Buster stood up and gripped the hilt of the greatsword with his backhand.
"Easy!" he said. "I'll kill this monster right now!"
A note from the author:
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Help! I love both the descriptions "Kapibala" and "Miss"!
So cute! [Please!] I'll support you!
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I might not update tomorrow. I'm just checking the word count and saving up some more drafts of the (not really) "Indecent Assault" baby story.
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