The spear Pirimas had formed was parried by Pale Justice. Feeling the force — one that, to a Demon Lord, was comparable to the Legendary realm — he instantly retreated, revealing a body covered in festering sores. Narrowing his eyes at Natasha, who seemed so unsteady she could barely stand, he spat out word by word: "Your bloodline has mutated? The more injured you are, the stronger you become?"
Natasha said nothing more, gripping her longsword tightly to shield Lucian. It seemed that this mutated bloodline ability had also been suppressed by Pirimas's toxins, causing the strength she had regained to drain away rapidly once more. Unable to attack, she could only focus on defense.
Moreover, the toxin-infected wound on her abdomen refused to heal, and the massive blood loss had left her body severely weakened.
Pirimas's voice rose to a shrill pitch, neurotic and brimming with violent rage: "Spell triggers, magic items activating defensive responses on their own, mutated bloodline abilities — can't the two of you just lie down and let me kill you?! Disgusting! Repulsive! What's the point of resisting? You'll die by my hand either way! Wouldn't it save everyone time if you just cooperated?!"
Lucian felt as though someone who couldn't hold his liquor had downed three full bottles of Riesling — his mind was sluggish and slow. Trying to think of a countermeasure was already beyond him, let alone casting Arcane Magic. He could only vaguely sense the curse's power traveling through his bloodline, converging from his lungs and stomach toward his neck, then spreading from his neck into his brain. The curse seemed to be affecting his physical functions as well; apart from his left hand, the rest of his body was gradually growing weak.
No — I have to find a way out of this "drunk" state, or I'm dead for certain.
I absolutely cannot give up on saving myself and just wait for rescue. Ninety-nine point nine nine percent of the time, I'd be dead before any reinforcements arrive.
Natasha is in grave danger!
Chaotic thoughts flickered through Lucian's mind, and he waved his hand feebly, grasping at the elusive spark of inspiration that might free them from this predicament.
Pirimas now held two rapier-sized blades that seemed to have appeared from nowhere, their surfaces coated in a layer of dark green putrid liquid that dripped to the ground from time to time, staining and corrupting everything it touched.
"This is all because you refuse to cooperate! You'll be punished for this!" Pirimas snarled in fury, then launched into a tempestuous barrage of attacks at a speed Lucian couldn't even track. The surrounding area gradually became stained with writhing blacks, twisted dark greens, and nauseating pale yellows — anyone who entered this zone would be suppressed by curses, toxins, and disease alike.
This was the semi-illusory Will Domain that only a Ninth-rank Gold Knight could manifest.
Wary of Pale Justice in Natasha's hands, Pirimas avoided attacking head-on. Instead, he relied on his speed and the suppressive pressure of his Will Domain, constantly probing for gaps in Natasha's swordsmanship, then driving his twin rapiers into every opening he found.
Though Natasha possessed the mutated bloodline ability that grew stronger with injury, her base strength was vastly inferior to Pirimas's, and with the Kiss of Weakness gnawing at her, performing at even a third of her normal capacity was generous. She couldn't begin to match Pirimas's speed and could only swing her sword in a desperate, passive defense.
The first dozen seconds or so had been manageable — relying on her airtight defense and the suppression that Pale Justice exerted against demonic bloodlines and evil domains, she'd barely held off the Venomous Demon's assault. But as time wore on, the effects of the Kiss of Weakness grew increasingly pronounced. Her strength waned, gaps appeared in her sword curtain, and Pirimas seized every opportunity, slashing through her hunting gear, tearing skin, rotting muscle, leaving behind one gruesome wound after another.
Drawing on the stimulation from her wounds, Natasha's strength recovered slightly, but her breathing grew heavier and heavier — like a bowstring drawn to its limit, liable to snap at any moment.
Suddenly, Pirimas dodged Pale Justice and closed the distance to Natasha in a bizarre posture, his back turned toward her. His right elbow drove backward, slamming directly into the center of her chest.
Crack, crack, crack — the sound of ribs shattering rang out in rapid succession. Bright red blood tinged with silver-purple spilled from Natasha's mouth. She managed only a single retaliatory slash to block Pirimas's follow-up attack before her entire body was sent flying backward, crashing into the wall beside Lucian.
With a thunderous crash, the walls of the sealed chamber — reinforced by the Divine Arts array — splintered with cracks.
Pirimas feared being struck by that Legendary longsword that clearly suppressed demonic bloodlines, so rather than pressing the attack as he usually would — driving his opponent to exhaustion and death — he prioritized self-preservation, ensuring he never even grazed Pale Justice. Had it been otherwise, Natasha would already be dead at his hands.
"You shouldn't be able to stand up now, should you?" Pirimas said with bloodthirsty excitement, then shrieked neurotically: "You — why are you still getting up?! Just lie down and let me kill you!"
Watching Natasha struggle to her feet beside him — drops of blood mingled with sweat falling to the ground, her body covered in festering wounds, yet she still resolutely raised her longsword into a protective stance — Lucian's heart ached.
"Unless I die, you won't take a single step past me."
Ironically, Natasha's voice sounded less feeble under the weight of her grievous injuries, but her weakened condition had not fundamentally changed.
Lucian hated his own helplessness at that moment. Without the ability to use his mental force, he was barely half a Great Knight — utterly incapable of intervening in a high-level battle.
I must break free of this predicament!
I must restore my mental force!
To restore my mental force, I need to remove the curse first.
But how do I remove the curse?
Lucian's mind was clouded with blood, his thoughts sluggish as he felt the curse's power flooding through his neck in a ceaseless torrent into his brain.
"I declare that my most hated target has shifted from mages to you! This mutated bloodline that gets stronger the more injured you are — it's absolutely revolting!" Pirimas was raging with fury, yet this didn't diminish his combat effectiveness in the slightest; if anything, it only made him more bloodthirsty and frenzied.
His rage and his chaotic demonic bloodline traits did not rob Pirimas of his fundamental combat judgment. He continued his storm of attacks just as before, relying on speed and agility, exploiting the fact that Natasha had to protect Lucian, exploiting her dwindling strength and limited mobility.
Silver-purple-tinged blood dripped steadily to the ground, and to Lucian it was as though he could hear the countdown of Natasha's life. A wave of despair and self-loathing surged through him.
But for Lucian, this kind of despair did not bring surrender — it brought reflexive defiance. That indomitable spirit of never giving up had become one with his soul from the moment he first played the Fate Symphony.