The Damned Demon - Chapter 483

Chapter 483: The Necroform Reanimation Art
Chapter 483 The Necroform Reanimation Art

Under the flickering torchlight of the shadowed chamber, Asher leaned forward with an air of intrigue to inspect the contents of the coffin, his gaze sharpening as it fell upon the humanoid form resting within. The preserved corpse, if it could be called that, bore no distinct facial features, resembling a wax model more than anything human, yet unmistakably holding the shape of a person.

It looked androgynous and not distinctively male or female.

"What is this weird corpse doing here?" Asher’s voice echoed slightly in the chamber, a note of confusion threading through his otherwise composed demeanor.

Esther, standing a measured distance away, watched him with an inscrutable expression, "Isn’t it obvious that you can’t walk around among the humans in your body? But if you want to, then you need a human body or something that looks like one. This corpse isn’t a real corpse. It is a foundation shell created using the necroessence of multiple powerful Hunter corpses to reduce the chances of failure," she explained, her voice betraying none of the tension that knotted her stomach.

With a casual flick of her wrist, another dark blue coffin materialized beside the first, emphasizing the gravity of her next words.

"Failure? How bad are the chances?" Asher’s inquiry was sharp, his focus undivided as he sought to understand the full extent of the risk.

"The stronger you are, the higher the chances of failure. There is a reason that the strongest ones in our House do not try this. After all, since this shell is made from Hunter corpses, there will be trace amounts of radiant mana lingering, and it might cause a backlash that could cause you to fail. Worst case...You will die, especially since your bloodline isn’t suitable for this, unlike ours," Esther replied, her tone grave, the underlying warning clear in her voice. Despite her composed exterior, part of her hoped desperately for his arrogance to be his undoing, dying like a fool.

But she knew that it would be a bad outcome for her as well since she and her House would be held responsible.

Expecting her words to serve as a deterrent, Esther waited for Asher to reconsider, to retreat from the brink of such a dangerous gambit. And that way she could avoid sharing such a powerful and ancient secret art of her House and allow her to completely focus on making him void the contract.

Asher hummed before he nodded and said, as his eyes shone with a determination that seemed to ignite the very air around him, "Let’s do it," he declared.

Asher felt that since he was even able to survive and master the Tome of the Forbidden Nightmare Sword, which had runes made to withstand radiant mana, he should be able to do this as well.

He also knew about the mysterious fact that he could at least channel the radiant mana of his past self.

Esther’s frown deepened, the temperature in the room seeming to drop with her mood, "Did you not hear what I said? There is little to no chance that you will survive this. I can’t let myself or my House get held responsible for your death," Her voice was a cold blade, slicing through the tension that filled the air between them.

Asher’s scoff cut sharply through her warning, "It’s not my problem. That is just a risk you will have to swallow since you got yourself into this," His tone was dismissive, as if he couldn’t be least bothered about it.

As Esther initiated the ritual, her hands raised, dark blue tendrils of mana bridged the gap between the two coffins while a brief humming sound began to fill the dark hall.

Inside his coffin, Asher braced himself, his world narrowing to the immediate and intense sensation of his consciousness expanding, reaching out into the void that connected him to the foundational shell.

The transition was jarring. Asher found himself plunged into a cold, dead space, a realm of pitch-black darkness that threatened to swallow him whole. Then came the pain, an excruciating, all-encompassing agony that coursed through his being. It was as if countless needles were piercing him, carving the mana circuit into the empty shell. Still, his original body convulsed violently, a silent scream in the darkness, and yet he couldn’t hear his own voice, let alone open his mouth.

The initial agony of the mana circuit being etched into the shell had been harrowing, a torment he had braced himself against. Yet, what followed was an ordeal of a wholly unexpected nature, a manipulation of his physical form that defied his expectations.

As the process progressed, his avatar began to undergo a metamorphosis, its skin, muscles, and bones contorting and reshaping while its corpse-like skin began to change shade and began to gain some color and a hint of redness to its skin.

Yet Asher felt as if his own body was being molded, as though he were no more substantial than clay in the hands of a capricious sculptor. The pain, a vicious mix of stretching and molding, rivaled the torment of the mana circuit’s inscription. He couldn’t help but curse Esther silently, who purposefully let him think that carving the mana circuit was the only painful part of this procedure.

Esther had her brows subtly raised upon seeing that the procedure was proceeding without any hiccups so far and so swiftly.

Even when she did it in the past, it wasn’t this quick and took a lot of pain and concentration. It was one of the procedures she hated the most and, thus, was less inclined to use unless necessary.

Just what was this alien made of? How was he capable of defying all sorts of expectations?

Amidst the onslaught of pain, a curious thought flickered through Asher’s mind—how would he appear once this ordeal was over? His demonic visage, once so defining of his identity, was being transposed onto a human form. Would the humans be able to recognize him, or would the transformation render him unrecognizable, a stranger even to himself?

If it was the former, the prospect of needing to conceal his identity further, to don disguises atop this newly minted form, loomed as an unwelcome necessity. He had hoped for a seamless transition, a blending into the human realm without the need for such subterfuges.

Eventually, the torment ebbed away, giving rise to a stinging sensation that permeated his entire being.

It was a discomfort of a lesser degree, yet it made Asher wince as he realized it must be the radiant mana within the shell that Esther talked about.

But surprisingly, it was the last thing that hurt him, and slowly, the sting began to fade, retreating until he could feel his eyes and found the strength to open them.

With a soft pop, the door of the coffin swung open, and slowly, a tall, muscular human figure rose while Esther’s eyes widened as she unconsciously stared at this naked human figure.