Yisela hugged the pile of ‘treasures’ she had just bought: stained glass, copper rings, and an abandoned gear. Humming a tuneless song, she prepared to turn and leave.
She was still savoring the crispiness of that fried chicken leg, her tail tip swaying happily.
‘Tonight I have to tell Saint Sister about those kids—they dared to poke this princess’s face and mock me for being short. Saint Sister definitely doesn’t think I’m short. Next time, I’ll make them taste the power of the flying dragon kick.’
The moment she touched that cold, abandoned gear.
“Hum—the gear suddenly emitted a black glow.”
An extremely faint dark magic, one that even the Dragon God’s bloodline found repulsive, surged fiercely through her fingertips.
Yisela’s footsteps halted. She looked down at the gear in her hand; the rusty taste still lingered on her tongue, but now a layer of black lines was spreading across the gear’s surface.
Those lines, as if alive, crawled up along her fingertips at a speed too fast for her to let go.
“What—”
Before she could finish, the world before her eyes suddenly lurched.
The light and shadows at the alley entrance twisted and reorganized.
The next second, she found herself not in the alley, but standing in the plaza of the Temple of Light.
The sunlight was dazzling—completely different from the warm golden light in the alley. This light was cold, radiating no warmth.
In the center of the plaza, Seraphina stood with her back to her, conversing with a mysterious figure in a black robe.
Yisela instinctively wanted to call out to her, but no sound escaped her throat. She could only stand there, listening to Saint Sister speak in a tone she had never heard before, uttering words she never imagined she would hear.
“That brat is just a temporary bargaining chip. Once we use her dragon blood to repair the barrier, or manage to study her Dragon God’s bloodline, she’ll have no further use.”
The black-robed figure let out a low laugh.
“Saintess, you are truly cold-hearted. That child sees you as her salvation.”
“Salvation?”
Seraphina turned around.
Yisela saw her face—the familiar face that always looked at her with tenderness—now wore an expression she had never seen before. Not anger, not disgust, but something more terrifying: indifference.
Like speaking of a tool that had outlived its usefulness.
“Don’t be ridiculous. A useless waste like her who only causes trouble—if it weren’t for the fact that she still has some value to exploit, I would have kicked her out like trash long ago.”
Yisela stood frozen, staring blankly at that familiar figure. Her fingers still held the position of gripping the gear, but she could no longer feel anything in her fingertips.
Her heart felt as if it were being crushed by an invisible hand, squeezing the breath out of her.
She wanted to say, “That’s not true,” wanted to say, “Last night you held my hand and channeled holy light.”
She wanted to say, “Just now in the prayer room, you told me to come back early,” but she couldn’t open her mouth. The illusion gave her no right to refute.
The scene changed again. Sylvanas appeared beside Seraphina.
The two stood on the high platform of the Temple, looking down at the area below. Yisela waved her arms frantically and screamed, trying to make them see her, but they acted as if she were completely invisible.
She glanced down at her wrist—the bracelet the Old Woman had left her was still there, but its glow had dimmed, like a lifeless stone.
“What a burden.”
Sylvanas snorted coldly, her tone filled with disgust.
She held a cup of flower tea, exactly the same posture as when she sat by the bedside this morning, but the expression on her face made Yisela’s blood run cold.
“If I’d known this brat would be such trouble, I shouldn’t have been soft-hearted from the start.”
“True Dragon God lineage? I see nothing but a spoiled calamity.”
Seraphina took over, her voice piercing into Yisela’s heart like an icicle.
“Once the curse inside her fully erupts and drains her life force, everything will be over.”
“By then, we’ll obtain pure Dragon God power, and she will be nothing more than a sacrifice that existed for our sake.”
“Sacrifice.”
Those two words echoed wildly in Yisela’s mind.
She remembered—remembered the scene of being thrown out of the Dragon’s Nest by the elders like trash.
She remembered that freezing night, crying hungry in the empty Dragon’s Nest, remembered the cake she hid under her pillow for fear of starving.
She remembered the words she silently said in her heart last night in the bath pool while carefully wiping their backs: ‘Next time I’ll wipe for you again.’
So all of this—in their eyes—it was just a sacrifice.
“No, no.”
The immense fear and feeling of betrayal instantly swallowed Yisela.
The curse inside her, like a shark that caught the scent of blood, began to stir wildly.
“AAAAH!!”
Yisela let out a scream, clutching her head, and the illusion before her disappeared.
She was still in that dark alley, her hand still gripping the abandoned gear tightly.
But it was already too late. Because those few seconds of negative emotions—fear, despair, the feeling of abandonment—the black lines inside her body, as if nourished by the most delicious fodder, exploded from her neck and climbed upward wildly.
“Cold, so cold!”
Yisela collapsed to the ground, her teeth chattering.
She could no longer feel the warmth of holy light; she felt as if her soul was being dragged into an endless abyss.
She looked down at the emerald bracelet on her wrist; its glow was visibly fading.
“Lies, all lies.”
She curled into a ball, her consciousness beginning to blur. The last image that flashed through her mind before she completely fell into darkness.
It was the tip of Sylvanas’s ear, bright red as she turned away in the bath pool last night. That image was warm, but it was useless now.
At the same time, in the Saint’s Bedchamber of the Temple of Light.
Seraphina was about to change into her battle armor when suddenly her heart ached sharply.
“Pfft!”
A mouthful of blood sprayed onto the pure white holy robe.
“Saintess?!”
A maid’s panicked voice came from outside the door, but Seraphina could no longer hear it.
Her pupils contracted sharply as she stared at her palm. There had been a holy light mark representing ‘protection,’ but now it was being fiercely eroded by a sinister black mist.
“Yisela!”
Seraphina’s face instantly turned whiter than paper.
It wasn’t a physical attack—it was despair at the soul level.
Yisela was undergoing some kind of blow that could shatter her mental world.
Her protection magic could ward off monsters, but it couldn’t block this most vicious curse, dug up from the depths of memory.
How could this be? This dark magic was devouring her emotions!
Seraphina didn’t bother wiping the blood from her lips; holy light instantly condensed into a teleportation array beneath her feet.
Her eyes had never been so terrified, because she knew that if Yisela’s spirit collapsed, her body would wither away as well.
That kid who last night stood on tiptoe to help her wipe her front, that kid who just now clung to her arm and pleaded, “Please, pretty please.”
Now that kid was in some corner, being broken by the most vicious illusion. And she—she was too late.
“Hold on, Yisela! Big sister is coming!”
Back in the alley. Yisela’s vision was already blurry.
She felt her body temperature fading, her heart beating slower and slower. The emerald bracelet on her wrist had completely lost its luster, like a cold stone pressed against her skin.
She remembered Sylvanas’s parting words: -Tell her, I will come back with a way to save her.
Those words were still in her ears, but she had no strength left to think about them.
“Am I… going to die?”
Just a second before her consciousness was about to sink into complete darkness, a warm, intense white light tore through the shadows of the alley.
“Get away from her!!”
A roar, as if it couldn’t have come from that gentle Saintess’s mouth.
Seraphina’s figure appeared out of thin air at the entrance of the alley.
She didn’t look at the gear on the ground, nor at the hidden shadow; her gaze was locked firmly on Yisela.
Seeing the tear streaks still fresh on Yisela’s face and the black lines spreading over her body, Seraphina’s heart felt as if it had been pierced by ten thousand arrows.
Without even taking time to cast magic to pursue the enemy, she rushed forward and tightly pulled that cold little body into her arms.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Big sister is late.”
Seraphina’s voice trembled as she poured the purest, warmest holy light into Yisela’s body, sparing no magic power.
This holy light was no longer gentle healing; it carried a domineering resolve to ‘never let go.’
“Who allowed you to give up?!”
Seraphina looked into the unfocused red eyes in her arms, her voice carrying suppressed anger—not at Yisela, but at whatever had made her think that way.
“Who gave you the nerve to think you’re a burden?!”
She paused, then her voice suddenly dropped, low as if talking to herself.
“Don’t you dare forget a single word I said in the bath pool last night.”
“I am your Saint Sister.”
“You are not a burden. You are my…”
She didn’t finish. She just held Yisela tighter, so tight that both could feel each other’s heartbeat.
Holy light surged wildly from her body, like a scorching flame, pushing back the black lines clinging to Yisela’s skin inch by inch.
In the darkness, Yisela heard that familiar voice and felt that familiar embrace.
She moved her fingers slightly, tears clinging to her lashes, and slowly opened her eyes. What came into view was Seraphina’s face, streaked with tears and filled with terror and heartache.
“Wah…”
She didn’t speak. With the last ounce of her strength, she tightly wrapped her arms around Seraphina’s neck, buried her face in her shoulder, and cried loudly.
“Liar, big liar. You said you’d protect me. Why, why did you abandon me?”
She sobbed breathlessly. ‘I’ve been trying so hard to change! I won’t be so mischievous anymore.’
Seraphina held her tight, letting her holy robe get soaked by Yisela’s tears, gently patting her back.
Over and over she repeated, “Not leaving you. I’ll never leave you.”
“Big sister swears to the God of holy light, even if the whole world sees you as a sacrifice, as a calamity, I will take you back!”
“You are my Yisela, my very own little clumsy dragon.”
In the shadows of the alley, the shadow of the Black Cat glanced at the two tightly embracing. A trace of unwillingness flickered in its red eyes, but in the end, it turned into a wisp of black smoke and silently dissipated into the air.
Although it didn’t achieve its expected goal, the harvest was still decent.