-40- Black Eye

Yvette was actually still conscious; she was simply feigning unresponsiveness.

Firstly, she was unsure what to make of this state: she was incredibly weak, her entire body infected with aberration factors, yet her consciousness remained clear.

Secondly, she felt that if she acted as if she were completely dead, it might give Rosalind a reason to abandon her—a reason to be free from the shackles of gratitude and duty, allowing her to escape with a clear conscience.

She thought that if she were Rosalind, she would certainly run. After all, Rosalind still had the hope of returning home; why die here? Wouldn't it be better to save one's own life? A teacher? How could a teacher’s life be more important than one's own? Even if the roles were reversed and it were Rosalind who was dying, Yvette—a person whose rational thinking outweighed everything else—would only try her best, but would never sacrifice her own life for a student.

Yet, this stubborn little girl was like a mule, refusing to leave and insisting on staying here to be buried with her!

Damn it, she was so angry—or rather, so angry she was brought back to life!

Then, stealing a glance at her student still fighting a bloody battle, a strange emotion welled up in Yvette’s heart.

Why hasn't she mutated yet?

She had given up on treatment so long ago that any other organism would have mutated by now. Why did she still feel that her cognitive functions were sound, without that maddening sense of consciousness sinking into the abyss?

Could it be that as an immortal witch, she truly possessed an undying body, one even immune to a doomsday-level virus like the aberration factor?

But... that wasn't quite right. She could feel subtle changes occurring within her body. These changes were minute, not manifesting on the surface, but rather resembling modifications at a microscopic level. They made her body itch, and her mind too, as if she were on the verge of mutation at any second.

Just then, as if to fulfill her wish, an intense wave of drowsiness engulfed her thoughts. Invisible threads pulled at her consciousness, sinking, sinking further down...

It was like falling into cold seawater, the final rays of light rapidly shrinking above her head, turning into bright specks of luminescence.

For some reason, at this moment, she suddenly became calm. She watched the scene coldly, acting less like a drowning person and more like an onlooker.

Then, in the boundless depths of the ocean, she saw two strange things.

One was a mass of black and red intertwined, squirming endlessly like a living creature, a bizarre liquid that felt utterly out of place in the surrounding seawater.

The other was a small, smooth, supple, and boneless black tentacle that seemed to have sprouted from the purest of shadows.

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze falling upon the black tentacle. The next second, like a fish in water, it flexibly twisted its body and approached, then obediently came to a rest in the palm of Yvette's hand.

...

After fighting for several more minutes, Rosalind, wielding her blade, finally reached her limit. Her magic was completely exhausted. As the effects of her crimson armor and muscular limit-breaking faded, her sword slipped from her grasp, hitting the ground, and she no longer had the strength to pick it up.

Now, she was once again that helpless aristocratic young lady, just as she had been the first time she traversed the Remnant Abyss. Only this time, her teacher would not appear like an invincible hero riding on colorful auspicious clouds, landing majestically beside her to eradicate all horrors.

Exhaustion swallowed her like a tidal wave. She stumbled backward, and toward the spot where her teacher lay, she let herself fall backward. Whether she would be infected by the aberration or gnawed down to bone no longer mattered; before death, she only wanted to be close to her teacher.

But...

The next second, she felt a small, cold hand press against her torn back, propping her up.

Then, before she could recover from her daze, she saw countless pale threads, like billions of embroidery needles being scattered, piercing through every hateful shell around them with precision, coldness, and unerring accuracy—whether it was the tide-insects wriggling and hissing on the ground, or the strange birds circling and spitting acid in the air.

Dense and countless, they blotted out the sky!

The next second, an even more horrifying scene unfolded.

Those pale threads that had pierced the flesh acted like living, terrifying blood-sucking proboscises. The white threads themselves became visibly engorged and pulsated.

The greedy, sucking force frantically drained all remaining vitality from the aberrations. Hundreds of them, regardless of size or strength, had their bodies wither and collapse like leaves instantly drained of water... leaving behind only mummified skeletons and skins.

Faced with such a bizarre sight, Rosalind gulped, a chill rising from the bottom of her heart. But when she turned around, what she saw was a face that was remarkably familiar, yet somewhat alien.

It was her teacher, yet not her teacher.

Compared to her usual self, the most obvious change was that the pure whites of her eyes had become deep, abyssal black. Although her pupils had not changed color, they seemed to have been ignited, releasing a red light that was strikingly vivid in the dark night.

This change in her eyes alone completely overturned her entire aura. From a delicate, immaculate, and slightly aloof doll-like girl, she had transformed into a cold, bewitching witch with an aura of evil—much like the sealed Evil God from myth.

Furthermore, her methods were quite consistent with people's impressions of an Evil God. That silver hair, which once flowed like moonlight, had now truly "come alive," surging and extending, turning into squirming straws that sucked the filthy flesh and blood of the aberrant creatures to replenish herself.

Utter evil... yet it radiated a breathtaking, suffocating beauty.

As expected of her teacher; even when mutated, she remained so unique and peerless!

Rosalind felt a sudden surge of emotion and raised her hand to wipe away her tears. She thought that if she were to die at the hands of such a teacher and be consumed by her, she would have no regrets.

Then, after locking eyes with her teacher’s evil black eyes and red pupils for a moment, she closed her eyes in anticipation and waited.

But...

To her surprise, the expected death did not come. Instead, she was met with a very perplexed question: "Why are you closing your eyes?"

She opened her eyes in a daze, her long lashes, wet with rain, trembling violently. She stammered, "Waiting for you to kill me, Teacher."

"Why would I kill you