The Damned Demon Chapter 491 Not The Son She Remembers

Chapter 491 Not The Son She Remembers

After a harrowing hour filled with sounds of distress that echoed hauntingly through the hall, the second coffin suddenly sprang open, revealing a transformation both remarkable and unsettling.

From its dark embrace emerged a naked female human figure that was brimming with mature allure, looking neither too young nor old but someone in her mid-thirties.

Rebecca’s human avatar was a striking mirror of her demonic essence, now encased in the guise of humanity.

Esther, her expression a mask of stoic relief, allowed herself a small sigh as she observed her sister’s emergence.

Rebecca, for her part, was struggling to regain her composure, her breaths coming in heavy pants.

The ordeal had taxed her to her very limits, a test of endurance that left her feeling raw and exposed.

Turning her gaze towards Asher, her eyes blazed with a mixture of rage and defiance, a silent curse for the ordeal she had been subjected to.

But then she remembered that she was naked and quickly used her arms to cover her exposed private parts, though one of her arms was struggling to cover her voluptuous breasts that were overflowing over her arm.

Even if it wasn’t her own body, it annoyingly felt like it was hers only.

Asher, undeterred by the intensity of her glare, approached with a look of satisfaction, his eyes appraising her newly human avatar from top to bottom as if inspecting an object. “Wow. You look exactly the same except…you look human,” he mused aloud upon noticing her seductive features and voluptuous curves, her long silver hair, and her radiant red eyes. Her skin was pale but not too pale as her original body.

He felt her eyes wouldn’t be a problem since he knew some Hunters would have naturally bright red eyes according to the nature of their mana.

Yet in her human shell, she looked similar to his human avatar mostly because of the similar hair color.

Feeling his intense gaze upon her, Rebecca’s posture became defensive and vulnerable in equal measure, “How long do you plan to make me use this?” she demanded, her voice laced with loathing for the human shell she was forced to inhabit, a cage for her true nature.

Asher’s response came with a smirk, “Pets don’t get to question their master’s intentions. Got it?” His words were casual yet cutting.

With a sound of frustration, Rebecca retreated to the safety of the coffin, her declaration, “I am going back into my own body,” a final act of defiance against the role forced upon her.

She felt she might claw her avatar’s skin out of disgust if she stayed inside it a second longer. She also didn’t want him to suddenly develop any vile ideas of doing anything to her human avatar.

Esther furrowed her brows and glanced at Asher, wondering why he was keeping Rebecca by his side if he hated her so much. Or was he just planning to use her as an expendable yet powerful servant?

Either way, Esther felt that she definitely had to find out Asher’s weakness because she had a very bad feeling about how things would unfold in the future if she simply let him do as he pleased.

Asher felt Esther’s gaze briefly landing on him and could guess what she was thinking.

By now, he somewhat understood the dynamics between the two sisters, and his lips curved as he began to cook plans to deal with them.

—

The next day,

The crimson sun blazed mercilessly above, its rays scorching an already desolate landscape where life seemed to have surrendered long ago.

This barren expanse, surrounded by dead trees whose twisted forms spoke of better days, was dominated by a dark red pool.

The liquid within it, poisonous and defiant, refused to give in to the sun’s wrath, an eternal proof of the land’s corruption.

Asher stood before this pool, an observer amidst desolation, his demeanor one of idle curiosity rather than concern.

The place held no beauty, no life, yet he seemed as if he were admiring a view from a picturesque vantage point, a stark contrast to the bleakness that surrounded him.

*Whoosh!*

The sudden rush of a powerful gust, the distinct sound of wings cutting through the air, heralded a change in the stillness.

A moment later, a figure descended from the sky, landing with a grace that seemed at odds with the harsh environment.

She was a vision in dark red, her dress an elegant creation that melded strength and beauty, its off-shoulder design framing her form in a way that spoke of both power and allure.

Dark silver wings, adorned with scales that glittered like jewels under the harsh sun, unfurled from her back, a majestic display of her draconic heritage.

Her face, a perfect blend of softness and regal sharpness, was framed by silvery-lavender hair that cascaded down in gentle waves, catching the light and adding a touch of ethereal beauty to her formidable presence.

“You really didn’t bring anyone else, huh?” Asher inquired without turning, his voice carrying across the quiet that had resettled after her arrival.

Lysandra’s approach was measured, her brows knitting together as she responded, “Why would I if all I am going to do is see my son?” Her voice, though firm, carried an undercurrent of something deeper, a maternal resolve that no obstacle could deter.

“So you never wondered if this was a trap and I was planning to kill or capture you?” Asher’s question was laced with a subtle amusement as he turned to face her, his smile cryptic.

Lysandra’s face, a mask of stoic resolve, betrayed no fear at the possibility of betrayal, “Do I look like I care? All I care about is my son. My life doesn’t have any meaning without him. But…if you are truly planning to dishonor your word, then I won’t go down without a fight,” Her declaration was so fierce that no threat could dampen it.

Asher, unfazed by her challenge, responded with a chuckle, a sound that seemed almost out of place in the heavy atmosphere, “Relax. I was just kidding. We do have common enemies, after all. How is Drakar doing these days? Does he talk about good ol’ me? Does his face still ache after losing it against me?” He asked with a mocking smile.

Lysandra’s response was icy, her eyes narrowing as she spoke of Drakar, “He isn’t in a good state, obviously. What you did to him has deeply wounded his pride. He has even threatened to silence anyone who dares to speak about what happened between you and him. People know, but they know better than to talk about it. But it doesn’t change the fact that he is determined to raze your kingdom to the ground the moment your kingdom becomes vulnerable. You people wouldn’t stand a chance once the key can no longer protect your kingdom,” Her words painted a picture of a wounded predator, biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Asher’s scoff was a dismissal, “Let me worry about my own kingdom. As for your son…are you sure you are ready to see him? As I already mentioned before, he isn’t the same Agonon you remember. He has been through-”

“I don’t care. You bring him out of whatever dimension he is stuck in,” His warning was cut short by Lysandra’s demand, her maternal instinct overriding any caution or forewarning,

“Fine. But only for 5 minutes. My life force is quite precious and I am not fond of the pain,” Asher conceded, his tone laced with reluctance, making Lysandra reluctantly nod since she was desperate enough to at least talk to her son and see him. The sourc𝗲 of this content no/v(𝒆l)bi((n))

Asher settled onto the ground, assuming a meditative posture, a silent signal of the ordeal he was about to endure for their agreement.

Lysandra watched, a mix of anxiety and anticipation coursing through her veins, her heart racing at the thought of being reunited, even briefly, with her son.

Yet Asher’s words still rang in her mind, especially how Agonon won’t exactly be the same as how she remembered him.

As Asher’s form contorted with the strain of his arcane exertions, Lysandra could only watch, a tumult of emotions swirling within her.

The sight of him, his complexion draining to an ashen pallor, his body racked with spasms of pain, elicited an unexpected realization.

It dawned on her, the gravity of the sacrifice he was making, the sheer force of will required to pierce the veil between dimensions.

She found herself caught in a pyre of frustration and helplessness, her desire to save her son clashing with the harsh reality of her limitations.

The air itself seemed to hold its breath, the oppressive atmosphere thick with anticipation and nervousness. Then, without warning, the world shifted.

A dark green light, vibrant and otherworldly, tore through the stillness, heralding the arrival of a being that defied comprehension.

Before her stood a man, but not as she remembered him.

He was a vision of terror and awe, a fusion of dragon and man that spoke of unimaginable torment and power.

His skin, a mix of black magma and iridescent scales, writhed with an inner fire that seemed to consume and renew in equal measure.

One side of his face retained the semblance of the son she remembered, while the other was a stark, charred skull, resembling a nightmarish creature mothers use to tell their kids to keep them in line.

His wings, vast and terrible, spread wide, their blackened membranes soaked with molten fury, casting shadows that swallowed light whole.

And yet, it was the dark green glow in his eyes, cold and unfeeling, that anchored her to the spot, a gaze that could freeze the blood of any who dared meet it.

Lysandra, however, felt no fear or disgust. All she could feel was pain and sadness.

As her eyes met his, a torrent of maternal love and sorrow surged within her, drowning out the nightmare before her, “A-

Agonon? Son…is this really you?” Her voice, barely more than a whisper, carried with it the weight of her emotions, of hope long deferred and love undiminished.