Chapter 56: Do Deadmen have feelings?

Chapter 56: Do Deadmen have feelings?

From the over a dozen hours I spent here, I have made several observations. Both about Priscilla and myself.

Priscilla, as a half god half dragon, doesn't need sustenance, and I figured out the reason with my soul sight. She unconsciously absorbs the energy from the air like photosynthesis. So she hardly needs to breathe too.

Second, she is very cute.

Third, she has developed a special ability called ''Lifehunt'' thanks to her *ahem* fucked up heritage. It basically allows her to drain the life essence of someone. The ability usually works through the wounds she inflicts which gives her vitality relative to the damage she causes.

But the scary part about the ability is that unless Priscilla consciously deactivates life hunt, the wound will continue to leak life. And those wounds will be incredibly hard to close and heal up.

After a long effort of persuasion, I managed to convince her to cut my palm with her fingernail. Which she did so incredibly mournfully, probably incredibly hesitant to use her ability due to her upbringing. But while I messed with the wound I gave her some drake meat to occupy herself with which cheered her right up.

I looked at the wound on my hand. Usually, my high regen would close that tiny cut(my body actually regenerates while in human form) within a minute but the wound healed at a snail's pace and I felt some warmth leak from my hand. And that warmth was separate from the blood.

Yep, my very life was being sapped away. I can only imagine how terrifying this would be to someone who isn't immortal like me.

Yet I only needed to mix Umbra with great heal to close the wound instantly, it seems like my nature as undead and human along with darkness overrides lifehunt. Nice to know.

Fourth, her physical capabilities. This may be a shock to some but gods and the descendants of gods are naturally far stronger than humans. For example if I rated Ornstein's strength while using the way my stats are calculated then the result would be something like this.

{Vitality : 200+}(bastard just refused to drop dead)

{Attunement : 200+ }(he could chuck lightning for hours probably)

{Endurance : 200++ }(His stamina massively outclassed mine)

{Strength : 120 + & - }(His strenght wasnt that impressive)

{Dexterity : 300+ }(I have no doubts that he could outrun small caliber bullets)

{Resistance : 100+ }(Wasnt particulary resistant against spells)

{Intelligence : ? }

{Faith : 300 }(Was able to fry my insides to well done within seconds)

And these stats should scale to a higher degree thanks to his race. And if I weighed it to the same degree, I assume this would be Smough's stats.

{Vitality : 300 + & -}(Altough he wasnt able to withstand a supercharged Armageddon blade his corpse was still intanct)

{Attunement : 20- }(I just cant imagine him having any sort of attunement)

{Endurance : 100+ }(Impressive considering his stature but tires out easily compared to ornstein)

{Strength: 400++ }(Absurd physical strength, I never survived getting hit by him never once, no matter what skill was activated. His blows shook the cathedral. I have no doubts that he could launch a small building with only raw strength)

{Dexterity : 20- }(Clumsy and predictable)

{Resistance : 50+ }(Was getting significantly more hurt than ornstein when hit by elemental attacks)

{Intelligence : 10- }(Do I need to explain?)

{Faith : 10+ } (He worshipped gwynewere I guess?)

Every one of my orifices leaked blood from how tightly I was holding myself back from melting everything in a hundred meters. Unbearable rage overriding reason.

I WILL TURN THIS FUCKING WORLD INTO A SEA OF GODDAMMED FLAMES. ONLY ASHES WILL BE LEFT. JUST LIKE ME, THIS WORLD TURNED ME INTO THIS {/THING/} AND NOW IT HAS TO FACE THE CONSEQUENCES.

Long suppressed emotions reawakening. Boiling back to the surface. My endless wrath was turning apoleptic. My control over my body was waning, this was me. That was the real me. Whatever was left under the hollow, empty shell was the embodiment of wrath and indignation itself.

I WILL B-

*Plop.*

All of a sudden I felt myself being tipped over and pulled, and it took every inch of my self-control to not every living thing in the 100-meter vicinity into raw carbon. And my body was met with softness and coolness that I could feel even through the armor.

''Are you alright mr. Undead? You seemed to be in pain. I- I hope you don't mind.''

Then I realized, Priscilla had pulled me down to her lap and set my head down on it, and wrapped her, very, very soft tail around my body. Even though I may be incredibly hot at the moment. Yet seeing my pain the first thing that came to her was comforting me.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, my body completely rigid from holding myself starting to relax. While she closed her eyes and lightly smiled.

...

She didn't know how to comfort someone, but that didn't stop her from trying her hardest to comfort her first friend who all of a sudden looked so alone and pained. So she did what came to her mind. And it worked, he was slowly unwinding from holding himself like a stone.

She started humming one of the tunes she came up with in her solitary tower as she brought him closer to herself, wanting to feel his warmth even through his armor. Wrapping her tail around him. Eventually, after a few hours, he relaxed.

Yet he did not do anything to struggle out of the embrace. For the first time in over several hundred lives, he felt warm and comfortable. Like he was home.

Under the moonlit sky of the painting, Priscilla hugged John to herself as she cuddled with him. The usually frigid night in the painting felt warm to her.

For the first time in years, John let sleep claim his exhausted body and soul.

The nightmares didn't torment him as much.

And so they both drifted off into sleep under the moonlit sky.

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