Chapter 1110 - Chapter 1110: Prince and Princess

Chapter 1110: Prince and Princess

That moment, Jenna felt hesitation, trepidation, fear, anger, resentment, with many words surging to be spoken, as if to convince herself, but after thousands and ten thousands of words rushed to her lips, only one sentence remained: “But, I am willing.”

All those emotions ultimately condensed into a smile.

Amon, for reasons unknown and to no one in particular, shook His head, lowering His gaze to the white paper in His hand.

“Celia Bello, who chooses to become a Demoness of Unaging, will receive Amon’s help. And Amon, taking advantage of the moment when the Demoness Sect’s top leaders are all dispatched, stole a Grade 1 Sealed Artifact corresponding to a Demoness of Unaging, and thus arrived a bit late.

“As for the corresponding supplementary ingredients. the Visionary has long envisioned them into existence.”

As He spoke, the white paper floated downward, and a potion that had been prepared at some unknown time appeared in Amon’s hand.

The potion dyed its container a grayish-white color, clearly reflecting the mirror world around it.

It flew toward Jenna, landing in her palm.

Seeing this potion, numerous images suddenly flashed through Jenna’s mind: her childhood falling asleep to her mother’s humming, the excitement of first entering the Théâtre de l’Ancienne Cage à Pigeons to learn performance, the bitterness of struggling to survive with her mother and brother, the shock and gratitude of first meeting Franca, the series of events after encountering Lumian, the massive impact and disillusionment of watching her mother jump to her death from the sixth floor…

These countless fragments quickly settled, ultimately freezing into two scenes: one scene was after she finished singing a song at the Salle de Bal Brise, facing whistles and cheers, walking proudly to Lumian like a princess, laughing as she issued an invitation: “Handsome lion, dance!”

The other scene was when she inserted the long-handled silver fork into Hugues Artois’s eye socket, piercing into his brain, with the frozen surprise, bewilderment, and fear on the Member of Parliament’s face illuminated by the surrounding light.

Jenna raised the potion bottle, holding it like a long-handled silver fork.

This time, the “long-handled silver fork” would pierce her own face.

Jenna suddenly thought of something, turning her head to look at Anthony and Ludwig.

The latter seemed to want to stop her but was held back by the former.

Jenna opened her mouth, wanting to leave a word or two for Franca through them.

But she couldn’t think of what to say. Whether a sincere expression or a kind deception would ultimately become an irreparable regret, an eternally unhealing wound.

She laughed self-deprecatingly, exhaling. “Tell Franca to live well, on my behalf.

“My spirit will forever be with her.”

“Okay,” Anthony responded in a calm voice.

The palm pressing on Ludwig’s shoulder inexplicably revealed blue-colored blood vessels.

Jenna thought for a moment and added, “If the apocalypse passes, I hope you enjoy life.

“Ludwig, humans are always full of pain, but I still like being human.”

Jenna withdrew her gaze, stabbing the potion into herself, her hand steady, not trembling, just like when she killed Hugues Artois with the long-handled silver fork, only less swift.

The taste of soil and stone mixed together, lingering in her mouth.

Her senses gradually went numb, her body rapidly petrifying.

She felt her spirit floating midair, seeing herself in the mirror.

She saw herself in the mirror, serene, with a smile, seemingly waiting to welcome herself.

Though no ritual was held and no reconciliation reached beforehand, Jenna suddenly understood that her mirror self was also willing to sacrifice herself to save Lumian.

“She is indeed more extreme than me…

“She should have made the decision earlier than me…”

Jenna laughed again, whispering two sentences.

Suddenly, she was no longer anxious, no longer panicked, no longer afraid, because on this path to death, she was no longer alone.

She had a companion, a companion who encouraged and supported each other.

During the process of her instinct drifting toward her mirror self, Jenna suddenly saw “her” face twist, alternating between normal and painful, as if becoming a stranger.

This change seemed constrained, as if bound by layers of chains, requiring tremendous effort and overcoming numerous difficulties to complete.

“Come quickly…” Jenna, for the first time, cheered on the enemy who wanted to kill her.

…

In the grayish-white, cave-like area behind a mirror.

Demoness of Black Clarice pretended to be at her limit, a step too slow, and could only “watch helplessly” as Franca escaped into one of the no longer petrified phantom tunnels.

Phew… she secretly exhaled.

Just then, her spirituality suddenly warned her, and she abruptly turned, looking towards the grayish-white stone altar.

Franca bizarrely appeared nearby, and a clear, misty light shot out from the eye protection of the mechanical half-face mask she was wearing, striking the altar.

The one who had just escaped was only Franca’s mirror self!

And the one following the departing “mirror self” was a Mirror Projection!

The Demoness of Black’s gaze instantly froze, but it was too late to stop it.

Invisible barriers suddenly appeared around the altar, provided by the ritual itself.

But for some reason, this protective power was insufficient, lacking the intensity a ritual for the Primordial Demoness should have, as if some inexplicable force had blocked most of the divine blessing.

Under the clear, misty light, the invisible barrier was instantly reduced to its most basic, minute components and ceased to exist.

Immediately after, the clear, misty light hit the bone- like figurine of the Primordial Demoness.

The figurine swayed and began to crumble.

Seeing this, the Demoness of Black was like someone trapped in a nightmare, frozen in place.

For added security, Franca took out the Primordial Demoness figurine and the Inevitable Gun from her Traveler’s Bag.

She threw the figurine towards the altar, then fired two shots in quick succession.

Bang! Bang!

Two dim, green bullets shot out, each striking a bone-like figurine of the Primordial Demoness.

Certain Death!

Both the already crumbling and the intact statues began to rot, losing their luster, completely shattering.

…

Deep within the special mirror world.

Primordial Demoness Cheek smiled as She observed the changes occurring in Lumian’s body.

His features were gradually being corrected, shifting towards Alista Tudor’s likeness. On his body, the two intertwined Demoness figures were half-merged into him, driving his flesh to converge toward his neck.

After the earlier burst of light, the process was now irreversible.

Suddenly, one of the Demoness figures withdrew. attempting to straighten her body.

Her expression was vivid, filled with both hatred and longing.

The Primordial Demoness clad in the white bone dress instantly understood what was happening.

A pure female Demoness was ascending to the rank of Demoness of Unaging!

And at the most critical moment!

The stunningly beautiful face of Primordial Demoness Cheek darkened.

She was about to direct Her gaze at the advancing pure female Demoness to kill her first!

Although the barrier formed by the burst of light isolated the interior from the exterior-temporarily preventing The Fool from entering and also hindering the Primordial Demoness from directly sensing or influencing the external situation – Cheek had already made preparations to prevent unexpected outcomes.

She had instructed Her most trusted high-ranking Demonesses to set up altars at different locations within the mirror world, placing figurines there to conduct rituals. She used Her authority and symbols to establish a robust mystical connection!

By now, those connections must have weakened, and the rituals would no longer be strongly protected. Yet, as the mirrored original Creator-the Oldest One- Cheek could barely maintain the existence of these connections and use them to project part of Her power to eliminate hidden threats.

The Primordial Demoness swiftly cast Her consciousness toward the figurine closest to the target, only to discover with astonishment that the figurine had been destroyed and the connection severed.

Her expression remained unchanged as She immediately scattered Her consciousness toward the remaining figurines still involved in the rituals.

The next second, a vision appeared before Her eyes: it wasn’t the advancing pure female Demoness – it was a black trench coat.

The interior of the black trench coat was empty, with the coat itself outlining a human figure.

Grafting!

The Primordial Demoness realized that Her gaze on Jenna had been Grafted by Mr. Fool back onto Herself!

In an instant, one of the Demoness figures entwining Lumian struggled to break free. A black bone dress wrapped around Her, and She disappeared from the spot, following the mystical connection to where Jenna was.

The fusion within Lumian’s body immediately lost its balance.

His chest, neck, shoulders, torso, and limbs, along with the remaining Demoness figure, all collapsed inward, as if about to turn into a mass of flesh. The flesh converged into a clump, continuing to compress.

The two Tudors fused within his head, along with the Sequence 1 Conqueror Beyonder characteristic, were also dragged downward by immense force. They pierced through his skull, through the flames and frost, and through the writhing flesh.

The barrier of light at the edge of the special mirror world suddenly vanished.

…

Floating closer, Jenna finally saw the distortion and pain on her mirrored self’s face disappear entirely.

“She” lifted her face and gave Jenna in midair a bizarre smile, opening her arms wide.

Jenna did not resist. She closed her eyes and moved forward, accepting the embrace.

She felt warmth and reassurance, which made her want to fall into a deep sleep.

She offered no resistance.

It was as if she had returned to her childhood, listening to her mother hum a lullaby and her father’s soft snores, drifting into slumber.

Back then, though life wasn’t particularly great, she had nothing to worry about. Her father and mother would take care of everything: she only needed to be a good child.

She grew more at peace, more tranquil.

She believed her mother and father would shield her from the storm, ensuring she slept soundly.

In that serene dream, she would be a princess, and her prince would walk toward her, inviting her to dance.

A smile appeared on her face.

Her thoughts dissolved into the encroaching madness, settling into a tranquil darkness.