Chapter 53: Demons in the Void

Chapter 53: Chapter 53: Demons in the Void

His body was continuously besieged by the demonic encirclement.

Jeremy was unsure whether the bleeding wounds in this consciousness space would reflect upon his true body in reality, causing his movements to be somewhat restrained. However, that very hesitation turned into a fatal opening.

A demon reached out its claws, ruthlessly tearing off a chunk of flesh from his left arm. Fresh blood spurted out, and a nerve-rending pain instantly invaded his entire body. The pain was so real it felt twice as intense as reality!

Intense pain triggers a person’s violent instincts, and Jeremy was no exception. Murderous intent erupted around the young man, his golden eyes blazing with freezing coldness. His scythe-swinging motions no longer held a half-ounce of hesitation, ruthlessly and decisively claiming the life of every creature that dared to approach.

This time, he didn’t care whether it affected his real body or not. Survival instinct and rage had completely taken over control.

The sharp sounds of slaughter rang out ear-piercingly amidst the dead, decaying void.

Atop the mountain piled high with tens of thousands of dry bones, the youth tightly bound by countless massive iron chains sluggishly lifted his eyelids. His blood-colored pupils apathetically swept toward the prey struggling in the distance, unaware of life or death. Within those eyes, not a single ripple stirred; there was only a dead tranquility like a stagnant pool of water. Empty, numb, intertwined with a cold scrutiny heavily laced with mockery.

Perhaps because he had not witnessed a living creature made of flesh and blood for far too long, the youth rarely birthed a sliver of interest. His gaze locked onto the figure of the young man wielding the scythe, tracking every contour of muscle and fluid movement of the intruder.

Upon seeing the demon’s claws tear into Jeremy’s arm, ripping off a chunk of bloody flesh, the youth’s deep red lips slightly curled up. On his pale face emerged a gloomy, grotesquely twisted smile. From the corner of his eye, he glanced at the demons swarming to tear into his own body.

The number clinging to him had decreased by half compared to usual. He lazily thought that perhaps he should offer a word of thanks to that uninvited guest.

The youth’s gaze suddenly darkened, carrying a fierce invasiveness. As he took in the bright red drops of blood seeping from the young man’s firm muscles, a morbid craving surged.

That piping hot, bright red blood... what would it taste like?

It must be incredibly sweet—the youth licked his lips, giving himself an answer. How could he sink his teeth deeply into the other person’s neck to have a taste?

The moment that twisted thought arose, an intense itching sensation transmitted from his teeth. A soul-gnawing craving exploded, and for the first time in all those years of imprisonment, he birthed a sense of impatience, restless to the point of madness.

Detecting the host’s abnormal emotional fluctuations, the chains and the Soul-Devouring Bone-Piercing Nails immediately perceived this impatience as an intent to break the shackles. To suppress him, the Soul-Devouring Bone-Piercing Nails frantically discharged electrical currents that charred his flesh and skin, while the Fang of Abyss chains sprouted thousands of razor-sharp thorns, piercing the youth’s body into jagged, bloody holes.

The pain tore at both body and soul, as if wanting to grind everything into fine powder.

Yet the youth remained indifferent, completely unbothered by his ravaged body. His blood-colored eyes fervently remained glued to Jeremy’s figure without blinking, greedily taking in every line of the other person until the young man’s silhouette was entirely swallowed by the demonic vortex and vanished.

Losing their target, the swarm of demons growled in fury and immediately whipped around, once again drowning the youth like a tsunami. Claws tore at flesh and skin, the sounds of chewing and swallowing echoing endlessly. He had long grown accustomed to this torture; despite his body being torn apart, his eyes did not reveal a half-point of emotion.

It was just that today, within that hollow chest, exceptionally sprouted a seed... of curiosity and maddening craving.

—

Reality.

Jeremy jolted, springing up from the chaos. He panted heavily, cold sweat pouring out to drench his forehead, his gaze hastily sweeping over his entire body.

Not a single scratch. His firm skin remained intact. The pain of having his flesh torn by demons just now felt exactly like an absurd hallucination...

But the seething frustration in his chest screamed to remind him that everything that had just occurred was the truth, without a half-point of falsehood.

Jeremy gripped the sofa armrest, gritting his teeth to stand up; the more he thought about it, the more aggrieved he felt. He was certain that because he used the Spirit-Diving magic matrix this time, not the Dream-Entering one, the sensations and memories were clear enough to be this torturous. But what did being clear solve? The first time, he at least saw a pair of red eyes; the second time, he fought until he was battered and bruised yet still couldn’t even see the other person’s shadow.

How could he possibly be resigned to this? Those damn demons...

Jeremy’s nature was inherently quite grudge-holding. He secretly tallied the debt in his heart, grabbed his coat, left the dormitory, and, carrying a belly full of anger, strode straight toward the library.

Even though plunging headfirst into the same dream and consciousness twice in a row was a coincidence, he couldn’t be sure if he would be sucked into that cursed place again while practicing in the future. But just in case, the most urgent matter now was to find the core reason why he was crippled and unable to use magic in that spatial zone.

He hated the feeling of being bound and restricted the most.

---

A hidden corner on the second floor of the library.

Beside where Jeremy sat, dozens of ancient parchment books were piled up like a mountain. Upon flipping to the last page of the fifteenth book, his fingertips paused slightly. He had found the answer.

According to the records, entering someone else’s dream or consciousness space and losing the ability to use magic was divided into two scenarios:

First: The owner’s subconscious birthed a powerful repulsive force.

Second: The level of the magic matrix was too low, lacking sufficient load-bearing capacity to connect the magic particles between the true body and the projected consciousness.

If it fell under the scenario of being rejected, the only way was that right at the moment of drawing the magic matrix, the caster must implant a memory-sealing spell onto their own consciousness. That way, upon entering that spatial zone, the consciousness would completely assimilate, becoming an element belonging to that world, naturally bypassing the defensive barrier. Memories would automatically restore upon waking; however, the accompanying risk was the possibility of temporary or permanent amnesia regarding a portion of the events.

But this extreme method was usually only used when the caster knew exactly who their intended target for invasion was. As for Jeremy’s situation, if he sealed his own memories, he would completely forget his purpose for entering there, and the result would only be getting his head chewed off by the demon swarm unconsciously. Truly useless.

Jeremy tapped his fingers lightly on the paper surface, drawing his own judgment. He leaned more toward the second possibility: the magic matrix was too low-level. After all, the things he had been laboring to draw for so long were just cheap one-star arrays, their duration brief; lacking the strength to bridge the magic particles from his body to his consciousness was also easily understandable...

Having resolved the lingering question, Jeremy slammed the book shut forcefully, returned all the materials to their proper places, and then left the library. Although he had a hypothesis, to prove it wasn’t due to the other party’s consciousness rejecting him, the only way was to take the risk and experiment with a two-star Spirit-Diving magic matrix.

If he upgraded it and still found his magic crippled upon entering, he could only conclude that the other person’s mind was an iron fortress, rejecting all outsiders.

Of course, there was no guarantee he would accidentally stumble into that madman’s consciousness space another time, but clarifying all variables was always his fundamental rule of survival.