"So, what you're saying is... the reason you kept trying to inch closer to me, Cassie, is because you realized I'm immune to your death touch, and you just wanted to experience what it's like to snuggle up to a normal person?"
Having figured out the core issue, Fuli's face softened with a mix of understanding and sympathy.
It made sense. If anyone had lived their entire life under the horrific shadow of instantly killing anyone they touched, their heart would have long since succumbed to despair, or at least numb apathy.
But then, suddenly, an existence appears whom they can actually touch normally. Naturally, all those suppressed desires would erupt like a volcano. Who wouldn't want to fiercely jump his bones and go a few dozen rounds?
Not to mention, the boy considered himself quite the catch. He was the reigning top dog of the Hyperion faction, possessed Critical-Class strength that made him a perfect match for her, and was already good-looking even before his Stigmata evolution pushed his visuals into the absolute top tier.
Sigh... this nowhere-to-be-placed, overflowing charm of mine...
Deep within his consciousness, Prometheus's utterly deadpan, cybernetic loli voice echoed:
[Host.]
[What's up, Promy?]
[Please acquire some shame.]
[I'm just stating objective facts!]
Little Li defended himself vehemently, not blushing in the slightest.
However, despite his internal boasting, Fuli's feet subtly slid backward, putting a polite distance between himself and Castorice.
There were simply too many absurdly beautiful and powerful women around him. It was far too easy to develop a psychological dependency on them, constantly daydreaming about burying his face in their bare legs, white pantyhose, black tights, or thigh-high boots. That kind of indulgence would only weaken his ironclad resolve to reach the Sequence level through his own hard work.
Sugar mommas are great, but one shouldn't overindulge~
In contrast to his racing thoughts, Castorice's reaction was far calmer, even carrying a hint of helplessness at being misunderstood.
She lifted her gaze. Those crystalline, moonlight-soaked purple eyes looked earnestly into Fuli's.
"Lord Fuli, I admit... I am deeply curious about the fact that you are immune to my power of death." The girl's voice was as ethereal as ever, but her tone was completely candid. "However, it stops strictly at curiosity. I wouldn't just carelessly throw myself at someone and disrespect my own body for such a shallow reason, like some character out of a trashy light novel."
A sexually repressed, desperate damsel? Not a chance!
"Ah, well..."
Hearing this incredibly lucid, rational declaration, Fuli's smug expression instantly froze, rapidly morphing into pure awkwardness.
Staring at Castorice's breathtakingly beautiful face—which currently held a trace of mild annoyance—he cringed so hard his toes could have excavated a three-bedroom apartment in the dirt beneath his boots.
Fortunately, a sharp screech tore through the sky, saving him from further embarrassment. Several Borisin scouts mounted on giant, mutated eagles were diving rapidly toward their position.
In the distance, a massive cloud of yellow sand billowed into the air. A sprawling ground force of Borisin cavalry, riding ferocious direwolves, unleashed deafening howls and battle cries as they charged like a tidal wave.
"Perfect timing! Kamishini no Yari: Butō Renjin!"
Desperate for an outlet to vent his sheer awkwardness, Fuli unhesitatingly summoned his Shadow-Trailing Sword. The crystalline blue blade instantly extended hundreds of meters, flashing like a flurry of lightning bolts tearing through the firmament.
In the blink of an eye, the blade pierced through the dozen giant eagles and their Borisin riders, skewering them all in mid-air.
Aside from his signature "Divine Departure" moniker, Fuli had earned several other nicknames in the previous timeline.
One of them was "The One-Man Gotei 13," a title coined specifically to describe his terrifying mastery over the shape-shifting properties of the Shadow-Trailing Sword.
Whether it was manifesting the colossal armored giant of Kokujō Tengen Myō'ō or scattering the blade into millions of lethal petals like Senbonzakura Kageyoshi, any application involving structural manipulation was entirely second nature to him.
Beside him, Castorice also entered her combat state. With elegant grace, she inverted the massive scythe in her hands.
"Mourn... Ripples of the Dead Sea."
Following the girl's soft chant, the dry desert sand rapidly began oozing with a dark, death-infused nether-water.
As if possessing a mind of its own, the water surged forward like a tide to meet the charging cavalry. The instant any Borisin or direwolf touched the nether-water, their flesh and armor melted and rotted away at speeds visible to the naked eye, leaving nothing but stark white skeletons clattering harmlessly onto the yellow sand.
For a moment, the battlefield was a horrifying tableau of absolute slaughter.
(Illustration: Castorice in Water)
"Let's relocate."
Having swiftly wiped out the blind pursuers, the two exchanged a glance and tacitly agreed to move away from the skirmish zone.
Before leaving, Fuli didn't forget to casually grab the Borisin squad leader he had skewered through the chest. To ensure the still-gasping captive didn't die before he outlived his usefulness, Fuli channeled a gentle, moonlight-white glow from his fingertips—the reversed healing properties of Setsuna Blade: Lunar Eclipse.
However, the boy quickly realized his efforts were somewhat redundant.
The physical vitality of the Borisin was obnoxiously resilient. Even with a massive hole blown through his chest, the squad leader could have survived for quite a while purely on raw biological stubbornness.
Since the guy wouldn't stop spewing a relentless stream of curses while being dragged, an annoyed Fuli ripped off a piece of the Borisin's own tunic, wadded it into a ball, and violently shoved it into his mouth.
As they walked, Fuli's gaze accidentally drifted down to Castorice's beautifully sculpted feet, currently wrapped in sheer pantyhose. By some bizarre twist of logic, a highly intrusive thought popped into his head:
Wait... since her power instantly kills all living matter she touches, down to the microscopic level...
Doesn't that mean her feet are 100% sterile?
Good lord, this is a Michelin-star meal for foot fetishists!
Though I guess a normal person could only 'eat' once, considering the price is immediate death...
Hmm. Verdict: Still not as good as Yunli's.
"Lord Fuli?"
Seemingly noticing his lingering gaze, Castorice tilted her head, shooting him a pure, slightly questioning look.
"Nothing! It's nothing!"
Little Li rapidly averted his eyes, staring straight ahead like a disciplined monk as a wave of immense, degenerate guilt washed over him.
The two traveled quickly, soon finding a relatively hidden spot behind a large sand dune.
Fuli tossed the Borisin squad leader onto the sand like a sack of garbage. Yanking the gag out of the captive's mouth, Fuli cheerfully turned to Castorice before the beastman could even speak.
"Hey Cassie, wanna try touching him with your bare hands? Maybe the reason I didn't die has nothing to do with my Stigmata of Death. Maybe your power just underwent some weird, unknown mutation recently?"
Borisin Squad Leader: ???
Bro, what the fck? What happened to the standard interrogation, torture, and bribery?*
Aren't you supposed to whip me with a leather belt while laughing maniacally? Then I act like a tough guy, refuse to talk, and eventually you grant me a dignified warrior's death out of sheer respect?
Sure, I die either way, but being casually used as a guinea pig for a death-touch experiment is humiliating!
Hearing the proposal, Castorice's slender brows furrowed. A clear look of hesitation and disgust flashed across her face.
Ultimately, she shook her head and said softly, "I apologize, Lord Fuli. If it's all the same, please just give him a quick death."
"Alright, suit yourself."
Fuli shrugged indifferently. He stepped forward and clamped his hand over the top of the squad leader's head.
Outer Path silently activated. An invisible, devouring force violently ripped through the captive's mind, forcibly siphoning his memories.
A moment later, Fuli withdrew his hand, completely ignoring the unlucky bastard whose face was now slack, drooling, and babbling incoherently due to having his brain forcefully scrambled. "Man, these guys really don't do anything humane on a daily basis, do they?" Fuli sighed.
Because the third turn of his Peerless Nine Turns had only recently been constructed and hadn't been deeply developed yet, the memories Fuli extracted were highly fragmented. Useful intel was scarce.
He managed to glean two things. First, the partial engraving methods for "Enhancement Magic Crests."
This was a form of Borisin totem magic. By using highly specialized, reinforced pigments, intricate circuits were tattooed onto the skin. Over the course of a few days, the crests would physically merge with the flesh, only revealing themselves when the user's emotions were highly agitated.
These crests passively absorbed ambient energy, filtered out impurities, and used the refined energy to temper the user's bones and muscles, massively boosting physical strength and regeneration.
According to something Master Jingliu had mentioned during one of their casual chats, this biotechnology was the exclusive invention of the Chisel-Tooth Pack—a Borisin faction that specialized heavily in genetic witchcraft and biotech, making them the only pack with genuine scientific prowess.
Because of this, any attack on the Chisel-Tooth Pack would instantly trigger the wrath of the entire Borisin race, ensuring their technology rarely leaked to outsiders.
The problem was, having recently concluded a "sword-training session" with his dear Master, Fuli's brain was still in a highly hyperactive, easily distracted state:
Tattooed on the body.
Boosts recovery and stamina.
Only reveals itself when the user is highly aroused/agitated...
Isn't this just a fcking Succubus Lewd Crest?!*
And now, he had somehow inadvertently learned exactly how to draw them.
Fuli had zero intention of tattooing one on himself. For one, these crests had grade limits, and the version he just learned would provide practically zero stat boosts to someone already at the Critical-Class.
More importantly, he was already covered in marks. His lower abdomen, chest, inner thighs, lower back, left shoulder, and both pecs all bore the imprinted marks of his Sequence Stigmata. If he went to a public beach, he'd instantly be flagged as a hardcore delinquent. He literally had no skin left to tattoo.
But... what if he offered this technology as a premium service? If some beautiful, wealthy lady came to him to purchase a custom "tattoo session"—
Never mind. Mei would literally murder me.
Little Li shuddered at the terrifying thought.
As for the second piece of intel he extracted...
"Cassie."
His expression turned grave, his voice dropping an octave.
"?"
"What I'm about to tell you... please try not to get too disturbed."
"Go ahead, Lord Fuli." Noticing the drastic shift in his tone, Castorice straightened her posture, adopting a serious, attentive stance.
"According to this guy's memories... those Borisin who attacked us earlier?" Fuli said grimly. "The direwolves they were riding. They were all forcefully mutated from innocent Foxians."
"A... Wolf-Transformation Curse?"
Deep within a hidden cave, the flickering light of a campfire danced across Hyacine's youthful but incredibly serious face, illuminating her tightly pursed lips and solemn eyes.
"Yes!"
Sitting across from her was a young Foxian man with short, dark brown hair. His hands were clenched so tightly into fists that his knuckles were white. His face was twisted with absolute grief and indignation.
The Borisin had always viewed the Foxians—their distant evolutionary cousins—as nothing more than slaves and personal property. This was one of the primary reasons the Foxians had historically allied themselves with humanity for protection.
The root cause of this tragic dynamic was a specialized pheromone the Borisin naturally secreted, known as "Wolf Toxin."
This pheromone heavily stimulated the amygdala in a Foxian's brain, forcefully triggering primal, instinctual terror.
While a small minority of exceptionally strong-willed Foxians could overcome this biological fear through brutal training, the vast majority of ordinary Foxian civilians would find their bodies betraying them.
Driven by instinct, they would involuntarily drop to their knees, utterly incapable of resisting the demands of their self-proclaimed slave masters.
Faced with these "gifts from nature," the Borisin showed absolutely zero mercy. Beatings and verbal abuse were daily occurrences, and slaughtering a few for fun or to boost morale before a battle was entirely commonplace.
Take this current situation, for example. The Foxian resistance group currently sitting in front of Hyacine had been herded like cattle by the Borisin into a specific geographical zone.
The next moment, a massive, pre-arranged teleportation array activated, instantly dropping all of them onto the surface of this activating Living Planet to continue serving as beasts of burden.
If it had just been labor, the majority of the Foxians, long numbed by endless oppression, might have just gritted their teeth and endured the dark days ahead.
But no one could have anticipated the sheer depravity of Seer Mangus. She had developed an incredibly sinister, stomach-churning dark art!
Once a Foxian was forcefully dragged onto her gruesome altars, they would be warped by an irresistible power, agonizingly mutating into massive, rabid direwolves—stripped of all sentience and instilled with absolute, biological loyalty to the Borisin!
That was the final straw. No one could endure that.
They had already been exploited, oppressed, and treated as subhuman. But now, even their final shred of willpower and their very existence as sapient beings were going to be permanently violently erased?!
And so, led by a brave Foxian named "Cangdu," this group of slaves, pushed past the brink of despair, launched a tragic, desperate rebellion in the dead of night.
Paying an unimaginably heavy price in blood and lives, they finally managed to carve open a bloody path and escape that living hell.
"And... Mr. Cangdu?"
Hearing the story, Hyacine tightened her small fists resting on her knees.
Her gaze unconsciously swept across the cave. Out of what must have originally been thousands, barely a hundred Foxians were huddled inside, every single one of them sporting horrific injuries.
The thick, coppery stench of blood permeated the air, a silent testament to the absolute bloodbath they had just survived.
At her question, the light in the young Foxian man's eyes dimmed entirely.
He took a shaky breath, his voice trembling as he desperately tried to suppress his grief. "Brother Cangdu... just like the others... he stayed behind to cover our escape. He sacrificed himself."
He paused, raising a hand to viciously wipe his face, forcing his voice to steady. "I am now the eighth leader of this resistance."
"I understand."
Hyacine nodded heavily. She stood up and clapped her hands together, drawing the attention of every injured Foxian in the cavern.
Taking a deep breath, she spoke in a vibrant, resolute voice that rang clear off the stone walls. "Everyone! Please stay exactly where you are and avoid moving so your injuries don't worsen!"
"I am Hyacine, a healer from the Twilight Courtyard. From this moment on, my companion and I will do absolutely everything in our power to heal you all!"
Both their bodies, and their shattered hearts.
"Neigh!"
Little Ica flapped its wings, whipping up a gentle, soothing breeze that swept through the cavern, blowing away the suffocating stench of blood and despair.
(Illustration: Hyacine)
"That's the gist of it," Fuli said, his voice laced with pity.
Tactically, he understood why the Borisin didn't perform these transformations back at their home bases. Compared to a mindless direwolf that could only run on all fours and follow basic attack commands, a fully sapient Foxian with hands and a brain was far more useful for complex labor and logistics.
But looking at the flip side, this drastic shift in tactics signaled something far more concerning.
Mangus clearly believed the final, apocalyptic clash with the Xianzhou Luofu was imminent.
At a critical juncture like this, rather than wasting resources keeping a population of potentially rebellious slaves, it was far more cost-effective to forcefully convert them into raw, disposable combat assets that could be immediately thrown onto the battlefield.
"..."
Castorice's expression was incredibly mournful.
Her mind flashed back to the direwolves she had melted with her Dead Sea nether-water during the battle.
Right before their consciousness faded, she remembered seeing a complex array of emotions in their bestial eyes—fanaticism, cruelty, but perhaps, hidden deep beneath the mind control, a trace of agonizing pain and a silent plea for release.
But soon, a faint, yet impossibly resolute smile bloomed on the girl's face.
"Lord Fuli, please do not worry," she said, her voice turning completely solemn. "I do feel profound sorrow and pity for the Foxians' tragic fate. But that will never, ever make my scythe waver."
"I believe that deep down, the remnants of those Foxian compatriots' souls trapped inside those beasts are begging for release."
"If possible, I wish to personally grant them the final blessing of death."
—If death is inevitable, I wish for it to be beautiful.
Looking at the mixture of profound compassion and absolute resolve on Castorice's face, Fuli recalled the personal bio she used on her social media accounts, and he nodded in silent agreement.
"Anyway, let's update the diary with this intel," he said.
Although they had agreed to only sync information at a set time every night, a cruel, morale-shaking truth like this needed to be broadcasted immediately so the others wouldn't be caught off guard.
To his surprise, the moment Fuli opened the Blood-Written Diary, he saw Hyacine's detailed report already written on the pages.
"Our Hya is really stepping up," he praised instinctively, quickly scribbling a brief reply on behalf of himself and Castorice.
He waited for a moment, but Yunli's page remained completely blank. Assuming she was just busy fighting or repairing the ship, he didn't overthink it.
Beside him, Castorice stepped forward, slowly walking toward the Borisin captive who lay slouched in the sand, his eyes vacant and drooling from having his mind forcefully extracted.
She slowly raised her pale, slender hand, preparing to touch his skin.
Truthfully, the girl deeply loathed using her bare hands to end a life.
However, this particular Borisin—who actively participated in the grotesque, forced mutation of Foxians—had thoroughly ignited the deepest, coldest wrath within Castorice's heart. <
She intended to execute him using the most direct, personal method available to her, completely embracing her identity as the Handmaiden of the Shadow of Death.
But just as her fingertips were about to brush against the Borisin's forehead, a warm hand reached out from behind her, gently wrapping around her cool, soft wrist.
"Lord Fuli?" The girl tilted her head, a flash of confusion in her eyes.
"Hold on a sec," Fuli said mysteriously. "Let's run a little experiment."
With a flick of his wrist, a delicately crafted ring materialized in his palm.
The ring was forged from a deep, dark silver metal—likely some unknown, hyper-rare alloy. Its surface was meticulously engraved with countless microscopic, ethereal blue energy circuits that wove together to form a highly complex, arcane matrix.
"Don't resist."
Holding Castorice's left hand, Fuli gently slid the ring onto her slender ring finger as the girl stared at him in utter, blank shock.
The cool metal pressed against her skin. It was a perfect fit.
"Done."
Fuli took a step back. "Now, try touching him again."
Experiencing what essentially equated to a "marriage proposal" from the opposite sex for the very first time in her life, Castorice's brain completely short-circuited.
A loud buzzing filled her ears, her peripheral vision blurred into oblivion, and her entire mind was plunged into a dizzy, dreamlike haze.
The girl stared blankly at Fuli. The bright desert sun generously outlined his profile, making his handsome, sharp features look even more profound in the halo of light. The warm golden glow seemed to coat him in a surreal, almost fairy-tale-like perfection.
Moving completely mechanically, obeying his instructions, she reached out and pressed her fingers against the Borisin squad leader's forehead.
"WAAAAARRGHHHH!!!"
The drooling, braindead captive continued to holler incoherently. But shockingly, his face showed absolutely no signs of the grey, withering rot characteristic of her death-touch.
That was the biggest anomaly of all.
"Eh?"
Finally snapping out of her massive emotional shock, Castorice stared in utter disbelief at her own fingers, then down at the noisy, very much alive Borisin. She snapped her head toward Fuli, her eyes wide with bewilderment and sheer shock. Fuli simply smiled back at her.
"Heheh, looks like my guess was right on the money."
Fuli looked thoroughly pleased with himself.
Yes, the ring he had just slipped onto the girl's finger was none other than the Energy Conversion Ring crafted by Mei.
Its function was to forcibly convert the Honkai energy within the user's body into a specific, pre-sampled type of energy, albeit with a certain degree of efficiency loss during the conversion.
At the end of the day, ignoring a few extremely rare cosmic exceptions, practically every single supernatural power in the Proper World was fueled fundamentally by Honkai energy.
Castorice's "Death-Bringing Blessing" was no exception.
The Energy Conversion Ring actively intercepted the Honkai energy in her body that passively generated the death aura, forcefully converting it back into the standard, inert Honkai energy Fuli had pre-recorded into the matrix.
Listening to his explanation, the girl seemed to still be struggling to process the monumental weight of this information. "Does this mean...?"
"It means that as long as you wear this ring, you can interact with people just like a normal person! You can shake hands, hold hands, hug people... without ever having to worry about 'killing' them!"
Laughing happily, Fuli drew his blade and swiftly decapitated the screaming squad leader, ending his misery.
An uncontrollable, furious blush rapidly spread from the base of Castorice's neck all the way up to the tips of her ears. Her voice was so shy it was practically a whisper as she asked, "T-Then... why did it have to be on... the ring finger?"
"Ah... force majeure."
The boy scratched his cheek, looking incredibly awkward.
When Mei crafted this ring, she had hard-coded the activation sequence so that it would only function if worn specifically on the left ring finger.
Considering she had custom-made it specifically for Fuli, her underlying intentions were as obvious as day. It was essentially an anti-harem defense mechanism to permanently mark him as 'taken.'
Of course, from Fuli's perspective, this hard-coded restriction wasn't entirely without its benefits right now.
Castorice had been telling the truth earlier; even if Fuli was the first person in her life she could touch safely, she wasn't the type to just throw herself at him for free.
But now...
As Castorice, easily recognizing the astronomical value of the ring, looked deeply at Fuli, those pale purple eyes finally rippled with an emotion vastly different from before.
It was a complex, beautiful light—a mixture of overwhelming gratitude, indescribable emotional profoundness, and the quiet, undeniable budding of a much deeper, romantic affection.
(Illustration: Griseo's Lunchbox Series)