bioinnovel Chapter 102 Shadow
Chapter 102 Shadow
In the basement.
Ying huddled up, squatting on the stone bed.
Even in the summer, the basement remained cold and damp.
But Ying didn't care about the slight chill.
Compared to the chill of this cage, what truly freezes the soul is the self that is gradually peeled away under the daily pressure of drugs, the heart-wrenching contrast when recalling past glories in moments of lucidity, and... the ethereal touch of that warm little hand finally slipping away.
Ying was almost completely naked, her pale skin covered with old and new scars and bruises, and her bony ribs rose and fell with her weak breathing.
The heavy, magic-suppressing metal rings on his hands, feet, and neck not only locked away the remaining power within him.
It wore down his skin day after day, leaving deep marks.
But he could no longer feel the pain in his body.
At this moment, his pale red eyes stared blankly at the water droplets seeping from the stone wall above, one drop after another, slowly gathering, elongating, and finally falling, splashing insignificant water droplets on the stone slab.
It's just like those fragments of time that can never be returned.
The effects of the medication had barely worn off when the brief moment of lucidity was like the cold mudflats exposed after the tide receded.
The moment reason returned, the first thing that surged up was boundless self-loathing and despair.
"I'm sorry... Father."
Please forgive my incompetence.
The final moment seemed to reappear before my eyes—the underground sanctuary of the Shadow Church, ablaze with flames and filled with earth-shaking shouts of battle.
The father, the once dignified and wise leader of the Shadow Church, suddenly pushed him, who was only eight years old, and his four-year-old cousin Freya into the secret passage.
His father's face was stained with blood and ash, but in his pale red eyes, which were the same as his own, there was an unprecedented determination and...entrustment.
"Go! Take Freya with you! Live! She's the empire's last hope! Protect her! Revive...our empire..."
The heavy Shadow Stone gate slammed shut behind his father, shutting out his final words and the roar of battle outside.
He failed to protect Freya.
In the raging torrents of the Han River, young Freya's terrified cries were swallowed by the waves.
Her little hand gripped his palm tightly.
It's like the only piece of driftwood a drowning person can grab onto.
But how much strength can an eight-year-old child have?
A huge wave crashed in, and the icy river water poured into her mouth and nose. That little hand... eventually slipped away.
"Freya—!"
His desperate cries were drowned out by the river.
In his last moments of consciousness, he saw white strands of hair floating rapidly on the river, and red eyes brimming with tears, still trying to look at him amidst the raging waves.
Then came darkness.
When I woke up, I was in this dark and sunless dungeon.
Calvin Blackthorn's face, a mixture of greed and cruelty, became the source of his nightmares for the long years that followed.
Brainwashing, drugs, torture, domestication... day after day, year after year.
A noble descendant of the Shadow Empire's princes? The son of the esteemed Grand Master of the Shadow Church? A successor with ancient Shadow blood flowing through his veins?
No.
Here, he is merely a "shadow".
It was a tool that Baron Blackthorn found by chance and could be used to cultivate bloodlines; it was a dog tamed by drugs and pain, who only knew how to wag its tail and beg for mercy.
Recently, perhaps due to the body's tragic adaptation under extreme pressure, or perhaps due to the intense mental shock brought about by the forced "tasks," the effects of those drugs that were enough to cloud my mind seem to be weakening.
He began to have more and more fragmented moments of lucidity.
This clarity is more painful than being in a daze.
"I'm sorry... Father..."
"Not only did we fail to protect my cousin... we also failed to... revive our empire."
He squandered the chance to survive that his father had fought so hard for.
Freya, the last spark of the empire's revival, possessing the purest shadow bloodline and on whom great hopes were placed, vanished into the raging torrents of the Han River.
He himself has fallen to this state, becoming a tool for others to reproduce, suffering endless humiliation.
How ironic, how tragic.
"And...it seems I'm about to lose my value..."
Shadow's fingertips touched one side of her lower abdomen.
Blood has been drawn from there more than once recently.
Calvin, that devil, had become even colder and more calculating in his eyes after he helped Eleanor get pregnant.
It's no longer about looking at a tool that still has a use, but about evaluating a part that is about to complete its mission and can be disassembled and disposed of.
The day a child is born may also be the day his life ends.
No, perhaps even earlier.
It doesn't matter anymore.
He stared blankly at the stone wall.
Destroy it!
What difference is there between living like this and being dead?
This body, eroded by drugs and tainted by humiliation, this shell that can't even control itself and has become a beast, should have been destroyed long ago.
But... I'm so unwilling to accept it.
The father's last gaze.
Freya's small hand disappeared into the waves.
The former glory of the Shadow Empire...
Was everything destined to be utterly annihilated with the end of his lowly life?
He couldn't even avenge his people, his father, or Freya.
They can't even die with dignity as human beings.
Despair, like the thickest darkness, seeped in through every crack in the stone wall, enveloping him and dragging him into the abyss of unconscious despair.
He thought about ending his life countless times.
One hundred.
But his father's expectations, Freya's slipping little hand, and the mission of Shadowsong made him choose to persevere time and time again.
Perhaps hope has vanished, perhaps I was destined to die anyway.
I should have sought liberation sooner rather than living for that unrealistic hope.
Just then—
"Click".
A door opened.
Shadow's eyelashes trembled almost imperceptibly.
This is not the time to deliver medicine or carry out a mission.
Immediately afterwards, the door was silently pushed open a crack.
There was no blinding firelight, no nauseating smell from the butler Kerwell, and no arrogant footsteps from Calvin.
There was only a still, silent darkness that seemed to absorb all sound.
Then, a figure walked in.
He walked slowly, his footsteps barely making a sound on the stone ground.
The dim light from the oil lamps that burned year-round on the walls at the entrance to the secret room barely outlined his silhouette.
He is a young man.
Black hair, brown eyes, dressed in simple, even somewhat worn, dark traveler's clothing, with a calm expression, even carrying a hint of... scrutiny?
Ying's pale red pupils contracted slightly.
Not anyone from the castle.
Unfamiliar faces, unfamiliar atmosphere.
Was it Calvin who found the person to dispose of his discarded tool?
Or... something else?
As the young man entered, his gaze swept across the cramped and filthy room, passing over the stone bed, the sour food scraps in the corner, and the suspicious stains on the walls. Finally, it landed on the figure curled up on the stone bed.
There was no contempt, disgust, greed, or murderous intent in those brown eyes as Ying had expected.
There was only one complex emotion that was difficult to decipher.
The young man stopped a few steps away from the stone bed, not daring to approach rashly.
He tilted his head slightly, as if observing or confirming something.
Time passed slowly in the silent exchange of glances.
Finally, the young man spoke.
"Do you know Freya?"
This word, like an intensely hot key, was forcefully inserted into Kyle's already cold and numb heart.
Ying's body tensed up suddenly.
Deep within those red eyes, beneath the still waters, countless ripples spread out, overflowing with joy and excitement.
Then he excitedly pounced on Lynn.