My Necromancer Wife Chapter 51: Dove Reborn

Arigana’s POV.

I lie on my bed quietly. The uproar has quieted. Everything is silent.

I suddenly sense a presence by the door. My eyes fly open. A very dark, yet familiar presence. The Demon Queen. She does not move an inch.

I slowly rise to a sitting position, clutching my sword with trembling hands. What has she co for?

Have I violated any rules?

I ask her what she wants and she gives a very illogical answer.

How can she want nothing?

I slide my sword out of its sheath. The thought of calling for help strikes , but I imdiately wave it off. This might be my chance to defeat the Demon Queen and free everyone from the Blink.

"State your mission!" I yell at her.

She doesn’t respond.

I can feel her gaze on . I gulp.

It’s now or never. I lunge forward at her with my sword while she is still speaking. The fact that she did not bother to dodge both intimidates and infuriates . My attack was an obvious one.

My blade cuts through her arm. The sound of tal tearing through flesh clouds my hearing.

I hear her arm fall to the ground lifelessly. I listen for the familiar sound of blood gashing - I hear none, just eerie silence.

What am I even fighting? What is she?

The last demon I fought - Arya, was capable of bleeding.

I sense her lean down and pick up the arm. She places it back. I hear the quiet sound of skin nding back together and the hand is restored to its normal appearance.

The air starts feeling chilly. Her actions only add to my fears.

My death seems inevitable now.

The only thing I can do would be to stall it. But what for? Han and Chen can’t leave their rooms to help . Venus can’t travel through space to get here because the Vault limits his powers.

No one can help .

She mutters so nonsense about being interrupted in her speech. I snort and charge forward, feinting like my life depends on it - because it does.

She whips to the side. Her garnts flash before my face, wind gushing over my unseeing eyes. My sword cuts through the elegant fabric of her robe - not what I was hoping for.

I slide to the ground swiftly and take her unawares with my floor kick.

She stumbles and lands on her back. I press my knife to her neck. I thrust my sword forward, but to my dismay, I strike the hard ground. She has disappeared.

I turn around, trying to sense her formidable presence. She is sitting on the bed.

I pause - trying to discern her aura.

"Why did you co to visit?"

"You won’t like the answer to that, darling". She responds.

I tighten my grip on my sword. She just blatantly admitted her intention to kill .

A Peace Corps mber never gives up.

"Then, I’ll fight you till my last breath!" I yell and encircle her for an attack.

I gasp when my blade sinks into flesh.

---

Fang.

I look down at the blade sticking through my chest and protruding at my back. Then, I look up at her.

I can feel the power in her sword. This alone would kill re beings. It has even managed to weaken .

My eyes darken. I hate being weak.

I curve my hands around the blades of her sword and pull it out. She staggers backward, but regains her stance quickly.

Blind blondy is unrelenting.

She feints again, narrowly missing my chest region. I grip her arm and bend it. She grunts in pain, but doesn’t relent. She strikes with her other hand. I release her and she strikes again.

Her fist narrowly misses my jaw. I watch her hand float past my face in slow motion.

Before she realizes what I’m doing, the dark and slimy tail of my true form stabs her from behind. She arches forward from the impact.

I stabbed her lower abdon, not her chest region, because I want to keep her alive a bit longer. I retract my spiky tail slowly and it fades back into the shadows.

Her eyes widen as reality dawns on her. An angry tear slips out of her right eye. She gasps as blood spills from her mouth and trickles down her pale face. Her left hand clutches her bleeding abdon.

She slowly sinks to her knees.

Even at this mont, her eyes are still filled with anger and resentnt. She refuses to show any weakness.

Definitely not my type.

Her guts begin to spill on the floor with a slurping sound.

I watch with fascination.

She remains still, clutching the remains of her exposed abdon.

Her eyes never leave mine.

I crouch down beside her and stroke her hair. She only glares harder.

I pick up the bloody and slimy intestine and wrap it around her neck.

"There! That’d keep you warm. Where you’re going is a very cold place".

The intensity of her gaze reduces. Her life is gradually slipping away from her.

I should hasten the process. Without wasting a second, I slip my claws into her chest and extract her heart.

I examine the frail object in my hands. The rhythm of her heartbeat is dulled to a slow beat.

Her eyes are still filled with life, but quickly fading.

I crush the organ in my hand and warm blood splashes on both of us.

She tries to mouth sothing before she falls forward, into my arms.

I wrap my arms around her and hug her.

"In the short ti that I knew you, I grew fond of you". I whisper and wipe a non-existent tear from the side of my eyes.

I smooth her hair gently and inhale its soft scent. She slls like death and smoke, but there is a faint hint of lilac.

Letting her die is literally offering her freedom. It would tornt Arya more if I turn her into a demon.

I’ll call her Dove, because of her pure heart.

I disappear with her and we appear in the center of the cafeteria.

I lay her down on one of the tables and set up the noose.

I whistle as I layer the intricate knot.

When I finish, I lift her up and fit her little head into the noose.

I pull the table from under her feet and she droops down.

What an image! From her glaring eyes and firm mouth to the large hole in her stomach - it sends a ssage. Not to ntion the nice scarf around her neck.

I dust my hands and turn away.

My work here is done.

Now, she has to be reborn.