My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 944 - 945: Virgin Birth

From what Seras recalled, it was essentially a parasite. It behaved much like a human infant developing inside its mother's womb. Yet, once it fully matured, it would erupt violently from the stomach, after subjecting its host to the complete ordeal of gestation.

The beast that burst forth would inherit the fighting abilities of its host, while the Blood Mary kept seeking out additional males to grow its horde.

This was one key factor behind its name, the Blood Mary.

It solely implanted the parasite into males.

For the doomed knight ensnared by it now, time was running critically short.

Damon had witnessed and learned of countless terrifying events throughout his years, but this one... it ranked among the most nightmarish.

"What are you saying—he's expecting? But he's male..." His words emerged rigid and halting, as if they fought to escape his lips.

Seras remained rooted in her spot. She simply rested a hand on her sword's handle, her thumb gently nudging the guard.

"He's been seeded by the Blood Mary. The ability goes by the name of virgin birth. It sows its offspring into you without involving any... well, you get it."

She left the final bit unsaid. There was no need to spell it out.

Damon let out a sharp breath.

"I suppose that's the most comforting detail I've gotten today," he grumbled.

Just imagine if it required actual intimacy.

For a fleeting, horrifying instant, he envisioned a man trapped under a beast and subjected to—

"Oh goddess."

His scalp prickled. He'd just embarked on his very first sea voyage, and already trauma was striking.

"I figured the mother of stillbirths was horrific enough. Now it looks like some twisted deity's twisted creativity is at work. Who even invents such abominations?"

He rubbed a hand over his features.

That creator desperately required intervention.

He fleetingly pondered if the gods had some overseer for psychological well-being.

"Ho... how much time does he have left?" Damon inquired, compelling his eyes back to the quivering knight.

Lana spoke up from nearby, rapidly flipping through volumes with urgent hands.

"Typical pregnancies last nine months for many species, so I'd guess he has anywhere from nine hours up to nine days. It hinges on the parasite's growth rate."

The crew members gawked at the afflicted fellow with faces full of dread. Abruptly, the knight bent over and retched onto the floor, already slick with blood.

Damon squeezed the bridge of his nose.

"Is there a way to surgically remove it?"

Renata shook her head deliberately.

"That would work with a healer like Evangeline or Sylvia aboard. Evangeline's ideal, given her purification skills to eradicate it. But our team's healers focus on combat, specializing in demon encounters and war injuries."

Seras gave a nod.

"If we disturb it, his gut will simply collapse inward, killing him."

Damon's face grew even grimmer. His stare wandered to the shadowy waves past the ship's side, as though the ocean might be eavesdropping.

"What if we take down the Blood Mary itself?"

Seras pressed a finger to her forehead, looking weary.

"That assumes we locate the Blood Mary. Without knowing where she is, that plan falls short."

Lana nibbled her lower lip before addressing the captain.

"This vessel features cloaking runes along with warding runes."

The captain gave a gradual nod.

"Indeed. Top rune specialists inscribed them. It's a pinnacle of imperial engineering."

Seras' gaze intensified.

"So how did it board if warding runes are present?"

The captain hesitated.

His eyes bulged.

Exactly.

How had that escaped everyone's notice?

Could it stem from the Blood Mary's pheromones fogging their minds?

"How did it sneak aboard without triggering alerts?" the captain murmured. "The runes ought to have blocked it outright."

Seras eyed the ship's first mate.

"Engage the runes immediately. No sense taking chances."

The first mate hurried to obey, shouting commands. Crewmen dashed to the rune-embedded pillars on deck, palms flat against etched symbols.

Damon still sensed no security.

He retreated a step, then blurred away, rematerializing atop the mast in one swift leap. Gusts whipped at him while he surveyed the whole craft from above.

The ship possessed concealment runes, no doubt.

Logically, those runes were meant to shield them from sea monsters' detection.

However, they weren't infallible.

Spotting risks dropped, but didn't vanish.

A subtle glow started enveloping the ship as the warding runes powered up completely, creating a see-through shield that buzzed softly in the darkness.

Damon dropped from the mast, hitting the deck next to Seras with a solid impact that shook the planks.

"The runes appear functional."

His attention locked on the glowing shield enveloping the vessel.

"That ought to bar entry to outsiders. We've scanned everywhere—nothing more aboard, so our safety improves."

Improved safety.

Not utter security.

He faced the contaminated man, now propped against the bulkhead, pinching his nostrils as if repelled by the odors. Perspiration streamed down his cheeks. His fingers shook over his belly.

"We'll monitor you closely for the moment."

The fellow managed a salute despite everything.

"Yes... sir..."

Yet Damon caught the despair etched on his features.

And under the man's hand, for just an instant, a ripple stirred beneath his abdominal skin.

**************

Several hours ticked by, and the sailor spritzed and tainted by the Blood Mary behaved routinely.

Or as routinely as an expecting woman might.

He rejected any food lacking bitterness. The vessel's stock of limes and lemons got fully allocated to him. They served to ward off scurvy, but supplies sufficed temporarily, so it posed no issue.

He perched bent over a crate in the makeshift infirmary area prepared for him, gnawing lemon wedges with a distant look, juice dribbling along his jaw. Periodically, he'd grasp his midsection and inhale steadily via his nostrils.

Damon observed him for some time.

His shadow sense extended throughout the ship's nooks, seeping into gaps in the wood, winding around the central pole, grazing by sailors and allies as they busied themselves with tasks.

They couldn't huddle motionless forever.

The craft required guiding.

Dodging the enormous skeletal remnants in the waves was essential—sharp fossils of prehistoric beasts piercing the surface like lances. A single misstep might plunge them into peril, lead to disorientation, or veer them astray.

And thus, the sun dipped below the horizon.

Daylight faded, yielding to darkness.

As dusk arrived, Damon ramped up his vigilance.

Many beasts thrived in the dark, favoring nocturnal predation.

The Blood Mary followed suit.

Seras assumed control decisively. She organized watch and patrol squads into groups, making sure each included no fewer than three females to safeguard the males.

Alas, female numbers fell short for full coverage.

The evening stayed hushed, except for sporadic glimmers from the shield in the gloom. Translucent and faint, it only showed under pressure, though Damon perceived it distinctly.

He positioned himself on deck near the captain.

The elder's roughened grip held the helm firm as he navigated, stare fixed ahead, chin clenched.

Up high, a figure occupied the crow's nest for vigilance.

Watch teams circled the deck in regular patterns.

Dawn neared.

No assault.

Damon released a lengthy breath of ease, his posture relaxing a touch.

'Thank goodness. It's departed, whatever it was.'

Scarcely had the idea formed when sensation struck.

A surge of odd force swept over the planks.

It struck him like a noiseless blast.

His shadow awareness got expelled right away, sliced as by an invisible edge.

Damon's eyes flew open wide.

He responded at once.

As he prepared to shift and phase below, an eruption breached the surface.

Directly in his sight, it bypassed the engaged shield entirely and slammed onto the deck with a sodden, weighty thud.

The shield showed no reaction.

It offered no opposition.

The thing parted and unleashed a spray of dense, sticky blood at the unaware watch before they could respond.

The fluid arced fiercely.

It splattered over the males' visages and chests.

Shrieks erupted.

With a slippery plop, the entity plunged back into the inky depths.

Vanished.

Damon phased to the rail in a flash, soles scraping as he halted short of tumbling over. He peered into the murky sea, gaze sharpening.

Emptiness.

Only infinite void.

He gnawed his lip and ventured his shadow sense toward the abyssal tides.

He detected merely myriad relics of bygone behemoths on the seabed. Colossal frames, craniums dwarfing dwellings, each bearing a lingering essence that persisted beyond demise.

No signs of life.

No stirrings.

Damn it all.

Damon ground his teeth.

"Damn it," he echoed, knuckles whitening in his grasp.

He pivoted.

The watch squad knelt, bathed in crimson.

Curiously, the females escaped unscathed.

Not one droplet touched them.

The males were soaked through.

Damon lifted a hand to his face, reflexively blocking the intensifying pheromones in the atmosphere.

It proved futile.

The iron tang permeated all.