It wasn't simply that Azriel was trapped in a dream. No—it was far worse. His body grew colder with every passing second, even as his mana core burned hotter. Those two contradictions meant only one thing:
His mana core was slowly being devoured.
In reality, Azriel lay unconscious somewhere, and trapped within this nightmare, he was gradually dying.
'I need to find a way out before my mana core gets consumed completely.'
The only good news was that whatever force was draining him seemed incredibly slow, almost cautious. The bad news, however, overshadowed that small relief: the longer Azriel remained trapped, the weaker he would become—mentally, physically—and the faster his mana core would burn away, making it easier for the thing to feast on him.
'Then...was the Dark Basilisk blood fake?'
Could someone really coat a mere advanced-ranked pocket knife with the blood of a terrible creature?
All these strange occurrences inside his body… everything Mio had claimed…
