Three years after I saved the beastman side character, the female lead returned. When I reached the fighting pits, he was kneeling before her, a gold medal clenched in his teeth. He allowed her to drag sharp nails across his scars without resistance. Ava Summers lifted his chin with her boot. “I heard you married. Do you love your wife?” A faint smirk touched Azriel’s lips. “No.” “Then why marry her?” “To repay a debt. She saved my life.” Ava laughed, and the system notified me: Mission Failed. Who would believe that just last night, in half-beast form, he’d coiled his serpent tail around my arm, eyes shining as he asked, “You’ll stay with me forever, won’t you?” Now I had my answer: There is no forever. With the mission failed, my illness was incurable. I had only twenty-eight days left. 1 Ava leaned languidly against the railing, her red lips parting in a petulant pout. "Azriel, go get me that second gold medal. I want it." Azriel’s dark eyes met hers, and he nodded. "Okay." His opponent in the next round was a hawk beastman—a natural predator to a serpent. Azriel was at a clear disadvantage. The hawk’s talons were like hooks, striking with brutal precision at Azriel's waist and abdomen. With each tear of flesh, his body convulsed, his serpent tail coiling in agony before lashing out. But he never slowed his advance, even using the force of the blows to lunge forward, his eyes fixed on the golden prize. Every swipe of the hawk's claws tore away another piece of him. I watched as the body I had spent three years painstakingly mending with hard-earned system points was torn apart by his own reckless devotion. Finally, he seized the medal. He staggered to Ava's feet, lifted his head, and forced a smile. "The medal. For you." Ava took it, weighing it in her hand. Then, with a sudden, cruel twist of her lips, she lifted her foot and stomped down hard on the serpent tail that lay limp on the ground. The color drained from Azriel's face. A cold sweat beaded on his forehead as a choked gasp of pain escaped his lips. Ava pressed down harder, and a pool of crimson began to spread from beneath his tail. Just then, the gate of a nearby cage holding a wild beast swung open—someone had unlocked it. Chaos erupted. Instinct took over. Azriel's tail shot out, wrapping around Ava and pulling her into his embrace, his back shielding her from any potential danger. A shard of glass, sent flying by a charging beast, whizzed past my arm. I barely dodged it. I had been about to step toward him, but my feet felt nailed to the floor. The system was right. A beastman’s instincts are infinitely sharper than a human's. And I had been standing here for two hours, watching him bleed, watching him offer up his prize, watching him throw his life on the line for someone else. Not once, in all that time, had he glanced in my direction. A splitting headache crashed over me without warning, my vision swimming with black spots. I couldn't hold on any longer. With the last of my strength, I called out to the system, "Get me... out of here." 2 I curled up in bed, a gnawing pain deep in my bones, as if ants were devouring me from the inside out. My illness was severe. Three years ago, desperate for a cure, I had accepted the system's mission. When I first found Azriel, the flesh from his serpent tail to his waist was gone, his scales scattered on the ground around him, the white of his bones peeking through. He was coiled in the rain, a pathetic, broken thing. He looked even worse off than I was. I squatted in front of him, holding an umbrella over his head. "Beg me, and I'll save you." He heard my voice and struggled to lift his heavy eyelids. His dark, sunken eyes met mine for a fleeting moment before he pressed his bloodless lips together and stubbornly turned his head away. I chuckled and said to the system in my mind, "He's the one." Throughout his treatment, he watched me with those cold, wary eyes. Once, while I was changing his bandages, he sank his teeth into the back of my hand. I looked at the bleeding wound and sighed. "If you cooperate, you'll heal much faster." At my words, his slit pupils froze. He stared at the beads of blood welling up on my skin, then at my face, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. After that day, he slowly let his guard down. He went from cold indifference to occasional, clipped responses, and eventually, he became more and more dependent on me. I seemed to be born under a bad sign. Bumps, bruises, and illnesses were a constant part of my life. But after he healed, for three whole years, I didn't get a single scratch, didn't fall ill even once. He would tilt the umbrella to shield me from the rain. He would spend months preparing the perfect gift for me. He once threw his body in front of a car to protect me, creating a safe space for me in the wreckage as he bled out. The system had warned me: "Host, remember that this is just a mission. Do not develop real feelings for the target." But I wasn't a seasoned professional. I lacked the ability to detach. So when he looked at me with those shining eyes, clumsily offering me a ring he had fashioned from one of his own shed scales, and stammered out a proposal... I nodded and said, "Yes." The pain in my body intensified, my thoughts becoming a blur. Out of habit, I found myself dialing his number. I wanted him to bring me some painkillers. But the phone that was always answered on the first ring just kept ringing. I thought of the way he held me every night, his eyes fixed on me even in the darkness. I thought of the cool, smooth feel of his scales as he playfully rubbed against my hand... So this was all just... repaying a debt. The pain finally consumed me, and I blacked out. 3 I was jolted awake by the thick, metallic smell of blood. As I came to, I felt a strange sense of detachment, as if something essential was being drained from me. The system had told me my illness wouldn't just eat away at my body; it would slowly warp my personality, eroding my ability to feel. So when I saw Azriel, barely able to stand, his body a canvas of fresh wounds, my first emotion was annoyance at being disturbed. He didn't seem to notice. He stumbled over to me, grabbing the hem of my shirt. "Wife... I'm hurt," he rasped. I nodded. "I can see that. I'm not blind." He froze, clearly not expecting that response. His dark eyes, clouded with pain and blood loss, stared at me blankly. After a few seconds of silence, he tried again. "Wife, it hurts... can you tell me a story? Like you used to..." I looked at the bloody handprint on my clothes with disgust. I pulled my shirt from his grasp. "I'm not the one who did this to you. Why should I be the one to tell you a story?" My words hung in the air. His breath hitched. The last trace of color drained from his face. He stared at me for a long time, his voice a raw, wounded whisper when he finally spoke. "...What's wrong with you?" I was about to snap back with a blunt, "Nothing's wrong, I just don't like you," but another wave of pain hit me, stealing my voice. My sudden distress seemed to terrify him. He panicked, hovering over me, wanting to hold me but afraid of hurting me. "Wife, what is it? Where does it hurt?" he stammered. In a world with primitive medicine, painkillers were the only reliable remedy. In that moment, I didn't care that he was covered in blood. I grabbed his arm. "Get... get me painkillers..." I added a lie to cover my tracks. "It's my... period..." "Okay! Okay! I'll go right now! Right now!" he promised, fumbling to pull on a jacket before stumbling out the door. 4 I waited for what felt like an eternity. I even drifted in and out of consciousness once. He never came back. During a brief lull in the pain, I managed to dress and decided to go to the clinic myself. I never expected to find Azriel and Ava there. He was strapped to a medical bed, his wrists bound by heavy iron chains, his serpent tail hanging limply off the side. He was hooked up to a series of tubes and machines I didn't recognize. Ava stood beside him, holding a syringe, a sweet smile on her face. "First injection, Azriel." The moment she pushed the plunger, his body arched violently. Veins bulged on his forehead and neck, and his black tail thrashed uncontrollably. Ava watched the data on the monitors with a fascinated gaze, diligently taking notes. She picked up a second syringe. "One more to go. You still with me?" Azriel was still trembling, gasping for breath, his face as white as a sheet. But he forced out the words, "Yes... I'm... fine..." Standing outside the door, I remembered what the system had told me. In his original story, he was the devoted side character who willingly let the female lead dissect him in the name of "medical progress." And Ava, standing on the sacrifice of his body, would become a rising star in the medical world. My first instinct was to turn and leave. The illness had already stripped away most of my empathy. But seeing him in such agony, some small, lingering part of me pushed open the door. "Stop! What are you doing?" They both looked up, surprised. Ava blinked at me. "Running an experiment." Her tone was so innocent, so matter-of-fact, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. I took a deep breath. "But he's in pain!" Ava let out a small, derisive laugh. "Not my problem. He volunteered." She paused, glancing down at Azriel. "Besides, even if he were to die here, it would be an honor to sacrifice himself for the advancement of science. Right, Azriel?" The moment he heard my voice, Azriel’s pupils constricted.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "384673", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel