PATH OF THE STAR HUNTER

Chapter 573



The fissures of it spread like cobwebs, and with each passing second, the extension of these did nothing but grow, soon covering the entire piece of wood. And with the last remnants of the lightning fired by Stalker, the piece of wood shattered.

The shockwave filled with electrical currents hit Desmond, who was sent flying like a rag doll. A searing pain ripped through Desmond’s chest as a shard of yellow glass from the piece of wood pierced his heart.

Desmond fell to the ground, dazed and dying. With barely a trace of consciousness, Desmond couldn’t think straight anymore; his only wish was to get out of there. Following that wish, Desmond used his half-broken right arm to reach for the locket on his chest and activate it, teleporting away from the spot.

Stalker watched this go by helplessly due to a splinter of wood somehow finding its way into his chest during the explosion. Stalker couldn’t believe that a seemingly ordinary piece of wood had hit him, much less that it was covered in the paralyzing electricity of his own weapon. To make matters worse, Desmond had escaped through unknown means.

Remembering how brutally injured Desmond was, Stalker was only further infuriated. The realization was that no matter where Desmond went, he would die in seconds, if not minutes, and no potion would heal his wounds in time. “Shit, I can’t believe my mission went to shit at the last second.”

Stalker was about to go mad with rage when the sand under his feet began to tremble. Immediately after, thousands, if not tens of thousands, of giant ants started to swarm the place.

Seeing that there were even hundreds of two-star class armored ants, Stalker’s countenance only worsened. The mercenary had to spend the next two hours of his life fighting tooth and claw against the swarm of insects before he found a chance to retreat before being drained to death.

Oblivious to Stalker’s suffering, Desmond was back in the cave where he’d holed up with Aisha nearly a week ago. The little astral locket-shaped locket stopped glowing when Desmond appeared there.

.....

That locket was an absurdly expensive treasure that Desmond was forced to buy at Elaisa’s insistence. According to Desmond’s trusty assistant, having even a desperate escape method was mandatory; no one was invincible after all. With his limited funds, Desmond could only purchase a locket with a short-distance teleportation function.

The locket had a lot of restrictions and could only be used once a week to avoid overloading the circuits inside. However, it could still be considered a life-saving treasure. Though, given Desmond’s current state, it was doubtful his life could be saved.

Desmond lay on the ground bleeding from his multiple wounds, with one arm missing and some of his internal organs sticking out. Using the small amount of consciousness and strength he had left, Desmond pulled out the last three injection potions he had left, two blue and one bright orange.

Without the energy to think about the consequences, Desmond unhesitatingly injected himself with the two blue potions. The gentle current of healing energy gave Desmond some much-needed respite. Still, his injuries were too severe, and Desmond could feel a trace of Aura in his injuries that prevented them from healing normally.

Desmond looked at the orange injection potion and remembered Sasha’s warnings. “Unless it’s an absolutely desperate situation, don’t use this potion. This potion is called , and it is by far the best healing potion I have ever made, but it will put you through hell when you use it.”

Since his situation fits the description of utterly desperate, Desmond let go of any doubts and used the potion. Quickly, the potion spread through his veins from the point of injection, and Desmond immediately understood what Sasha meant. Desmond felt like he had just been injected with burning lava that spread through her body to burn away all his wounds.

The pain was excruciating, but Desmond didn’t care; he felt similar to him when he used the sap to refine his body. It made it easier for him to tolerate the pain. As the burning, fiery medicinal essence spread over his wounds, Desmond found something strange: his chest was not injured.

Desmond could have sworn his chest was injured during the electrical blast from the piece of wood. He even clearly felt something pierce his heart. But no matter how much Desmond looked, there didn’t seem to be any injuries to his chest, just a burnt hole in his shirt to show that he wasn’t hallucinating.

Unfortunately, Desmond couldn’t think about it any further, as a backlash was triggered when the medicinal efficacy of the potions collided with the Aura left behind in his wounds by Stalker. It was like trying to combine oil and water, the backlash even worsening Desmond’s injuries.

Desmond was unaware that this was precisely why Stalker gave up looking for him as soon as he escaped. Stalker was sure that his Aura would kill him no matter what, as using potions or healing magic would only make the wounds worse unless he came from someone far above his own level.

Desmond began to cough up blood mixed with bits of his internal organs, the bleeding from his wounds instantly worsening. And for the first time in Desmond’s life, despair, a feeling unknown to him, invaded his heart.

Desmond was going to die; he could feel it, and the vital functions of his body were rapidly collapsing. Feeling the cold caress of death threaten to squeeze his heart to a halt, a single thought filled Desmond’s mind: “I want to see them again.”

Desmond knew that wanting them was selfish, but he didn’t care. No matter how cruel of him to show them his current state, Desmond tried to see them, if only for a moment before he died.

With only that to fuel the spark of his will, Desmond mustered what little strength he had left to take the hunter’s book and begin the teleportation back home.

As always, the process took almost ten seconds, which felt like forever for the dying Desmond, which was why the book was not a reliable escape method in desperate situations. Desmond didn’t know that even if he had tried it, it wouldn’t have worked since all of the book’s functions had been blocked in the area near Stalker by a tool given to him by his employer.

Unable to distract himself with any thoughts other than seeing his family again, Desmond began to lose consciousness with two seconds left on the teleportation countdown.

Within Desmond’s blurry vision appeared a vaguely humanoid pink blur. Unbeknownst to Desmond, someone else had arrived in the cave, but he didn’t have the energy to keep an eye out, so he could only pray this person wasn’t hostile.

With a second left on the countdown, Desmond heard a vaguely familiar flutter of wings and a sweet but unfamiliar voice. “She could at least be more specific, always being so mysterious with how she talks. Well, I’ll do what she said and just do what I want.”

And with that, a magical array of teleportation covered Desmond taking him back home. Standing with a stunned expression on her adorable face was the always cheerful and bright Myrilla.

The beautiful-looking angel in the pink robes stared dazedly at the huge bloodstain on the floor where Desmond used to be.

Following the request of her dear friend, Katya, the archangel of balance, Myrilla had come to the planet known as Veritas G-153, wandering around for almost a full week.

Because Katya didn’t leave any detailed instructions, Myrilla could only randomly wander all over the place. Eventually, Myrilla was drawn in by the strange but intense energy fluctuations hidden under a vast black mountain range.

Being an adventurous and cheerful soul, Myrilla wandered the mines with interest. Although that lasted very little. As a Celestial, especially one associated with a certain concept, Myrilla found everything that occurred within the mines unpleasant.

Hatred, violence, greed, and even lust had stained the rocky walls of this place, making it an infinitely unpleasant place for the pink angel. Quickly, Myrilla decided that whatever Katya had sent her to do, she definitely wouldn’t find it in an area this disgusting.

Myrilla had headed for the exit with determination when she came across a trail in her path that practically devoured her attention. A trail of blood trickled from a cave at the side of the tunnel she came from. Of course, blood wasn’t enough to attract Myrilla’s attention; she had seen a lot of blood in her life.

What completely absorbed Myrilla’s attention was the love that overflowed from that cave. A dense, deep, perhaps even a little obsessive and dark love emanated from that cave. The little bit of darkness hidden in that love was not to Myrilla’s liking, but she could not ignore the source of this love. As the angel of love, Myrilla would never ignore someone who could emanate all that love.

Entering the cave, she saw the dying Desmond, who couldn’t stop thinking about his family. Myrilla’s sparkling eyes saw all the love this man had for other people, probably his lovers. She also saw all the love this man was the recipient of. She was familiar with people like him who had unknowingly saved and influenced many lives, garnering little bits of love and gratitude from many people.

Immediately, Myrilla thought about saving him, but she remembered the mission that her friend had entrusted to her, which stopped her for a second. But thinking back, since saving this man was the first thing that came to mind, maybe that was what Katya wanted her to do. It made sense to her, given the way Katya did things.

The angel of love did not expect that the man teleported to who knows where. Although upset, Myrrilla didn’t think long before making her decision. “Forget it; his life is unlikely to be saved where he went. Even if he’s not the person Katya wanted to save, I’ll still give him a hand. This world lacks more love; it would be a waste if someone like him died.”

And with that, the angel of love reached out and took something that should have been intangible. Myrilla took a strand of residual emotional energy left by Desmond. Specifically, she took a piece of love. “I hope I’m not late.” She said before disappearing.


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