Chapter 54: The Imperial Slave Value System
Chapter 54: The Imperial Slave Value System
...Oliver woke as if yanked from the depths of the nightmare, as his body jerked upright. His breath came in sharp, shallow gasps, and an agonizing tightness seized his chest. He clutched it, eyes wide.
He needed to cough. The blood was there: thick, metallic, hot, but it wouldn't come out.
It churned inside his lungs like molten iron, and the pain bloomed in sharp spikes, but his body refused to let it escape.
His Demon bloodline refused to bleed.
It would not allow even a drop to be wasted. Not for relief. Not even for air.
Oliver hated it.
He hated that monstrous part of himself that turned his own blood into a prison. It took time—too long—for his breathing to stabilize. Sweat ran from his body in cold, heavy beads, trailing down like droplets of rain on steel.
The echoes of the night trial still clung to him. It was because he had taken too many blows, as usual, the pain bled into the waking world.
The One Inch punch had been more effective than he thought it would be.
After seeing that he was not able to learn it again and again, that 'cursed' bloodline will had increased the difficulty.
The skull had not been joking when it said that Oliver had been at the first and easiest level of the technique.