Single for Eternity
Chapter 79: Wandering Spirit

Chapter 79: Wandering Spirit

It took her quite some time to stabilize herself, but eventually, Leiruat straightened her back and offered a graceful bow. Her voice was calm but formal as she introduced herself. "Leiruat. And you are?"

The young man laughed softly, his lips curling upward in amusement. "You entered my chamber uninvited, yet you don’t know my name? Isn’t that interesting."

Leiruat shrugged her shoulders and tilted her head slightly. "I’m just a wandering spirit. Nothing more."

He squinted his brows and rested a hand on his chin. "A wandering spirit with enough strength not to disintegrate in front of me... That’s rare."

A cold shiver ran down Leiruat’s spine as her gaze met his. Something in his eyes was deeply wrong—unhinged. Unstable. Insane.

She crossed her arms, composing herself. "Are you Ness, the God of Darkness? Married to Iyra?"

He rose from his bed with slow, calculated movements and strolled toward a small table nearby. Two elegant chairs sat beside it, and a silver tray carried an assortment of delicate snacks—biscuits, dark chocolates, and two cups of steaming tea.

Without a word, he settled into one of the chairs and leaned back lazily. With a gesture of his hand, he invited her to take the opposite seat.

She nodded, cautiously sitting down while letting her eyes scan the chamber. Even without turning her head, she could sense the way he subtly manipulated the shadows in the room.

The darkness moved unnaturally, like living threads, brushing against the walls and furniture. He was searching—checking for traps, perhaps... or simply exercising caution.

Leiruat clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Are you going to answer me or keep wasting time?"

He brought the tea to his lips, sipping it slowly, letting the silence stretch. Then, at last, he met her eyes. "I was once called that," he said softly, placing the cup back on the tray. "But now... I’m just a corrupted god. A remnant of my former self. They call me Lord Skin."

Leiruat blinked. Skin? She almost winced at the name. It sounded... grotesque. Wrong.

He leaned his head against one arm, using it like a headrest, his voice losing some of its warmth. "And Iyra? She no longer exists."

The words hit her like a hammer. ’What?! ’ Inside, she screamed. She wanted to tear at her hair, collapse under the shock, but she kept her expression locked in an emotionless mask.

But he saw through it. His soft, almost mocking laugh filled the chamber. "Don’t bother hiding your surprise. I know you’re from the future—or at least from another timeline."

Her body flinched slightly. For the first time, a visible frown broke her composure. She massaged her forehead in irritation. "How the hell do you know that?"

He turned his head, pretending to think deeply. Then, with a cheeky grin, he shrugged. "I don’t. Just guessed."

The smirk on his face made her blood boil. If she had a gold coin for every time someone gave her anger issues, she’d be richer than a god by now.

Seeing her irritated expression, he chuckled again. "Don’t be like that. It was just a joke."

She rolled her eyes. "So, what about now? Where’s Iyra?"

His smile turned colder, sharper. "Iyra doesn’t exist in this timeline. So, anyone who remembers her... must come from another."

Then, with a predatory gleam in his eyes, he added, "And you, my dear, look just like that maid this body’s original owner had taken an interest in."

She didn’t refute it. There was no point. He was right, and she hated that.

Her expression hardened as she leaned forward. The grace and composure she carried earlier had evaporated. "If you already know, then I won’t dance around the topic. What happened to Iyra?"

He burst into laughter, clutching his stomach as if her question was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. "So, you’re here for your friend, huh?" He paused, catching his breath. "Tell me—how did you two even become friends?"

Her answer was flat. "No."

He shrugged. "Then I won’t tell you about her."

The fury in her eyes was unmistakable. Her body began to emit radiant, sapphire light. The air trembled with energy, space itself rippling around her as she prepared to unleash her strength.

In response, he merely closed his eyes.

And then—

The entire chamber was swallowed in pure, endless black.

Thousands of eyes blinked open in the darkness. Unblinking. Twisted. Watching her.

The light she radiated was consumed within moments, devoured like mere candles before a black hole.

Her complexion shifted. Sweat poured down her face. Her pupils dilated, and her limbs shook uncontrollably. The presence was suffocating—crushing. Madness and hunger oozed from every corner of the void.

Minutes passed.

Finally, the darkness began to fade. Light returned to the room through a small window.

His eyes, once human, were now pitch black. Even the whites had vanished. They were ancient eyes—cursed eyes.

She fell to her knees, trembling. Her former arrogance shattered. Tears streaked down her face.

He watched her coldly. "Don’t ever try to show off your strength in front of me again," he said. "Not when you’re this weak."

His voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "How did someone like you even meet Iyra?"

Through clenched teeth and a trembling jaw, she managed to reply. "This is just a remnant spirit. If I were my true self, you’d already be dead."

He rolled his eyes. "You can’t even kill the weakest god. Immortality’s a thing, sweetheart. At best, you’d be a war assistant. Maybe a decoy. Something dispensable."

Then he twisted the dagger deeper. "And this? This isn’t even my full power. Just a corrupted fragment. This isn’t even my body just a replica."

Her breath caught. One word echoed in her mind. ’Replica?’

She leaned in. "If you’re a replica... then the original is still alive, right?"

He smirked, clearly enjoying her curiosity. "Oh, so you care about him to. Yes, he’s alive—for now."

Her voice sharpened. "What do you mean for now?"

He sighed heavily, for once sounding tired. "He’s trapped in Duskholm. That’s where I was born—materialized through sacrifice. It’s ruled by Ebon Val Borg. And trust me... he’s not a very welcoming host."

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