Bloody Odyssey-Chapter 36: Body Of Light I

Chapter 35

As Dax familiarized himself with his wyverns, the massive black-scaled Cain lowered his scarred head in quiet submission while the small violet one—Little Purple—darted playfully around his legs, nipping at the hem of his robe with affectionate tugs.

The air around them carried the faint scent of ozone and ancient stone, the wyverns’ presence filling the courtyard with a living, breathing weight that seemed to hum with restrained power.

Suddenly, the tranquility shattered.

Micah barged in with desperate haste, his golden wings half-unfurled in agitation.

Cradled protectively in his arms was a woman, her slender form completely shrouded beneath a thick layer of dark garment that seemed to swallow the light itself, only the faintest outline of her figure visible beneath the heavy fabric.

"Master Dax, please help me!" Micah’s voice cracked with raw urgency, trembling at the edges.

Dax leaped down from Cain’s broad back with soft, silent steps, landing lightly on the stone. His expression remained calm, almost gentle, as he approached.

"Calm down, Micah. What is wrong?"

His gaze settled on the shrouded figure.

With careful curiosity, Dax stretched out a hand, fingers brushing toward the edge of the garment, intending to lift it and see what lay beneath.

"No!"

Micah’s face twisted in deep dread. His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, almost pleading.

"Please, Master... let us enter inside."

He bowed deeply, wings trembling with barely contained emotion.

Dax studied him for a heartbeat, then nodded once.

"I see. Then let us make haste."

With a casual wave of his hand, the air before them rippled. The familiar black gate to his lab manifested—its edges swallowing light like ink poured into water, the void beyond humming faintly with sterile promise.

Dax stepped through with calm, measured strides. Micah followed tightly behind, clutching the woman as though she might dissolve if he loosened his grip even slightly.

Once inside the sterile, softly lit corridors, Dax turned.

"Tell me what is wrong with her."

Micah had clearly been waiting for those exact words. The story poured out of him in a rush.

"It’s her constitution."

"This child was born with a constitution called the Body of Light. We found out so late... too late."

He swallowed hard, voice shaking.

"Children born into the Body of Light must be dedicated to Sterion.It was his way of marking his own. Babies are the purest form of divinity... so because he couldn’t claim her in her younger days, he punished her—forcefully stripping her of her strength, only to let her own constitution destroy her slowly from within."

"Any form of light can kill her."

Micah’s hand began to tremble as he spoke. She had been an outstanding worshiper of the Church of Light—devoted, faithful, radiant.

As if to prove his words, the woman—still hidden beneath the garment—raised one trembling hand.

The garment slipped just enough.

Her hand was revealed—burned, blackened, dried up like old parchment, the skin cracked and peeling as though scorched from the inside out. Faint wisps of pale golden light leaked from the wounds, eating away at the flesh even now.

The sight didn’t escape Dax’s eyes.

"Okay... how is she still alive?" Dax’s voice held genuine marvel.

"Please, child..." Micah quickly covered her exposed hand again. The burning slowed, but did not stop.

"Master... please help me."

This time Micah dropped to his knees, head bowed low, wings drooping.

Dax observed the woman through his Origin Eyes. In the center of her chest, a flame burned violently—pure, blinding white-gold, yet somehow devouring her from within.

"Hmm... how strange."

"I need to run some tests."

With a flick of his fingers, every light in the room extinguished.

Darkness swallowed the chamber, broken only by the faint, sickly glow leaking from her wounds.

He walked gently toward the operating room. With careful hands, he lifted her from Micah’s embrace.

"Don’t worry," he said softly, voice unusually tender. "You’ll be fine."

He placed her on the cold, gleaming operating table.

Then, with steady fingers, he raised the garment from her body.

Under his gaze, light and darkness were the same. Nothing was hidden.

He saw everything—every vein, every pulse, every flicker of divine fire eating away at her mortal frame.

He raised her burned hand once more, pushing a small thread of his own energy into her.

It was little—just a whisper.

Yet he noticed it immediately: his energy burned away slowly, consumed by the light inside her.

He increased the flow. More energy. Still slow. Still being devoured.

He repeated the process again.

"I see now," he murmured.

"She isn’t burning. She is constantly being purified by her own power."

"How cruel."

Dax’s voice held quiet wonder.

"What do I do now?"

He was lost in thought for a moment.

"I remember Micah asking me to give her my blood... but isn’t that too simple?"

In that instant, the mechanical chimes of Ineros’s voice rang softly in his mind.

"Master, I’ve deduced two paths. The first is the easiest—which you have already answered."

"And the second?" Dax asked.

"Master, you have to collect it back from her God. You have to retrieve her power back from her God."

Dax’s eyes widened with sudden, sharp glee.

But in the next heartbeat, tranquility returned—cool, measured, absolute.

"Will she still be alive by the time I find her God and battle him?"

Ineros answered like a little child—innocent, certain.

"No."

Dax exhaled slowly.

"Then it’s simple, Master," Ineros continued. "You just have to give her your blood."