Chapter 172: The Desire to Forget - I had the Saintess Executed, now she’s the Demon Queen and I’m her Toy

Donovan stared straight at the unclean wooden table. His hands furled as the giggles and laughter continued to echo through the halls of the seemingly small home. The soft tap of a large mug set by Bjorn beside drew his glance.

"" Bjorn groaned. ""

"Mhmm."

Just then, the door creaked open, and the same Succubus that took Donovan's blade hurried to Beltru's side, whispering in his ears. He raised a brow and turned a bewildered glance to her.

"" She turned to Donovan, Solemn and Grave.

"Donovan, can you-"

Donovan threw a straight punch, interrupting Bjorn. "Will that do?" he asked.

Bjorn exhaled and slowly turned to Beltru. ""

"" Bjorn said. He sighed, disappointedly.

"What's so wrong?"

"It seems that you don't have long to live."

"Let me guess, I have a year to live, is that it?"

"No. At most, you have a month."

"A month!!?" Donovan slammed his hands on the table as his chair flew back. "Isn't it supposed to be a month for each hour!?"

"A month for each hour??" Bjorn shot a bewildered gaze at Donovan.

"B… But isn't each day supposed to be a year, since those weapons are tied to our lifespan?"

"Noo!!" Bjorn slammed his fist, cracking the table. "Yes, the destruction of these blood blades are dependent on our life span. That much is correct. However, it does not take a year off for each day. If it did, we'd likely be staying in this village for over a month at most."

"Th-then… How does it work?"

"For the first hour, it's a day. Seven is a week and ten hours is a month. After sixteen hours, it takes about 1 year. So, in practice, if you had somewhere around thirty years left to live, it would've taken forty-five hours. Meaning we would've had to stay another day at most. But that didn't happen."

Donovan paled. And his eyes turned back to the table. "B-but wouldn't that mean I have f-four days to live!? Th-that can't be right!? It doesn't make any sense... unless its some superstition..."

Bjorn continued. "So, if that sword melted in the last ten or eleven hours, you'll have at most one or two months to live. Probably enough time to reach Kynreth for a very brief life."

Downcast, Donovan grimaced at his own reality, clenching his hands with a bitter and knowing frustration. "So, what is it? It is some curse of sickness that's afflicted me."

"All of the above."

"What… do you mean by that?"

"It can be from anything… Battle, old age, Illness, or even dumb luck. If there's one thing that's for certain, it's that blood blade is never wrong for when you'll die. There's even a mirror that does the same thing, but those are harder to come by, like the ones from the cave we entered through. Look Donovan, I'm sorry to say, but the sooner you accept it, the better off your last days will be."

"I-... I see…"

Donovan gleaned up, and he saw Beltru set a box wrapped in white cloth on the table and pushed it to Bjorn.

"" Bjorn asked.

Bjorn peered, examining the blade and its inscriptions. "" Closing the box, he stood, ready to depart. "Come Donovan, we shouldn't linger."

Donovan and Bjorn turned back to Beltru. Next to him, one of his white-haired wives presents an ordinary-looking sword.

"" he said. "

Before Bjorn could speak, Donovan approached the woman and took the sword in hand. "Thank you. O-oh! "" Panicked, Donovan bowed his head and quickly turned to rejoin Bjorn.

Bjorn nodded, leading the way out of the home, and slipped past a few of the playing children. Their piercing young gaze followed them like a hawk, with a couple even following.

"" Their mother called.

In order, they retreated to their mother and siblings, watching as Donovan and Bjorn prepared their departure.

"Hey, Bjorn."

"Yes? What?"