Chapter 621

Chapter 621: Vyletongue’s Shadow Rune

In the dim basement, Molofeel lay on the table, lips slightly parted as she fixed her gaze on her master. Half her chest streamed with demon blood, exuding a dizzying demonic fragrance. She no longer had the strength to suppress her aura.

If Jesse hadn’t sealed the door tightly, anyone unfamiliar with succubi might have quickly lost their senses amidst this overpowering scent.

Gripping the table edge, Jesse watched the imp holding the demonic rune. He swallowed hard, his mind growing hazy, forcing himself to focus with a sharp slap to his own face. One hand steadied Molofeel’s collarbone while the other clenched a dagger pressed against her right breast.

This time he carved without the hesitation he’d shown with the first rune. The succubus clearly cared little for pain, so neither would he.

The blade sank into her flesh, tracing a clean shallow cut as violet blood swallowed its tip. Molofeel bit her lip, smiling at Jesse. "I wish every moment could be like this… Master."

"Another minute here might drive me mad, Molofeel. Let’s be quick."

Jesse muttered, eyes locked on his work. After checking the rune’s strokes, he continued carving.

The succubus clutched Jesse’s arm, releasing soft gasps with each incision. Halfway through, Jesse finally snapped, head lowered: "And I’ll say it again—stay silent. It breaks my focus."

Molofeel dabbed her finger in the blood beneath her chest and licked it. "I’ll try…"

As Saenor had warned, etching Mageweave drained tremendous energy. Jesse used no incantations nor consciously channeled magic, yet simply tracing Vyletongue’s patterns onto the demon demanded exhausting willpower.

His mana depleted alarmingly. Upon finishing the second rune, he knew his reserves neared empty.

Jesse slumped onto a stool, massaging his temples with closed eyes. Saenor examined the Mageweave. "Master, this one’s excellent too… truly! Your rigorous study of Demonic runes paid off!"

"Your linguistic gifts shine as well! With these runes, Sayaad now resembles a Burning Legion minion, ha!"

Jesse surveyed Molofeel’s form. Her appearance recalled dark-skinned Blood Elf Demon Hunters from games—not warlock-summoned succubi.

The absence of wings already set her apart from ordinary succubi. Now, adorned with violet-blooded runes, she mirrored a Demon Hunter even closer.

"The third rune, Master." Saenor lifted the largest Satyr hide fragment, still bearing Vyletongue’s pale purple hairs. Jesse shoved cheese into his mouth. "What’s this?"

"Shadow Enhancement Rune," Molofeel answered. "Common among demons—like that Ered’ruin corpse in the swamp."

The imp added, "Notice its greater complexity, Sayaad. Stronger magic too! The Legion clearly values native-born Satyr demons to bestow such potent Mageweave…"

"Shadow Enhancement?" Jesse frowned. "Boosts Shadow Magic? Or…"

"Satyr demons master shadows fiercely," Saenor explained. "Vyletongue outclasses his underlings! I suspect this rune’s why your Shadow Magic barely affected him."

"Apply it then." Jesse rose. "Next tough foe, you’re taking point, Molofeel."

"I’d die for you, beloved." Molofeel tilted her head. "Just command it…"

"Stay alive. Death may mean little in Azeroth, but I need your help breathing."

Jesse gulped a Mana Potion, stretched his limbs, then eyed the succubus. "Her chest has no space left. That waist is too slender for such a large rune."

"Flip her," the imp suggested. "Turn over, Sayaad. Spare your master’s strength." Jesse gestured; Molofeel nodded, flipping onto her stomach.

Avoiding her broken spinal protrusions, Jesse gripped her shoulder. "Ready? Starting now."

"I’ve longed for this, Master," she whispered.

Jesse located a starting point on the intricate rune and carefully lowered his blade.

Truthfully, this felt less like learning Demonic and more like copying an alien character—though far more complex and chaotic. Yet he adapted surprisingly well…

Molofeel clawed the table edge, shuddering intermittently. Each tremor sent phantom cuts across Jesse’s back, forcing him to pause and breathe.

Whenever her tail coiled around his waist, leaving stinging scratches on his back, he scarcely minded—just grateful he wore no expensive robes.

Completing the final rune left Jesse moments from magical exhaustion. The battered table lay shredded by succubus claws, littered with wood splinters and stained dark violet with demon blood, giving off a sickeningly sweet stench.

*Owes Erlan a new table*, he thought, gasping for recovery.

Jesse checked his pocket watch: nearly midnight. He eyed the imp. "More runes?"