678 Fifth and Eighth Time
“Ah, so is someone gonna help me up?… My legs don’t seem to working…” Dyon looked around with a smile on his face. He could tell that there was something off about the atmosphere, but he put that aside for now. He was much too hungry.
A sad expression colored the features of Ri, Madeleine and Clara when they heard this. Although they had been trying to suppress their emotions for the sake of Dyon, everyone here could see it.
Dyon had walked out of his room feeling weak, but maybe the first thing he should have done was get a mirror.
His once healthy caramel skin was a sickly grey and his rippling lean muscles had become nothing but skin sagging against his bones. Even his handsome and chiseled features that had been slowly maturing had greyed, losing its luster almost completely.
As much as they tried to keep up their smiles, they could tell there was something very wrong with their husband.
Ri and Madeleine both took a side, wrapping their soft arms around his waist as they floated above the rubble and into the banquet hall. Before, they had been silent due to a heavy atmosphere of loss and regret, but now it silence as a showing or respect.
During the duration of Dyon’s coma, everyone here had come to understand just what Dyon had faced alone. After interrogating the Daiyu and Ragnor prisoners, how could they not understand?
If it wasn’t for the fact that they found the remains of Loki themselves, coupled with the ridiculously large pools of blood left by Elder Daiyu, even knowing the only explanation for Dyon being alive was to have defeated them, they wouldn’t believe it.
A mere meridian formation expert had defeated not just a peak saint… But a peak saint and a dao formation expert. And that wasn’t even counting the peak dao formation expert he talked down from attacking… He was quite frankly the savior of this universe.
They all felt useless. Even Nora who had complex feelings about this boy felt this way.
As a comet level array alchemist, whose alchemy actually reached moon levels, she was ashamed to have no way of making Dyon better. After everything he had done, there was nothing they could do for him.
If it wasn’t for Dyon… They would all be dead…
Soon, Dyon sat down with his wives to either side of him, hardly able to keep his eyes open. But, when he noticed the food before him, somehow still untouched, he couldn’t help but look around at these people like they were crazy.
“All of this food and no one’s eaten? You couldn’t have been waiting for me, no?” Dyon laughed to himself, completely unaware that his voice was so weak that had they not been a room filled with cultivators, no one would have heard him.
Although no one reacted with laughter to Dyon’s words, he didn’t seem to notice. He knew his body needed food, but he ironically had no energy to eat it. Even moving his lips was a burden, let alone chewing and swallowing. How he had even made it here was a miracle.
The Belmont Palace was a massive place, and the distance from Dyon’s room to this hall reflected that. It should have been at least a 500-meter walk, and yet in Dyon’s mind, he had gotten here in an instant.
His consciousness kept fading in and out. It caused his memories to be fragmented, and often times tossed out entirely.
Over time he was consistently getting worse.
His body grew weaker. His mind grew more frail… Even the outburst of rage he had just had was a product of accumulated frustration that may have been forgotten by him, but nevertheless remained in the depths of his being.
The Dyon they all knew would never yell at a door, let alone rampage through it like it was the enemy.
This wasn’t even the first time Dyon had awoken… It just seemed that he forgot about it each time. A vicious cycle of wake and sleep that ended with the same disappointing result.
Dyon wasn’t left alone in his room because his wives didn’t care. They had been quite literally pulled out by force because they were unwilling to leave his side. They wanted to be there every time he woke up so that they could be ready to do anything for him, and yet in the end, they only felt more and more useless.
Dyon’s chin slumped to his chest before snapping up. He shook his head, his eyes squinting as he looked at the food in front of him again.
He reached out slowly, grabbing for was looked like a beast meat leg. From the scent of it, it was seemingly an Earth level beast, so it likely had quite good nutritional value.
But, when Dyon stretched out to grab it, he suddenly noticed his hand.
At first, he was startled. He assumed that someone beside him was reaching for food at the same time. After all, how could he, Dyon Sacharro, have such a sickly-looking hand? However, when his hand back, about to apologize and let the person have the food they were both reaching for, a sudden realization hit him.
That wasn’t someone else’s hand… It was his own…
Dyon blinked, unable to believe just what he was seeing.
“H – … How long have I been sleeping?” Dyon asked in a soft voice, suddenly realizing that Madeleine’s breasts were much larger than he remembered…
Tears fell… No one knew who lost control of their emotions first, but it was clear at this point that not many could handle the fall of a such a genius…
This was not only not the first time Dyon had woken up… It was also not the first time he asked this question…
This was the 5th time he woke up… And the 8th time he asked this very same question…
In the past nearly two years…