The Reaper's Wicked Obsession-Chapter 191: The Hollow’s Salvation

"Ah... The husband." Solin chuckled. "You speak so highly of him. I’m envious."

He spread his elongated arms. "What do you think of my true form? Am I handsome? Your husband may wear Fae skin, but inside he’s just like me."

"Charming words coming from a Hollow."

"Deep down you know..."

Isadora flinched, but she refused to give him the satisfaction he needed. He was trying to play with her head.

Solin barked a distorted laugh, the sound dialing down to haunting chuckles before it completely stopped.

"You truly are a mystery. I wonder why I’m drawn to you."

’Drawn to me?’ Isadora thought, confused.

He pointed to her. "I see a mark upon you, mannfae."

Isadora’s instinct kicked in. She reached for her twin daggers, keeping her grip tightened against the handle.

"I want you." His black tongue rolled out, dropping to the ground. "With you, I can fill the void."

He stretched his hand toward Isadora—he hadn’t moved an inch, yet somehow, the distance between them closed.

Isadora reacted fast, drawing her daggers and using them to cut through, but her blade only pressed against the skin as if they were made out of liquid. It was just like that thing she pulled out of Logi.

’I can’t cut it,’ she thought, panicking.

"You shouldn’t resist. After all, you’ve got a thing for monsters!"

His hand spun out of control. Isadora gasped as fruition struck her. She leaped backward, going as far away as possible.

The spikes materialized from the hand at that moment, piercing in all directions.

The hand came again, fueled with more speed. But in Isadora’s eyes, they were slow.

With an elegant slant, she missed the attack. However, from the corner of her gaze, the spikes yanked upright, on the verge of taking her eyes out.

She swung her blade, infusing enough aura to make it sharper. With a brisk move, she cut the spikes, raising her hand and descending her weapon to slice off the hand.

Solin wailed in pain. "STOP RESISTING!"

Abruptly, his movements became quicker.

It became a lethal battle of perseverance—who could hold out longer, who could draw more blood, and who would strike without slowing.

The more Isadora cut, the more Solin regenerated quickly. Several hands bulged out of his dark body to add more force to his attacks.

Isadora growled, slashing through them at speed, and she was holding her ground. Even when she was taken backward and further away from him to get a close hit.

She kept coming, determined to cover the distance. She flinched severely from the cuts marking her skin; it was painful, and each impact felt like her flesh would tear out from her bones.

The muscles around her arms ached. She was going beyond the speed she was designed for. But that didn’t stop her.

Isadora twirled, dodging an attack that blasted behind her from the sheer force.

With a growl, she flung her dagger right at him. It came toward Solin at speed, and before he could stop it, it pierced right into his chest.

His attacks instantly seized.

Isadora’s breathing was ragged, relief finding her, but that was short-lived when Solin struck again.

Holding her other dagger, she swung past the spikes aimed at her. But then she felt something wrapped around her ankle.

She was on the verge of reacting, but it was too late—it tugged and plunged her to the ground, knocking the air out of her upon impact.

"I have you!" Solin howled, controlling his arms so that they lifted her mid-air like an offering.

Isadora thrashed to break free, but it was pointless. Her gaze darted to the dagger still clenched in her hand, but she couldn’t lift it.

Solin sensed her intent and twisted her arm at an unnatural angle.

A scream tore from her throat, raw and agonizing, echoing through the air.

"Why do you resist me?" He pulled her close until she was before him. His clawed hand reached for her.

Isadora turned away in disgust as his claws caressed her cheek.

Solin clenched her jaw in a bruising hold and forced her to face him.

Isadora pinned him with a dark look, her breathing ragged and unstable.

"You’ll be my salvation."

"I’d rather greet Daudi!" She seethed.

He barked a laugh. "Your soul will never grace the doors of the god of death for we’ll become one!"

Isadora’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets when Solin’s body split open, creating an abyss of darkness.

"Let us be one for eternity!"

"NO!" She screamed, turning her head away and squeezing her eyes shut.

Suddenly, Solin’s action ceased, going impossibly as a stony chill gripped him, his body giving a humming pulse, as they spiraled in alert.

"Daudi?" he turned, hoping to see the god of death, but he met Kraven instead.

His blood ran cold at the glimpse of a Fae who wielded the powers of the god of death.

Solin shook from an unknown sensation, for it wasn’t just about this Fae who had a presence identical to Daudi but the look in his eyes, and the smirk curled on his lips.

"Are you afraid?" Kraven’s voice was gravelly, barely above a whisper, as if dragging the words from the pit his lungs took everything he had. "You should be."

"No..." Solin took a step backward. "My time hasn’t come!" he bellowed. "Stay away, let me have her in peace!"

Something within Kraven snapped, like the shackles of chains breaking in two.

One minute, Isadora was suspended in mid-air; next, she was on the ground. When she turned back to the scene while holding her broken arm, goosebumps swept through her body.

Kraven was covered in dried blood, his attire torn, evidence that he had spent the entire time battling the rest of the Hollows.

He was battered and wounded, yet none of those did anything to extinguish the aura he radiated; it was much more menacing than she had ever felt.

The dark weaves churning around him, he did nothing to conjure them, yet it looked like they had a mind of their own.