“God dammit… Who made these doors so heavy?…” Dyon leaned all of his weight forward, pushing with all of his might. Doors that should have taken him nothing but a finger to obliterate had suddenly become the hardest obstacle of his life.

Dyon had a mind to give up. He was looking around for people, but wouldn’t a room filled with people have some kind of noise coming from it? He had even opened the door a crack, and yet he still heard nothing.

With the limited amount of energy he had, he wasn’t even clear if he would fall asleep again the moment he took his next step. He couldn’t afford to be opening heavy doors that led to nowhere.

Dyon’s feet slipped backwards, causing the door to slam shut.

Everyone in the hall looked at each other. That voice, was it who they thought it was?

Ri, Madeleine and Clara immediately snapped their attention toward the door.

Dyon, however, was standing outside breathing so hard that it seemed his lungs might combust at any moment. His eyelids fluttered, threatening to close, but that was when a wave of anger came over him.

“Who the ** made this bull** door?! MOVE!” Dyon’s voice roared through the quiet hallway. He had irrationally lost his temper at a completely innocent inanimate object. Maybe it was because of his weakness, or maybe it was because he still felt a lingering melancholy over remembering what happened, but either way, he was pissed.

The black band on his arm immediately became 6-foot-long sword, scraping against the ground because of Dyon’s weak hold on it. But, that didn’t stop Dyon’s demeanor from completely changing. Sealed soul or not. Sealed wills or not. Sealed energy cultivation or not… He was still a weapon’s master. And right now, this weapon’s master wanted to hack this door to pieces.

Regardless of the seals still being on the Dragon King weapon, it was still countless times sharper than a regular grandmaster weapon. Even the weakest of babies could slice a hot knife through butter.

Dyon’s arm swung with all the might he could muster, slicing the door three times before the sword morphed away. Even it seemingly realized that if it stayed, Dyon would collapse.

The booming sounds of pieces of door tumbling away filled, resulting in a flood of light landing on Dyon’s hunched over figure.

The beating of Dyon’s heart was fast, it was almost as though one more push would cause it to burst apart completely.

He instantly regretted his actions. He could barely walk, what was he doing going around yelling and slashing doors?

Dyon’s eyes threatened to close again as waves of fatigue assaulted him. But, that was when an aroma wafted past his nose, catching his attention.

‘Food?… Am I just hungry?…’ Dyon looked up. It was as though he didn’t see the hundreds of pairs of eyes staring at him, or the figures rushing toward him… All he saw was the endless food on the table.

“Food…” Dyon’s voice was weak as he tried to stand up straight only to be rewarded with losing his balance.

Dyon fell forward, his eyes completely incapable of keeping up with the speed he was falling to the ground at.

Dyon was completely deaf to the cries, he didn’t even realize that someone had caught him moments before he hit the ground…

**

Dyon’s lips twitched as he felt the drip of a sweet liquid touch them. It flowed slowly into his mouth, filling it with a blast of overflowing juiciness that shouldn’t have been possible for just this single drop.

It continued to rain downward, allowing Dyon taste after taste of its delicious nectar.

Dyon’s eyes lids were heavy, and no matter how much he tried to open them, it seemed that they’d always apply more force to stay down.

His arms reach up, trying to grasp at something to sit up, but that was the moment he realized his head was lying on something particularly comfortable, even more comfortable than the large bed he had just been on.

Dyon’s hands paused, instead choosing to rub his eyes open. Slowly, but surely, the blurry image of his surroundings became clear enough for him to notice that something was hanging in front of his face.

In confusion, he weakly reached up, trying push it away, but almost immediately became frustrated when he noticed how soft it was. It gave way so much that he felt like all of his effort was being wasted.

‘At least it feels nice…’ Because of that, Dyon didn’t feel the urge to slash it apart like the door. Instead, he continued to try and gently push upwards as he struggled to sit up.

Suddenly, a familiar voice filled Dyon’s ears followed by giggling.

“Pervert.”

Dyon’s brows furrowed as his vision cleared. He could suddenly make out that the softness blocking his vision was actually what looked like a mound of purple with gold embroidery.

“Hm?..”

An instant later, the image clicked in his mind, causing his vision to go from surprise to a smirk. He shamelessly pretended to not understand the situation as he played with the softness, closing his eyes as a wave of comfort overcame him.

Madeleine giggled, slapping Dyon’s hand away. “You’re awake… We missed you.”

Dyon sat up from Madeleine’s lap, blinking as he adjusted to the bright lights. It was only then he realized that they were in a large banquet hall and still by the pile of wood that once made up its doors.

Hundreds of pairs of eyes were on Dyon, apparently completely confused and

/or surprised about what was happening. However, Dyon first noticed that there were quite a few people around him. He wasn’t the type to feel embarrassed, but even he couldn’t help but regret his temper tantrum earlier, even if it was only just a bit.

“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…