I Have a Dice Left by a God

Chapter 660: Chapter 252: Side Effects

Netherworld Sea, Migratory Bird Island, where the sea breeze is damp yet refreshing. Cantona suddenly awoke with a start, his heart gripped by a cold, relentless hand. His body trembled uncontrollably, every breath felt like a hundred needles piercing his lungs. He wanted to open his eyes, but the burning and stinging in his eye sockets were overwhelming. With a swipe of his hand, his fingertips became smeared with warm, rusty-smelling liquid.

It was blood. Cantona stiffened slightly. That dream! It had become so real it could affect reality... He rubbed his eyes twice, forcing himself to open his bloodshot eyes and turned his head, his vision blurred as he surveyed his surroundings.

A large bed, enough for five or six people, made entirely of solid wood, with little concern for sophistication, simple in design, sturdy and durable.

On his left and right, two women lay curled up, evidently asleep from sheer exhaustion, with remnants from last night’s frenzy still visible on their bodies—kiss marks, scratches, some dried fluids.

Without mercy, Cantona roused them and sent them away. Despite the madness and frenzy of the night, Cantona couldn’t even remember their names.

He only recalled how he practically dragged onto this sturdy bed every woman he could find—prostitutes, or fisherwomen eager to earn some extra cash.

His ten fingers couldn’t count them all; these two were just the last he pulled in.

Of course, he paid them adequately.

He sat up, his bare feet touching the icy wooden floor, and retrieved a palm-sized silver Holy Water bottle from the bedside table, a device of the Death God, performing the full act.

The neck of the Holy Water bottle slightly tipped, and the cool Holy Water dripped into his eye sockets. "Hiss!" The sting intensified instantly, as if countless fine needles pierced his eyeballs simultaneously.

The blood threads gradually washed away, and his vision cleared—the object was indeed useful.

Another strange dream...

In the dream, he was a Great Angel under the Nether God’s command, and he still remembered the feeling of the enormous pure black wings spreading behind him.

But in the dream, when those inconceivable pressures descended, he couldn’t even lift his head. The divine might was like a prison; even the Great Angel could only kneel on the ground, humbled like dust, as the bones creaked under the oppressive weight that felt like mountains.

Instinctively, he knew, beyond the heavens, two Divine Beings were battling each other. Their Fatian Xiangdi overshadowed the skies. Besides the familiar Nether God, the other, though evidently mightier, was like a Death God bound by the shackles of law.

Below the divine battle lay endless remnants of corpses, resembling a hellscape, filled with mountains of bodies and seas of blood.

The dream’s Cantona felt a surge of horror—illusion, or something else, could it be that the Nether God’s power was truly seized from the Death God?

The Death God’s furious roar robbed dream-Cantona of his ability to think, the overwhelming divine might pressuring his thoughts, seemingly a limitless curse upon rebels like him.

Ultimately, the Death God let out a deafening scream, followed by indescribable light, piercing through both the dream and reality, directly into Cantona’s eyes.

He gasped, pressing hard against his temples.

His eyes bled not from the dream’s light but due to resonance.

Ever since he ascended to Four Lives, becoming the Death God’s Preparatory Angel, the Divine Relic embedded in his body had become increasingly harmonious with him. Each time he fell asleep, his soul unconsciously slipped into past fissures, immersing in scenes long sealed by the old era.

According to his teacher, all the Nether God’s Divine Relics are drawn by the Death God’s call.

By consuming the Death God’s Magic Potion, he effectively responded entirely to the Death God’s call, and his resonance with this dream was a foreboding.

But why was he still a traitor in the dream? fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

He had risked consuming the Death God’s Magic Potion because he believed his teacher had already realized the choice by leading him down this path. He gambled based on years of intuition, to bear the consequences himself, but it was actually more challenging than anticipated.

Now, was he destined to fully submit and become a true Apostle of the Death God, stepping onto that fated path of despair? How could he turn back?

No matter what happened in the past, the Death God belonged to the bygone era, the Nether God heralded the future. He plunged ahead, yet found it hard to escape the fate of being a discard. Despite the epoch’s shift, he believed there was no chance for the old gods.

... Seek another way?

Though difficult, there was always a sense that other possibilities remained.

If people are bound to die, why fear?

Cantona hung his head, pondering the various possibilities he had considered lately, feeling a faint warmth at the heart’s location. He had yet to find a suitable answer...

He turned, facing the doorway, where a faint fragrance drifted through the door crack mingling with the moist, salty sea breeze, syrupy and sticky like ripe fruit.

Click, the door swung open, and a woman he both desired and loathed appeared—Lunara.

She wore black high heels, stepping silently on the floor, like an elegant predator, "Desire truly is a good relief method; you’re quite strong, aren’t you?"

Cantona remained silent, coldly gazing at her. The process felt animalistic, devoid of pleasure.

Lunara laughed, approaching him, her soft arms wrapping around his shoulders from behind, her fingertips gently pressing against his tense muscles.

"Or did they leave you unsatisfied?" Her voice resembled honey, yet more like poison, dangerously licking his earlobe. She pressed against his back, her chest soft yet firm, her breath sultry and hot.

Cantona didn’t turn but had already smelled the potent scent of desire emanating from her body, along with... another man’s scent.

A strong, domineering smell laced with spirits.

Cantona frowned slightly, reaching out to shove her back. Lunara staggered half a step but chuckled alluringly, her eyes filled with springtime allure, "Jealous?"

She giggled softly, pressing closer again, her ample chest brushing against him, her voice filled with deliberate coquettishness, her tongue almost probing into his ear, "Or do you find me dirty? You didn’t mind those women at all; why is it suddenly a cleanliness issue with me?"

Cantona turned, gazing at her enchanting visage, "I’ve told you."

His voice was low, slightly hoarse, "Clean yourself up before coming back."

Lunara’s smile deepened, her eye tail flicking with frivolity, brimming with allure.

"I’d love to, but this time, today, it’s not something that can be cleaned." She continued to tease his ear with her tongue, her tone laced with a hint of eerie pride, "That person left too heavy a mark, even more so than yours..."

Cantona’s pupils narrowed.

Of course, he understood the crux of her statement, never was the impurity merely physical.

To supernaturals like them, the physical form was secondary.

That which was denser than his own was at least the level of Four Lives’ Preparatory Angel, if not stronger.

She successfully seduced a prominent figure from the Netherworld Sea; Cantona stared at Lunara.