My Abyss Survival Diary

Chapter 103 The Nun's Kiss

"Wait a moment, let me put on a coat."

"It's okay, it's fine as it is now."

The nun squeezed into the makeshift tent made of branches and tattered waterproof fabric. She was quite tall and almost hit her head when she squeezed in.

The tent was a bit crowded, so Simon moved the birdcage to the side to make room for the nun.

Breanne, inside the birdcage, never uttered a sound of laughter, but she kept staring meaningfully at Simon with a wicked smile on her lips. Simon simply threw the birdcage out through a gap in the tent. Breanne screamed in mid-air, and then the birdcage fell to the ground with a thud.

Turning his head, Simon sized up the nun before him—

She wore an eye patch over her left eye, with black canvas straps tugging into her silver-white hair.

Her right eye was a standard round almond-shaped eye with a deep pupil, like a well forgotten in the wilderness, shimmering with light.

Her gaze fell on Simon's chest, carefully scanning every wound on his body.

"I couldn't help you—" she said dejectedly, subconsciously looking away. "I'm so clumsy, the bandage I put on for you was terrible, and the professor had to redo it."

The nun was usually very proper, always standing straight with her back ramrod straight. With her height of about 1.8 meters, she was dignified yet exuded an unapproachable majesty. But now she was nervously fidgeting, fiddling with her hair and adjusting the position of her blindfold.

The nun was surprisingly cute when she was down, a cuteness born from contrast.

"Don't blame yourself, just learn it this time," Simon casually comforted her.

"Does the wound still hurt?"

Once again, the nun's fingers touched Simon's skin.

Instead of touching the newly bandaged wound, she touched the old wound on Simon's right shoulder, the gunshot wound inflicted by Theodore's men during the chase.

She was captivated by the touch, initially stroking it gently with her fingers, but later, seemingly not satisfied, she used her palms, her calloused hands, to caress it. Sometimes it was the rough calluses, sometimes the cool and delicate skin, bringing a strange tactile sensation.

The corners of her mouth unconsciously turned up, forming a dreamy smile, as if a collector were caressing a treasure that she longed for.

But when her gaze met Simon's, she quickly withdrew her hand as if she had been electrocuted, and slightly distanced herself from Simon's body.

"Is it really that nice to touch?" Simon subconsciously looked at the wound on his chest.

"I'm sorry! I won't do it again—"

"I was just curious," Simon said, looking at her reddened ears with a smile in his voice.

The nun turned her head slightly, a fleeting blush of embarrassment crossing her face, before turning her head back.

"The nun who taught us how to fight told us that the scars on a person's body are proof of his past—" Her voice was initially soft, but as she spoke, it grew slightly louder. She looked at Simon, her expression becoming resolute, and a strange light shone in her right eye.

"I want to know you better!"

Simon blinked, his fingers touching the old wound on his right shoulder.

"The scar on my right shoulder is from a battle with other sinners, you know what sinners are."

Unexpectedly, the nun shook her head blankly.

The earliest batch of sinners entered the abyss only two years ago, which means that Sisi's exploration team entered the abyss a long time ago to explore deeper levels.

Sisi was different from the Holy Hammer Sisters that Simon had seen before. In the early days, there was no Holy Hammer Sisters legion. Sisi and the other battle nuns were under the command of the Ironwing Order. Later, the Holy Hammer Sisters were formally established and the nuns were trained to be armored warriors.

In short, nuns like Sissi used to fight by taking the Church's Grace Dew and relying on their physical strength, but later they became armored warriors wearing steam armor.

Inside the simple tent, Simon recounted his experience to the nun:

The story begins in the locked library, then progresses to his being thrown into the abyss by the Inquisition, his struggle to survive there, his battles against terrifying fungal corpses, predators, malevolent sinners, and horrifying hungry angels, and finally his fall into the second level with the flesh bearing the evidence of his sins.

The nun was a good listener and never interrupted him. Although her expression was somewhat complicated when she heard him fighting with the priest, she remained quiet.

She only realized something was wrong after she finished telling the story.

"You entered the abyss two months ago, and in just two months you've gained this kind of power? You're simply a born warrior."

"I was just lucky," Simon said modestly, shaking his head in response to her compliment.

He did not deny his talent in combat, but the blessings of the two gods and the help of his companions were equally indispensable.

The tent fell silent again.

The fluorescent light from the spores shone through the gaps in the tent onto the nun's face, adding a hazy glow to her shy cheeks.

"I want to show you—my past."

She knelt gracefully on the ground, first untying her hair tie, letting her long, snow-white hair fall completely over her shoulders.

It took her several attempts to unbutton her robe, revealing a complete set of sturdy, silver-white light armor. She then began to fumble for the buckles on the armor, but clumsily failed to undo them.

The space inside the tent was somewhat cramped, and physical contact was inevitable. The nun looked at Simon, her beautiful almond-shaped eyes showing both shyness and longing.

Simon wasn't oblivious; he understood the emotion conveyed in those beautiful eyes.

"Let me help."

"Thank you—" she said without hesitation.

Under the faint glow of the spores, Simon helped her unfasten the straps one by one, slowly removing her sturdy light armor.

Simon saw her shoulders, broad but not thick, with delicate collarbones peeking out from her neckline, the lines strong yet possessing a unique feminine grace.

Perhaps because she had been wrapped in armor and robes for a long time, her skin was pale and delicate.

Her forearms were sleek and her muscles were firm yet not bulky, like iron blocks wrapped in a thin layer of silk. A layer of grayish-white cloth was wrapped around her chest, and the outline of her ribs was faintly visible. She had six firm abdominal muscles, and her beautiful V-lines cut diagonally down from both sides of her abdomen, with sculpted marks like knife carvings.

The long battle left countless scars on the nun's body, some grayish-white scabs, others flesh-colored, thin scars that inevitably reminded one of centipedes.

This time it was her turn to slowly recount the origin of each wound. Simon listened attentively, but the atmosphere inside the tent became somewhat strange.

Their bodies touched each other unconsciously once again. Simon looked at her lips. Her lips were bloodless, but they were beautifully shaped, with a thin upper lip and a full lower lip.

The nun stopped speaking, her eyes no longer showing any shame, only boundless tenderness.

Her breathing was unusually heavy as she lay against Simon's chest, and he did not flinch.

After a long while, she kissed him.

>