Yandere Monster Evolution: My Blind Wife Will Become a Demonic Queen

I stood by the window, staring down at my glowing blue status interface floating in the dimly lit room.

[QUEST TIMER: 09:56:12 REMAINING]

The numbers flickered in bright neon light before my eyes. Ten hours. That was all the time I had left to complete the main quest, penetrate Sector C-9, and eliminate Black’s spatial anchor and get all the info on him before the system marked the mission as a failure.

If the timer hit zero, the system would label be an an idiot and give me a few intelligence points.

I took a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill my lungs. I closed the floating system window with a simple flick of my wrist.

There was no time to wait until 4:00 AM. Waiting for the morning fog was a luxury we couldn’t afford anymore. We had to strike tonight, under the complete cover of darkness.

I turned around, grabbed my iron dagger from, checked the smooth edge in the moonlight, and snapped it securely back onto my hip belt.

I walked quietly down the dimly lit hallway toward Carmilla’s room.

I knocked twice on her wooden door. "Carmilla. We have a change of plans. We move now."

Within three seconds, the door swung open. Carmilla was already awake and fully dressed in her dark dress. Her black sword was strapped tightly in white cloth, and her red eyes gleamed with sharp focus in the dark corridor.

"What happened?" she asked quietly, her voice low so as not to wake the kids.

"The time window shifted," I said, keeping my words simple and direct. "We have to hit the northern cliff tonight."

Carmilla didn’t hesitate for a single second. "I’m ready. I’ll inform Viora."

We moved down the stairs like silent ghosts.

Instead of taking a noisy taxi, we pulled out the silent electric motorcycle which I had seen before in the garage by chance. I jumped onto the front seat, gripped the handlebars, and kicked up the kickstand. Carmilla swung her leg over behind me, holding onto my waist securely.

HUMMMMMM.

The electric engine purred with a faint, almost silent vibration. I twisted the throttle, and the bike glided smoothly out of the driveway, disappearing into the dark, quiet streets of the lower city.

The ride north took nearly forty minutes.

As we left the paved city highways behind, the flat concrete gave way to rough, bumpy dirt trails winding through dark pine forests. The temperature dropped sharply. Jagged mountain peaks rose like giant black teeth against the dark, cloudy sky.

I pulled the motorcycle into a thick cluster of pine trees two miles south of Sector C-9. We covered the bike with a dark camouflage tarp, throwing dead leaves and branches over it to hide it from low-flying scout drones.

"From here, we go on foot," I whispered, checking my wrist display.

[QUEST TIMER: 09:11:04 REMAINING]

Nine hours and eleven minutes. We were making good time.

Carmilla pulled her dark face mask up over her nose. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting her high-tier blood mana circulate through her veins. Tiny, invisible threads of red pressure hummed around her boots.

"The wind is blowing from the west," Carmilla noted softly, looking up at the towering rock wall half a mile ahead. "It will mask the sound of our movements against the cliff."

"Let’s move," I said.

We darted through the dark forest, moving like silent shadows through the dense trees.

My mana footwork allowed me to step over dead twigs and dry leaves without making a single sound. Beside me, Carmilla glided over the uneven terrain with effortless grace, her red eyes cutting through the darkness like faint burning embers.

Five minutes later, we reached the base of the northern cliff face.

Looking up, the sheer wall of dark limestone rose nearly eight hundred feet straight into the night sky. High above us, near the sharp peak of the cliff, a faint blue glow emitted from a small, square opening in the rock face—the ancient drainage ventilation grate.

"There it is," I pointed up toward the blue light. "The ventilation shaft. The main sensor grid runs along those outer ledges every two hundred feet."

"I will handle the line placement," Carmilla said smoothly.

She reached into her tactical belt and pulled out a compact, compressed-air grappling launcher. She aimed the barrel upward, lining up the sights with a wide stone overhang four hundred feet above us.

PFFT!

A silent steel piton shot skyward, trailing a thin, ultra-high-strength steel cable behind it.

CLACK.

The magnetic anchor attached itself firmly to the dark rock face four hundred feet up. Carmilla gave the line two hard tugs to test the hold, then looked back at me with a confident nod.

"I’ll take the lead," I said, grabbing the steel cable. "Keep five paces behind me."

Scaling eight hundred feet of sheer wet rock in the pitch-black night would be impossible for normal humans, but with our enhanced stats, we moved with maybe not terrifying but good speed.

I kicked off the rock face, pulling myself up the steel cable ten feet at a time. My fingers dug firmly into tiny cracks in the stone, finding solid handholds where normal climbers would see nothing.

Right behind me, Carmilla climbed with fluid, effortless power, using her blood-mana friction control to stick to the wet rock like a spider.

After four minutes of intense climbing, we reached the halfway ledge at four hundred feet.

We pressed our backs flat against the cold stone wall, crouching low under a dark rock overhang. Right above us, a red sweep-beam from an automated security camera swept across the open cliff face, casting a dark crimson light across the fog.

BZZZZZZT... BZZZZZZT...

We sprang from the ledge!

I leaped across the open rock gap, catching a small limestone ridge fifty feet higher up.

Carmilla followed right behind me, her trench coat rustling softly in the high mountain wind. We cleared the camera’s field of view with three seconds to spare before the red beam swept back across the rock wall.

We kept climbing.

Five hundred feet. Six hundred feet. Seven hundred feet.

The wind grew colder and stronger, howling through the narrow mountain passes like a wild beast. Damp mist clung to our clothes, but our focus never wavered for a single second.

Finally, we reached the top ledge right outside the ancient drainage ventilation shaft.

A heavy steel grate, six feet wide and covered in thick brown rust, blocked the entrance to the tunnel. Inside the dark shaft, a faint blue mana hum echoed from the facility’s power sub-station deeper within the mountain.

We crouched on the narrow stone ledge, pressing ourselves flat against the rock. High above us, along the sharp mountain ridge, the heavy automated mana cannons sat still in the dark, their barrel lights glowing faint yellow.

CLICK.

Precisely at 6:00 AM, the yellow lights on the ridge cannons flickered and turned dull orange. The red motion sensor lines along the ventilation grate faded into nothingness as the internal system entered its ten-minute maintenance loop.

"Now," I said.

I pulled out the high-frequency silent wire cutters from my duffel bag. I clamped the heavy steel jaws around the thick iron bars of the ventilation grate.

CRACK-THUD.

I cut a clean three-foot opening through the center of the grate, carefully setting the severed iron bars down on the stone ledge so they wouldn’t make a sound.

Carmilla slipped through the opening first, sliding into the dark ventilation shaft with absolute silence. I squeezed through right behind her, pulling our duffel bag inside after me.

We were in.

The ventilation tunnel was narrow, damp, and smelled strongly of rust and old mana fuel.

We crawled on our hands and knees for nearly fifty yards through the pitch-black pipe until the concrete floor sloped downward into a spacious, brightly lit maintenance chamber.

We crouched behind a heavy steel air duct near the ceiling, looking down into the room below.

This was the lower power sub-station.

The chamber was massive, built inside a natural limestone cavern.

Huge glass cylinders filled with glowing blue mana fluid lined the walls, humming with intense electrical energy. Thick black power cables snaked across the floor, all converging toward a massive central transformer unit in the middle of the room.

Two Black Faction guards in heavy tactical gear were sitting near the central control console, drinking hot coffee from thermal flasks and checking their phones.

"How much longer until the core reaches full charge?" one guard asked, yawning loudly.

"Senior Enforcer Black said another three hours," the second guard replied, leaning back in his chair. "Once the spatial anchor opens, the main guild hall on Eighth Avenue is sending three trucks of mana stone harvesters."

"Three hours," I thought, checking my system timer.

[QUEST TIMER: 07:42:19 REMAINING]

I looked at Carmilla and held up two fingers, then pointed to the two guards below.

Carmilla gave me a subtle nod.

We dropped down from the high air duct together!

THUD-THUD.

We landed softly on the rubber floor matting right behind the two guards.

Before the first guard could even turn his head, Carmilla caught his jaw from behind, driving her elbow sharply into his collarbone.

CRACK!

He instantly dropped like a sack of stones, his coffee cup shattering against the floor.

The second guard gasped, his eyes widening in horror as he reached for the alarm button on the console. I stepped inside his reach, grabbed his outstretched wrist, and twisted it downward, slamming his forehead flat against the metal desk control panel.

BANG!

He collapsed onto his side, completely unconscious.

"Clear," I whispered, stepping over the fallen guard.

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