"..."
The female assassin did not respond.
However, she knew who the voice belonged to.
It was the man who had saved her from being defiled.
The man who had helped her with her grave mistake.
Recalling their encounter on the street, she felt a pang of sha; she had been too immature back then.
Tap, tap, tap—
From the shadows of the corridor, the man erged.
It was Moran, who had been observing the battle all along.
Now that the drama had reached its climax, it was about ti for him to make his presence known.
"...You are!?"
Orlando seed to have realized sothing.
He choked, as if sothing was stuck in his throat.
He couldn’t bring himself to say his real na in front of Moran; just looking at him was enough to feel the imnse pressure of the atmosphere.
"Who are you? And what do you an by what you just said?"
Jester stared intently at Moran as he entered the space.
Subconsciously, he found his body entering a state of alert, as if guarding against so kind of natural enemy.
—How is this possible!
—Am I... afraid of him!?
Having beco a Dead Apostle for who knows how long,
Jester had long lost the direct sensation of fear, forgetting what it felt like.
But now, this man made him feel it.
"I’m nobody, just an ordinary citizen who happened to pass by and couldn’t stand to see you pestering her like this. So, I severed the master-servant connection between you and her. This one-sided, obsessive love isn’t a good thing."
Moran wore a pleasant smile.
Facing Jester with a condescending attitude.
From his perspective, just that gaze alone made the pressure even more intense.
The police officers felt that Moran was unfathomable.
Just as humans cannot asure the vastness of the universe,
In their eyes, this guy was another universe in a human-like form.
The word "danger" flashed in their minds.
"Ka, kahahahahahaha! It’s you, the one who separated from my beloved... so it was you, you piece of trash!"
Jester laughed instead of getting angry.
He cracked his neck and opened his arms wide, proclaiming loudly with a fierce laugh and his own indignation:
"I’m going to make it so you can’t die even if you want to! I’ll tear apart your nerves and magic circuits! I’ll burn your throat!"
The flas of resentnt brewing in Jester’s eyes were hot enough to incinerate everything in the world.
He was so enraged that he ignored his body’s warnings.
At this mont, the vampire only wanted to inflict pain on this damned man that surpassed a thousand cuts.
In an instant, he burst forth with speed that the naked eye couldn’t observe.
Jester appeared beside Moran.
His fangs and claws glead with a cold, bloody light.
In the next second, he would tear Moran’s handso skin to shreds, until it was a bloody ss, torn to pieces!
Pfft—!!
Blood splattered across the floor.
Just as everyone imagined.
The terrifying vampire would ravage and tear the man apart...
Wait, sothing’s not right!
The police officers looked closely and realized—
The one covered in blood and gore was not the dignified and handso man, but the vampire with a demonic, ferocious expression!
No one knew what thod Moran had used.
Nor did they know if he had any Servants assisting him.
Boom—!!
What the officers saw with their own eyes was Jester flying out, his entire body imprinted on the wall in a large "X" shape.
If it were an ordinary person facing such an impact,
They would probably be shattered into bone fragnts.
However, Jester, as a Dead Apostle, had tenacious survival abilities.
At this mont, 50% of his bones were shattered into comminuted fractures, and 60% of his internal organs were shattered into bloody foam.
No human could imagine such pain.
Because long before humans could withstand such pain, they would have already entered the embrace of death.
Thump—!!
Jester, who was plastered on the wall, fell to the ground.
The scene was dizzying and disorienting.
It was as if they were seeing sothing broken and scattered all over the place.
Like a bucket had been overturned, the red liquid spread across the marble floor.
The sll of blood was suffocating.
Fragnts of internal organs flowed out from the gaps in his flesh.
"Oh? Not dead?"
Moran’s eyebrows raised slightly.
His expression was like soone who had stepped on a bug and was surprised to find that the bug was still hopping around.
"Kill you... slaughter..."
A low murmur like a demon’s whisper.
Accompanied by the cracking sound of twisted bones being straightened, and the wet sound of flesh wriggling.
The blood on the ground was sucked back into the vampire’s body.
Bone fragnts were also rolled back in.
It was so bizarre that it was like watching a ti-reversal performance on the spot, making the police officers’ hair stand on end.
At this mont, they realized where they were.
This was a demonic realm that transcended human intelligence.
"I see, so you have multiple lives? This reminds of an old acquaintance... Heh, there aren’t many Dead Apostles who can store life like this."
Moran looked at the bloody Jester.
His eyes were like those of a scientist observing a lab rat, full of agile brilliance, but without a trace of pity.
The recovery principle of Dead Apostles is not self-healing.
Rather, it is a chanism similar to reversing ti, allowing their bodies to return to the state they were in before being damaged.
Therefore, even if a Dead Apostle is crushed into powder,
They can still be resurrected.
In addition, the current ti is night, and the functions of Dead Apostles are also at their maximum enhancent.
"Well then, back to the topic, Miss Zealot, I’ve helped you so much~ It wouldn’t be too much to say thank you, would it?"
Moran wore a spring-like smile on his face.
Turning his head to look at the stunned female assassin.
It was as if he hadn’t seen the self-repairing Dead Apostle nearby at all, and still had the leisure to chat with people.
No one could tell that he was the one who had ravaged the vampire.
that they saw would only think Moran was a frivolous rich young master.
The female assassin didn’t notice Moran’s address to her; she had just recovered from the shock that the Dead Apostle was her master.
After a few seconds of silence, the female assassin parted her lips slightly: "...Thank you."
No matter how complicated the situation.
The female assassin could not go against her true feelings.
The gentlemanly man before her had helped her, preventing her from enduring further humiliation from the Dead Apostle.
She absolutely could not ignore this kindness.
If she was saved, she had to give thanks.
This was also a matter of course for the female assassin who had devout faith and principles.
If the great Hassan of past generations were to see that she had actually ford a master-servant relationship with a Dead Apostle, an enemy of humanity, it would be a terrifying thing, far too blasphemous and disloyal.
Fortunately, soone helped her.
Reviews
All reviews (0)