He knew very well that all the danzo demon hunters were dead; Dean Lawrence was completely certain because it was he who had buried the danzo demon hunters. He understood all of this.
Yet there was no chance to ask more questions. The Black Knight charged like a burning war chariot, brandishing his sword with furious flas and rage. The clash of steel resounded with a heartrending screech, as if countless souls wailed in despair, lanting the fear of death.
"Co on!"
The blade was like a guillotine of judgnt, crashing heavily onto the ground, igniting the nearby lawn in its entirety. But in the next mont, sharp light glead, and the piercing Nail Sword collided with the black armor, erupting with countless sparks.
The aging body seed to rejuvenate, Dean Lawrence's figure moving so quickly it was nearly imperceptible. There were only flashes of crimson shadow, while Lorenzo's sword strikes all missed their target.
Lorenzo whipped around. Since he couldn't match Dean Lawrence's speed, he expanded his attack range. He gripped the Great Sword with one hand, swinging it in a crescent arc. But the blade only cut the corner of that red robe before a fiercer strike hit Lorenzo's chest. Thankfully, the Armor protected him, leaving only scars upon it.
"Who exactly are you? I clearly rember you Forbidden Guards were the first to die."
Amongst the wild slashes, Dean Lawrence's voice carried on the wind.
He was the Dean of the Demon Hunting Order. Dean Lawrence clearly rembered the nas of every demon hunter. But because of the Armor's protection, he couldn't see Lorenzo's face and couldn't determine his identity.
"You don't need to know."
The scorching white flas rose, instantly covering Dean Lawrence's entire vision. In the next mont, the sharp Great Sword swung down, cleaving through the flas with the power to smash rock and iron, seeming to want to cut down Dean Lawrence along with it.
But the expected outco did not occur. Dean Lawrence seed to know where Lorenzo would strike from, barely tilting his body to dodge the blow. The Nail Sword then fiercely cut into the Face Armor.
The old demon hunter possessed unimaginable strength; this strike felt heavy like wielding a blunt instrunt. Lorenzo felt sharp buzzing fill his ears, followed by burning pain across his cheek.
The black Face Armor began to fracture, large chunks falling like scales from the black armor. A grievous sword wound stretched from the brow ridge to the forehead.
Dean Lawrence raised the mottled Nail Sword. Against Lorenzo's Armor, most of his attacks were ineffective, leaving countless cracks amidst the steel skirmish. But now, there was finally a trace of blood, coming from Lorenzo.
"You have no chance of winning, child. As long as you're a demon hunter, you'll undoubtedly have been taught by . I am familiar with each branch of demon hunter combat, whether it be Michael or danzo, they all have fatal weaknesses."
He wrapped his red robe and wiped the blood from the blade, smiling as he looked at Lorenzo, softly speaking.
"You've reached the critical point, haven't you?"
...
Pressure, Lorenzo felt nothing but endless pressure.
Perhaps the six years in Old Dunling had dulled this weapon of his, or it was the formidable power of the Order's dean, that ant Lorenzo had no advantage in his fight against Dean Lawrence, and was even vaguely suppressed.
But that's understandable, after all the opponent was the dean of the Demon Hunting Order, a seasoned monster who had lived for who knows how long.
Unlike the Demon Hunting Order, those ruling the Evangelical Church were true humans. They had neither Secret Blood nor other strange powers; they would fall ill, age, and die. Yet among them, Dean Lawrence was an anomaly, with Secret Blood coursing through him. The power sourced from demons allowing him to live for a very long ti, so long that most Cardinals didn't seem to know his origins.
He was a living history, even said his life possibly spanned much of the Church's history. All demon hunter skills were taught by him, and depending on different branches, all derived authorities were organized by him.
In combat, Lorenzo was transparent glass to Dean Lawrence, and Lorenzo wasn't even clear on what Dean Lawrence's authority was. Moreover, judging from the degree of perception erosion, Dean Lawrence hadn't significantly activated the Secret Blood.
"Demon Hunter, you don't look well. Why not try raising Secret Blood higher?"
Dean Lawrence strode forward, unsure whether it was provocation or mockery, and then released pure incandescent light from his elderly eyes, dragging the Nail Sword to carve a lightning path.
Lorenzo did not answer him, remaining where he was, watching Dean Lawrence approach. The Armor seemingly grew with its own life, then repaired the broken Face Armor while the Nail Sword drew near.
Yet suddenly breathing started to cease, even the burning flas slowly solidified, like dust releasing intense light.
Watson stood beside Dean Lawrence, the woman's face reflected upon the sharp Nail Sword, her expression full of loathing.
"Lorenzo, you're not his match. Among demon hunters, probably only the predecessor wandering in the [Gap] could fight him; you have no chance right now."
"So that's all you have to say?"
Lorenzo replied coldly, looking at the sword that kept pressing nearer. The whole world seed stagnant, but he knew his thoughts had quickened, quick enough to chat with Watson at such a deadly mont.
"No, just reminding you to escape quickly. You're aware you can't surpass the critical point, especially since you never truly integrated the Holy Grail… or ."
Watson smiled as she walked over, caressing the cold Armor.
"The true compatibility is with the lone ghost in the [Gap], you're just a temporary vessel."
Like a heart-bewitching Devil, she softly spoke.
"You should know what happens when surpassing the critical point in such circumstances."
Lorenzo remained silent, not answering, while the deadly blade continued approaching within his sight, seemingly only a few dozen centiters away.
"In the end, don't you just crave breaking free from constraints?"
Lorenzo recalled the guy sitting on the icy bench, the predecessor who died before him.
Once surpassing the critical point, Lorenzo would start demonization, and post-demonization, he could bring real erosion, affecting everyone nearby. This ntal influence would create an escape path from Watson's prison.
The despised Devil would be truly freed, eroding Lorenzo and then spreading like a virus using Lorenzo as the link.
"I don't need it, at least not for now."
"Really? You might die here."
"But if I die, don't you also die eternally?"
Lorenzo gazed at Watson, enjoying her gradually stiffening expression.
"So, Watson, as you said, we share a symbiotic relationship, our fortunes intertwined. I'm your vessel, you live because of . If you don't want us both to perish, hurry and say sothing useful!"
Lorenzo never revealed Watson's existence to anyone, so Watson had no dium to escape. She was trapped on the island called Lorenzo, and when tides subrged this island, she would be forever forgotten in the world.
Forgetfulness is true death.
Watson stared at him intently, after a long ti, seeming to compromise, she said:
"You've extorted a Devil, I'll make up for it from you sooner or later."
In the next mont, Watson's hand touching the Armor rged with it, an indescribable coldness enveloping even the blazing Purifying Fla losing its temperature, as if plumting into infinite abyssal frigid depths. With Watson's steps, she gradually entered the Armor, as if replacing Lorenzo, becoming the knight within the Armor.
The accelerated thoughts began to slow, finally returning to normal. It was at this mont that the lightning, nearly imperceptible, thundered down, yet this ti it didn't strike Lorenzo.
The Black Knight hauntingly appeared behind Dean Lawrence, raising the Great Sword high, and then swung it down as if for beheading.
User Comments
0 comments from readers