How could Shermans forget those eyes, eyes swirling with a blazing white storm, like eternal daylight.
"Demon Hunter..."
For an instant, it felt as if he was back in that seemingly endless night, burning rage and uncontrollable despair. Shermans imdiately pulled the trigger, thick gun smoke rose with a brief flash of fire, and a lead bullet shot out from the gun barrel.
The acrid smoke made Shermans sowhat uncomfortable, also obscuring his vision.
He wasn't a warrior. In the end, he was just an ordinary person with fervent faith, and he was old, without any guards by his side, and all he had was an outdated flintlock gun. What's more, Shermans had already fired, and reloading this damned weapon was extrely troubleso. Facing the Demon Hunter at such close range, he really didn't have the chance to fire a second shot.
Shermans suddenly felt so annoyance and regret. Yage had also warned him to switch to a more advanced pistol, although he was his guard and would ensure his safety, unexpected situations might arise.
But Shermans refused all that, he couldn't explain what kind of feeling it was, Shermans just didn't want to give up this weapon, although it had various shortcomings, sotis he just felt this thing was like himself, an outdated relic, incompatible with this new era.
In the next mont, the sharp Nail Sword pierced through the rising smoke, the Demon Hunter wielding his sword and approaching gracefully, and Shermans, with his old blurry vision, realized that his shot had missed him.
Looking at the heroic Demon Hunter, for a mont Shermans thought he was back in Saint Nalos Cathedral, reciting those sacred prayers under the protection of the Demon Hunters.
The intense pain pulled Shermans' thoughts back, the Nail Sword had grazed his arm, causing him to involuntarily release the flintlock gun from his hand. It seed he didn't intend to kill him, otherwise this sword would directly pierce through his chest.
"Demon Hunter... how are you here?"
Shermans took a deep breath, as the honorable Cardinal, a believer protected by everyone, he hadn't felt what was called pain in a long ti, such intense pain, yet it made him feel alive, truly alive.
The Demon Hunter clearly didn't intend to answer Shermans' question. He didn't continue attacking, simply looked at him coldly.
"Is it the Purification chanism..."
Shermans whispered, there was only one possibility for the Demon Hunter to appear here. The Purification chanism had abandoned their cooperation with the Exile and allied with the Evangelical Church, and undoubtedly, he was the best bargaining chip to use for exchange.
"No... I won't accept it."
Shermans said, reaching for the steel pen on the table.
Everyone is bound by their own will, adhering to the iron rules they set for themselves, and willing to sacrifice their lives for it.
Shermans was no exception, he could endure exile and Miguel's insane plans, but he could never tolerate the man beneath the crown, he would never allow Sainy Loter to beco Pope, nor would he fall into his hands.
His resolve was firm, but his body was old and frail. Before Shermans could stab the steel pen into his throat, the Demon Hunter stopped him with a punch, pain torturing him, causing him to writhe helplessly on the ground.
He clutched his notebook, convulsing in the candlelight, the once exalted Cardinal now so destitute, with fits of laughter echoing, it seed as if the Demon Hunter was mocking him.
Inevitable sorrow and despair as the Demon Hunter lifted Shermans, preparing to take him away, but at that mont, another pair of blazing white eyes lit up in the darkness, Shermans saw it, and then his vision was flooded with brilliant swordlight.
More than one Demon Hunter was hidden in the darkness, he struck with thunderous force, swift and lethal.
The slender steel pierced through the Demon Hunter's heart, before the blade reached, the Demon Hunter felt that raging murderous intent, the assailant didn't hide his intentions at all, he was extrely confident, believing this strike would perfectly kill him.
The Demon Hunter was nonchalant, he was a Demon Hunter, with powerful Secret Blood coursing through his body, he was already a supernatural being, how could re mortal strength shake him?
After the new Order was established, many Demon Hunters carried such sentints, having extraordinary powers, arrogant, believing they were no longer human, but ought to be a higher existence.
But contrary to the Demon Hunter's expectations, the opponent's speed far exceeded his estimates, the Demon Hunter initially attempted to turn and deflect the blade's aim, but such a trick couldn't escape the assailant's gaze, he pierced precisely, the blade bursting forth with crimson from the Demon Hunter's chest.
The Demon Hunter released Shermans, he tried to fight back, but another imnse force ca from behind his chest, followed by the muffled sound of a gunshot, shattered bullets carrying toxic rcury crashed into the flesh, erupting a blood mist in front of the Demon Hunter's chest.
"No Silver Binding Bolt?"
A puzzled voice chid in, Lorenzo gave the Demon Hunter no chance to retaliate. The Staff Sword remained in his body, Lorenzo forcefully flicked his wrist, following a chilly flash, the Folding Blade extended, its Holy Silver-coated head fiercely cutting down.
Slashing through flesh, slicing into the bone, perhaps due to the Secret Blood's blessing, Lorenzo couldn't directly sever the arm, but at this mont he clearly felt, his Folding Blade was unobstructed, not touching any tal.
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