The bald bloodline walked to the end of the corridor, crouched down, examined the hole in the wall beside him, and looked at the guard's corpse on the ground, seemingly sliced in two vertically by a cutting machine, and the corpse next to it with the head crushed after being cut in half at the waist.
Was this really... caused by cold weapons?
The muscle on the black-clad bald man's face twitched slightly, baring his fangs, and he licked the sharp teeth. If it weren't for the terrified words of those surviving aristocrats who escaped, he wouldn't have been so sure of his judgment.
The synthetic monsters in the laboratory might possess such power, but they obviously don't have enough intelligence to wield weapons.
The bald man's gaze moved from the wall hole to the dim ritual hall, staring at the ancient magic rune grooves that had been riddled with bullet holes.
Did these people... really summon something?
Could they have summoned the envoy of the Blood God?
