The entire world was like a chaotic nightmare, as if the ocean had been poured into the sky, accompanied by the baptism of thunder and lightning over everyone on the earth.
Within the Armor of Original Sin, Lancelot slightly raised his head. The thunder silhouetted the Plague Doctor in pitch-black, yet the blood from the Holy Grail in his hand released an alluring crimson, like flowing rubies.
"Have you made up your mind? Child."
The Plague Doctor asked again, seemingly not in a hurry, exhibiting a composed demeanor.
At this moment, Lancelot appeared extremely tempting to him. He was impatient to study the secrets on him; if possible, he would even soak the deceased Lancelot in formalin as one of his prized specimens.
Lancelot remained silent. For a moment, his angry thoughts were frozen before the "miracle" offered by the Plague Doctor.
