In its field of vision, Lorenzo's firing had already been anticipated long ago, but for the current demon hunter, such gunfire hardly posed any fatal threat. It wasn't that it failed to defend itself in time; it simply didn't care about Lorenzo's attack.
The blade light approached once more, and under the heavy strike, the charred floor beneath them shattered, sending the two of them directly plunging into the sea of flames below. Lorenzo rolled to his feet, but before he could continue swinging his sword, a scorching pain came from the wound.
Twisted flesh slowly broke through Lorenzo's armor, like flowers sprouting from rock. Crimson lotuses bloomed upon the armor, under its dazzling appearance, the flesh penetrated deep into Lorenzo's body like roots, gradually assimilating him.
Lorenzo coughed up blood, the tendril-like flesh gradually constricting him.
It was that sword, the nail sword encrusted with flesh, derived from the flesh of the Yanar demon hunters.
