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California, Samantha University, Language Research and Teaching Building.
"You're saying Gipsy was captured by those guys?!"
She was a slender woman, absolutely unrelated to the word "sturdy." However, in her hands at this moment, she seemed to possess unparalleled strength, effortlessly lifting the nearly 150-jin Jack.
"You mean, you're just going to tell me that guy captured Gipsy right in front of you?!" Annie Charlton, this woman, was constantly yelling angrily at the man she was holding. "You did nothing at all? Aren't you a sorcerer?!"
While saying such harsh words, she violently threw the man onto a nearby sofa. Jack couldn't help but cough. Annie's recent outburst made him, already injured, feel a heart-wrenching pain. However, more than that, it was helpless wailing.
"I, aren't I not even your match? How could I possibly fight against such a guy? Even Gipsy was instantly defeated, let alone me." He stammered these words, his voice filled with sorrow and loss.
Indeed, no matter who it was, after such a blow and then being accused by a comrade, they would certainly not feel good. However, no matter what, she couldn't conceal the fact that Gipsy was directly captured right before her eyes, and she did absolutely nothing. Ultimately, this was undoubtedly a betrayal.
"Forget it, this isn't your fault." It was a faint sigh. A look of fatigue appeared on the woman's face, as if it were an incomparable sorrow. Such an expression, on the face of this perpetually energetic woman, was appearing for the first time.
Because, although her name was Annie Charlton, residents of Los Angeles and even the entire Americas knew her by another name. John, the God Slayer, John Preacher Smith, the Fake God Slayer, enemy of sorcerers, guardian of America.
With such titles, she, considering various factors, chose to hide her identity and appear as a masked figure. Of course, there were also reasons for not wanting to see those politicians with their hateful faces, but mostly it was fear of her family or friends being retaliated against by sorcerers and the ancient gods.
However, even so, this time was definitely not a coincidence.
"I was too impulsive, it was my mistake." The slender woman gently bowed and apologized to the man who was still coughing on the sofa. "No, perhaps it's because I'm too weak. I couldn't even stop my comrade from being captured."
Jack endured his pain and responded, a faint bitter smile forced onto his already pale face.
"That guy who took Professor Gipsy calls himself Balrog Britt. From his accent, he's probably an Italian." He said lightly, as if to conceal his pain. "But there's no one named Balrog Britt among the sorcerers. What's more, those guys from Italy are very exclusive." Annie softly mumbled, her voice filled with deep doubt.
"No, perhaps he's not a sorcerer at all," Jack asserted, a hint of seriousness in his voice. "He claims to be from the Hero King's subordinate, meaning that newly born God Slayer. It seems this capture of Gipsy is to make you go to Island Nation." He said this, his face filled with a serious and hesitant expression.
Yes, even if he disliked Gipsy's personality, he was still his friend. But even so, it didn't mean he wanted to put that God Slayer, John, at risk. After all, the Hero King, Gilgamesh, was someone who had already killed the Four Pillars and two God Slayers.
In a confrontation like this, even John, as a God Slayer, was absolutely no match. After all, John was protecting the entire populace of America. If he died on that Island Nation, those sorcerers would probably become even more lawless.
"Hero King, huh? I understand." Annie mumbled like that, a hint of killing intent flashing in her eyes. "I'll inform John. I expect he can go rescue Gipsy." Such heavy words came from her lips, devoid of that usual vibrant energy.
"Give my regards to Mr. John, and be careful!" Jack said this, beads of cold sweat already dripping from his forehead. "Are you alright?" Annie couldn't help but worry as she watched this scene. "No, I'm fine, you go. Gipsy is definitely in danger now." He suppressed the fresh blood that was about to gush out, feeling the bloody aura in his mouth, and couldn't help but smile faintly.
At this moment, on the Arabian Peninsula, a beautiful young girl was following behind a golden-haired man. This was the Euphrates River, which flowed through Iraq. This river water also once flowed through Uruk's territory.
"Hmph, this king will not indulge in sentimentality upon seeing such a scene." The golden-haired man said this. Even though his words carried unparalleled arrogance, a hint of fatigue was still faintly visible. However, it was only for an instant. On his face, which he lifted again, in his blood-red eyes, what echoed was still unparalleled arrogance. In front of him was an absolutely clear river. It was probably the remnants of the river water that had been pushed aside by the people along the banks.
Seeing such a sight, Gilgamesh couldn't help but laugh softly. "So, Enkidu, are there any other preparations? This boring place, this king doesn't want to stay any longer." He said this, his arrogance masking a faint trace of weariness. Enkidu, didn't he also die on this land? This land no longer deserved for this king to linger.
Gilgamesh gently sighed, a hint of weariness in his expression, looking at the withered yellow earth.
"Truly, what a damn mongrel!" He grumbled like this, waving his hand, full of inner anger, towards the high-seated deities, even that faintly visible suppressing force, an invisible hatred.
However, immediately after, it was as if something embraced him. It was a slightly reddish, slender arm, tightly wrapped around his waist. A pair of plump breasts pressed against his back. Even though he didn't perceive the woman's expression, he could feel the overflowing warmth and affection.
Gilgamesh pushed away the person who embraced him, then with a murderous look, glanced at this God Slayer named Aisa. "That, I just did it instinctively. Don't hit me." This incomparably innocent God Slayer said this, his voice filled with extreme terror, and even in his exquisite pupils, a faint glimmer of fear could be seen.
Gilgamesh raised his arm, and then, lightly stroked the silky black hair.
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