After delivering a headshot to Utravsky, Lorne didn't let his guard down. He expressionlessly fired two more shots into the massive body, then with a flick of his wrist, a dagger flew from his hand like a throwing knife, accurately piercing the opponent's neck.
"Ah—"
With a leaking-like whimper, Utravsky's massive body went completely still. Simultaneously, with his death, the surrounding world began to crumble inch by inch.
[Remember this site's domain name, Taiwan Novel Network, your intimate reading companion.]
As the illusory sensation faded, Lorne found himself still standing in the center of the church hall, with that strange candle burning with a pale flame before him.
The ground that had just been shattered by the Dawn Paladin's greatsword was intact, the dense bullet holes on the surrounding walls had vanished without a trace, and the shell casings all over the floor seemed as if they had never appeared.
Everything had returned to its state before the battle began, with no visible signs of damage.
"No Premonition of Disaster, and the surrounding spirituality has returned to normal—" Lorne's tense nerves finally relaxed, and he let out a long sigh of relief. "It seems it's over."
He looked at the large backpack he had thrown on the ground nearby, walked over, and picked it up.
"Not bad, the plan went smoothly."
The reason he carried this backpack was to create a feint, making Utravsky believe from the start that his strongest firepower was just two submachine guns.
Although using portable storage space could also achieve a surprise effect, going into a duel empty-handed would surely arouse the suspicion of that battle-hardened Knight, making him wary. And if he held a Rune Sword or a pistol, the visual effect wouldn't be shocking enough; it would look like he was still hiding a trump card.
Moreover, for him to go head-to-head with a Giant over two meters tall while holding a small sword—the scene was ridiculous just thinking about it.
"I thought I'd have to use my accumulated luck, but fortunately—"
If an accident had occurred during the battle just now, Lorne still had his accumulated luck as a final trump card.
That should have caused Utravsky's attack to suffer a fatal error, thereby creating a corresponding opportunity for himself.
He looked up and glanced around, finding that Bishop Utravsky, who had originally stood opposite him, had at some point sat down on a nearby chair. He was leaning forward with his broad back, head buried deep, using his large, fan-like hands to tightly cover his temples.
Drip! Drip!
Bean-sized drops of sweat slid from his face, soaking into the ground by his feet; a large patch of the surrounding floor was already wet. It seemed he hadn't yet recovered from that intense 'psychological treatment.'
Hmm?
However, what surprised Lorne even more was that the Vampire priest, who had been shrinking in the side room only daring to peek out with half a head to watch the battle, was now sneakily slipping into the hall. He was tiptoeing with the look of someone with a guilty conscience.
In his dark red eyes, a greedy light flickered as he stared fixedly at that strange candle still burning, cautiously reaching out his hand toward it.
*Click.*
The crisp sound of a gun being cocked rang out abruptly behind him.
"You Vampire, your motives really aren't pure!"
"It's Sanguine! You can't—" Emlyn just wanted to retort, but the cold, hard sensation against the back of his head made him swallow the rest of his words.
"You—you succeeded—" After a pause, Emlyn's voice carried an imperceptible tremble.
"What do you think?" Lorne sneered.
"Tell me, what do you want to do? Are you trying to take advantage of Bishop Utravsky's poor state to kill him and steal the treasure?"
"No! No! How could that be!" Emlyn shouted excitedly. "Noble Sanguine would never do such a despicable thing!"
"Then what are you trying to do?"
"I'm doing it to—to treat myself!" Emlyn said.
"Treatment? You have a psychological illness too?"
"Psychological illness—" The moment he heard this term, Emlyn grit his teeth and suddenly pointed at Bishop Utravsky, who was still burying his head and panting nearby. "It's all his fault!"
"It's him! He used that candle to control me!"
"Control?" Lorne was somewhat surprised. "Aren't you a believer of Mother Earth?"
"I—I'm not voluntary—" Emlyn's tone lacked confidence, but he still stiffened his neck and said, "I haven't abandoned the Moon!"
"Moon? Which Moon? It couldn't be the Primordial Moon, right?" Lorne asked uncertainly.
"No! Don't equate my faith with that evil god!" Emlyn retorted excitedly. "I believe in our Ancestor!"
"Interesting—your look of Pride really doesn't seem like someone who would lie about faith." Hearing this, Lorne lowered the gun from the back of his head.
Emlyn immediately let out a huge sigh of relief.
"Phew—"
"Alright, now tell me, what exactly happened?"
Following Lorne's question, Emlyn seemed to have found an outlet and spilled everything that had happened to him.
He originally just wanted to go to the hospital for some 'midnight snack,' but unfortunately got lost and wandered into this church. Then he was 'invited' in by Bishop Utravsky and imprisoned here, forced to convert to Mother Earth. He was confined in the church, only able to drink that old geezer's blood every day, and it even caused him to miss an important repayment date.
"And then? You gave in?" Lorne asked curiously.
"No!" Emlyn immediately retorted. "I feigned conversion, thinking that once I was free, I would take the chance to slip away and never come back!"
"Who would have thought—who would have thought—"
"This guy actually gave me a Psychological Suggestion! Even if I regain my freedom, I'll unconsciously want to believe in Mother Earth—I—I—" As he spoke, he clutched his head and squatted down, somewhat broken.
Psychological Suggestion? So that candle also has this ability?
"How do you know those aren't your real thoughts?" Lorne said. "Maybe you really do believe in Mother Earth?"
"No! Impossible! I would never—" Emlyn looked up, stubbornly refuting.
"Really?" Lorne's tone was full of playfulness.
"I—" Emlyn's tone instantly weakened. "Fine, at first I didn't think of it as a psychological problem—it was only later that I learned about the commission he posted seeking help, and the ability of that candle—"
"You can understand, right?" He looked up, his gaze carrying a plea. "I just want to solve that damn Psychological Suggestion and gain true freedom!"
"So—" Emlyn glanced at the candle nearby, pleading again.
"No, this is just your side of the story." Lorne shook his head, flatly denying him.
To be honest, although they had only met today, Lorne believed that given Bishop Utravsky's character, he wouldn't do something like forcibly brainwashing someone—there must be another side to the story.
Moreover, this Vampire didn't look very honest; maybe he was caught by the priest because he had done something that crossed the line.
"You—" Emlyn clenched his palms, about to flare up.
"I advise you not to have any bad ideas," Lorne said calmly. "Since I could complete the priest's commission, you should be very clear about my strength."
"—What do I have to do for you to help me?" Emlyn grit his teeth and squeezed these words out.
"What benefits can you give me?" Lorne smiled and asked back teasingly.
"—Friendship." Emlyn was silent for a long time before blurting out, "You can gain the friendship of the Sanguine."
"Friendship?" Lorne curled his lips. "Is it your friendship, or the Sanguine's friendship?"
"—" This question stumped Emlyn directly.
"This—there's no difference between the two," he said stubbornly.
"Is that so?" Lorne shrugged, his face full of disbelief.
"How about this!" Emlyn grit his teeth. "Don't you have employees who need medical treatment? I can treat them for free! Believe me, having a noble Sanguine provide free treatment is a good thing you might not encounter in a lifetime!"
"Interesting—"
"Right? Right? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
Just when Emlyn thought Lorne was about to agree, he heard...
"But! I refuse."
"I believe that compared to a Bishop with formal missionary qualifications, the words of a Vampire are truly untrustworthy."
"I've said it many times! It's Sanguine! Not Vampire!" Emlyn corrected him almost reflexively.
"Fine, fine, Sanguine, noble Sanguine." Lorne nodded perfunctorily. "However, regarding this matter, it's no longer up to me to decide."
"What do you mean?" Emlyn didn't react for a moment.
"Wait, could it be—" He suddenly turned his head.
He saw that Bishop Utravsky had at some point arrived behind him. The priest's face was still somewhat pale and the sweat hadn't completely dried, but his eyes had regained their peace and clarity. He held that still-burning pale candle in his hand, calmly watching the two who were 'bargaining.'
Although his gaze was still peaceful, Emlyn felt a bone-chilling coldness.
At this moment, he remembered the fear of once being dominated by the other party.
On the other side, Lorne watched this scene and silently complained in his heart.
An abused Sanguine boy paired with a Warrior priest—this combination is truly wonderful.
>