Investigation on the Word 'Blood' (8)

His movements were not fast. Compared to those covenant people, it was as if he was playing slowly.

However, his movements were so silent that, without noticing, he completely disappeared into the night.

As Sherlock concealed himself, the old man, who had just relaxed, trembled. He seemed to have discovered something as he stared at the thick smoke in disbelief.

A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky at an untimely time.

The old priest's aged body suddenly let out a wild roar!

"Run!!!!!"

Without warning.

Who should he allow to run? Where should he run to? How? Why should he run?

He was not even sure if he really wanted to say the word 'run'. Perhaps in that instant, he could only reflexively condense all his words and shock into a random pronunciation.

However, he was still too slow.

In the thick smoke, a withered figure suddenly appeared. He was drenched in blood, like a withered branch swaying helplessly in the rain.

However, the figure's speed was so fast that it exceeded everyone's imagination. They only caught sight of his small body and saw that he was holding a black spike that was more than a meter long. He made a gesture of throwing it into the sky.

The helpless thing was that all of this was just an image formed by the light entering the pupils, but no one's brain could react.

"Bang!"

An unimaginable force erupted from his slender bloody arm until there was an explosion in the air. It was the sound made by the strange force whipping the air. The spike in his hand was like a dark light that instantly pierced through the entire long street. Before anyone could react in shock, it had already pierced through the huge vine plant above the bell tower.

There was another explosion. The spore sac in the center of the plant instantly exploded, and sticky black-green liquid inside was like a disgusting firework!

If a covenant creature was injured, the covenant person would suffer a huge backlash. Therefore, Catherine knelt on the ground at almost the same time and spat out a large amount of blood.

This was not the end. As the explosion spread, the alien body had already rushed out of the thick smoke and jumped towards the defenseless old priest.

At this moment, the roar of lightning finally arrived. Heavy rain fell from the sky, and some people who did not react quickly finally saw the full appearance of the figure!

It should be Sir Baldell, because he still had the tattered blood-red deacon's robe draped over his body, but his appearance had completely changed.

It could even be said that only the most basic bones and skin were left. The originally robust muscles had completely disappeared at this moment. Only the outline of the body could be vaguely seen under the wide sagging robe. Matching the withered bones was the head with drooping scalp and the terrifying bright red eyeballs.

When the old priest saw the other party in such a state, his eyes almost popped out of their sockets because he thought of an unbelievable possibility. The reason why the other party could still erupt with such terrifying lethality in such a near-death situation was because… he was sacrificing everything he had?

Everything mentioned here naturally included his muscles, internal organs, mental strength, and even the lives of his covenant creatures. It was also because of this kind of sacrifice that made all the muscles in his body instantly turn into crazy nutrients, causing him to waste away to the extreme, and become extremely terrifying.

This method of sacrificing one's body and soul came from a potion jointly developed by the Vatican and the Academy of Life Sciences.

It was extremely precious. Legend had it that only the most devout clergy could obtain it.

However, wasn't this potion still in the development stage?

Why did Baldell have a bottle?

Did he steal it? Or did he secretly get it through some connections? Or was he even willing to use himself as an experimental subject?

The old priest could not guess at all. In short, this sudden change was completely beyond his expectations.

It was precisely because of this that the old priest could only widen his eyes reflexively as he watched the bizarre and twisted thin body approach him in an instant.

That body was really too miserable and too thin. The desperate lethal killing power gained from burning all the nutrients left him with no extra strength to protect himself. However, as long as he touched such a body, the priest would definitely be instantly shattered! Then, the remaining crazy power would drive this withered body to do everything it could to slaughter and destroy all lives around it until it itself was shattered into pieces.

Everything happened too quickly. In fact, the heavy rain had just passed through the gap between the sky and the ground and smashed onto the long street, turning the blood on the ground into puddles of smelly mud.

No one expected such an outcome, so naturally, no one was prepared.

Catherine did not, nor did the old priest, nor did all the surrounding Vatican guards.

… Wait!

It seemed that one person had.

…

There was a soft sound in the rain.

It was the sound of a bullet being fired. Underneath the continuous and violent explosion just now, the gunshot was so crisp and pleasant.

The inconspicuous bullet passed through the entire street, weaving through the stench of blood which was everywhere, the wreckage of a few steam armors, and the minced flesh, and even shattered a few drops of rain in passing. Finally, it smashed onto the chest of the emaciated body that came suddenly!

Deacon Baldell did not make much noise. He did not even scream.

Because after he had swallowed the potion, his rationality was also part of the sacrifice, so he almost had no ability to sense pain at this moment.

However, without solid muscles to cushion and protect him, the impact of the bullet collided directly with his terrifying speed. The momentary recoil made the withered figure stagger. The slight deflection under the high-speed movement was like a speeding train that had suddenly derailed; he flipped over with a bang and rolled crazily in the sticky blood all over the ground.

On the other side of the curtain of rain, Sherlock stood with a gun in his hand. His originally messy hair had been washed, and it flowed down his face. The cold night wind had frozen his face pale.