socalfunplaces Page 601
Page 601
"how--"
Like a collapsing sandcastle, the fragments of consciousness, before plunging into eternal nothingness, captured a surprising fact in their remaining senses—neither pain nor fear.
Surprised by...
That feeling of not being able to stop the wound!
That long-lost feeling of helplessness against fatal wounds, belonging to the human era!
No, perhaps it should be called a distorted kind of nostalgia?
This cold yet real sense of "passing away," accompanied by a touch of unpleasantness, is so similar to the experience he had hundreds of years ago when he was about to leave behind his human identity and enter the ranks of the immortals!
The severed waist and abdomen section showed no gushing blood or surging magic—everything there, including the very foundation of his "immortal" existence, had been utterly annihilated by an absolute, incomprehensible concept of "death"! The section was as smooth as a mirror, as if nothing had ever been connected there!
He stared blankly, as if gazing up at divine punishment, his unfocused gaze fixed on the sky above him—
The ceiling, which should have been indestructible and isolated everything, was now like a fragile eggshell, with a huge, irregular hole suddenly appearing out of nowhere!
Beyond the hole, the dazzling red moon, radiating an ominous curse, silently surveyed this absurd end below, like a cold, judgmental eye.
Beneath the breach lies the heart of this secret place, filled with the scent of plundered treasures and death.
There are only two things:
A small knife that had fallen to the ground, unremarkable and even somewhat rough.
as well as--
A figure stands silently, his face covered with old bandages, radiating a stillness that negates existence itself.
When the young girl—Loreleia Barthemello, the head of Barthemello—stepped into the silent, dead-sounding chamber of the spire.
Everything has already come to an end.
What met her icy blue eyes were only the three corpses of her relatives, who were "sleeping" in an eerie and peaceful manner—Rubarez and his children.
as well as……
That black vampire, Ahavens, who stood silently, seemingly blending into the shadows themselves.
The air was thick with dust, the embers of a curse, and... a suffocating, absolute silence called "The End."
This should have been her hunting ground, her purification ritual!
However, at this moment, she was more like a latecomer to the ceremony, an outsider excluded from the final outcome!
An unprecedented sense of humiliation, burning his soul like molten lava, instantly shattered the absolute composure that Bartheson's bloodline was so proud of!
"Crunch...squeak—"
A faint yet piercing sound, like solid ice being crushed by a tremendous force, burst forth from between her tightly clenched teeth!
This was absolutely beyond her control!
This is the most primal and instinctive angry roar of the body when power is suppressed, prey is robbed, and dignity is trampled!
This loss of composure... this fragile state that should never, and absolutely must not, exist in Barthemello, sent a chill down her spine!
"Is the target... the 'hammer' possessed by Rubare?"
Ahaves's cursed whisper, like a cold soliloquy, broke the deathly silence. He seemed merely to be confirming the whereabouts of an object, completely ignoring the enraged "Queen" before him.
"——Click!"
In order to forcefully suppress the unpleasant, out-of-control squeaking, Loreleia almost self-destructively bit down hard on the joint of her right index finger!
The leather gloves were instantly pierced by the fangs, and warm, rusty blood immediately seeped into the fabric, staining the fingertips red!
Severe pain!
But the pain from this self-harm acted like the most effective sobering agent, instantly suppressing the boiling humiliation!
"roll."
A single syllable, like an icicle squeezed out of an extremely cold abyss.
Her voice regained its absolute coldness, but the destructive will it contained was more intense than magma.
"This time... I'll pretend I didn't see you. Get out of my sight, vampire."
This is not forgiveness, but the highest level of expulsion order, the final limit of tolerance given to a hindrance.
however--
She didn't need to say anything more.
The dark figure—Ahwins—had already, just moments before she issued the expulsion order, silently leaped toward the huge hole in the ceiling torn open by death, like a cold machine that had completed its mission!
A pair of twisted and ugly black membranous wings, neither bird nor insect, suddenly unfolded, stirring up the lingering aura of the curse, instantly engulfing his figure and disappearing into the shattered night sky illuminated by the red moon.
silence.
Absolute silence, belonging only to her, once again enveloped this space that had been utterly "slaughtered".
Inside the right glove, the self-inflicted wound was still oozing warm liquid, gradually staining the lining red.
This deep-seated shame was so heavy that it almost crushed and made the proud young girl faint!
yes……
How ridiculous!
She thought she would be the first hunter to reach the end, but she couldn't even reach second place!
This meticulously planned "pilgrimage," which should have showcased Barthez's unparalleled glory, ultimately failed to become either a thrilling hunt or a memorable battle.
The role she played was merely that of a clown who arrived late and could only witness the final act being completed!
In those cold blue eyes, the fire of humiliation that had been forcibly suppressed had now transformed into something purer and more dangerous—the vow of an eternal hunt!
She slowly raised her blood-stained right hand, as if declaring to the void:
"I will definitely find you."
The voice was not loud, yet it was as if it had left an indelible mark on the book of destiny.
"When that time comes..."
The corners of her lips curved into a beautiful yet deadly arc, enough to freeze the flames of hell.
"To that lord who has achieved 'complete victory' without even revealing his true face... I, Loreleia Basemelo, offer my most 'heartfelt' praise."
"as well as--"
The wound beneath the glove stung with pain, like the clearest brand.
"I bestow upon you... something absolutely 'fitting' for this blood, this pain, this supreme humiliation—"
"Eternal 'rewards'!"
The young girl—Loreleia Barthero, the head of Barthero—uttered a chilling, vengeful aria that transcended time and space towards the "Silent Death," whom she had yet to meet but who had already trampled her dignity into the dust!
The cold silence was broken by the faint sound of boots stepping over pebbles.
The adjutant of the CLONE squad, who had previously been ordered to seal off the castle's perimeter and await orders like an iron torrent, now appeared silently behind Loreleia Basemelo.
He maintained the most standard military posture, his head slightly lowered:
"Barthemello is in charge. The target area has been confirmed and cleared. Please provide instructions on the next course of action."
Lorelei did not respond immediately.
The right hand, which had been tightly biting its index finger, now hung limply at its side. Beneath the blood-stained leather glove, the knuckles were slightly white from the immense force of the suppressed tension.
The aura of death permeating the spire, the lingering curses, and the deep-seated sense of shame, like viscous venom, eroded her proud absolute rationality.
Time stretched out endlessly in the suffocating silence.
The adjutant stood motionless, like the most loyal statue, patiently awaiting the arrival of the will from the eye of the storm.
finally--
That voice, clear and cold like an icy spring, yet containing a suppressed power powerful enough to shake the very space, slowly rose:
"........."
The brief pause was like the final stillness before a storm.
"pause."
A single word, like a cold, slamming gate shut.
"Effective immediately, all proactive hunting operations against vampire scum are suspended." Her voice was firm and unwavering.
This command itself was the most difficult way to suppress the "habit" that roared deep in her blood!
Immediately afterwards, the instructions unfolded like a cold chain:
"Contact Meastia."
When she uttered that name, it was as if she were confirming a crucial strategic weapon.
"Transmit my highest priority order—accelerate the 'Albion Transformation Project' at all costs! I want to see results, the sooner the better!"
"Albion"—the slumbering remains of an ancient dragon, the ultimate weapon soon to be forged into a "conceptual weapon"—has its importance elevated to an unprecedented level at this moment!
"Yes, sir." The adjutant's voice was completely flat, like the most sophisticated recording equipment. "So, what are our (CLONE Group's) follow-up plans?"
Loreleia slowly turned around, her gaze piercing through her adjutant:
"Your mission has been changed."
"Mobilize all resources to infiltrate, track, and analyze—"
"All known or suspected Dead Apostles involved in the 'Dark Six Kingdoms' conspiracy!"
"I need to know their lair! Their strength! Every detail of their plans!"
"Find out completely—"
"What exactly is the end-times picture they are trying to weave in this shadow?"
Chapter 634 Battle (4k)
boom--! ! ! !