The armor resembling that of a Black Angel enveloped Lorenzo, yet it was more akin to a swarm of serpents writhing upon him, interwoven into this strange armor. Incandescent flames surged from its crevices, as if beneath the armor was not flesh, but a spirit body forged entirely of fire.
"Sabo, to kill the demon, you must destroy not only the heart but also the brain."
A deep voice resonated beside his ear, the burning sword blade swung effortlessly, and the restrained arm fractured with a crack.
The wound left by the blade was not a clean cut but charred black, as the extreme heat destroyed every cell the instant it struck, reducing flesh to drifting ashes.
Then, light from the heavens pierced through all darkness.
Lorenzo stood amidst flames upon the stakes, everything around him succumbing to the burning heat. Wounds were healing, albeit slowly, yet Lorenzo was spared from death for the time being.
This was the formidable nature of demons; even with the brain destroyed, they acted on instinct. When the heart was destroyed, the body fought driven by will for some time. For someone like Lorenzo, with such pure Secret Blood, forced healing was possible at a hefty price, yet that seemed trivial compared to life itself.
"Is this the glimmer of hope inside the box?"
Seeing the sepulchral light, Sabo’s eyes welled with tears.
"Ultimately, you are different from me. What I gain from the Secret Blood is a twisted form, while you acquire such sanctity..."
Even the ominous Secret Blood rejected Sabo; despite sharing the same blood with Lorenzo, their fates diverged sharply, his bizarre form slowly curled, lowering his head like a disappointed child.
"Mere fake sanctity."
A swarm of serpents climbed up Lorenzo’s neck, sucking his blood, in return for their scales becoming his sturdy armor.
The burning Fire Sword drooped low, Lorenzo’s body arched, signaling the onset of a sword strike.
Dawn was near, ready to illuminate everything. Darkness could find no sanctuary, yet, in a final revelry before death, the hour just before dawn remained the darkest, a profoundly deep night, shadowed by the ultimate retaliation.
The rock ceiling above turned dry as all the droplets evaporated, affected by the blaze from above. Under the purification mechanism, the fire had reached the bottom level, leaving neither demons nor humans with any hope of survival within the deadly heat, faces turned to charcoal, shattered into light ash, and finally, buried beneath the earth.
The entire world seemed unsteady, as the fragile Underground Palace collapsed layer by layer, akin to an elderly person, organs failing one after another. It was dying, soon to be crushed by stone bricks from above, leaving the two with little time and many falling pebbles and dust rippling the water’s surface, only one of them expected to leave alive.
And so, the mottled Thrusting Sword sliced through the layers of dust, crimson eyes envious of Lorenzo, envious of everyone world over, as the sharp sword clashed with the Fire Sword, the dark gray metal heated red under the intense heat, blood evaporated instantly on contact.
"No one can choose their birth, but they can choose their future!"
Sabo screamed, his body already twisted into a monstrous aberration, yet he still believed he could survive, he must survive, for it was his sole wish.
Lorenzo and he fought fiercely with their blades, rendering sword skills irrelevant at this point; they were merely techniques for killing humans, not the blades for slaying demons.
There were no tactics involved, just like primitive monsters, engaging in the purest combat, with the Thrusting Sword crashing against solid serpent scales, sparking bright flames, leaving deep sword marks, the burning blade searing sinful flesh but proliferating flesh quickly replaced the failing parts.
Just like the Ouroboros devouring its own tail—destruction followed by rebirth—until one side fell.
"There’s no chance left, Sabo. Many things were decided, unchangeable, the moment you made your choice."
Everything tonight had stemmed from the Holy Coffin, while the Underground Palace’s mutations were linked to the doctor associated with it. Lorenzo had dealt with many similar situations before, well aware that the doctor left behind Secret Blood, its widespread diffusion caused people to mutate into demons, with Sabo being the only one who retained his sanity.
No, perhaps he did all this for the Secret Blood. His deformed body no longer had the means to endure, only the Secret Blood might bring salvation.
The Fire Sword struck relentlessly, like a blacksmith’s hammer, frenziedly pounding steel and fire.
Lorenzo pushed Sabo back, following closely; the water boiled due to the heat, rising as mist, within it were reflected ominous shadows and light.
Another roar sounded, the collapse drew closer, and this time Lorenzo poured all his strength into his sword swing, and amidst the roar, the heated Thrusting Sword shattered.
It had been Sabo’s companion for many years, finally breaking today. He grasped the broken sword head, proliferating flesh coiled around it, then he thrust towards Lorenzo, the blade piercing through the armor’s slit, cutting into the depths of flesh. Google seaʀᴄh n͟o͟v͟e͟l͟f͟i͟r͟e͟.net
Sabo opened his mouth, sharp teeth clamped tightly onto Lorenzo, with no sword left to wield, but he had sharp teeth, strong arms, ready to sever Lorenzo’s throat, and drown him in the water.