Dean Lawrence gasped in pain, his eyes opened, not yet adapted to the enormous pain in his mind, the torture on his flesh nearly tore him apart again.
His scarlet eyes drooped, barely able to distinguish the person in front of him.
The Plague Doctor didn't say much, playing with a silvery scalpel in his hand, the sharp bone blades stood on either side of Lawrence's elbows. Lawrence tried to move, then a heart-wrenching pain shot through his joints. With effort, he moved his gaze over, only to see the sharp bone spike piercing through his joint, completely locking any movable space.
"Hmm? Looks like you escaped."
The Plague Doctor glanced at Dean Lawrence, the earlier fear resembling the gaze of a predator had vanished, as if this battle within the [Gap] had concluded.
However, he did not hurry to release Dean Lawrence from his bindings; instead, he picked up a syringe of potion and injected it directly.
"This should make you feel a bit better."
As the potion spread, the intense pain blurred, with his mind in a trance, Dean Lawrence asked.
"Currently, this seems to be the only thing that can relieve pain."
Seeing Dean Lawrence gradually calming down, the Plague Doctor couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.
"So what was that just now?"
The terrifying, sinister power, as per Dean Lawrence's previous words, the Plague Doctor knew it could use the [Gap] as a springboard to control others' bodies and even minds. Yet now Dean Lawrence had been counteracted, who was the one to achieve such a feat against the very person who had orchestrated the fearsome Night of the Holy Arrival?
"I don't know, but I have a rough guess."
Recalling the familiar feeling of that woman, the name that Dean Lawrence had nearly forgotten gradually surfaced, but the problem was she should already be dead, long dead in the past of history.
"Looks like the plan needs some changes."
He whispered, then struggled to stand up, little by little extracting the penetrating bone spike, blood surged like a flood, mixing with the melting red wax.
Dean Lawrence staggered, almost falling, then slowly half-kneeling on the ground, letting out a pained roar, like an old lion at the twilight of its years.
The Plague Doctor coldly watched from the side, not in a hurry to help him, knowing that this degree wouldn't kill him.
The superhuman self-healing ability manifested in this body, wounds began to heal rapidly, accompanied by the eerie wriggling of flesh, a baby's cries sounded, yet it also seemed to be sharp laughter, making one's skin crawl.
After self-healing, rapid aging followed, as if time had accelerated, the already decrepit body withered swiftly into a corpse-like dark cyan, as though something was extracting Dean Lawrence's life force, expediting his aging.
"You're losing control of it."
In the long silence, the Plague Doctor coolly stated.
It took a long time before Dean Lawrence slowly stood up again, the excessive pain had numbed his nerves, his expression somewhat vacant, wrinkles deeply overlaid like dead wood.
"I know... Just let me be the test subject."
He said somewhat bitterly, slowly undressing, revealing that grotesque tumor that had overgrown, like a second head, just slightly lower.
It had human-like facial features, eyes tightly shut, like a sleeping infant, the malformed part's flesh tender like blooming flowers on a dead tree.
Dean Lawrence had begun to lose control over the flesh of the Holy Grail, it grew like a parasite on his body, just waiting for the day to fully develop... much like the relationship between Watson and Lorenzo, that terrifying entity parasitizing Lorenzo's consciousness.
He coughed forcefully, spitting out a large amount of blood, it's hard to imagine fresh blood still resided within this body, like someone about to die.
"I can't die just yet."
Dean Lawrence murmured.
It was a willpower that even Watson would be shocked by. It's hard to imagine what kind of training or experiences he went through to be able to cut his consciousness, discarding the eroded parts to escape Watson's invasion.
But now such willpower was trapped in a dying husk, he couldn't stop here.
The day of death was approaching, Dean Lawrence welcomed that day's arrival.
Lorenzo barely opened his eyes, gasping for breath.
The last memory was of Watson breaking free, as his will reasserted control, he had already left the [Gap].
It was a long war, yet it seemed to occur in an instant.
Selyu hid behind the door, somewhat terrified, looking at him. Lorenzo still hadn't realized what had happened, then the body beside him collapsed.
It was that Soldier, his consciousness had completely collapsed, like the previous invaders among the Exiled People, brain death, blood pouring from his ears and nose, as if his brain had been utterly destroyed by some unknown force.
What the hell happened?
A familiar sharp pain shot through his mind, followed by memories not belonging to him began flashing before his eyes.
Those distant memories, Dean Lawrence's memories, the segmented consciousness was being digested by Lorenzo, much like when he killed Horner, where past recollections gradually emerged from the shattered consciousness.
The Florence dusk, the Tiber River's flow, those prayers like the surge of tides, almost engulfing everything.
An anxious voice rang out, Red Falcon holding a weapon coming from the other side, hearing the chaotic footsteps, it seemed he wasn't alone.
Lorenzo wanted to say something, but suddenly it was as if all his strength had left him, he staggered and nearly fell.
How strange, though the slaughter unfolded in the [Gap], he had never felt such exhaustion before. Both mind and body were drained.
Then he smelled a strong scent of blood, quickly raising his head, finding himself at the edge of a beach.
The sky was veiled in a hazy mist, emanating an ethereal blue aura, the air felt slightly cool, possessing an indescribable ethereal quality.
A cold sensation spread beneath his feet, seemingly some kind of liquid. Lorenzo slowly lowered his head to discover it was the tide of incoming seawater, but the seawater was a dense crimson.
His gaze moved to the hazy horizon, the crimson stretched endlessly to the brink of his vision. ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by novel·fiɾe·net
A chill from within made one's skin crawl, like beholding a hellish tableau.
This was an ocean of gathered blood.
Yet soon there was a sound that brought Lorenzo back to the real world, as if all that had just been was merely the lingering hallucination of the [Gap].
Yawei supported him, injecting a Florun Potion into his body, which could bring Lorenzo some clarity.
This indeed made him lucid, also impressing the image of that crimson sea like a curse branded into Lorenzo's mind.
There was something there.
Although just a fleeting hallucination, or perhaps something else, the moment he saw it, Lorenzo believed it existed, somewhere in this world.
The long-buried stories reached out to him, eager for his arrival.