The Divine Armor of the Old Century（Book 1）

Chapter 148

The searing flames intertwined, and molten iron splattered like bright raindrops, pooling on the ground and releasing scalding steam as they met the intense heat. This steam diffused the light, casting a hazy glow over the two figures locked in combat, dancing a deadly waltz.

A knight charged through the corridor, leaping high at the end. His spiked sword descended like a divine thunderbolt, cleaving everything in its path. In this narrow space, the demon had no room to evade, forced to endure the lethal strike. The holy silver burned into its flesh, and Lloyd's blow left the demon grievously wounded, though it was still not enough.

The gash in its flesh, grotesque and slow to heal, oozed blood as hot as lava. The brief contact with the sword's tip left it glowing red-hot. The demon's terrifying vitality was on full display; Lloyd's attacks could injure it, but not kill it. Its thick flesh served as the perfect armor. Even if the spiked sword penetrated fully, it seemed unable to reach the demon's heart.

More troubling was the heat emanating from the demon's innards. Its body was like a raging furnace. While Lloyd's divine armor could insulate against the heat to some extent, his spiked sword could not. He felt that if the sword lingered inside the demon too long, it would melt within.

The childlike screams continued, hoarse and unending, as if a poor soul were trapped within the fiery body, powerless to do anything but wail. The water on the ground boiled with the demon's approach. Lloyd raised his Winchester, continuing to fire. The rotating bullets blasted chunks from the demon's twisted flesh, trying to penetrate deeper.

"Yes, come closer," Lloyd murmured, guiding the demon with his gunfire while retreating. He needed an open space. The narrow corridor constrained both him and the demon. A different angle might provide a killing blow.

The heat was oppressive, like a steam oven. Sweat poured down, unable to be stopped.

"This is Arthur, do you read?" A familiar voice crackled through the communicator, distorted by static. Lloyd heard it clearly enough.

"Hey, it's your beloved Mr. Holmes here, Arthur. I'm cleaning up your mess," he replied casually, firing as he spoke, as if he were strolling through the streets of Old Dunling.

"For once, I'm glad to hear your voice, Mr. Holmes," Arthur's voice came again, garbled by interference.

"That's a bit hurtful," Lloyd quipped, lightening the tense atmosphere with his banter despite the dire situation.

"So, Arthur, what did you guys do? Where did this thing come from?" he asked, reloading his gun with a deft spin, like an elegant executioner.

Lloyd had a reason for favoring shotguns. Ordinary firearms struggled to heavily damage demons, but the powerful shotgun was different. Its scattered bullets were highly effective, and its wide spread increased the hit rate, even against swift-moving demons.

"Remember that serial killer connected to the poor-quality blood? He showed up when Father Lawrence did. We captured him," Arthur explained, continuing to fire as the demon lumbered forward like a wall of flesh.

"You didn't mention that to me," Lloyd noted, slightly annoyed since the suspect should have been his prisoner.

"No worries, you can still interrogate him now," Arthur joked darkly.

Gazing at the grotesque creature, its repulsive form, Lloyd said slowly, "I don't think it can communicate anymore. How did it become like this? This thing isn't something poor-quality blood could create."

As they talked, the demon continued its assault, growing ever more bloated. Its form became increasingly indistinguishable, a moving mass of hot flesh. Twisted arms emerged from the mass, but to the swift demon hunter, they seemed to move in slow motion. Lloyd turned, striking with his sword, pouring all his strength into the spiked blade. The sword's holy silver and purifying flames maximized the damage, slicing through flesh and bone as if cutting through butter. The severed arm fell away.