The Divine Armor of the Old Century（Book 1）

Chapter 182

The roaring flames blazed, painting the cold, silent night with a vivid crimson hue. Clad in pitch-black armor, gripping a nailed sword tightly, he leaned against the burning fire, allowing his muscles, stiffened by the cold, to soften.

Secret blood boiled within him, an inhuman power surging through his body. Lloyd edged closer to the forbidden threshold, venturing into the realm of unknown fear. Perhaps it was the pain or the exhilaration, but a hoarse growl emerged from beneath the armor. This sensation was truly exhilarating.

Lloyd could feel the power coursing through his veins, the molten heat within him. The binding silver was melting, dissolving with the resurgence of the secret blood. When Lloyd's power reached its peak, he would be killed by the holy silver sword rising from within, just like Aiden. This was the punishment within him, a sword of Damocles hanging above his head.

Lawrence moved slowly, hot breaths escaping his mouth. His aged body, vibrant with life, glowed red, the deformed tumors quivering slightly, and his tightly shut eyes trembling as if about to open. Holding two swords, flames dancing upon them, he was old but strong. The lion might be in his twilight, but he remained a lion.

For a brief moment, it seemed as if the two were back in the wilderness of the Gap, with Lawrence standing before a sea of flames, as if bearing the scorching sun on his back. Their bright white eyes met briefly, both poised as fiends, summoning a howling gale. The sword strikes grew faster, until only streaks of light could be seen dancing wildly in the air, like thunderclouds rolling, each collision producing a deafening thunderclap, followed by sparks flying.

The bright white nailed swords crossed and clashed with the ferocity of a torrential downpour. Lawrence laughed heartily, his sword-wielding hands moving even faster. It had been a long time since he experienced such a thrilling fight. Secret blood coursed through his aged body, the more he swung, the more he felt that youthful strength. It was as if time was rewinding in this deadly duel.

Everything seemed to have returned to a century ago, an era where a mere sword in hand could conquer the world. Lloyd, however, remained silent, his nailed sword shifting attack patterns. He could block most attacks, yet some still broke through his defense, striking his armor. Despite the few hits, Lawrence's immense strength began to wear down the newly forged armor, leaving it riddled with holes.

Lawrence was overwhelmingly powerful. The more Lloyd fought, the more he sensed the futility. If demon hunters were the pinnacle of humanity, then Lawrence was the pinnacle of all demon hunters. His terrifying swordsmanship, the foresight of Shandalfon, the near-immortal flesh of the Holy Grail... He was the perfect demon hunter, flawless, with no weaknesses. Just as he said, Lloyd had no chance of winning.

But... was that truly the case?

Lloyd shifted his stance, suddenly stepping forward into Lawrence's attack range without any cover.

There were no invincible enemies. Just like those demons, before demon hunters appeared, no one believed humans could face such unknown fears. In ancient times, humans could only kneel before descending thunder, never imagining a day when they could grasp that blinding lightning in their hands.

Yes! Lawrence could be defeated! The unknown fear could be slain.

Roaring as if to release his rage, Lloyd swung his sword, the sharp blade breaking through the torrential rain, piercing through the barrier of swords, and exploding into a crimson mark on Lawrence's chest.

The wound nearly severed half of Lawrence's body, blood and bone fragments flying, the twisted flesh glinting with a metallic sheen.

Lawrence's body bent backward but did not fall. He rose slowly, a savage grin on his face. Tiny tendrils sprouted from the edges of the wound, pulling at each other like sewing threads, closing the horrific gash.