Chapter 9 Sniper

The supervisor's methods are indeed in the sky.

Clayton played with the rancid feather and guessed it was the wizard's trick.

According to legend, those mysterious beings can awaken dead creatures and then use their eyes to observe the outside world.

For this reason, he was very pleased. If the people of the Holy Grail Society were really locked in because he killed the last watcher, then he really had nothing to do.

Although the new Monitor is a bit more advanced than Clayton imagined, it makes his investigation easier.

If the monitor is a human, it is inevitable that he will be exposed to mixed smells when dealing with other people. But if it is a bird that rarely touches the ground, its smell will be more specific, reflecting the smell of its owner.

There is only one feather in his hand now, which is not enough for Clayton to collect enough scent. He needs a whole feather.

After taking off his clothes and hiding them in a bush behind a tree, Clayton moved his hands and feet, and then activated his transformation.

His muzzle elongated into a wolf shape, black hair surged out of his pores like waves, his muscles expanded and spewed out heat, and the ankle joints of his feet grew rapidly.

A complete werewolf is no smaller than a horse.

All in all, this is a monster that has deceived the ancient king!

The sound of the gun was masked by the sound of the bell. The high-speed projectile rushed out of the barrel under the correction of the rifling, and penetrated directly into the wing of the harpy a hundred meters away, directly breaking one of the tips.

Then he sat back on the bed, leaning against the wall, and stared at the world outside the simple house through the window.

Joe Mani shuddered and pressed the magazine back for the last time.

But thinking of Clayton's reminder yesterday, he felt a little scared for some reason. He would take the revolver with him even when taking a bath or sleeping.

All these actions were like miniature dancers dancing on the stage of the rifle sight, and Clayton could see them clearly.

It's so unreasonable.

The revolver turned over in his hand, and he carelessly pulled the magazine out, then threw it back.

"what is this!!!"

The strong wind blew across Clayton's cheeks, and his soft black hair and two pointed ears fell back.

Clayton was crouching on the bell tower. He did not return to his human form, but used his strong werewolf arms to hold the long rifle with a metal barrel covered in black cloth, and calmly aimed at the end of the street.

While exuding a putrid smell, there were also deformed, huddled little human hands nervously grasping the wingtips.

It sounds feasible for the people of the Holy Grail Society to train birds to track, and it is the only explanation he can think of, but how is it actually possible?

He came back by train.

Joe actually doesn't know how to use a gun.

The carriage stopped in front of the house at No. 214 Mercy Street.

The harpy finally noticed something strange. A trace of confusion flashed across its face. It flapped its wings and swooped down, preparing to chase behind the carriage and observe the situation inside the carriage.

The bullet did not stop after passing through the body, and a window behind the Harpy exploded. After receiving damage and being unbalanced, its body couldn't help but hit the back end of the carriage, making a muffled sound.

When you fall asleep, you don't have to think about anything.

A werewolf is not a wolf. Clayton's speed can even rival the military horses he used to drive, but his endurance is even better. He is sure to reach St. Mellon Parish faster than the carriage he hired.

He put on a blanket, put the pistol under the pillow, and lay down facing the wall. Then he counted down silently against the pocket watch he took off.

In comparison, monsters of the Werewolf level appear to be quite friendly to the people.

It would be better to say that they are similar to human beings.

Someone's shooting here!

He sat up suddenly, grabbed the revolver, and aimed at the window vigilantly. Then he squatted and leaned against the corner of the wall.

The darkness concealed his figure.

It wasn't the size of an owl or a kestrel he imagined, that thing was almost as big as a human.

As long as he arrives at the observation point of the General Security Bureau's warning bell tower in advance, he can figure out what is following him.

He had read the book "On Nature" by a well-known biologist. Any biological group that can fly has discarded a large amount of mass in the evolution of generations. Hollow and easily broken bones are the price they pay for flying.

The driver felt the vibration, and without daring to look back, he violently swung the reins up and down, and disappeared at the other end of the street in a few seconds.

Because there was an excerpt from the country's mythological epic in the middle school textbook, the harpy had its own illustration as the villain of that chapter.

His face was still undergoing a make-up during the day, and since every change required wax and glue, and it took more than an hour to prepare, he just let them stay overnight.

The coachman jumped out of his seat and went around to the back to check on the guests, but only found Clayton's spare clothes.

It's a harpy.

Joe Mani lost strength in his legs, and he collapsed on the ground, tremblingly raising the muzzle of his gun and pointing it at the mass of flesh.

Clayton jumped down with his rifle in his mouth, raising a cloud of dust as he landed on all fours.

Ding ding ding.

Joe Mani bent down and picked up the dropped spare bullets and stuffed them into his pocket again.

Because the flying altitude was about the same as the top floor of the Alert Bell Tower, the parallel convection wind quickly blew the rancid smell into Clayton's nose.

The disadvantages are also obvious.

The hands on the pocket watch gradually moved closer to nine o'clock. When they reached the correct position, a familiar loud ringing sound came from the window.

He decided to go to bed.

He didn't need to know much about the mysterious world to recognize it.

The harpy seemed to have lost consciousness after the impact just now, and lay straight on the street.

Even a harpy can't resist bullets.

To be on the safe side, in order not to be discovered by the watcher, his route was separated from the carriage by two streets, and he also specifically found those remote paths where the Sheriff would not go in and out for inspection.

He watched the carriage he rented appear, then slowly tow it to Mercy Street and stop.

And above, there was a shadow that lingered silently.

It was an ocher-colored wing.

The warning bell of St. Mellon Parish rings every quarter of an hour, and the sound is even more prominent in the silent night.

The scenery on both sides almost formed a line in his field of vision.

Clayton raised his paws and held the Conqueror's rifle in his mouth, fixing the barrel with his white fangs. Then he got on all fours and ran like a real beast. His tawny eyes glowed in the dark like lightning.

Usually across the street,

With no one else on the streets except a handful of police officers at night, Clayton could release himself as best he could.

The light of the moon shone into the room from above his head, and Joe saw clearly the object that had fallen in between the light and the corner of the wall.

He scratched his face and planned to buy some peppermint ointment to treat prickly heat after Big Brother Clayton solved the Holy Grail Club.

When——when——.

The coachman seemed to have understood something wrong and threw the clothes out of the carriage. Then he returned to the driving seat in a panic, pulled up the reins and drove the horse forward quickly.

Those guys whose brains are not as big as one of his fingers, regardless of their speed and physical strength, can keep up with the train. Even if they can catch up, how can they find themselves among so many heads in the sky?

This has been going on for four days.

He had just moved here not long ago and was not able to adapt to this system, so he had to worry about the time every day and could not fall asleep until the bell rang. This was especially true if the time was close to the hour, otherwise the sound of the bell would drive him away while he was half asleep and half awake.

All sleepiness.

Clayton Bello is obviously not in it.

Clayton gritted his teeth, exerted his strength on his limbs, and moved a few times on the roof to a position where it was easier to shoot. He re-aimed the mechanical sight on the Conqueror rifle at the flying shadow and waited for the bell to ring.

"The eternally rotten daughter of the gods"

Its whole body is an eagle, but its head belongs to an adult woman with long hair.

The harpy did not continue to hover above, but stopped on the eaves a little further away, with its wings folded and motionless. In the poor light at night, it looked like a stone gargoyle, and the real gargoyle on the other side of the house.

The gargoyles echo each other, all of which is unknown to people on the ground.

They were born from gods, but they are immortal because of the curse. They are good at using witchcraft and love lies.

On the way King Liasius took a boat to the Island of the Giants, the sailors were bewitched by the harpy and steered the ship off course, lost in the endless sea. Until Liasius woke up and shot them with a bronze-headed bow and arrow.

Only by killing did the sailor get rid of the deceived state.

The room he was in was the entire residence. The place was small and shabby, with water leaking from the ceiling, but it was the best place he could find now.

But the moment the three bells rang, Clayton pulled the trigger.

Three minutes ago.

He felt horrified.

Creatures that can fly are more fragile than land creatures of the same mass!

And even if the harpy had any special abilities, it wouldn't affect him a hundred meters away.
To be continued...