The candlelight gathered into a warm ocean, and it seemed as if an unknown wind was passing by, rippling slightly, with a strange sacredness.
That was perhaps the most twisted and grotesque scene that the plague doctor had ever seen. He had dismembered countless monsters and created many weird and evil things, but none of them could compare to what he saw now.
Just like a ritual of execution and sacrifice, the chair surrounded by the sea of candles is the altar, and Dean Lawrence is the poor sacrifice.
Dean Lawrence's body twitched in pain, as if something was sucking his life force. His already old body was aging rapidly, and his skin shriveled up, revealing dense blue blood vessels, and blood flowed uncontrollably.
gushed out from his ears and nose.
The epidemic doctor knew very well that something was wrong with Dean Lawrence, but he didn’t know everything about the [Gap], and he didn’t even know how to help him.
But then a huge pressure emerged, and the feeling was strange. It was not like erosion, but a simple pressure. It seemed that someone was peering at him, and then he saw the faint light emerging from Dean Lawrence.
It is a light path that is difficult to capture with normal vision. The epidemic doctor can vaguely see it. Those dim light paths converge into a strange human shape... It seems that it is the soul of Dean Lawrence, and he is being slowly extracted from his body.
.
"Epidemic doctor!"
Suddenly there was a sound.
Dean Lawrence opened his closed eyes. His eyeballs were blood red and seemed to burst. He looked as ferocious as an evil ghost, twisted and hateful.
"Epidemic doctor!"
He roared again, and then the doctor discovered in horror that Dean Lawrence's eyes were dull... He couldn't see himself, and his consciousness was somewhere else at the moment. He only relied on that terrible desire to survive to make him do it for a short time.
It’s two-line operation.
The epidemic doctor slowly approached, and he was extremely vigilant. Ever since he met Dean Lawrence, this mysterious demon hunter would always refresh his world view.
Stepping on the wax oil that had not yet solidified, just when the epidemic doctor was about to touch Dean Lawrence, his dull eyes suddenly lit up a little, as if ashes were rekindled.
"Lawrence..."
The epidemic doctor shouted hesitantly, but then all the pain and ferocity disappeared.
Something happened, but the epidemic doctor hadn't noticed it yet. He was alert to the danger in that position, and then looked at her.
Dean Lawrence looked at him calmly, his eyes briefly confused, but then they became clear.
The atmosphere was a little subtle, the madness and weirdness just now disappeared, it seemed like an unpleasant illusion, everything was over, and all that was left at the moment was a dead silence that I almost didn't dare to break.
The two pairs of eyes looked at each other briefly, maintaining a strange tacit understanding. The next moment, the sharp bone blade popped out from the plague doctor's arm, making a whistling sound and slashing down fiercely.
It was a thunderous attack. Although he always looked like a scholar, the plague doctor was also very confident in his fighting skills. This blow could directly cut off the enemy's head and kill him directly.
But the expected death did not come. Dean Lawrence drew out his nail sword and blocked the bone blade at the last moment. However, he was also a step too late because the sword was drawn out. The impact of the bone blade suppressed the nail sword, and the blade was half buried in his shoulder.
The blood flows slowly.
"Is this where it is?"
A familiar voice sounded, but it felt so strange at this moment.
"Who are you!"
The epidemic doctor shouted, and his guess was indeed correct. Dean Lawrence made a mistake, and he was invaded in reverse.
Watson seemed too lazy to answer his words. She used Dean Lawrence's body to carefully spy on everything in her field of vision.
She could feel the existence of that thing and the disgusting smell. She would never forget it.
Seeing this, the epidemic doctor directly launched another attack. He didn't care about the physical damage of Dean Lawrence. Anyway, judging from his skills, he can save you even if you are only a head. Of course, he can't guarantee the final rescue.
The slender bone spurs directly penetrated the palm of the epidemic doctor's hand, like a sharp stabbing sword, and directly nailed Dean Lawrence's thigh to the spot. Then the bone spurs broke, and new bone spurs grew out instantly, like long nails to suppress evil.
Stab again.
"Get out of here!"
A new voice sounded, and Dean Lawrence roared. Perhaps the counterattack of his will took effect. The nail sword that was about to fall paused for a moment, and new bone spurs penetrated his joints, locking his sword-wielding hand tightly.
.
The blood-stained hand pressed down on the head, and the ferocious half of the face was breathing heavily.
He was so close to death.
"You took something you shouldn't have taken, Lawrence, and you deserve to pay the price."
After the pain came calm words. At this moment, it was like a schizophrenic patient fighting against himself, terrifying and strange.
Dean Lawrence murmured in pain.
"What on earth are you?"
"What exactly are you?"
In the center of that battlefield, in that mysterious [gap].
After a long period of pain, Dean Lawrence finally got a chance to breathe, but he was still tightly held. The woman strangled his throat, and her other hand clenched his heart. She kept
Invading Dean Lawrence's thoughts, he will soon become her.
Lorenzo seemed to have lost consciousness. He was like a parasitic insect. Watson opened his body and tortured Dean Lawrence. Most of his body protruded from Lorenzo's torn chest.
This is the spiritual world, and all this is just the embodiment of "self". Lorenzo's consciousness is torn apart, and the abomination is trying to crawl out.
"Where is it!"
Watson interrogated again, looking down at the twisted and painful face, Dean Lawrence could no longer say any words.
Memories of the past keep flashing through my mind, yellowed and old, with an ancient flavor.
That was a long time ago, when Dean Lawrence was still a child, steam engines did not exist at that time, and the swords and shields of knights dominated the battlefield.
He saw the emerald green at dusk. In the hazy light, the majestic church was like a forest of iron trees. The sparkling waves on the Tiber River reflected the beauty of childhood.
Children ran on the green grass, nuns walked into the church with a faint smile, bells rang, and prayers surged like waves.
The warm and familiar embrace comforted him, but just when he was about to completely collapse, a strange coldness emerged.
Dean Lawrence said with some nostalgia.
"That's why I think the monster deserves to die..."
At the moment when he almost collapsed, he woke up and looked directly at the woman with angry eyes.
She was teasing his memories, the good old days.
Watson is looking for traces of it along the memory of Dean Lawrence.
Father Lawrence lived for so long that everyone who once knew him has died, and even the place where he lived has lost traces of its past.
Those memories were his last warmth, the last evidence of his past as a human being, and the softness buried deep in his mind.
But now someone is touching it and trying to tease themselves with it.
He was full of anger.
"Isn't it good to die in memories?"
Watson asked a little confused.
His expression just now was like that of a sleeping baby, that would be the most beautiful death, and all tired travelers would get what they want, but he tried his best to break away, unwilling to step into that peaceful beauty.
"Very good...but that's not the death I deserve."
Dean Lawrence was furious and ferocious.
He slowly raised his hand, and then tightly grasped the arm that was strangling his neck.
This is just a seemingly feeble action, but it has a different meaning at this moment.
He was able to do it. Under Watson's almost crushing will, he managed a slight resistance. It was just a resistance before death, but it was enough.
"I should die in the not-too-distant future, not here."
His voice echoed hoarsely, like the roar of a dead man.
Yes, that is the end that belongs to Lawrence. He is willing to die, as long as it ends like that.
Immediately, the almost broken consciousness became strong again, maintaining itself in the storm.
He tore himself hard, like those crazy believers, mutilating their bodies. It was a sacrifice to God. This was Dean Lawrence's sacrifice, a sacrifice to himself, a sacrifice to the ideal.
For a moment, Watson was stunned. She had never imagined that human will could reach this level. She even said...it could no longer be called a human being.
So mad, so angry, ever boiling, unquenchable rage.
Dean Lawrence tore at his own breasts, his sharp nails tore off the skin and flesh, and his strong bones were forcibly broken, causing blood to drip from his body.
He was cutting his own consciousness, forcibly separating the part that Watson desperately grabbed from his consciousness.
Like a patient holding a knife, he removes the rotten flesh and blood from his body bit by bit.
The intense pain felt like millions of wild dogs were biting and eating his body, and every second was so long, like the most cruel execution.
But none of this matters anymore.
"Today is not the day of my death, I can see it!"
He laughed wildly and kicked Watson's body away. Watson could only feel the weight on her hand lighten, and then all the parts occupied by her fell out of Dean Lawrence's consciousness.
As if he was laughing at her, his body began to blur, as if he was about to disappear into the [gap].
"Don't try to escape! Lawrence!"
Watson roared angrily, and she stretched out her hand with all her strength. She was just a few inches away from completely capturing Dean Lawrence's consciousness, but at this moment, countless chains pierced out of Lorenzo's wounds, like crazy growths.
The thorns entangled her heavily, and then dragged her back into the cold world.
She could only struggle hard, but she couldn't stop being dragged back until she completely reintegrated into Lorenzo's wound.
Only the faint sound of waves falling into the water could be heard, and everything returned to silence.