Demon Bible

Chapter 123

Chapter 123

"Fass?" Al looked blankly at Fass, murmuring his name. He had no idea what was happening or why Fass would say such things about him.

Everything he did was right; it was all to save Fass. Why would Fass blame him like this?

Al simply could not wrap his head around it.

However, Fass had no intention of waiting for Al to figure it out. He shifted his gaze to the remaining two vigilant trainee Holy Knights.

Brent and Galen knew better than to move recklessly before they figured out how Fass had managed to severely injure Gabriel.

Judging from the previous exchange, while that attack was incredibly fast, their Attribute Values meant they weren't entirely helpless to dodge it.

Gabriel had only been heavily wounded because he had let the heat of the moment get to him and charged blindly at Buke. Being in motion made it difficult to change direction, leaving him wide open to a sudden ambush.

The two maintained a high level of alertness. As long as Fass launched an attack, they could react immediately.

However, in doing so, they inadvertently lowered their guard against someone else.The very next moment, Buke launched an offensive in their direction.

With a sweep of his arm, the bandages wrapping his entire left hand unraveled rapidly like a spool of yarn being pulled apart. Then, that left hand shot straight toward Brent like a projectile.

As the majority of the bandages fell away, the true nature of that left hand was finally revealed.

Shockingly, it was a scale-covered, pitch-black Demon Claw.

Summoning a demon and plundering its accumulated strength was only one part of the process.

The other part involved using the demon to nurture materials, harvesting them to use as a foundational resource.

After all, some Lesser Demons were inherently impoverished. Even if ninety percent of their accumulation was scraped away, the yield would be negligible. In those cases, it was far better to keep them temporarily captive.

By feeding them animal flesh and blood, the host bodies they parasitized would undergo mutations, transforming into demonic materials.

Buke's hand was the perfect example. Even though the parasitic demon had already departed, the appendage remained as hard as steel.

Aside from detailed studies on Whale Transformation Sickness, most of Becky's recent research had revolved around these very concepts. Honestly, he had been thrilled to the point of madness.

Since joining the Construct Protocol, he had never truly lacked research subjects or materials.

Especially since Nemus frequently used the body of Angel A to seek him out and discuss knowledge regarding Alchemy.

Although Nemus was a novice in Alchemy, neither his insight nor his Cognition of this world was lacking. Their discussions often provided Becky with tremendous bursts of inspiration.

This Demon Claw was a prototype that Becky had crafted in a surge of inspiration after witnessing Buke's broken hand.

As the Demon Claw rocketed forward, Brent managed to react just before the attack struck, even though his attention had been locked onto Fass.

He immediately twisted the blade in his grasp and unleashed a vicious slash, batting the soaring claw away. However, no sooner had the claw been deflected than a sharp tug on the bandages sent it hurtling right back toward Brent.

This maneuver caught Brent completely off guard. He had no choice but to adjust his grip on his sword once more and shift his footing to deal with the relentless demonic appendage.

At the same time, Fass noticed the opening and quickly readied himself. He channeled his Mental Power into his Bracer, establishing Resonance with a small steel ball loaded in one of its chambers.

A small compartment on the Bracer sprang open, revealing a pitch-black aperture that locked directly onto Brent.

Al, of course, spotted Fass aiming at Brent. Driven by pure instinct, a sudden surge of motivation filled him.

'I don't know why you blame me, but I absolutely won't let you continue down this wrong path!' This single thought swirled obsessively within Al's mind.

He was the second son of a Noble, forced into a Branch Family due to internal clan struggles. The meager inheritance he received upon splitting from the main house was swindled away from him shortly after he left. Clearly, his eldest brother had never intended for him to actually keep those assets.

The North District enforced a strict curfew on Ordinary Persons. Commoners were forbidden from traveling at night, much less sleeping on the streets. Left with no other choice, he was forced to degenerate into a resident of the South District.

In the South District, he lacked all practical skills. It was Fass, a lowly laborer, who stumbled upon him and guided him toward a way to survive in the slums.

He cherished his Gratitude Debt to Fass and was absolutely determined to drag him back to the righteous path!

Fueled by this conviction, Al's body lunged into action. He threw himself sideways, putting his own body directly in front of Brent.

The pitch-black small steel beads sprayed outward. Out of the dozens of projectiles, more than ten slammed into Al's body, instantly punching over a dozen bloody holes through him.

Thanks to Al's intervention, Brent slashed the claw away and subtly shifted his weight to the side, evading the brunt of the onslaught. Only a few stray steel beads grazed his body.

"That kid," Brent muttered, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Al, who was collapsed on the ground, bleeding profusely. The stinging pain from his own minor wounds only stoked the blazing inferno of his rage.

'The firing trajectory of that weapon is fixed. With this information, hitting me next time will be much harder,' Brent analyzed internally. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Galen finally charging forward.

Brent let out a silent sigh in his heart.

When the Demon Claw first attacked him, Galen, who had been standing nearby, had more than enough time to help intercept the follow-up strike.

Yet, paralyzed by his fear of Fass's hidden arsenal, Galen hadn't lifted a single finger.

It was only now, after Fass's attack patterns had been fully exposed, that he finally mustered the courage to strike.

Even though they were never really friends and had merely banded together for this opportunity, witnessing such blatant cowardice still chilled Brent to the bone.

In that regard, Galen was even worse than Al. At least Al had the guts to risk his own life and take a bullet for him.

'But now isn't the time to dwell on such things. I need to take these two down immediately, then stop Al's bleeding. If we can hold out until a Priest arrives, he might still be saved.'

With a fierce battle breaking out here, the outposts scattered across the town would naturally be alerted. Typically, there would be a Trainee Priest stationed among them.

With injuries this severe, Al would undoubtedly bleed out in mere moments.

However, as long as the bleeding was suppressed and his life prolonged just a bit longer, the potent healing capabilities of a Priest could turn the tide. As long as the wounds weren't caused by hostile Spells, conventional physical trauma could be miraculously healed by Spells or Divine Arts.

With that plan solidifying in his mind, Brent's sharp gaze locked onto the rapidly retracting bandages.

"Don't even think about running!" Brent roared, his breathing shifting drastically as he launched himself forward. But moving even faster than his body was the blade in his hands.

Secret Technique: Wave Blade!

Born into a Noble lineage, Brent naturally possessed martial skills that Ordinary Persons could only dream of.

As the blade vibrated, surging power rippled outward like water, radiating from the weapon's edge.

Brent briefly closed his eyes, instantly gathering his absolute focus. He slashed his sword into empty air, yet strangely, the motion produced absolutely no sound.

Instead, a sharp whistle echoed in the distance, precisely where the ripple of force connected.

The retreating bandages were violently severed by an invisible strike.

And this was Brent's ancestral secret technique—the Wave Blade, an art capable of transmitting lethal attacks across a distance through sheer vibration!