Surging black hair spread apart, and a blood-soaked figure fell from the sky.
No. 22 crashed into the yellow sand like a corpse. His mangled, blood-blurred eyes struggled open as he looked at the white-robed woman stepping out from the black hair, scepter in hand. In his daze, her figure overlapped with that of a seductive goddess from his memories.
No. 22 seemed to realize something. Endless humiliation flooded his chest as his eyes flew wide open, filled with hatred so venomous it seemed ready to burst into flames:
"God... gods! Gods again!"
"You *** gods!"
"Just you wait... as long as I don't die, one day, I'll make you understand... what it feels like to be a dog!"
No. 22's curses were drowned out by the howling gale. He gritted his teeth, digging his remaining five fingers into the sand and dragging his rigid body away from the battlefield inch by inch like a worm.
In the sky, the blush on the white-robed goddess's cheeks gradually faded. She licked her vivid red lips and turned toward the crescent-shaped lone boat.
Beneath the dim sky, the old man stood with a blazing white-hot heart in his aged hand, slowly pulling it from Bifatu's body.
Bifatu's eyes bulged wide. His chest rose and fell twice before his breathing quickly ceased. His corpse hung before the crescent-shaped lone boat like a dead fish, drifting in the wind.
"A perfect sacrifice." The old man held the beating heart and examined it carefully for a long while before sighing with a smile.
He tossed the heart in his hand, and it transformed into countless threads of blood that merged into the Holy Grail.
The old man did not stop there. He turned to Bifatu's corpse and, like a meticulous fisherman, gripped a sharp knife