"Hahahaha, hahahaha!!"
On the chapel floor, Earl Parocas was like a beast unable to break free from a hunting snare. His chest heaved wildly, his inhalations sounded mocking, and his exhalations resembled furious roars. Every struggle was a challenge hurled at the god of death.
These humans, who still hadn't grasped the seriousness of the situation, wouldn't be arrogant for much longer. Soon, they would have to endure the earth-shattering fury of a Blood Race Earl.
Amid Earl Parocas's laughter, Lanchi handed the giant syringe to the executioner.
"Mr. Executioner, our job is to save people. That is everything."
As Lanchi spoke, the sharp ringing of medical alarms seemed to echo all around them, heralding the patient's impending crisis.
"We must do everything in our power for the patient before us."
"Understood."
The executioner took the Blood Pressure Resuscitator. Although he wasn't a doctor, he somehow felt certain that he could use this medical instrument with ease.
White light illuminated every corner, and the cold, hard chrome-plated medical tools reflected a piercing glare.
In this immaculate white emergency room, everything was strictly controlled, with time measured down to the millisecond.
The patient was ready for surgery. His face was twisted by pain and psychological pressure, and the blood flowing through his veins seemed to be burning. Even without looking at the readings on the blood pressure monitor, it was clear that his blood pressure was dangerously high.
The tense atmosphere congealed in the air. Only the breathing of the chaotic electrocardiogram and the dull pounding of the overburdened heart remained.
Beneath the center of the ceiling, the executioner skillfully found the largest blood vessel in Earl Parocas's elbow—the brachial artery.
His eyes remained fixed on the Earl's skin as he prepared to draw out his excess blood.
"Hahahahaha... You finally