Shade blinked. Normally, a righteous hero ought to say things like "Every life is infinitely precious," "No one has the right to take another's life," or "People cannot live only for themselves." But Shade was not a traditional righteous hero:
"Because if I don't deal with you, I'll feel very uncomfortable. You haven't provoked me yet, but since I've encountered you and learned what you've done, of course I have to deal with you."
Every muscle on the Death Apostle's face seemed to be twitching:
"So you're one of those people in knight novels who believe they can uphold justice?"
Shade had no idea how he had reached that conclusion:
"Do we really need to have this meaningless exchange? You killed people to live for yourself and endangered the world. That's enough reason for me to act against you."
"But life is so precious. In order to survive, isn't all cowardice and cruelty justified? What in this world could be more precious than life? How about this? I'll tell you the secret of my immortality. Is that enough of a bargaining chip?"
Shade took a deep breath, but the longsword continuously glowing in his hand still revealed his mood:
"Fine. I should have known there was nothing to say to someone like you."
Night Watchman thrust forward, but York Bronte's body melded into the wall behind him. The sharp longsword pierced directly into the wall, and the instant the writhing flesh behind it touched the blade, the entire room shook.
The Angel Level Relic longsword's devastating effect against evil creatures made the masses of flesh enveloping the room feel pain that struck directly at the soul. Flesh poured continuously from the cracks in the floor and walls, turning into tentacles that sought to digest everyone inside.
But this could not