The smile had not yet faded from the priestess's face as she pressed her palm against Enzo's chest when hundreds of blood blossoms, large and small, burst from her body. She let out a terrified scream tinged with intense disbelief, and her petite, soft body suddenly shot backward.
Enzo's stabbing sword pierced her body hundreds of times, turning that beautiful body into a sieve. Blood sprayed from her lovely form. The soft, alluring body that usually exuded endless charm had become so hideous and grotesque that no normal man could possibly take an interest in a body spurting blood from every inch.
"You bastard!"
The old priestess was so enraged that she no longer knew what to say. The moment her palm had touched Enzo's chest, she had secretly made her move. In her thousand-odd years of experience, any young lad who received a light stroke and press from her hand would go limp all over and submit to her pleasures.
But she never could have imagined that a soldier like Enzo—one who had cheated death hundreds of times and crawled out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood—would react this way. Ordinarily, such men might visit brothels for a bit of pleasure, but once they entered a state of battle, let alone such soft and tender tactics, even if a giant dragon stood before them, they would charge without hesitation, swords raised.
The priestesses of the Temple of Pleasure had seen countless heroes and great men. Kings and nobles, immensely wealthy merchants, elegant and dashing young gentlemen—all had bowed beneath their skirts. Yet perhaps because of the Pleasure Divine Pantheon's habitual nature, they had rarely had much contact with true generals who charged into battle and slaughtered countless foes.
They had never encountered people like Enzo. They had