Maxwell looked around at the ghouls in panic.
He wanted to cry for help, but the next second, several bloodied fingers were shoved into his mouth. The ghouls rushed at him in a frenzy, beginning to feast on the fresh meat before them.
Driven by their bloodthirsty instincts, the ghouls paid no heed to Maxwell's desperate struggles. Countless mangled arms forcibly pinned him to the ground, like pinning a whole roasted lamb to a dining table for feasting—tearing, biting, chewing, savoring the sweetness and nourishment of fresh blood and flesh.
After all, he was the highest-ranking clergyman.
At this moment, Maxwell finally awakened a divine art where his words became reality.
Before the ghouls could tear him completely to pieces, he finally remembered the words he had spoken in terror and panic earlier. He had never expected them to come true.
He... was probably doomed to die after all.
And so.
One of the three forces in London's chaotic battle, the supreme commander of the Vatican Holy See Crusaders.
Archbishop Maxwell.
Died completely.
Yet the one who had caused all this.
Among those aboard the Hydra, only Integra vaguely sensed something.
"Wait."
Integra subconsciously turned her head to look back. "Did we just hit something? A helicopter?"
"Huh? Did we?"
The Police Woman looked equally bewildered. All her attention had been devoted to tracking Alucard's aura, so she had not noticed Maxwell, who was as insignificant as an insect. She asked with some concern, "Was it London police? Then wouldn't that mean..."
"No. If it were the police, they would definitely all have died already."
Integra took a deep breath. "That emblem just now... it should have been the Vatican church..."
"No need to guess."
Hearing this, Fang Mo spoke directly. "The one who brushed past us just now