Wilbur's death

0.05--0.04

The battle between Wilbur and Hope has now come to an end.

Hope now understood why he had never been able to use "Uncertainty" on Wilbur, and also why Wilbur had chosen to walk upside down.

Wilbur had an eye-like growth on his back.

The fruit knife made several shallow cuts on Wilbur's skin; the cheap, thin metal knife couldn't even cut through some parts of Wilbur's skin.

Hope misjudged the situation, mistakenly believing Wilbur was extremely weak, forgetting Wilbur's astonishing height and the fact that his height resulted in a weight far exceeding his actual size.

Hope was eventually pinned to the ground by Wilbur and unable to move.

"That's really great," Wilbur said.

He glared fiercely at Lizzie Bryan, who was standing to the side holding a shotgun.

Lizzie and Wilbur were only a few meters apart; she could have easily struck Wilbur on the head with the butt of her shotgun.

But looking into Wilbur's horrifying eyes and smelling the stench and blood in the air, she dared not take another step.

0.04--0.03

There was no pressure on Lizzie.

Hope suddenly smiled, a defiant smile used to proclaim her victory.

He was having a nosebleed, and he wanted to wipe the blood away, but unfortunately his hands were tied.

A strange connection was established between him and Wilbur.

Wilbur coughed twice, and as he watched Hope's eyes quickly become cloudy and gradually lose their luster.

His wound, which had just stopped bleeding, suddenly gushed out a foul-smelling liquid again. This substance, which could hardly be called blood, was cold and viscous, completely staining Hope's clothes red.

As the liquid flowed out, this enormous, mutated son of God was rapidly losing his arrogance, and his forever proud head finally bowed.

His breathing was heavy, then suddenly became faint and almost inaudible.

Hope looked at his own attributes:

Self-Being: 1.31-1.26, Spirit Body: 1.05-1.10

On the other hand, there's Wilbur.

Self-Being: 0.98-1.03, Spirit Body: 1.65-1.60

The exchange is over. The exchange method that Hope used on Skull No. 1, which Professor Armitage warned of could have unpredictable consequences, has been used on Wilbur again.

"You—you're a madman—" Wilbur said, "You—you take me back to Dunweh—I swear to the King of Kings —you will survive—I will tell you everything about the ceremony—I will be—a sacrifice—"

Hope shook her head.

But Wilbur remained defiant, clinging to life, refusing to give up. "You—you can have almost everything you want—those people can live—as long as you complete the ritual—I swear—"

Hope shook her head again. "You don't understand, Wilbur. Most importantly, I hope I can be a decent character."

Wilbur coughed a few more times, his thick arms trembling, and finally, unable to support himself, he collapsed onto Hope.

Its enormous body was like a bear, and its weight almost broke Hope's ribs.

Wilbur was still conscious, his eyes were still open, but he probably couldn't speak.

0.03--0.02

The Night Hawk cried louder, and the scent of death grew stronger.

Hope tried to push Wilbur away, but couldn't get the madman off her at all.

Squeezing past Wilbur's shoulder, Hope managed to peek out.

He struggled to pull his hand away, put the Steel Pen away, and the shadowy incantation ceased.

Gripping the thin metal fruit knife tightly, Hope slashed her wrist hard, and unlike Wilbur, clean blood gushed out.

Thanks to the effects of the bitter tree's roots, she felt almost no pain, but the sensation of rapid blood loss still made Hope not want to experience it a second time.

Hope spat out the bitter tree root from his mouth, then bit off, chewed, and swallowed the other thing he had in his mouth.

The potent toxicity of the bitter tree's roots is slowly fading, and the ancient and ignorant bloodletting therapy has surprisingly found some applications in the field of mysticism.

But the Night Hawk ' excitement didn't diminish; they continued to howl loudly, only shifting their focus from Hope to Wilbur.

They were right; the enormous Monster was finally going to lose his life.

Wilbur and Hope share a special characteristic: this exchange "would not kill Hope, and therefore would not kill Wilbur."

Unfortunately, Wilbur's injury was too severe.

Wilbur did not die from the exchange, but from excessive blood loss.

Hope didn't want Wilbur to die like that.

If so, Wilbur, who was killed by Hope, will return to Dunwich resurrected.

Hope doesn't want Wilbur to be resurrected.

He then strained to look up at Lizzie.

"Kill this guy," Hope said.

Lizzie hesitated, not daring to step forward, while Wilbur's only open eye glared at her resentfully.

Hope spat; the Medicine had caused him to drool excessively.

"It's very simple," Hope continued, reassuring the other man. "It's very simple, just turn him over—put your shotgun—into his wound."

Because of the Night Hawk's influence, Hope's speech was somewhat intermittent.

His tone seemed to frighten Lizzie, who not only didn't do as Hope said, but instead took a few steps back.

"He's safe," Hope said.

He stopped speaking, looked at himself, a madman laughing as he cut open his own wrist, disheveled, emaciated, almost swallowed up by the filthy blood flowing from Wilbur's body.

Then look at Wilbur, a Monster.

Wilbur and Hope are now piled together, even though this wasn't Hope's intention, and even though Hope is having some difficulty breathing because of Wilbur's weight, he has undeniably become part of this horrific scene.

Hope finally sighed, and through his blurred vision, he found the two professors. "Gentlemen—can you still stand up?"

Professor Larry replied, "If you want us to deal with that Monster —I'm afraid not. Even if you brought it to us, we wouldn't have the strength."

Hope found a more comfortable position for her head.

"Due to the misuse of swapping," dizziness is forcing Hope to stop thinking.

But perhaps because the numbers were smaller this time, the dizziness didn't come on as quickly as before, and it was also milder.

Phew—it could also be due to the increased Source-ification; this attribute always comes in handy at unexpected times.

Feeling the blood draining from his wrist, Hope suddenly worried that no one would stop the bleeding.

If that were the case—that would be incredibly foolish—

Hopefully, Lizzie can calm down soon.

A worried call suddenly came from afar; the aged voice reassured Hope considerably.

It must be Mr. John; he's back.

And accompanying the calls were loud barks coming from afar.

Hope turned his head with difficulty, and in his last moments of consciousness, he saw a large hunting dog of unknown breed, with yellow and white fur and sharp, white teeth that indicated it had been well cared for and also suggested it possessed considerable aggression.

It roared at Wilbur, its eyes occasionally glancing at Hope, but mostly fixed on Wilbur.

Judging from the look of the big dog, Hope almost thought it wanted to eat Wilbur.

But it stopped half a meter away from the two of them, still baring its teeth, its malice undiminished, hesitant to move forward.

It wanted to eat Wilbur.

As Wilbur's breath grew weaker, Hope finally found what he was looking for in the ethereal and incomprehensible realm of fate.

That was Wilbur's fate of being unable to get close to dogs.

It sounded a little lonely, Hope helped Wilbur forget.

Amidst the Mongrel Hound's heavy panting, an unknown liquid splattered on Hope's face, and he completely lost consciousness.

Soon after, Mr. John arrived and forcibly pulled the hunting dog named "Little White" away.

The elderly man stared in astonishment at the ugly and filthy scene before him, and, despite his discomfort, pulled Hope out and stopped the Hope.