On the other side from Touko, Astolfo was carrying Sieg aboard the Hippogriff, fleeing from a flock of pitch-black pigeons.
It was hard to say whether they were lucky or unlucky.
Their opponent was Gransurg Blackmore, the Black-Winged King, the sixteenth Dead Apostle Ancestor.
Before coming here, they had crammed everything they could about the identities and traits of the Twenty-Seven Dead Apostle Ancestors.
So they had immediately recognized that the man controlling the pigeons was the Black-Winged King.
But recognition was one thing. Being unable to defeat him was another. All they could do was run for their lives and stall for time.
Fortunately, their opponent seemed quite interested in this game of cat and mouse and was willing to play along.
Blackmore: "Run. Run with all your strength, until you are utterly exhausted and finally devoured by my beautiful flock of pigeons."
Blackmore was immersed in his own delight, treating Astolfo and Sieg as toys.
The Hippogriff had endured this long not because it was particularly strong, but because Blackmore had yet to get serious.
What Blackmore loved most was watching his prey give up resisting while being pursued by the flock, only to be pecked clean in the end.
The Hippogriff fled ahead while the pigeons gave chase behind it.
Astolfo focused entirely on steering the Hippogriff, while Sieg occasionally turned around to fire a magic bullet.
It was a skill he had learned during his time at the Clock Tower. Its power was not great, but it was better than nothing.
Perhaps the Hippogriff had adapted to this style of combat, or perhaps Astolfo's reason suddenly evaporated.
He guided the Hippogriff straight toward Blackmore, seemingly intending to test the man's own strength.
The charging phantom beast suddenly performed a dimensional leap and rammed directly into Blackmore.