After straightening her clothes again, Old School Striking King walked into the small building ahead, leaving a bloody footprint with every step.
The open door slammed shut behind her... with a tremendous crash.
Ahead lay a hall filled with old, filthy couches. Strange flames crackled in the fireplace... the fuel was probably some kind of combustible stone. The flames were deathly pale, yet carried a faint green tinge.
A few wall lamps hung here and there around the sitting room. They were reasonably bright, but apparently burned the same fuel as the fireplace, filling the entire hall with an eerie air.
It was very much like the atmosphere in a supernatural horror film just before the final boss appeared.
Old School Striking King tilted her head slightly, feeling an itch in her ears.
Fortunately, she had already turned her senses down to the lowest setting. Otherwise, wasn't a noise that loud liable to deafen her?
As for the oppressive atmosphere and sense of urgency the other party wanted to create, Old School Striking King felt none of it.
She had played endless battlefield with Perfect Baldhead, after all!
Games like that would throw in any setting imaginable to give players a satisfying fight.
Supernatural horror, bloody brutality—by the end, it was all just boring scenery... their first reaction upon seeing a corpse was invariably to wonder whether they could pile it up to make a defensive barrier.
The Black Rose Family had grown bored even with games like that. That was how they had developed their current fighting prowess.
And as one of their main fighters, how could Old School Striking King be intimidated by a trivial scene like this?
To her, the only good thing about this place was that she finally had somewhere to wipe her little leather