A bonfire had been lit in the school.
One group danced outside the bonfire, while another danced inside it.
It was an utterly absurd scene. The slaughterers wore spotless white robes and sang sacred hymns, holding up blood-dripping weapons.
Rather than worshipping, they were venting, and the solemn, reverent atmosphere was more like the flatbread commonly served with Vien Miso-not because the bread tasted particularly good, but merely because it took the edge off the salty richness.
Long before people invented umbrellas, they had already learned to drape raincoats over their souls.
At that moment, amid the "celebrating" crowd, a white-robed man walked with a plain earthenware jar in his hands. He blended in perfectly, yet seemed slightly different.
After making two passes through the Sacred Flame believers, he immediately carried the jar to the perimeter, entered a quiet alley, lowered his head, and hurried away.
Just then, a figure appeared before him.
The white-robed man looked up and saw that the man ahead had a blood-red face without any features.
"Who are you?"
Neo pointed at the white-robed man. "Perhaps I should be the one asking you that question."
Still holding the jar in his right arm, the white-robed man drew a pistol with his left-a Spell Art Pistol.
Bang!
The white-robed man pulled the trigger, firing a bullet.
In certain parts of the city that night, gunshots had already become commonplace.
A barrier of light appeared before Neo. The Art Bullet struck it and burst into a mass of snaking electricity. This was a basic Spell Art Pistol loaded with paralysis rounds, whose primary purpose was not to kill or wound, but to compensate as much as possible for the user's poor aim.
After easily blocking the bullet, Neo appeared directly before the white-robed man. His left hand