647 “Inexplicable Action”
In the face of the flaming spear, Twanaku’s eyes, now crimson from the Devil Transformation, reflected dancing and burning crimson flames.
He remained unfazed. Instead, he conjured an aberration–a broadsword made of crimson magma and pale-blue flames.
Swiftly turning, Twanaku exposed his back to the flaming spear. With the magma broadsword in hand, he slashed at the foe who had seemingly teleported behind him, launching an attack.
The broadsword, adorned with crimson magma and pale-blue flames, sliced through the air but missed Lumian. It left only an exaggerated mark on the wall behind, a testament to its destructive force.
Had it not been for the Bottle of Fiction’s protection, the bathroom wall would have been split in half. Even so, the bottle visibly trembled, bearing some damage.
The nearly white flaming spear also struck Twanaku’s back, piercing a little before being halted by the elastic dark skin and sturdy flesh. It failed to penetrate the Devil’s body, leaving only blackened traces from the resulting inferno.
Devils, armored in thick and tough natural protection, were resistant to flames, poison, and curses to a certain extent. Twanaku, in his Zombie state, possessed a steel-like body that could withstand bullets and cannonballs. Lumian’s flaming spear and fireball attacks, as well as the Fire Ravens’ onslaught, posed little threat. Standing still, Twanaku could endure repeated attacks without suffering severe injuries.
Additionally, his ability to transform into a Wraith allowed him to evade explosions effortlessly.
“Hisoka” Twanaku believed that, without the support of the Tarot Club, the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, and powerful demigods, he could have tortured Lumian to death. Even with teleportation, spells rendering him temporarily unconscious, and mystical items, most of Lumian’s attacks were ineffective against Wraiths and Desire Apostle Beyonders. The Psychic Shock and Desire Detonation further restrained him, leaving him vulnerable to the assaults of Wraiths and undead creatures.
Having missed his strike, Twanaku noticed Lumian’s figure reappear in midair.
As anticipated, Lumian had chosen to teleport behind and launch an attack. However, there was a notable change compared to previous encounters.
Hovering near the ceiling and the vent, Lumian opened his mouth and emitted a harrumph.
The moment a pale-yellow light shot out, Hisoka Twanaku’s figure faded and vanished.
In Lumian’s pupils, a devilish figure materialized–dark skin, long goat horns, bat wings on its back, and no longer wielding the Sword of Lava.
Swiftly, Twanaku transformed into a Wraith, leaping into Lumian’s eyes, deftly dodging the Spell of Harrumph’s attack.
Devil Transformation didn’t impede his Wraith abilities!
Lumian’s face paled, a dark-green hue tinting his features. His hands involuntarily rose, reaching for his neck, and his body plummeted to the ground.
Prepared for such a situation, Lumian didn’t resist. While he could still struggle, he didn’t halt his hands or resist the Wraith’s control. Instead, he sank his consciousness into his right hand.
The frenzied, bloody aura of superiority dissipated slightly, causing Twanaku to instinctively tremble.
He subconsciously detached from Lumian’s body and leaped onto the sink.
Lumian activated the black mark on his right shoulder, vanishing before crashing to the ground.
This time, he appeared behind the motionless silver-white full-body armor.
Behind!
The Pride Armor spun around abruptly, raising the broadsword of light and slashing at Lumian in the not-too-small bathroom. Lumian employed Spirit World Traversal once more, vanishing from the silver armor’s path.
Within the mirror, “Hisoka” Twanaku was somewhat bewildered.
Why did Lumian Lee provoke his Sealed Artifact and engage in combat with it?
Am I not his enemy target?
The negative effects of a Sealed Artifact?
Though he didn’t understand what was going on, Twanaku sensed danger instinctively.
His Danger Premonition, along with a possible insight from Emperor Roselle–“If something shows signs of abnormality, there must be an abnormal factor hidden. Such factors often signify danger.”
Without hesitation, Twanaku left the sink and leaped to the bathroom door in his colossal Devil form.
Conjuring a dozen or so light-blue Sulfur Fireballs, he directed them at the wooden door in unison.
Twanaku, who had shaken the Bottle of Fiction with his sword, knew that the current seal could be broken by brute force. There was no need to find the true exit or kill the enemy who had constructed the seal.
For this reason, he chose to forgo teaming up with the full-body armor to assail Lumian.
He reckoned that any further delay, even if Lumian Lee were to fall on the spot, would lead to him being surrounded, facing a lethal blow with no chance of escaping alive.
In such a scenario, killing Lumian Lee would render the effort meaningless!
Certainly, Twanaku wasn’t about to let Lumian off easily. Following the Sulfur Fireball assault, he clenched his fists and spoke a word in Devil language filled with depravity and filth.
“Slow!”
This was a manifestation of the Language of Foulness, capable of stiffening and even halting the movements of targets within a seven- to eight-meter radius for approximately two seconds.
Considering the bathroom’s size, this radius covered the entire area.
Lumian’s form reappeared.
Once more, he teleported behind the Pride Armor, conjuring a crimson fireball almost white in his hand.
Influenced by the Language of Foulness, both Lumian and the Pride Armor moved sluggishly. One “slowly” launched a fireball, while the other struggled to turn around, as if its joints had rusted.
Rumble!
The Sulfur Fireballs erupted against the bathroom door.
A translucent, illusory membrane materialized on the bathroom’s side. Like glass, it shattered inch by inch, leaving crisscrossing marks that teetered on the brink of collapse.
The wooden door appeared charred and pieced together, reminiscent of a child’s broken toy hastily glued back together.
Observing this, “Hisoka” Twanaku grasped that another strike could completely shatter the seal.
This time, he gathered seven to eight light-blue Sulfur Fireballs.
On the opposite end, Lumian’s fireball finally collided with the Pride Armor’s back, assisted by the explosive waves.
Amidst the rumbling and clanging, the silver armor stiffened.
Lumian activated the black mark on his right shoulder once more and teleported away from his current location.
Almost simultaneously, the Pride Armor overcame the effects of Slow with abnormal swiftness, swiftly turning around.
However, it still couldn’t lock onto its target.
Twanaku felt a surge of amusement bubbling within him but maintained an unusual vigilance. His only wish was that the relentless bombardment would shatter the seal completely, granting him an avenue for escape.
In the next moment, the Sulfur Fireballs collided with the wooden door at the bathroom entrance. Twanaku witnessed the silver-white full-body armor squat down, driving the broadsword of light into the ground.
Wh— Twanaku’s pupils dilated as he instinctively readied himself to transform into a Wraith.
Yet, he held back, exercising restraint. Aware of the potential consequences within the Warrior pathway, he understood the risk of subjecting himself to even greater harm.
Rumble!
Simultaneously with the explosion of the Sulfur Fireballs, the Sword of Dawn, embedded in the crevice in the stone tiles by the Pride Armor, disintegrated into fragments of light. Densely packed, they formed a flickering, violent, and sharp hurricane that swept in all directions, filled with the intent to annihilate everything.
Hurricane of Light!
Since it couldn’t lock onto the backstabber, it opted for a wide-ranging assault!
The sharp and terrifying storm of light enveloped Twanaku and Kolobo on the ground. Lumian materialized in front of the latter, crouched down, shielding vital points. He faced the formidable hurricane head-on.
The washroom bore the brunt of the assault. The urinal was wrecked, and the cubicles silently collapsed, shedding a layer of bricks.
As a depraved creature, Twanaku had nowhere to hide. All he could do was endure the damage, his eyes flickering with a sharp light.
In the radiant blades’ storm, Lumian’s figure cracked inch by inch, shattering into numerous mirror fragments.
Mirror Substitution!
With his obstruction, Kolobo avoided fatal injuries but couldn’t escape multiple bleeding wounds.
…
In Camus’s office, within the beige four-story building housing the patrol team.
Crouched behind a table, Camus’s face turned pale, tinged with a dark-green hue. It was as if a grayish-white clown laughed exaggeratedly in his eyes.
Camus strained to ignite bolts of lightning in his eyes, piercing Sow’s mind. His betraying teammate grimaced in pain, causing his broadsword to lose strength and direction, crashing into the desk and failing to hit Camus.
In that critical moment, Camus drew a silver revolver from his right hand, aiming it not at Sow but at himself.
Across the street, in a room facing Camus’s office,
Jenna, holding a telescope, huddled by the curtain, closely monitored Camus’s condition.
Seeing the other party under attack and struggling, she swiftly grabbed the loudspeaker she had prepared and brought it to her mouth.
“Camus has been attacked!
“Camus has been attacked by the Rose School of Thought!
“Camus is being attacked in his office!”
The loudspeaker’s sound reverberated through every room of the patrol team.
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