It was an indescribable emotion, a mixture of ecstasy and anger for revenge, and the hatred of being betrayed.
Although Lorenzo only saw the man once, and his face was even blurry due to the high speed, but at that moment Lorenzo still recognized him, the man who should have died on the Holy Night.
"I didn't expect you were still alive, Priest Lawrence."
The voice under the armor was devoid of any emotion, as if the knight under the armor had become inhuman this time and fallen into the depths of darkness.
"Lo... Lorenzo!"
Eve behind him seemed to recognize the hideous body and exclaimed.
Seleu's eyes changed slightly. Of course, she heard Eve's words clearly. She didn't dare to associate this scary figure with the person in her mind, but when he turned his head, although she couldn't see his appearance clearly, the inexplicable sense of familiarity announced his identity.
"Quick, run away!"
Eve shouted at him, the pressure that Priest Lawrence gave her was far greater than anything she had encountered before. He was the real death carrier, and a fight with him would only result in bad consequences.
But Lorenzo shook his head and the voice rang out.
"You guys go, I want to stay."
Yes, how could Lorenzo escape? He had to stay. He had been carrying the mysterious weirdness for many years. Sometimes he even thought that he would die in such a mediocre way in Old Dunling. But when all things gradually woke up, he finally grasped a corner of the truth.
This was truly a fateful reunion. After the night of the Holy Visitation, Lorenzo thought he would never have the chance to learn the truth of everything, but the man who should have died long ago appeared before him again.
Lorenzo believed in the power of Bishop Lawrence. When the Witcher Cult had not yet been disbanded and the Holy Night had not yet broken out, he was the Bishop of the Witcher Cult, the Cardinal of the Evangelical Church, and a Witcher who had spent countless years as a Witcher.
Because of the uncontrollable nature of witchers, they are destined not to become people in power, but Archbishop Lawrence is an exception. He is the gray between black and white, the medium that connects the two.
Lorenzo is well aware of the gap between himself and Archbishop Lawrence. Although he is old, the secret blood in his body will not age with the years.
It is still a sharp sword, the only difference is that the scabbard covering the blade has aged.
There was no thought of escaping at all. It was not just for revenge. No matter what the purpose of Archbishop Lawrence's appearance here was, it seemed that only Lorenzo could hold him back at this moment. He was not even afraid. Lorenzo had recalled the night of the Holy Coming more than once. If he had a second chance to choose, he would definitely die there instead of living alone as the last person.
The blazing white flames were ecstatic, setting the green lawn on fire. The embers floated in the warm evening breeze, and the gray dust surged and dissipated under the night.
Lawrence slowly stood up from the ruins. He looked at the black armor. Lawrence was as surprised as Lorenzo. In his opinion, the witchers of Medanzo had died long ago, but they met again in this distant old Dunling.
"How could that be? You should all be dead."