This is a curse, an extremely vicious curse, a curse that will never end until one dies.
In the darkness, the Yega Theater had turned into an ancient dueling arena, with monsters moving and fighting in the gloom, venting all their long-storing hatred and anger at this moment, burning everything.
The drifting candlelight outlined the rapidly moving figures, and it was difficult for ordinary people to recognize their shapes. The thunderous sound of swords followed them, like the galloping thunder, never stopping for a moment.
They collided, separated, accumulated strength, and collided again, with their swords clashing.
Two pairs of blazing white eyes stared at each other, and collided with each other with a deafening roar. At this moment, there was no skill involved in the battle between the two. It was just pure violence, venting pure anger.
The sword blade cut through the dense black armor with a sharp whistling sound, shattering the hard material and causing blood to ooze out from the gaps in the armor. However, an equally deadly gunshot was fired, and the bullet pierced through the bright red robe and hit the wall behind him, leaving a trail of bullet holes and blood.
The two injured people seemed to lose their strength for a short time, fell from the speed, and fell into the endless darkness, and silence fell.
They seemed to be dead, but the silence was soon broken by heavy breathing. In this quiet world, the heartbeat was as loud as a war drum, and the sound began to accelerate, like a rapid drumbeat, and finally reached its peak.
The rising fireworks ignited everything around them, and the dead monsters woke up again.
All this is just like the legends of the Vikings, where brave warriors gather in Valhalla, fight, die, wake up, and once again engage in endless fighting.
"You are much stronger than before, Lorenzo Holmes."
The voice echoed with a metallic timbre. In the darkness, Lawrence climbed up from the broken ruins.
He was in a very miserable state at the moment, with scars all over his body. One sword strike after another almost tore his body apart, but fortunately the witcher had a strong vitality, and the broken limbs were connected by the scarlet blood threads. Then the silk threads became more and more, just like sewing threads, sewing the broken torso together again.
"That's great, Lawrence. I didn't expect I would have the chance to kill you again."
On the other side of the darkness, Lorenzo slowly appeared in sight carrying a heavy cello case.
The pitch-black armor had long been shattered, but during this period of respite, more dense and hard materials filled the broken parts. Just like shedding skin, the pitch-black scales peeled off from the armor and turned into dust and dissipated.
Lorenzo glanced at the spiked sword in his hand. Although it was made of cypress iron, it had become twisted under the high-intensity combat. A clear crack ran through the sword body, as if it would be completely shattered with another blow.
"Such a dull reaction? I thought you would seem... more excited when you saw me again."
Lawrence also threw away the broken sword in his hand and drew out a spiked sword from the sword bag behind him, just as he did when he fought a life-and-death battle with Lorenzo on the train.
"Yes, more excited, just like before, brandishing the sword angrily, questioning me about the story that was deliberately concealed."