The Great Demon Holmes

His movements were not fast, compared to those covenanters, it was as if he was in slow motion.

But his movements were silent, so quiet that if you weren't paying attention, he would completely disappear into the darkness of the night.

Just as Sherlock concealed himself, the elderly man, who had just relaxed his mind, suddenly trembled. It seemed like he had also noticed something and stared into the depths of the billowing smoke with an incredulous look.

An untimely lightning bolt streaked across the sky.

The esteemed priest's aging body suddenly erupted with a roar!

"Run!!!!"

Without any warning.

No one knew whom he was telling to run, where to run, how to run, or why to run.

He wasn't even sure if he really wanted to say the word 'run' at that moment. Perhaps, in that split second, all he could do was reflexively compress all his words and shock into a jumbled pronunciation.

However, he was still too slow.

In the thick smoke, a withered figure suddenly appeared, bathed in blood, like a withered branch swaying helplessly in a rainstorm.

But the speed of that figure was incredibly fast, surpassing human thought. Only when their gaze caught sight of his slender body and the black spike, about a meter long, that he held in his hand, in a posture as if he was about to throw it high into the air.

Regrettably, all of this was merely an image formed when light entered the pupils, and no one's brain could react in time.

*Bang!*

The bloody, slender arm erupted with an unimaginable force, producing a resounding blast as the strange power whipped through the air. The spike in his hand, like a dark beam of light, pierced through the entire street, and in the blink of an eye, it had pierced through the enormous vine plant above the clock tower, surpassing everyone's ability to react, including the shocked expressions on their faces.

Another *bang!* echoed. The spore sac at the center of the plant instantly exploded, and the sticky dark green fluid inside burst out like a disgusting firework!

When the covenant creature is injured, the covenantor will suffer a tremendous backlash. So, almost simultaneously, Catherine collapsed tragically to the ground, spraying a large amount of blood from her mouth.

But it didn't end there. As the explosion spread, the grotesque figure had already rushed out of the smoke and directly pounced on the defenseless esteemed priest.

Only at this moment did the thunder's roar finally arrive, accompanied by a downpour. Some slow-reacting individuals finally caught a glimpse of the figure's true appearance!

It should be Minister Bader because he was still draped in that tattered blood-red minister's robe. However, his appearance had completely deviated from his original form.

It could even be said that only the most basic skeleton and skin remained. The once muscular body had completely disappeared, and only a vague outline of the body could be seen within the oversized, sagging robe. Matched with his withered bones were a scalp hanging down and horrifying bulging eyeballs.

When the esteemed priest saw such a form, his eyes widened with an inexplicable mix of shock and fury. Because he inexplicably thought of a possibility: Could the reason why the opponent could unleash such terrifying destructive power in this dying state be because... he was sacrificing everything?

By everything, it naturally included muscles, organs, psychic power, and even the life of his covenant creature. All the things he still possessed. And it was precisely because of this kind of sacrifice that all the muscle tissue in his body had instantly turned into crazy nutrients, causing him to become emaciated to the extreme, and terrifying to the extreme.

And this method of sacrificing both form and spirit originated from within the Church, developed by the joint efforts of the Life Sciences Institute.

It was extremely precious, rumored to be obtainable only by the most devout clergy.

But wasn't this potion still in the research stage?

Why did Minister Bader have a bottle of it?

Did he steal it? Or did he quietly obtain it through some connections? Perhaps, he willingly offered himself as a test subject?

The esteemed priest couldn't even guess. In any case, this sudden turn of events completely caught him off guard.

Therefore, while the esteemed priest was shocked, all he could do reflexively was widen his eyes and witness the eerie and distorted, emaciated figure approaching him in an instant.

The figure looked so miserable and frail. Burning all the nutrients obtained from the sacrifice in a desperate bid to maximize the killing power, he had no spare energy left to protect himself. But with such a physique, as long as he touched the esteemed priest in that split second, the latter would undoubtedly be instantly torn apart! Then, the remaining mad power would drive this withered body to slaughter and destroy all the surrounding lives until he too turned to dust.

Everything happened too quickly. In fact, until now, the heavy rain had just passed through the gap between the sky and the ground, pouring down on the street, mixing the blood into a stinky muddy mess.

No one could have imagined this outcome, and naturally, no one was prepared.

Catherine wasn't, the esteemed priest wasn't, and neither were the guards of the Church around them.

...Wait!

It seemed like one person was.

...

Only a soft sound came from within the curtain of rain.

It was the sound of a bullet being fired. Amidst the continuous violent explosions from earlier, the sound of the gunshot was so crisp and pleasing to the ear.

This inconspicuous bullet pierced through the entire street, passing through the pervasive smell of blood, the wreckage of several steam exoskeletons, and the crushed flesh, even shattering a few raindrops along the way. Finally, it solidly smashed into the chest of the emaciated figure that approached in an instant!

There wasn't much sound in that split second, and Minister Bader didn't even make a scream.

Because, after swallowing the potion, rationality was also part of the sacrifice, and he had almost lost his ability to perceive pain.

However, without sturdy muscles as a cushion and protection, the impact of the bullet collided head-on with its terrifying speed. The momentary recoil caused the withered figure to stumble abruptly. The slight deviation in high-speed movement was like a speeding train suddenly derailing, rumbling and tumbling wildly in the sticky pool of blood.

On the other side of the rain curtain, Sherlock stood with his gun. His disheveled hair, washed by the rain, fell loosely along his cheeks. The cold night wind froze his face pale.