“Boom!”
The deafening explosion shattered their thoughts.
Luo Xi quickly moved away from Herman, turned to the side, and braced the tottering dining table with her shoulder.
Tilting her head, she looked at the man.
“What do we do now?”
Because of the pain, Herman’s face looked somewhat pale.
He forced himself upright, leaning his back against the table to help Luo Xi bear some of the strain.
With his good hand, he checked the chamber of the Revolver, licked his dry lips, and managed a smile.
“Good news, we still have one bullet left.”
The bad news was—they only had one bullet left.
Across the table, the chilling sensation of the Pale Flame seemed to seep through Luo Xi’s shoulder, dragging her heart straight down into an icy abyss.
After all this running in circles, was it all for nothing?
Luo Xi was unwilling to accept that.
Lowering her voice, she asked quietly, “If she keeps attacking us with Fireballs like this, doesn’t she ever run out?”
Herman shook his head. “Of course she does, but before her spiritual power is drained, we’ll be the ones to fall first.”
Range is justice. Hannah Carter, having the absolute advantage, did not recklessly pour all her focus into attacking.
Instead, she maintained an attack interval of about five seconds—one Fireball after another, like boiling a frog in warm water.
Besides the Fireball aimed at the dining table, three other Fireballs orbited Hannah Carter, ready to strike at any moment.
If either Luo Xi Moulton or Herman Reese showed themselves, a dazzling firework would bloom in the dining room in an instant.
With the outcome of Dennis Sandaike’s impatience still vivid, this Baroness had no intention of repeating his mistake.
After a brief silence, Luo Xi suddenly turned around.
Then, she grabbed the man’s shirt collar with one hand.
Betrayal?
The thought had just flashed through Herman’s mind when he heard the girl’s voice, trembling slightly with fear, in his ear.
“Herman, if I block the Fireball for you, can you guarantee you’ll blow her head off with one shot?”
Luo Xi clutched Herman’s collar, yanking his face close—just a fist’s distance between them—their eyes meeting.
With such a forceful gesture, she pretended not to be afraid at all, fooling herself.
Luo Xi was terrified.
She was truly terrified—afraid of fire, afraid of pain, and afraid of death.
Afraid of that suffocating darkness, and that soundless silence.
What she feared most was loneliness—afraid she would never become a Secret Covenantor, lose her chance to go Home, and never see her parents again.
If she could choose, she’d certainly want Herman to block that damned Fireball, and take the shot at Hannah herself.
But she knew her own marksmanship.
There would only be one chance—she could only pray for a one-shot kill!
As for what would happen to her after taking a Fireball—disfigurement?
Serious injury?
Or perhaps death?
For Luo Xi, struggling on the edge of life and death—
This wasn’t a multiple-choice question, but a judgment call.
Herman looked into those misty blue eyes fighting back tears.
There was fear, there was hesitation, but buried deep inside burned a madness that would consume everything.
He was silent for a moment, then shook his head.
“I can’t guarantee a hundred percent.”
Luo Xi forced a smile, one uglier than crying.
“Why aren’t you lying to me now?”
She let go of his collar, her expression gradually calming.
Turning her head, she spoke her final words.
“Herman, if you miss—”
“On the way to Heaven, I’ll curse you the whole way there.”
Remembering the joke he made when they clashed earlier, Herman chuckled as well.
“If I miss, then I’ll be going straight to Hell.”
Just as the two resolved to fight to the bitter end, ready to die—
A series of faint blue Chains, half-real and half-illusory, spread out from the invisible void, tightly winding around their arms and ankles, binding their movements.
Hannah Carter had another trick up her sleeve?!
“Herman, shoot!!!”
In that split second, Luo Xi didn’t have time to think.
She turned her head and screamed with all her might.
But it was too late—the outcome was set.
The Chains, like a giant Snake coiling around its prey, forced Herman’s right hand, which held the gun, to move bit by bit along its dictated path.
Cold sweat broke out on Herman’s forehead. His powerless fingers loosened, and the Revolver, carrying their last hope, clattered to the ground.
At the same time, the already overburdened dining table finally met its end.
Boom—crash!
Just like Luo Xi’s heart at that moment.
The expected pain, or the icy chill of the Pale Flame, did not descend upon her.
Her hands were hoisted upward by the Chains.
Luo Xi struggled to raise her head, looking straight ahead.
Hannah Carter wasn’t faring much better—if anything, she was suffering more.
The Pale Fireballs swirling around her had long since vanished. The arms once wrapped in tentacles were now bound in layer upon layer of Chains.
Hannah’s face was deathly pale.
She opened her mouth, uttering a strange and sinister syllable.
On her other bare arm, the veins suddenly stood out, pale blue patterns twisting, and her tender skin began to writhe, sprouting one fleshy tendril after another.
A black shadow flashed past the dining room door at lightning speed. When it stopped, Luo Xi finally saw—it was a person dressed in black.
Judging by the hairstyle from behind, it was probably a man.
Hannah’s eyes were wild with madness.
She felt herself drawing ever closer to “God”—His knowledge, His Whisper, she was gradually understanding it all!
Keep chanting, keep chanting—this was the ‘Gospel’ of God!
But the man in black moved faster than her words.
He landed a punch on Hannah Carter’s jaw, stopping her from speaking further.
At the same time, his other hand drew a Revolver, pressing it to Hannah’s forehead.
Bang!
After the gunshot, there was no hole in Hannah’s head.
Her pale blue pupils grew unfocused, the bizarre mutation on her body gradually ceased, and she slumped uncontrollably forward.
Fortunately, the Chains binding her arms held her up, sparing her a face-first fall.
Light footsteps sounded from the direction of the door.
Two figures emerged from the shadows of the corridor.
One of them was none other than Harvey Mitchelson, from Rose Street No. 11, of the Glen Ruins Conservation Association.