Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 520 - 476: Sage’s Stone

Without a doubt, the crisp sound produced under the collision of metal, and the shiny bell falling through the air, was clearly some kind of precious object.

The bell ringer let out a muffled grunt of an entirely different urgency, no longer paying attention to Verlet’s silver sword, nor blocking the bullets that Ralph fired. In the bell ringer’s eyes, there seemed to be only that glint of flying gold; he raised his hands high, pus from his severed fingers trailing down his arms, the dripping liquid entering his despicable eyes, but the bell ringer didn’t care and instead continued to let out urgent howls as he chased after the bell.

Ralph reloaded and aimed, his eyes fixed on the giant’s running torso and the bloody, severed fingers swinging in the air.

The wolf bared a sinister grin, only marginally better than a mortician’s makeup job.

The bell ringer had lost his regeneration ability; that bell was his constraint.

The bullet exploded on the inside of the bell ringer’s left knee, and the following slash severed the monster’s right ankle tendon. The giant, with his legs disabled, let out a wail, crawling on the ground, the bell falling not far away, emitting the only glimmer of light in the midst of the fear of death.

That bell was the bell ringer’s fatal weakness. Without it, dismembering the giant wasn’t much harder than slaughtering a fleeing beast. Devoid of self-healing, the bell ringer didn’t put up any resistance; he just dragged his battered body towards his only goal.

His speed grew slower and his howls grew fainter, but Verlet’s attack power was ultimately limited; her small silver sword was no more bothersome to the bell ringer than a needle prick.

He was finally about to touch the bell, he had persevered to the end; just by touching his precious bell, his wounds would all heal.

If only... click.

The light of the bell was blocked by a shadow, the ash-grey fog of gunpowder clinging to Ralph’s coat. Within the smoke, those golden eyes gleamed with malicious amusement, more dazzling than the shine of the bell.

A dark abyss enveloped the bell ringer’s vision, the darkness of the large-caliber barrel of the alchemical fire gun.

"Number one."

...

The headless giant lay before Ralph, his lifeless body gradually petrifying, eroding, crumbling.

"Turning to ash, truly a vampire..." Ralph took off his coat and brushed off the white ash, the close-range headshot had splattered all of the bell ringer’s shattered tissues on himself, and he had thought the coat was unsalvageable.

Blood, flesh, and bones, everything that belonged to the bell ringer was disintegrating, leaving a large patch of white ash among the wood chips.

Ralph picked up a pair of metal wings from among the ashes, a part of a sword guard, the connecting section between the hilt and the blade, one of the fragments of the Cursed Sword.

A trophy from the elimination of the bell ringer.

There were no casualties in this battle, but it still posed a certain degree of difficulty. Super-speed regeneration, the perverted endurance and attack power brought by the giant’s physique, just slightly slow in speed... Such an enemy, Ralph would typically avoid.

This monster was clearly not of human difficulty, no wonder the Demon Hunters were just legends in the jokes of young men and women, legends of the dead. No scheming, no deceitful stratagems, fights of pure, bestial power were not Ralph’s forte. Indeed, in the battle, his performance wasn’t as good as the agile Verlet’s.

This was the outcome after the prior destruction of the tower, but would they be as lucky next time? Could the buildings in other areas be easily demolished as well, and the monsters there be dumb brutes that relied on sheer strength?

Hardly likely.

Ralph made a decision; he needed to use a bit of his own trickery to control the coming situation.

Silvette approached with the little bell that the bell ringer had longed for.

"This was originally a ritual implement in the chapel, used during Mass for the priest to call to the congregation. It ended up in the bell ringer’s hands."

"This bell is the power source of that monster, and I suspect other monsters might have similar objects. Only with such a distinct weakness can we possibly win." Ralph extended his palm, "Can I harness this power for myself?"

The bell, with its uneven surface, was passed into Ralph’s hands without any response; to him, it was just a bell.

"These ritual implements have been held by the enemies of the angels for long, and the power within is already twisted. They are the monsters’ weakness, but I fear they lose their purpose once the monsters die."

Silvette extinguished a glimmer of hope in Ralph’s heart; it seems looting equipment from monsters really didn’t exist. However, Ralph still placed the bell inside his coat.

"It’s my trophy, even if it’s just a bell," he said.

Silvette didn’t show much reaction but smiled faintly, understanding the demon hunter’s quirky habit.

The eastern tower was destroyed, but the bell ringer had been killed, and the shards of the Cursed Sword had been obtained. This evening in Silvette’s eyes, was like a small gap being torn in the dark clouds of despair over Degonris. It was a new beginning; Degonris’s future would no longer have vampires or crazed members of the Blood Clan like Loshutar. Silvette felt a tinge of satisfaction in her heart.

Sacrifice was necessary for Degonris.

The weary Verlet needed rest, and Ralph’s cleaning plan was not urgent. Before dusk set in, the three returned to the inside of the chapel to rest.

The death of the bell ringer did not cause much of a stir among the people of Degonris; their vacant stares made Silvette’s mouth corners slowly drop, as if the dead were unrelated strangers. The oppression of survival had broken these people, Silvette thought, leaving them numb like puppets.

She knew she should understand this state of suffering, but the vacant stares also made the once hope-rekindled Silvette feel out of place for the first time. The girl now preferred to be around the two foreigners, the spirited Verlet or the gloomy Ralph, who could bring her more warmth.

Tonight, Degonris was peaceful; the Blood Angel seemed quite pleased with the trio’s actions, not causing terror in the dead of night. It was a relatively stable evening.

Silvette crouched opposite Ralph, smiling amusingly as Verlet, using her injury as an excuse, clung to Ralph.

The girl’s giggling caused Naranya to rein in a bit of her behavior, and Ralph, having caught his breath, naturally steered the conversation towards their next actions.

"There are three monsters left, but our power is currently limited, so, I’ll play my trump card. Verlet, girl, I’ll be using some special Alchemical Bullets to speed up the hunt and ensure your safety. Don’t be too surprised."

Silvette’s curiosity and Verlet’s admiration gave rise to the same question.

"What is your trump card?"

Ralph’s gaze focused on Silvette’s face, and when the little Loshutar girl faced such straightforward scrutiny, blush crawled up her cheeks. Ralph’s eerie gaze lasted for about thirty seconds. Then, it was like prying open an ancient, sealed tomb, with the secrets of the past echoing through the chapel alongside Ralph’s naturally cold breath.

"Have you heard of the Sage’s Stone?"