Gun of Ashes-Chapter 665 - 167 Betrayal

The entire world was like a chaotic nightmare, as if the ocean had been poured into the sky, accompanied by the baptism of thunder and lightning over everyone on the earth.

Within the Armor of Original Sin, Lancelot slightly raised his head. The thunder silhouetted the Plague Doctor in pitch-black, yet the blood from the Holy Grail in his hand released an alluring crimson, like flowing rubies.

"Have you made up your mind? Child."

The Plague Doctor asked again, seemingly not in a hurry, exhibiting a composed demeanor.

At this moment, Lancelot appeared extremely tempting to him. He was impatient to study the secrets on him; if possible, he would even soak the deceased Lancelot in formalin as one of his prized specimens.

Lancelot remained silent. For a moment, his angry thoughts were frozen before the "miracle" offered by the Plague Doctor.

He was very aware that even if he lived on, he would still become a test subject, sacrificing his absurd remaining life to save the royal family and break the king's curse.

Even so, Lancelot held no hope for any of this. He didn't even think this vicious curse could be easily dispelled. As a member of the royal family, he knew many things that Arthur did not, like the research on the king's curse.

He had heard from those old folks that this was not the first time research on the king's curse had been initiated. Every Victoria Queen had tried hard, but over the years, the king's curse still existed, and their bodies piled into a mountain.

This was a road of little hope.

So, trust the Plague Doctor? This enemy, evil anomaly, the culprit behind all this sorrow.

Perhaps... there is hope?

Demons, the source of all strange evil in this world, yet similarly, humans have obtained unimaginable powers of miracles from these detestable creatures.

The Armor of Original Sin, Secret Blood, Alchemy... these "miracles" beyond mortals were all closely tied to the deepest darkness.

Perhaps... perhaps the king's curse originated from the demons too?

It was as if a terrifying rumble echoed in his mind, and Lancelot felt he vaguely glimpsed something.

Yes, everything in this world seemed reasonable, except for demons. They appeared out of nowhere, abruptly joining the world's evil, and all extraordinary power seemed to be related to them.

In that case, should he accept this mysterious blood of the Holy Grail? Lancelot had personally witnessed that brief experiment when Abigail injected her blood mixed with Lorenzo's into the body of a white mouse. The king's curse was easily overridden, and under the blessing of Secret Blood, the mouse had nearly bizarre vitality.

This thing could indeed cure the king's curse; the only thing to consider was whether he could maintain rationality under the erosion of Secret Blood.

Evil voices constantly echoed in his mind, and for a moment, his thoughts were completely consumed by all this until cold rainwater seeped through his face armor onto his face.

Feeling the bone-chilling cold, Lancelot's heart trembled, suddenly realizing his horror that he was hesitating in front of this issue. What he should do is immediately raise his long sword and kill the Plague Doctor, rather than consider the "miracle" he offered here.

But... but...

What should be done, Lancelot? Die for your honor, or for the freedom you have always pursued, fall into darkness?

In a trance, Lancelot saw green fields, a boy running freely and carelessly, not bothered by physical pressure, or worried about bleeding profusely if he fell. He was not bound by any curse, like any ordinary person, able to leave his footprints in every corner of the world.

Such a wonderful wish, but is sacrificing your soul for this wish too high a price?

Under this curtain of rain, everything fell into a prolonged silence, a quiet that seemed to freeze into eternity.

"Would you really...be willing to give up everything for all of this?"

Suddenly, the Plague Doctor asked, his gaze through the lenses was fixed on Lancelot, as if he understood why Lancelot was troubled.

"After all, what can your death do for the world? You should know, over the years, the number of people who died fighting demons is enough to fill a valley. Whether there is one less or one more of you, what can it change?"

He lifted the entire face armor, exposing Lancelot completely to his eyes, studied the child's face, his slightly dazed pupils full of doubt and confusion.

"This is the flood of the age, individuals in this flood are like fragile young grass, only swept up ruthlessly, rushing towards the valley along with the flood, you can't change any of this, powerless, so why not be a little selfish?"

"A little selfish..."

"Yes, a little selfish, you are still so young, have served the Purification Mechanism for so long...by the way, does this count as employing child labor?"

The Plague Doctor laughed, his laughter twisted and bizarre.

"Think carefully, Lancelot, there are still so many beautiful things in this world you haven't seen, power, wealth, new continents...even an unforgettable romance. Many things in the world are worth your selfishness, aren't they?"

Lancelot's eyes widened, his eyes filled with fine blood vessels, not knowing whether it was sweat or rain, it trickled across his eyelids, blurring his vision.