But the eyes, which ought to be filled with pure innocence, were left with nothing but emptiness, no future, no family...
Anyone standing outside here would hardly believe this place could be at the foot of St. Peter's Cathedral.
Byron and Amita exuded an almost palpable murderous aura.
"Your Majesty! We..."
"Hold!"
Their target unchanged, they must kill the Pope first.
They could only forcibly suppress their murderous intent, refraining from slaughtering the saints guarding the rear hills.
The mythical form grew into a large cluster of brilliant flowers, each one containing a scarlet-eyed Saint Lucia;
Growing into a golden war chariot, wheels constantly spewing fire was Saint Simon...
Even seeing these fallen saints devouring those who once trusted them implicitly, the two did not take action.
Until they encountered Sirio on the second-to-last hill, the strongest Saint John.
