Blood flowed along the grooves of the metal, gathering at the end of the hilt, dripping down in large drops, seeping into the carpet, above the blade, a creature barely resembling a human was nailed to the ceiling.
The moment the blade hit it, it erupted into dense Iron Thorns, tearing through every inch of its flesh, shredding all its bones, its skin still maintained its shape, but inside it had already transformed into a mess of mud and dirty blood.
Bologue, reflecting on his experiences from the past few days, had already guessed what the creature was, but he still carefully observed to confirm.
The familiar pale skin, the loss of sanity, leaving only frenzied scarlet eyes, a strong ability to resurrect, but under Bologue's fatal attack, even this meager resurrection ability was rendered useless, and it completely died.
Bologue whispered, "Bloodthirsty."
