There was something writhing in the shadows, followed by a gush of warm air. Lorenzo staggered out from it, as he moved forward, the black armor on his body gradually fell off, clattering to the ground, gradually revealing his scarred body.
He took deep breaths of the cold air, the low-temperature gas filling his lungs brought a slight sting, clearing some of the chaos in Lorenzo's consciousness.
But even so, there was still intense pain in his mind; it felt like his consciousness had been dragged out for a beating then stuffed back in, with residual pain lingering on his physique, disrupting his senses.
He felt like his chest had been pierced by metal, but in reality, there was no injury there; the blurred phantom pain tortured his mind.
With trembling hands, he picked up the Holy Silver crown and barely put it on, for a moment, his tumultuous thoughts seemed suppressed by some unknown force, easing Lorenzo's discomfort greatly.
