Chapter 25: Harvey Michelson

Boom!

The roar of an explosion interrupted their thoughts.

Rosie quickly got off Hermann, turning sideways to brace the teetering dining table with her shoulder.

She turned her head to look at the man.

“What now?”

Hermann’s face looked pale from the pain.

He managed to sit up straight, leaning his back against the table to help Rosie share some of the pressure.

He used his good hand to check the revolver’s cylinder, licked his dry lips, and forced a smile.

“Good news, we still have one bullet left.”

‘The bad news is, we only have one bullet left.’

Through the table, the chill of the pale flames seemed to penetrate Rosie’s shoulder, dragging her heart down with it, straight into an ice cellar.

‘After all this running around, is it all for nothing in the end?’

Rosie was unwilling to accept it.

She lowered her voice and asked in a whisper, “Does she have no cost for continuously bombarding us with fireballs like this?”

Hermann shook his head.

“Of course there is, but before her spirituality is depleted, we will definitely be the ones to fall first.”

Range is justice.

Hannah Carter did not pour all her spiritual energy into a focused attack just because she had an absolute advantage.

Instead, she maintained an attack interval of about five seconds, one shot after another, boiling the frog in warm water.

Besides the fireballs aimed at the dining table, three more fireballs circled around Hannah Carter, ready to be unleashed.

The moment Rosie Moulton or Hermann Rhys showed their heads, a magnificent firework would bloom in the dining room.

The fate of Dennis Sandek, who had rushed in for quick success, was laid bare right there.

The Baron’s daughter had no desire to repeat his mistake.

After a brief silence, Rosie suddenly turned around, and then, one hand grabbed the collar of the man’s shirt.

‘Betrayal?’

Just as this thought flashed through Hermann’s mind, the young lady’s voice, trembling slightly with fear, reached his ears.

“Hermann, if I block the fireball for you, can you guarantee you’ll blow her head off with one shot?”

Rosie held Hermann’s collar, pulling his face close.

Their faces were barely a fist’s width apart, their eyes meeting.

She used this forceful action to pretend she wasn’t scared at all, deceiving herself.

Rosie was terrified.

She was truly terrified.

She was afraid of fire, afraid of pain, and afraid of death.

Afraid of that suffocating darkness, and that soundless silence.

What she feared most was loneliness, afraid of being unable to become a Covenanter, losing the chance to ‘go home,’ and never seeing her parents again.

If she had a choice, she would of course want Hermann to block that d*mn fireball while she took out Hannah with a shot.

But, she knew her own marksmanship.

There was only one chance, and it had to be a kill shot!

As for what her fate would be after taking a hit from such a fireball—disfigurement? Serious injury? Or even death?

For Rosie, who was struggling on this thin line of survival.

This was not a multiple-choice question, but a true-or-false one.

Hermann looked at the pair of misty-blue eyes before him, which were fighting back tears.

They held a hint of fear, a hint of retreat, but hidden in their depths was a madness that could burn everything.

He was silent for a moment, then shook his head.

“I can’t guarantee it one hundred percent.”

Rosie managed to force a twitch of her lips, a smile uglier than a cry.

“Why aren’t you lying this time?”

She released the man’s collar, her expression gradually calming, and turned her head to say her last words.

“Hermann, if you miss.”

“On the way to the heavenly kingdom, I’ll curse you all the way.”

Remembering the joke he had made when they were at odds with each other, Hermann also laughed.

“If I miss, then I will definitely go to hell.”

Just as the two decided to make a last stand, to die a noble death.

One after another, faint blue chains, somewhere between illusion and reality, spread out from the formless void, tightly coiling around their arms and ankles, restraining their movements.

‘Hannah Carter had another trick up her sleeve?!’

“Hermann, shoot!!!”

In a flash, Rosie had no time to think, and she turned her head to scream at the top of her lungs.

Unfortunately, what’s done is done; defeat was sealed.

The chains were like a giant python coiling around its prey, forcing Hermann’s right hand, which held the gun, to turn bit by bit along the path of its force.

Cold sweat broke out on Hermann’s forehead.

His fingers lost their strength, and the revolver carrying their last hope fell with a clatter.

And the dining table, which had long been on the verge of collapse, ended its mission at this moment.

Boom—bang!

Just like Rosie’s heart at this moment.

The expected pain or the icy chill of the pale fireballs did not descend upon her.

Rosie’s hands were hoisted up by the chains.

She struggled to lift her head.

Directly in front of her, Hannah Carter was not faring much better.

In fact, she was receiving even more attention.

The pale fireballs that had been swirling around her had long since disappeared.

Her arm, which had been wrapped in tentacles, was now bound by layer upon layer of chains.

Hannah’s face was deathly pale.

She opened her mouth and uttered an obscure and evil syllable.

The blood vessels in her other arm, exposed to the air, suddenly became clear.

The faint bluish lines gradually twisted, and her delicate skin began to squirm, sprouting one fleshy bud after another.

A dark shadow flashed past the dining room entrance at extreme speed.

When it stopped, Rosie could finally see clearly that it was a person dressed in a black coat.

From the hairstyle she could see from behind, the person should be a man.

Hannah’s eyes were filled with madness.

She felt she was getting closer and closer to “God.”

His knowledge, His whispers, she was gradually understanding everything about Him!

‘Keep chanting, keep chanting, this is God’s ‘gospel’!’

But the man’s actions were faster than her words.

The black-clad man struck Hannah Carter’s chin with a punch, stopping her from continuing to speak.

At the same time, his other hand pulled out a revolver and pressed it against Hannah’s forehead.

Bang!

After the gunshot, there was no hole in Hannah’s head.

Her light-blue pupils were somewhat dilated, and the bizarre mutations on her body gradually stopped.

Her entire body uncontrollably pitched forward.

Fortunately, the chains wrapped around her arms held her up, saving her from the fate of landing face-first on the ground.

Light footsteps approached from the direction of the doorway.

Two people emerged from the shadows of the corridor.

One of them was none other than the man from 11 Rose Street, from the Glenn Historical Site Preservation Society, Harvey Michelson.