A mass of crimson light passed through the doors, following the cold wind Silas had created, flying directly toward his palm.
Before he could react, it drilled into his body.
This was an extremely scorching, extremely explosive sensation. Wherever it passed, flesh collapsed and souls trembled.
"Bang!"
An explosive sound suddenly rang out.
The hand receiving the evil spirit instantly burst open.
The blood mist that scattered didn't fly far before automatically igniting upon contact with air, raising a large expanse of crimson flames.
Looking at his right hand again, the skin and a layer of flesh had been peeled away.
The remaining part was also dripping with blood, bearing scorched marks.
"Bang! Bang!"
The evil spirit advanced toward the depths of Silas's body, and explosions occurred in succession, spreading upward along his arm, bathing his entire body in crimson flames.
As expected, this fellow had no intention of being grazed at all. He wanted to seize his body!
Silas ignored his injuries and fully activated his "Grazing" ability, trying to control the evil spirit and guide it to the vacant slot.
He had completely digested the Shepherd potion, plus with a trace of pure divinity within his body and having completed the Sequence 4 ceremony in advance, his control over his flock far exceeded that of ordinary Shepherds.
"Crack!"
He lashed at the crimson evil spirit with the Shepherd's invisible power, suppressing its wanton movements.
"Heh..."
The red evil spirit let out a mocking light laugh. Silas's power had minimal effect on it.
It only paused briefly before breaking free from the restraints and regaining freedom, simultaneously charging forward and seizing Silas's torso.
"Ugh!"
A scorching sensation and erosive feeling instantly arrived.
Silas's body immediately became rigid and immobile. He had lost control of his body.
possession!
Silas's spirit rapidly fell into confusion.
Before him, an illusory figure slowly materialized. That figure didn't exist in reality but was directly projected into his eyes.
What he saw was a handsome youth with red hair, wearing black iron armor splashed with fresh blood.
On each side of his cheeks was a wound rotted to the bone. On his brow was a banner-like crimson mark, vivid and dripping.
"Medici..."
Silas struggled to resist, squeezing out a few words through gritted teeth.
The handsome youth merely smiled at him.
"A Shepherd's body is truly excellent. It can actually withstand my soul..."
Having said that, he reached out his hand, extending it toward Silas's head...
Silas's eyes stared at Him as the illusory sea tide in his brain immediately activated.
"Splash..."
The illusory tide surged from his brain, flooding into Silas's body.
The liquid was heavy and viscous, blocking all the evil spirit's escape routes. The sea tide possessed extremely high status.
It could even resist deities, so naturally suppressing an evil spirit formed after an angel's death was no problem!
This was what Silas had planned all along.
He had deliberately lured the other party deep into his body where it couldn't retreat in time, only releasing the sea tide at the most critical moment.
So he saw the smile on the youth's face freeze, then become incomparably astonished.
"Sasrir?! No, you are..."
Before the red-haired youth's words could finish, the projection flickered and vanished, because Silas had already grasped His main body with the sea tide.
The heavy and viscous seawater wrapped around Him, advancing toward the vacant slot for his flock.
This time, the Red Angel evil spirit's resistance had no effect. The sea tide's higher status made it difficult for Him to break free.
Got you!
Silas thought to himself.
While controlling the other party with the seawater, he activated "Grazing" again, forcibly using the Shepherd's characteristic to communicate with His spirituality.
He needed to determine what abilities the other party possessed, then select three to fix!
"You dare?!"
Medici let out an enraged roar.
His soul body floated and sank in the illusory sea tide, casting a fierce, violent, extremely aggressive glance at Silas.
Those eyes were full of aggression and brutality, as if the "God of War" had crossed a thousand years of time, bombarding him with the aftershock!
"Bang!"
Silas felt like a bomb had exploded in his head.
His body suddenly collapsed, almost turning into a puddle of mangled flesh.
"Boom..."
The remnants of his body, struck by the aftershock, splattered outward, transforming into raging flames.
This Fourth Epoch building buried deep underground was suddenly ignited, sending up surging firelight!
Silas's rag doll-like body was surrounded by flames.
He also went all out, desperately squeezing the spirituality within his body, fully catalyzing "Grazing," determined to turn the Red Angel evil spirit into his flock!
Flames and flesh intertwined together, forming a scene of madness in this dark underground building.
---
December 31st, 1349, evening, at a certain harbor in Backlund.
Under the moonlight, a giant warship gleaming with metallic luster rested in the harbor.
Compared to the Loen military's typical sailing battleships, this vessel was enormous in size.
It had no sails but two smokestacks instead.
Numerous open-air gun turrets were arranged on the ship, with gun barrel calibers astonishing, far exceeding all contemporary sailing warships.
Heavy iron armor formed its body, with armor thickness reaching 1ft 5.99in, providing formidable defensive power.
This was the pride of the Loen navy, the ironclad warship capable of overturning the era, the "Pritz."
This behemoth remained silent in the night, making the surrounding buildings appear much smaller by comparison.
"What bullshit... It's almost New Year's and they still won't give us leave..."
On the deck, a sailor complained in a low voice.
"The officers and generals are all off enjoying the New Year's banquet at Sodlark Palace, leaving us here to freeze in the cold wind..."
It seemed he held considerable resentment.
"Keep it down, don't let the sergeant hear you."
Another on-duty soldier whispered.
"Can't be helped. Who told us the 'Pritz' is a precious ironclad warship that must be strictly guarded?"
"Tch!"
The only response he got was an impatient cold snort.
This soldier's resentment was understandable.
They were supposed to be on vacation by a sunny seaside, but a royal decree had dragged them to Backlund for a so-called ceremonial tour.
Even to ensure the ironclad warship's safety, these soldiers weren't allowed to disembark even after arriving in the most prosperous Backlund. They could only stay on the ship.
"Thump, thump, thump..."
Just then, rhythmic footsteps approached from the distance. The two soldiers exchanged glances and immediately straightened up, standing in perfect formation.
Their captain, the sergeant, had arrived.
"Any abnormalities?"
The sergeant, holding a lantern, questioned the two soldiers.
"No abnormalities!"
The soldier who had been giving advice answered truthfully, while the complaining soldier seemed somewhat listless.
"What about you? Where's your answer?"
The sergeant addressed him.
"Reporting, sir, no situation whatsoever!"
"Be serious!"
The sergeant barked.
"Don't slack off just because it's the last day of the year! You're soldiers of Loen, you must chase glory!
For example, right now, we're going to seize victory! The enemy is in Sodlark Palace, use the Pritz to blow it to pieces!"
By the end of his speech, his words began to warp and twist unnaturally.
"Yes, sir!"
The two soldiers didn't notice anything strange. Excitedly, they grabbed their rifles from behind them, ready to follow orders.