Immediately afterwards, the Duke of Barlow's laughter came to an abrupt halt.
A ghostly flame reignited in his empty eye sockets as his gaze fell upon Victor:
"But this reason is far from enough."
He continued, with a hint of curiosity:
"Tell me, what other plans do you have that could pique my interest even more?"
Victor maintained an enigmatic calm.
He slowly straightened up, shedding his previous respectful posture.
With his hands casually in his pockets, he regained his confident demeanor.
He gently raised his head and looked at the old man before him with a scrutinizing gaze:
"I want you to do your best to severely injure me,"
"If you can do that."
At that moment, Grand Duke Barlow seemed to be frozen in place, as if he had heard some unbelievable request.
The crackling of the will-o'-the-wisps vanished instantly, as did the howls of the dead.
The desolate space was immediately plunged into silence.
The next moment, Grand Duke Barlow spoke slowly, his voice carrying a hint of barely perceptible contemplation:
"In terms of combat, I may not be able to defeat your destiny."
"But you want me to beat you severely."
Immediately afterwards, a series of distorted and intricate, indistinct, manic laughs echoed from the surrounding thick fog.
That twisted, maniacal laughter was both bright and dark, both exhilarating and dry.
It was as if countless living beings were uttering a muffled cry at the same moment.
Even the undead castle behind him seemed to sense this frenzy, and began to tremble slightly, letting out a roar.
But amidst this chaos, only Grand Duke Barlow stood quietly, unwavering in the slightest.
Although his skeletal face could not express any emotion, a somber mood emanated from his body.
His eyes were fixed on Victor in front of him, and then a strong aura of death burst forth.
Countless souls and thick fog began to swirl and coil, approaching his body.
The next second, countless eerie greens transformed into a chaotic mass, engulfing Grand Duke Balo.
The fog slowly dissipated, and at this moment, Viktor was exposed.
He was a desperate soul, enveloped in a thick aura of death, reduced to bones.
His hunched body lifted slightly, but the twisted, skeletal form stretched extremely high, the body splitting apart once more.
A skeleton, a departed soul.
"Kid."
Festan Barlow – The Powerful Minister Who Controlled the Dead
Lv——69
What you're about to face is...
"The anger of a grandfather."
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