"You think that elderly saint, who's preparing to self-destruct, can completely destroy the Blood War Zone?"
!!
...
...
Cough cough cough.
"Is this all the strength you have?"
The Constipation Knight still looked sickly, staring at the giant werewolf-like Palmer with a strange expression.
"……Why?"
The lingering sensation of blood on his hands confirmed Palmer's certainty that he had crushed the neck of this strange enemy before him, but why...?
"I've already killed you five times, why are you still alive!?"
Rubbing his neck, the Constipated Knight coughed twice with amusement, then sighed:
"Ahem, to be honest, I don't know the answer to this question either. Based on my own speculation... I might have received some kind of preferential treatment from certain people?"
preference?
"There is a being that doesn't want me to die, but also doesn't want to let me go, so it keeps tormenting me like this."
Gently pinching and correcting the misaligned joints in his neck, the tuberculosis rider slowly rose from the wheelchair he had been sitting in.
"And now, cough cough cough... I'm generously sharing some of this overwhelming love with you."
He walked step by step toward Palmer, his body becoming hunched, bearing the marks of time and a deep sense of age.
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"Are you happy?"
What's going on?!
Feeling inexplicably uneasy, Palmer wanted to roar, but what came out of his mouth was not a shout, but...
"Cough cough cough!!! Cough! What..."
A series of hoarse coughs.
Palmer: ! ! ?
"I told you, I'm here to die..."
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