Don't confiscate my identity as a human race-Chapter 1316 - 826: Lanci and Tolyado’s Enthusiastic Crowd_6

On usual days, it was Red Falcon Nikola hunting their Corrosion Branch.

Now, the roles had reversed.

He was both pleased and simmering with irritation.

"Did you think hiding behind this heap of scrap metal would let you escape my pursuit?"

Saint of Decay Montiluo walked forward slowly, his leather boots crunching against the debris with a hollow creak.

Wherever his corrosive aura reached, steel crumbled into dust, and containers collapsed with a thunderous crash.

Though unleashing such a wide-range indiscriminate attack drained significant Magic Power, and the damage wasn't particularly lethal,

Nikola wearing him down wouldn't last forever—eventually, like a rat, he'd crawl out from his hiding hole.

The silvery liquid alchemical beast charged and smashed recklessly, seeking out Red Falcon Nikola.

"Nikola, the game ends here. This square will be your final destination."

Saint of Decay Montiluo slowly raised his Rod, pointing toward the vaguely visible Hassel Port Building in the distance.

The towering structure pierced the clouds, appearing solemn and awesomely majestic amidst the wind and snow—as if it were an unattainable redemption.

He naturally understood Nikola's plan.

Holding the Mafia boss's Crystal Key and heading to their headquarters at the Hassel Port Building might bring a slim chance.

But the stretch was an insurmountable gulf for Nikola. Saint of Decay Montiluo would never let Nikola reach the Mafia's headquarters and plead for aid from the Empire's Special Operations Department.

"There's no use hiding anymore. I'll resolve you before Barton finishes dealing with Maquiel."

Saint of Decay Montiluo calculated the time with an air of precision, without lowering his gaze.

Maquiel, the Seventh-Order Warrior, had extraordinary vitality. Even if Maquiel couldn't be expected to defeat Barton, Barton shouldn't think about bypassing Maquiel quickly.

Waiting alone made him a little restless.

Red Falcon Nikola's struggle only made him laugh inwardly.

If his [Corrosion Fragmented Beast] could split into more fragments, he could flush out Nikola even faster.

Unfortunately, today not even the patrolling Mafia was around.

If the Mafia had fodder, they could have been consumed and converted by the alchemical beasts to spawn new alchemical lifeforms for tracking Nikola.

Or perhaps Barton hadn't let his men come out to die.

It was impossible to find some living materials to turn into artistic statues.

Ever since arriving in Brilda, Montiluo had endured for so long; watching those happy families yet unable to transform them into something more exquisite left him utterly hollow inside.

"Life is born to decay; only as art can it achieve eternity. Why don't you all understand me? Instead, you dare label me a criminal..."

Saint of Decay Montiluo's voice brimmed with impatient killing intent aimed at Nikola.

Opportunities to hold wanton feasts were scarce, and only fine delicacies like Nikola could briefly quell his hunger.

The sound of footsteps crushing snow resounded.

Instantly, Saint of Decay Montiluo's attention was drawn.

He looked toward the direction of the Mafia's Hassel Port Building.

"..."

Montiluo's brow gradually furrowed.

Two youths, seemingly having walked into the wrong area, emerged from the Hassel Port Building, resembling ordinary citizens who had mistakenly ventured into the Mafia heartland.

Their gait carried an air of defiant indifference.

One sauntered with one hand in his pocket, the other arm swinging backward.

The other hunched over slightly, both hands buried in his pockets, staring at the ground.

They appeared to be trying their best to portray two Mafia members.

"Today I'm truly working with the spirit of visiting a grave. Hope no one clueless comes to provoke me."

"Serve the people, find joy in helping, love thy profession, perfect thy craft, for we are virtuous."

They paid absolutely no attention to the distant Saint of Decay Montiluo.

"..."

Saint of Decay narrowed his eyes.

You two think this is your living room?

Alright.

Two dim-witted offerings delivered themselves straight to my doorstep.

"It's decided—it'll be you two."

The Saint of Decay grinned viciously, striding toward the pair.