I will be crowned king

Something seems to be going wrong.

Anson, who was hiding behind the half-open door and constantly looking at the entrance to the stairs behind him, showed a vigilant expression.

From the beginning, there were only intermittent gunshots in the newspaper hall downstairs. The Guards guarded the door tightly, showing no signs of trying to break through or attack.

There is nothing surprising about this. In other words, it should be praised that the Guards officers in charge are experienced and experienced in bullying unorganized rioters and unilateral massacres. They are familiar with the skills.

According to the "conventional plot": the rioters who cannot withstand the firepower of the Guards will try to negotiate, surrender, disintegrate in a disorderly manner, and take the initiative to die, and then be shot to death indiscriminately under a round of volleys of gunfire; the remaining guys who are lucky enough to survive will They would crawl into the corridors to make the last pointless resistance, while the Guards would "clear out" each floor, squeezing the remaining rats to death one by one as if they were cleaning up.

And Anson's "perfect plan" was to take advantage of the time between the gang's escape and the Guards' clearance, and find a way to use the rooms between floors to avoid the two groups of people during the time difference between escape and clearance, and lead them with him without causing any noise. Follow Sophie "sneaking" out of the building.

Originally, it should be like this...

"what are you waiting for?"

The girl hiding behind him suddenly said, with a hint of nervousness in her trembling voice: "Is there any problem?"

"Uh... that's about it. Something happened."

Anson scratched his head in embarrassment, chuckled, raised his right hand and stretched out two fingers towards the girl: "There is good news and bad news, which one should I listen to first?"

Sophia, who looked a little pale, opened her eyes wide and said without any hesitation: "Bad news."

"... Let's make a deal first." Anson paused and said with a smile:

"It looks like we should be safe."

"Then the bad news is that the Guards have taken control of the newspaper office, and we will soon become their prisoners?" Sophia asked anxiously.

"...Congratulations on learning to answer questions quickly."

Anson smiled awkwardly and gave a thumbs up with his right hand.

"Then what should we do now!"

The moment she received the affirmative answer, the girl's face, which was already losing blood, became even paler. She was so frightened that she even thought of the front page headline of tomorrow's newspaper:

"The Archbishop's daughter is trapped in a gang, and the enthusiastic Guards are actively trying to rescue her!"

"Surprise! Why would a rich girl appear in a place like this?!"

“The truth about Franz’s daughter and the gangsters on Old Wall Street, don’t regret it!”

Ahhhhhh...why are there so many heartless newspapers in Clovis City!

Sophia was wailing in her heart. She simply couldn't imagine what would happen to her if her father, Luther Franz, found out about this!

"Let's go to the attic on the top floor." After hesitating for a moment, Anson made a decision: "The Guards came in a hurry this time. They will not search the entire newspaper building very seriously."

"Then...what if?" The girl was still not reassured.

"Then I will be responsible for leading them away, and you can take the opportunity to escape." Anson comforted: "They are coming for me. As long as you are careful, you will be fine."

This "promise" made the girl silent for a moment, with a light called "dignity" shining in her bright eyes.

"His Excellency Anson Bach."

"Um?"

"If you are captured by the Guards later, please don't worry, I will definitely try my best to rescue you - the grudge between the two of us is one thing, but this matter... is another matter ."

"okay, I get it."

Anson smiled and didn't care much.

His main purpose now is to get Sophia back as soon as possible and find a way to get closer and observe the "things" hidden on the top floor of the newspaper building.

Although he knew that he was taking a risk by doing this, Anson was really curious as to what could make Broen, a close associate of the Black Mage, choose to escape so decisively.

The two people tiptoed carefully and pushed the door open, walking one after another towards the stairs at the other end of the corridor - the design of this newspaper building is very strange, the stairwells on the first, second and third and fourth floors are actually separate. They are connected by narrow corridors in the middle.

The only advantage of this weird design now is that it prevents the two of them from getting close to the bottom floor, which is likely to be controlled by the Guards.

Moving along the corridor towards the stairwell, Anson guessed the purpose of the Guards while leading the way.

First of all, it must be because of the "Iron Sky" and the two times at St. Isaac's College. The Guardsmen who had been slapped continuously were not willing to let him go so easily, but this was only a superficial phenomenon;

"An, Anson..."

The core of the problem is still Draco Vertes... The secrets of this talkative novelist seem to be far beyond his imagination. Maybe his encounter with him was not a coincidence from the beginning;

"Anson..."

If the death of Miller Wilters was not an accident from the beginning, then for what reason could the Guards be so afraid of such a novelist?

"Anson!"

"Um?!"

Anson, who woke up, turned his head and saw the pale girl suddenly tugging at his sleeve: "What's wrong?"

The next second, the answer was revealed.

The trembling Sophia froze on the spot, her pale face full of horror; a figure lying in a pool of blood was twitching like a broken puppet, slowly getting up from behind her.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The stunned Anson didn't hesitate for a moment. He dragged the girl behind him, kicked the suddenly appearing figure to the ground, and then shot him three times. The gushing gun flames opened a bloody hole in his chest, causing him to twitch. The "corpse" finally stopped struggling.

"What is this?"

The girl hiding behind Anson had a trembling voice that could not be concealed, and her eyes were full of fear but she could not move away from the dead body on the ground:

"magic?"

"I guess so."

Anson responded casually, staring at the body on the ground that had been "killed twice" by him. He was equally shocked and didn't know how to answer.

Because there were guards downstairs, he didn't dare to turn on his "superpower" easily, lest he be noticed by someone with the power of insight into blood. As a result, he was completely ignorant of what was happening below.

But no matter what happens, it won't be as simple as "resurrecting" a dead body. I'm afraid...

At this moment, Ansen, who was vaguely aware of something, suddenly raised his head. In the narrow corridor, the "corpses" lying in a pool of blood were getting up from the ground one by one, their twisted and twitching joints supporting their already cold bodies. Flesh and blood cast the eyes that lost their luster towards the end of the corridor.

Anson felt a chill in his heart.

"Sophia, run! Don't look back, run!"

The girl who was so excited did not hesitate, turned around and ran towards the stairwell.

"Run to the attic, lock the door, and don't open the door no matter who knocks. Do you understand?!"

Anson, who was roaring, stood there and took a deep breath, took out the lead bullet from the ammunition pouch at his waist, held it tightly in his palm, and imprinted [Gathering Flame] on it - no matter what happened below, he didn't have it now. It’s necessary to continue hiding!

Raise your gun, raise your hand, and shoot; the lead bullet imprinted with magic turns into burning bolide in mid-air.

"boom!"

The golden-red dazzling light bloomed in the narrow corridor, instantly swallowing up the "corpses" rushing up one after another. The flesh and blood burned by the flames made a "sizzling" sound in the air, and the eardrums were shaken by the splashing flames. of explosions.

But the flames will not scare the corpse. More "living dead" with twitching bodies and ferocious postures are coming up from the opposite stairway - waving nails, hammers, logging axes and hammers, crowding and pushing each other Coming towards the already lit corridor, it seemed that he was being driven by some force.

"Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah--!!!!"

A penetrating wail came from the newspaper hall at your feet. The extremely sad sound was filled with some kind of soul-shaking power, as if it could affect people's souls, urging the living dead to speed up their pace and step through desperately. The ignited flesh and blood rushed towards Anson.

What's going on? !

Anson, whose scalp was numb, looked at the "living dead" who were still pouring in. Even the corpses whose heads and hearts had just been blown away by [Gathering Flames] were crawling out of the "sizzling" pool of smoking blood again. He got up, twitched, and squirmed towards him.

At this moment, he suddenly remembered Bloen's playful expression when he left, and a very bad feeling flooded into Anson's mind.

Bronn...the black mage...what do they want to do? !

Why did Professor Mace Honard, who was so cautious in Thunder Castle and would rather let himself become a spellcaster than take action easily, cause the Old God Sect incident in Clovis City so openly?

Is this treating Archbishop Luther and the Church of Order of Clovis as dead? !

Anson retreated and shot while thinking about the reasons for the situation at hand. This habit of being unable to stop thinking the more nervous he became, had become his instinct to a certain extent.

"Puff, puff, puff..."

Strange "bubbles" appeared in the flesh and blood burned by the flames. Blackened bones wrapped in melted flesh and blood crawled out from the flames, mixed with the living dead who continued to pour out from the stairs, in the burning corridor. wailing incessantly.

Sharp screams continued to come from the newspaper hall on the ground floor, gradually mixed with violent vibrations and roars caused by explosions. The floor under Anson's feet and the surrounding walls began to become shaky, and dust continued to shake off. It poured down in shock.

Anson, who felt more and more uncomfortable, began to inch closer to the stairwell behind him. At the same time, in order to save the already limited ammunition, he began to lengthen the interval between each shot.

How can I put it, there was such a big commotion, even if the entire second floor collapsed in the next second, there seemed to be nothing to be surprised about... Ansen, who couldn't help complaining in his heart, reluctantly raised the corners of his mouth pretending to be relaxed.

"boom--!!!!"

Almost the next second he thought this, the entire newspaper building trembled with a deafening sound, and cracks and cracks spread out under Anson's feet at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Taking a breath of cold air, Anson decisively turned around and ran for his life.

The floor beneath their feet was rapidly crumbling, and the wailing living dead in the long corridor covered in flames were being swallowed up by the collapsed gaps one after another, as if they were being dragged back to hell from the gaps in the abyss by invisible tentacles.

"boom--!!!!"

There was another loud noise, the floor shattered, and the walls collapsed; masonry and dust mixed with flesh and blood collapsed, pouring towards the newspaper hall directly below.

Anson, who realized that he was too late, took back his steps at the last moment, curled up with his head in his hands, and fell heavily to the ground in the safest posture.

After a while, the roar gradually fell silent.

Anson, who was curled up on the ground, breathed a sigh of relief and slowly loosened the arms holding his head. He stood up and looked in the direction where the loud noise had just come from.

Then……

Then he froze.

Among the ruins, he saw an eyeball.

One was covered with bloodshot eyes, staring at him unblinkingly, looking at his eyes full of curiosity.

One protruded from the rubble of the ruins, growing on a long, fleshy sac-like tentacle, with eyes constantly overflowing with thick, dark yellow liquid that resembled "tears" and exuded a strong stench.

"W-what is this thing?!"

blurted out the stunned Anson.

The moment he finished speaking, the tentacles with eyes suddenly trembled like poisonous snakes staring at their prey, pulling at him with a scream that cut through the air.

"boom!"

Just when he was briefly distracted, a gunshot pierced the dead silence, and the eyeball at the front of the tentacle instantly exploded in front of Anson, turning into countless thick pulp and minced meat, blooming in the air.

The next second, a rotating silver light suddenly passed through the air, splitting the tentacle in two; the tentacle that was cut off at the waist let out a penetrating wail, and paralyzed powerlessly in the rubble of the ruins.

"clang!"

There was a crisp knocking sound of a sharp blade, and Anson looked around - it was a strange-shaped "hatchet", and under the ax blade nailed into the wall was a large-caliber flintlock gun.

This is... a flint-hair ax?

No, the caliber of this thing is larger than the flintlock axe, and it is also designed as a short-handled axe; the only people who can use this weapon are...

"In the fifty-fifth year of the Saint's Calendar, a spellcaster who was hunted by the Tribunal fled outside the city of Clovis..."

A gentle voice came from behind Anson, with a helpless sigh:

"He knew there was no way to escape, but he was unwilling to face eternal imprisonment; on the edge of despair and fear, he prayed to the false god he believed in, Ayton, the controller of destiny, and prayed for freedom."

"He succeeded."

"The spellcaster put all his magic power into a bottle of water, and used the false god to give him the power to distort reality. At the cost of completely losing his magic power, the water turned into something that could obliterate the meaning of 'death'. Magic potion.”

"Before the efficacy of the medicine is completely lost, all affected places will lose the concept of 'death' and become existences that will never die no matter what."

Anson turned around and looked at the direction where the sound came from - a middle-aged man wearing a three-cornered hat and a black leather coat. His right hand still maintained the posture of throwing a throwing axe, and he said in a low voice with tight corners of his mouth:

"Therefore, in the fifty-fifth year of the Saint's Calendar, all the judges who survived the hunt gave this potion a special name..."

"Death Horn!"