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All that remained where the child had been were horrific splatters of blood and pieces of flesh.
I sighed deeply at the cruelty of the church. I couldn't understand the minds of those who used children and arbitrarily abandoned them, nor did I want to.
"Are you okay?" I asked Verita.
"Yes." Verita nodded, but she didn't look too good. Her right arm was in terrible condition, as if it had melted. It was because she had extended that arm to block the explosion.
"You don't look good at all. Does it hurt?"
"If you ask me if I am in pain, then of course it hurts. However, simple physical pain can't break me."
By the time she spoke those words, Verita's arm was already growing new flesh. She had monstrous regenerative abilities. She could even regenerate an eyeball that was pulled out in an instant. So a mere arm meant little. Still, this didn't change the fact that I was indebted to her.
"Pain isn't something that should be ignored or endured. I think you should learn to complain a bit," I remarked.
"Huh?"
"In any case, I am indebted to you. I didn't think he would self-destruct."
"The minions of the Golden Horn are radical. They don't know what moderation is. They...
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