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Once he understood the key, Cerci laughed heartily, mocking himself and Vergil for overthinking. Even their master could misjudge at times. Wayne wasn’t human at all and could never become the High Prophet.
He was laughing so triumphantly that he failed to notice the melted, severed hand clinging to his white robe, inching toward his neck like a living thing.
“You’re not human. You’re a magical creature created by the Windsor District. Such forbidden alchemy will yield terrible consequences.” Cerci spoke with certainty.
Since Wayne was no longer a threat, Cerci’s murderous intent receded.
“I never imagined that you’d see through me. Now I can die without regrets…”
Wayne’s eyes became blank. His body collapsed into a white clump of boneless flesh, pooling on the ground with only two rings and the clothes of drake scales.
He died just like that? What did I do?
Cerci couldn’t believe it. He raised his guard and stared at the white...
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