Do I Know You?

The appearance of the Dragon God Armor allowed Karen to intercept the giant just in time. With little Kanna's empowerment, Karen immediately grew composed, as she shored up his final weakness and turned him into a true all-around warrior. Yet the turning of the tide was not quite finished. Perhaps today's weather was peculiar, for children kept raining down from the sky. No sooner had little Kanna touched down than Ventura plummeted from above like an artillery shell, slamming straight into the giant below. The giant raised a hand to seize him; barring any accidents, his next move would be crushing him to death. Yet midair, Ventura's diminutive body instantly petrified, ballooning countless times in size until he stood on equal footing with his adversary. Boom! Ventura knocked the giant over, and the two colossal figures began wrestling on the ground. There were no dazzling exchanges of techniques; instead, it resembled two beer-bellied, middle-aged men locked in a desperate brawl on the pavement outside a late-night food stall. They bit, punched, grappled, and even gouged at one another in every conceivable manner. Dull grinding sounds rang out incessantly, sending blood, flesh, and shattered rock splattering in all directions. It was plain to see that Ventura was at a disadvantage, but it was just as plain to see that in sheer momentum, Ventura far outmatched his opponent. After all, the enemy giant was receiving healing even while fighting; even when carrying out a mission handed down by his organization, he could hardly shed his fastidious regard for his own life. Ventura, on the other hand, was entirely ready to die to protect Karen. The portrait of the old gentleman that had hung on his living room wall since childhood had gradually distilled, day after day, into unyielding loyalty to Karen. The giant suddenly surged to his feet, locking Ventura's neck in his right arm and delivering a barrage of heavy punches into his chest. He then tried to snap Ventura's neck, but due to Ventura's desperate resistance, he failed to do so. Left with no choice, the giant rained another series of heavy blows onto Ventura's back before hurling him to the ground. Bang! The ground, already transmuted into molten rock, caved inward to form a massive crater of magma. The surrounding lava converged downward, pooling toward Ventura's body. From the rear, having loaded a fresh magic crystal, the skeleton began channeling its spells. Far from scorching Ventura, the magma gathering around him surged into his petrified form, rapidly repairing the damaged sections. Seeing this, the giant leaped into the air, aiming to deliver a fatal blow. But the magma lining the crater instantly solidified into layers of defensive barriers; by the time the giant smashed through them layer by layer, Ventura was nowhere to be found. Buzz! With a crisp ring, Ventura burst out from the ground on the other side, thumping his chest at the giant and letting out an unyielding roar. "Fall back a little," Karen said. Ventura's reddened eyes flickered the instant he heard Karen's order. While still snarling at the giant ahead, he took steps backward, truly refusing to back down in words even as his body retreated. A bird's cry echoed from the sky. Immediately afterward, Sandy, cloaked in vibrant feathers, circled down with immense elegance, bearing Ashley, Blanche, and Richard on her back. Swooping down, Sandy landed quickly, and her "passengers" leaped off. However, Sandy herself hadn't anticipated the terrifying heat of the magma beneath her. The moment her feathers brushed against the glowing magma veins, they caught fire. The agony instantly stripped Sandy of her sacred grace; she began screeching and rolling across the ground, instinctively trying to snuff out the flames. The problem was... the ground was crisscrossed with veins of magma. The more she rolled, the wider the fire spread across her body. In the end, engulfed in flames, she gave one final wail before her phantom shattered completely with a loud pop. This was not the first time Sandy had been sent back to the workshop right after making her entrance. Yet it was unquestionably her most tragic and humiliating exit. Ashley's mouth twitched. As her summoner, she felt deeply embarrassed. In truth, before entering, when meeting up with Blanche and Richard, she had specifically asked her teammates which monster beast phantom they preferred, and they had unanimously requested Sandy. Meanwhile, in a research institute located in a special space in the outskirts of Yorktown, inside the large transparent cage dedicated to Sandy, the real Sandy snapped her eyes open. Flapping her wings, she began shrieking at the top of her lungs, abandoning all decorum and drawing sideways glances from many of her "neighbors." It wasn't because lingering terror from the phantom's pain still haunted her; she was genuinely so furious she could spit blood. As a gorgeous, majestic bird, she was proud, and she cared deeply about saving face! After finally being summoned into a winning battle, she had taken an early bow in such a disgracefully bungled fashion—she was positively fuming! Fortunately, though she had bowed out as the first "casualty" on their side, everyone had long grown accustomed to opening a battle with Sandy as a sacrificial offering. "Guardian Healing!" Blanche waved her wand, showering Ventura with potent healing magic to rapidly mend his injuries. Richard made a strange hand sign before his chest. Soon, the phantom of a white caterpillar materialized and zipped onto Ventura's head with a whoosh, curling up into a coil. Ventura instinctively raised a hand to scratch the itch on his head, but as a cool, soothing sensation spread from his scalp through his entire body, he instantly took a liking to the feeling. Karen had originally allowed Richard to take part in this operation with the intention of letting him show off before his grandparents. Although this cousin of his was often absurd and eccentric, his progress was undeniable. Youth truly was a wonderful word. Karen wasn't the only one growing; the young people under his command were constantly progressing as well. In fact, clues had already surfaced back when Richard brutally beat Vicolai. One could say Vicolai didn't live up to his reputation, but Richard's own growth in strength was also an undeniable factor. It was just that everyone's progress was overshadowed by their "Captain's" brilliance. Reinvigorated by the healing and buffs, Ventura surged forward, charging straight at the enemy giant. The two behemoths clashed once more, trading punch for kick, tackle for shoulder check. Every blow landed with visceral weight, each impact rattling the surrounding buildings. Though Ventura came out worse in every exchange, he endured each one. After a continuous barrage of collisions, it was actually the enemy giant who retreated first to receive healing. It was truly like a timeout in a boxing ring, with both fighters returning to their corners for a massage and rapid blood-staunching. On Karen's side, he temporarily shelved any thought of intervening himself. It was better to observe the current strength of his subordinates; besides, this was a rare opportunity to train them. Intermission over, both giants engaged again, crashing together once more. Ventura remained at a disadvantage, and Blanche's strength as a priest was far inferior to that of their old acquaintance, but the large caterpillar sitting atop Ventura's head provided immense extra support. Particularly when it came to taking a beating, "Little Jack" had amassed a wealth of experience ever since following Richard. Surprisingly, that experience could be transferred to others, granting sustained resilience against blows. Another round of grueling combat concluded. After kicking each other away, both fighters naturally retreated to receive more healing. The skeleton walked over to Karen's side and said, "Watch out for their blessings, meow." "I know," Karen nodded. The other side clearly still had trump cards in reserve, and Karen was well aware of that old acquaintance's mystical heritage. As the next round commenced, the two giants charged at each other again. Right at that moment, the assassin struck. He had been biding his time, and his targets were now Blanche and Richard. Karen foresaw it, but he didn't move. Screeech... A shrill, ear-grating screech echoed as Philomena, who had been lurking in concealment, broke cover the instant the assassin moved, executing a counter-assassination strike against him. Yet the assassin was undeniably skilled. Even on the back foot, he parried Philomena's lethal moves in rapid succession. Their figures repeatedly clashed and separated midair, their weapons clashing at blinding speed. To an outside observer, it was like watching a slideshow: frame by frame, their silhouettes would vanish and reappear in a different spot. Furthermore, once locked in combat, both seemed driven by the pride of an assassin, neither willing to back off, with none of the unspoken agreement to pause that the giants exhibited below. Whatever their inner thoughts, it looked as though they were fighting with the desperate resolve of someone facing their final battle in this life. Philomena began to falter, evidenced by her reappearing half a beat slower than her opponent with each pass. Yet the girl of the Felscher family swiftly adjusted her tactics: no longer aiming for an assassin's calm retreat, she shifted to dragging him down with her even if it cost her life. She even closed her eyes, completely shutting off her emotions and letting her speed and reaction time drop another half-beat. She was determined to take him down with her, or at the very least leave him permanently crippled beyond repair. When it came to risking one's life, sheer recklessness, and complete indifference to living, Philomena truly had every right to claim the floor. This shift made things excruciatingly difficult for the assassin. In the end, he retreated—at the price of his arm being slashed by the Blade of the Nightmare. Yet no sooner had both sides disengaged than a blessing landed on the assassin. His aura surged, and he launched another surprise attack at Philomena, who had barely touched down. Philomena had just opened her eyes; facing an opponent who had grown even stronger despite his wound, she was clearly a moment too late to react. Clang! A massive shield slammed down at that exact moment, halting the assassin in his tracks and shielding Philomena behind it. The assassin attempted to slip around the defense to find an opening, but rapid slashes of a short blade sealed off every gap. By then, Philomena had regained her footing, leaving the assassin with no choice but to retreat and bring the clash to an end. Holding a round shield and short blade, Muri stood before Philomena. As the family from which captains of the High Priest's personal guard were chosen for generations, the Benda family's greatest strength was not offense, but defense. At that moment, Karen raised his head toward the sky and thought to himself: *If you don't get here soon, there won't be anything left for you.* ... Alfred appeared inside the royal palace building. Reaching out, he pushed open a door into a spacious art studio. Diagonally across from the studio was the old king's bedroom, where the old king himself and his female relatives were hiding. This studio had originally been used when the old king was just three years old to craft public propaganda about the prince, highlighting the heir apparent's artistic brilliance to add luster to his image. Such propaganda worked at three, thirteen, or even thirty, but once someone reached forty, fifty, or seventy to eighty years of age, it was no longer fitting. Still, the old king's painting skills were genuinely respectable, and one could clearly trace the transition of the artwork on the walls from rigorous, juvenile technique to unrestrained venting. Furthermore, Alfred's Succubus Eye could perceive the paintings hanging inside a hidden room behind the wall that were truly uninhibited, almost all themed around "family harmony." Alfred picked up an easel and paints, pushed open the window, and flew up to the roof. Setting up the easel and mixing his colors, he watched the scene below while lightly waving his brush before the canvas. Vic's figure appeared beside him. Walking up to Alfred, he asked, "Aren't you heading down?" Alfred shook his head. "I was in a bit of a hurry before, but now I'm not." If Karen was the last student Mr. Hoffen had taken under his wing, then Alfred was the last auditing student. The barrier had been breached cleanly. Without even thinking, he knew the Young Master's "maternal grandfather" had acted. And if the "grandfather" was here, the grandmother was bound to be here as well. As Old Master Diss's former teammate in his youth, she had propelled Philomena's strength by leaps and bounds with merely a few pointers. Without mobilizing overt forces, this grandmother was undeniably a terrifying entity. Conveniently enough, everyone happened to be operating quietly this time around. "Then when should I go down?" "No rush. You wait until the cleanup to head down. Just make sure to instruct those Light remnants under you to behave themselves." Saying this, Alfred pointed at the canvas. "Hey, what do you think if I paint the two of us in this lower right corner to enhance the immersion of the painting?" "I think... that's very good." "I'll take an appreciative posture, and you take a stunned one. You won't mind, will you?" "Sir, whatever pleases you." ... The battle between the two sides had ground into a tense stalemate. At that moment, a swarm of blood bats blotted out the moon, exerting immense oppressive pressure. The skeleton looked up and remarked, "The fun-seeker's entrance is getting more and more like a villain's, meow." The bats swarming the sky dove downward and abruptly exploded in unison, turning into a massive deluge of terrifyingly corrosive bloody water that engulfed the third figure in black. The black garments on the figure tore apart, and the concealment magic failed, exposing half of his face. Yet it was enough to recognize his identity: Bernie, former head of the Yorktown Whip of Order Law Enforcement Department. Looking at the figure gradually coalescing amidst the rain of blood, Bernie chuckled. "I never expected it would be you." The faceless Neo feigned bewilderment. "What, do I know you?"