bdsm-fiction Chapter 328 The Fear of Being Dominated by Giants
Chapter 328 The Fear of Being Dominated by Giants
Chapter 328 The Fear of Being Dominated by Giants
After blowing Utravsky's head off, Lorne didn't let his guard down. He expressionlessly fired two more shots at the massive body, then flicked his wrist, sending a dagger flying and using it as a throwing knife, precisely piercing the man's neck.
"ah----"
With a weak, whimpering sound, Utravsky's massive body fell completely still. At the same time, with his death, the world around him began to crumble inch by inch.
The surreal feeling faded, and Lorne found himself still standing in the center of the church hall, before him the strange candle burning with a pale flame.
The ground that had just been cleaved by the "Dawn Knight's" greatsword was completely intact, the dense bullet holes on the surrounding walls had disappeared without a trace, and the shell casings scattered all over the ground seemed to have never appeared.
Everything was restored to its pre-battle state, showing no signs of damage whatsoever.
"There was no sense of impending doom, and the surrounding spirituality has returned to normal—" Lorne's tense nerves finally relaxed, and he let out a long sigh of relief. "It seems it's over."
He looked at the large backpack he had thrown on the ground, walked over and picked it up.
"Good, the plan is going well."
The reason he carried this backpack was to create a smokescreen. Utravsky was convinced that his strongest firepower consisted of only two submachine guns.
While using a personal space could achieve a surprising victory, going into battle empty-handed would certainly arouse the suspicion of the experienced "knight," making him wary. On the other hand, wielding a runic sword or pistol wouldn't be visually impressive enough, making it seem like he was hiding a trump card.
What's more, the thought of someone wielding a small sword and going head-to-head with a "giant" who wields a greatsword and is over two meters tall is utterly ridiculous.
"I thought I'd have to use my accumulated luck, thankfully—"
If anything unexpected happened during the battle, Lorne still has his accumulated "luck" as a last resort.
That should cause Utravsky's attack to falter, thus creating an opportunity for himself.
He looked up and around, only to find that Bishop Utravsky, who had been standing opposite him, had somehow moved to a chair to the side. He was hunched over, his broad back bent, his head buried deep in his hands, which were tightly covering his temples.
Tick tock!Tick tock!
Large beads of sweat slid down his face, soaking the ground around him. He seemed to still be recovering from the intense "psychological therapy" he had just undergone.
Ok?
However, what surprised Lorne even more was that the vampire priest, who had just been hiding in the side room, only daring to peek out to watch the battle, was now sneaking into the hall. He was tiptoeing, looking like he had something to hide.
His dark red eyes gleamed with greed as he stared intently at the strange candle that was still burning, and cautiously reached out his hand to it.
"Click."
A crisp click of the trigger rang out abruptly behind him.
"You vampire, your motives are definitely impure!"
"You're a vampire! You can't—" Emlyn was about to retort, but the cold, hard touch on the back of his head made him swallow the rest of his words.
"You—you succeeded—" Emlyn paused for a moment, his voice trembling slightly.
"What do you think?" Lorne sneered.
"Tell me, what do you want to do? Are you planning to take advantage of Bishop Utravsky's poor condition to kill him and steal his treasure?"
"No! No! How could this be!" Emlyn cried out excitedly, "Noble vampires would never do such a despicable thing!"
"So what do you want to do?"
"I did it to—to heal myself!" Emlyn said.
"Treatment? You also have a mental illness?"
"Mental illness—" Upon hearing this word, Emlyn gritted his teeth and pointed sharply at Bishop Utravsky, who was still panting heavily not far away. "It's all his fault!"
"It was him! He controlled me with that candle!"
"Control?" Lorne asked, somewhat surprised. "Aren't you a follower of the Mother Goddess?"
"I—I didn't do it willingly—" Emlyn's tone was somewhat hesitant, but he still stubbornly insisted, "I didn't betray the moon!"
"The moon? Which moon? It can't be the 'original moon,' can it?" Lorne asked uncertainly.
"No! Don't equate my faith with that kind of evil god!" Emlyn retorted vehemently. "I worship our ancestors!"
"Interesting—your arrogant demeanor certainly doesn't seem like the kind of person who would lie about their beliefs." Upon hearing this, Lorne lowered the gun he had been pressing against the back of Lorne's head.
Emlyn breathed a huge sigh of relief.
"call----"
"Okay, now tell me, what exactly happened?"
As Lorne asked questions, Emlyn seemed to have found an outlet and spilled everything that had happened to him.
He initially only intended to go to the hospital for a late-night snack, but unfortunately got lost and wandered into this church. He was then "invited" in by Bishop Utravsky, imprisoned here, and forced to convert to the Mother Goddess. He was confined to the church, forced to drink only the old man's blood every day, and also caused to miss an important repayment date.
"And then what happened? You gave in?" Lorne asked curiously.
"No!" Emlyn retorted immediately. "I pretended to convert, thinking that once I was free, I would take the opportunity to slip away and never come back!"
Who would have thought—who would have thought—
"This guy actually put a psychological suggestion on me! Even if I regain my freedom, I will unconsciously want to believe in the Mother Goddess—I—I—" As he spoke, he held his head and squatted down in a state of collapse.
Psychological suggestion? So that candle had this power after all?
"How do you know that's not your true feeling?" Lorne said. "Maybe you really do believe in the Mother Goddess?"
"No! Impossible! I would never—" Emlyn raised his head and stubbornly retorted.
"Really?" Lorne's tone was full of amusement.
"I—" Emlyn's tone softened instantly, "Well, at first I didn't think it was a psychological problem—but later, I learned about his requests for help and the power of that candle—"
"You understand, right?" He looked up, his eyes pleading. "I just want to break free from that damned mindset and gain true freedom!"
"So—" Emlyn glanced at the candle beside him and pleaded again.
"No, that's just your side of the story." Lorne shook his head, dismissing the claim outright.
To be honest, although we only met today, Lorne doesn't think that Bishop Utravsky is the kind of person who would do something like forcibly brainwashing someone—there must be something else going on.
Moreover, this vampire doesn't look very honest. He might have really done something that crossed the line before, which is why the priest captured him.
"You—" Emlyn clenched his fists, about to explode.
"I advise you not to have any bad thoughts," Lorne said calmly. "You should know my capabilities well enough to have completed the priest's request."
"How can you help me?" Emlyn gritted his teeth and forced out the question.
"What benefits can you offer me?" Lorne laughed, asking in a mocking tone.
"Friendship." Emlyn was silent for a long time before blurting out, "You can gain the friendship of vampires."
"Friendship?" Lorne curled his lip. "Is it your friendship, or the friendship of vampires?"
"————" This question stumped Emlyn.
"There's no difference between the two," he stubbornly insisted.
"Really?" Lorne shrugged, his face full of disbelief.
"How about this!" Emlyn gritted his teeth. "Don't you have some employees who need medical treatment? I can treat them for free! Believe me, receiving free treatment from a noble vampire is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"
"interesting----"
"Right, right? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
Just when Emlyn thought Lorne was about to agree, he heard...
"But! I refuse."
"I think a vampire's words are far less credible than those of a bishop with proper missionary qualifications."
"I've said it so many times! It's vampires! Not bloodsuckers!" Emlyn corrected almost reflexively.
"Alright, alright, they are vampires, noble vampires." Lorne nodded perfunctorily. "However, in this matter, I no longer have the final say."
"What do you mean?" Emlyn didn't understand for a moment.
"Wait, could it be—" He turned around abruptly.
Bishop Utravsky had appeared behind him at some point. The priest's face was still somewhat pale, and his sweat had not completely dried, but his eyes had regained their peace and clarity. He held the still-burning pale candle in his hand, his gaze calmly fixed on the two who were "bargaining."
Although his gaze remained calm, Emlyn felt a chill that went deep into his bones.
At that moment, he recalled the fear he had once felt of being controlled by others.
On the other side, Lorne silently complained to himself as he watched this scene.
A masochistic vampire boy paired with a warrior priest—what a strange combination.
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