"Mary, behind you."
Rank B ghost stories exerted their oppressive force, crashing through the air.
The blood-stained blade fell with an incomparably heavy momentum.
Lord Hemitrygon sensed something, and with a swirl of his vibrant red kimono, a large amount of cloudy white fat and oil rolled out.
He was wrapped in the oil again and evaded Mary's backstab with extreme agility and slickness, only losing a corner of his kimono sleeve.
"You'll regret this."
Hemitrygon withdrew, his charitable features still mechanical and numb, as his hollow gaze swept back and forth between Kamiya and Mary.
What was peculiar was—
Although Lord Hemitrygon clearly had a mouth, when he spoke, his lips remained completely still.
One could hear that the feeble yet sinister voice was emanating from him for sure, but it was impossible to pinpoint exactly from which part of him it came.
