"Click"
The two-barrel witch hunter shotgun he bought at high price from the Adventurer Guild was loaded.
Morphy, short on spiritual energy, wiped away the blood from his nose caused by overexerting his spiritual energy, then stood up with his gun and rushed toward the hyper vigilant elite jackal man. He also attached the bloody bayonet to the top of the shotgun in passing.
The Black Iron Trial was not easy, and the blood bar of an elite beast was ridiculously high.
But it didn't matter.
He had already taken the initiative.
Oh, they say it's hard, but it seems not as hard as I imagined.
---
"How did you get yourself into such a state? With a near-mature Scorpion-Lion for protection, I can't imagine what in the wild of Transylvania could pose a threat to you. But look at you, you're like you've been beaten up by a hundred jackal men."
