Witch, Fireball and the Evil God of Steam-Chapter 943 - 203: I Want to Report This

Solari did not hesitate and ran towards the secret passage without looking back.

The activated Magic Scroll caused the choir members to be ensnared by the roots of a plant that grew under their feet, binding their ankles securely to the ground as the vines slowly extended upward. The thorns embedded in the vines pierced into their skin, holding them in place.

But that was all it could do.

Veronica noticed the fundamental difference between the choir members and normal humans.

In theory, no matter which path one walked, the thorns on the vines would gradually drain their energy. The more violently the prey struggled, the faster they would be drained. This was a Magic Scroll personally crafted by the Archbishop of the Life Divine Teachings, held by only a select few elite of the Church Court. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

However, today, she encountered an exception.

The choir members were utterly unaffected. They felt no pain, and even when their bodies were pierced and drenched in blood by the thorns, their steps could not be halted. What truly drove them was the modification within; beneath their wounds was not human muscle tissue but rather gears fused with their flesh.

This allowed their bodies to become like blades, effortlessly slicing through the vines that impeded them.

Veronica glanced at the flail she had thrown, which had landed behind one of the choir members.

From the looks of it, it was six against one.

This is the consequence of playing the hero.

No matter how hard Veronica racked her brains, she couldn't think of a way out. Dealing with six choir members at once, she might not even be able to take one down in a one-on-one fight. These artificial monsters, whose body structures were entirely different from humans, wouldn't be stopped by wounds lethal to humans — wounds that would just become voids that could be easily refilled.

Would it help to pierce their heart or behead them?

Veronica knew that this was just a naive wish deep in her heart. The reality was that she would be dead at the hands of these monsters before she could achieve any of that.

Still, this was her choice.

When she let Solari escape, she had already foreseen her own fate.

Having betrayed Pope Carlo, she was executed by a secret faction he established, dying in an unknown secret chamber.

This actually calmed Veronica down.

She felt that perhaps this was the best outcome for her, no longer having to face Carlo, no longer needing to judge his crimes as a Judge, leaving all responsibilities and messes on Solari's shoulders alone — this is the subtlety of death; no matter her past, no matter what wrong decisions she had made, everything dissipated with death.

Maybe when everything settled down in the future, she could even be remembered as someone who found redemption.

People are always more forgiving to the deceased.

No more conflicts of interest and stance, allowing for a more calm assessment.

Veronica's eyes focused as the flail that had landed behind the choir member flew back into her hand, the spell she recited broke the balance and clarified the opposing stances between the two sides.

"Come on, monsters!"

The response Veronica got was the sound of gears turning.

She saw the murder machines breaking free from the vines approaching her, their arms transformed into sharp blades, someone's chest was split open, and the cracked ribs were growing exponentially, forming a giant mouth to shred its prey.

"Bastard!"

The horrifying scene made Veronica curse under her breath. She thought whoever could transform a human into such a state must be a pervert.

It is said that the choir project was conducted under Julius's command.

Maybe...

The death of this person might be beneficial to both the Empire and the Far West.

Veronica never imagined she would harbor such rebellious thoughts, nor did she expect a distinguished Judge like herself would end up dying as a traitor.

The choir was getting closer to her.

Sparks flickered in front of Veronica's eyes as the flail clashed with the blades, this balance lasted only a few seconds. As more choir members surrounded her, the combat turned into a one-sided slaughter.

She vaguely felt the blades slashing her skin, the cracked chest cavity locked onto her, and the closed ribs made a biting motion.

Veronica closed her eyes.

Such a death scene would be undeniably ugly.

Time passed by slowly, and she kept her body straight, engulfed in darkness.

Death was far easier than she had anticipated, with no time for pain before she lost consciousness.

The only thing that puzzled Veronica was the sticky, slippery sensation under her feet that never disappeared. Why, even in death, was there this wet and sticky feeling underfoot? And why did the air still remain so revoltingly unpleasant even after death?

Could it be because she stood in the slime for so long that even her soul had become marinated?

Veronica tried to open her eyes and found herself still in the secret chamber.

The six choir members who were supposed to tear her apart were all lying on the ground, as if disconnected. Their bodies still maintained their modified state, but showed no external wounds.

Additionally, there was an unexpected guest in the secret chamber.

They had met once at the confession room outside the Crown of Dawn Cathedral, where the young man before her had disguised himself as a priest and left a murder notice insulting Carlo.

But now Veronica suddenly didn't find the young man so unpleasant, and moreover…