Chapter 809: Washington D.C (25)
"Dammit, damn it...!"
Creak.
The ground, made of an alloy that can withstand the weight of a tank, began to crumple under the pressure of human fingers, leaving behind fingerprints.
Her fingers, slender and delicate as snow, seemed incapable of holding anything heavy. But with the immense force in her grip, the ground buckled, and the skin on her fingers tore, repeatedly healing and splitting in seconds. Her nails would lift and then reattach over and over.
It was the outcome she had anticipated. But the pain was beyond anything she could have imagined.
It was a gamble she had never attempted since her body changed.
The limits of the blood she could control—limits she had learned through continuous real combat—were far exceeded. What she knew as the total amount was now multiplied several times, no, at least ten times more than she had ever expected, as she summoned and used that blood all at once.
She had known the aftermath would be brutal, but if she hadn’t done it, she wouldn’t have survived.
But...
"Huuh, huff, huff... nghhh...!"
She had encountered a never-before-seen situation, where she couldn’t even use the word “too much.” Her consciousness began to fade entirely after some time.
When she rarely regained her senses, there were always bodies at her feet, but she didn’t have the strength to truly process it. Whenever her consciousness came back, she found herself in a different position, having lost track of time. Each time she came to, there were only fragmented memories—only bits and pieces of what happened.