Bruno Hornes' eyes lit up.
This target was good.
He pointed at the name and asked, "Do you remember this person?"
Director Carl looked at it and nodded. "Yes. He's the only one in the hospital who is a 1-stage Warlock-Warrior."
"1-stage?" Bruno's eyes got big. "How come a 1-stage warrior is lying here?"
You know, a Warlock-Warrior has 3 stages for skin, 3 for bone, 3 for blood, and 3 for spirit. That's 12 stages total. A 1-stage warrior is already in the Warlock-Warrior ranks. He can get a high-paying job. Why is he here?
Director Carl thought for a moment and said, "Maybe because his kids were fighting over the inheritance. No one took care of him, so he was left here."
"..."
Bruno had nothing to say.
After a long silence, he asked, "How is he doing?"
"Not good." Director Carl shook his head. "He might not live much longer."
That was too convenient.
Bruno secretly noted it. This was the perfect deal.
This time, he wasn't just going to take Bolantie Dean's time. He also wanted his identity. Since Bruno started training, he had this weird feeling of danger.
The feeling was strange, but Bruno figured that as his power grew, the value of what he exchanged would get more and more expensive. If someone was watching, they would surely find clues.
So,
Bruno needed another identity and face.
In a small, cramped room, many beds were lined up.
They weren't separated by walls, just some white curtains hanging down to keep patients from seeing each other.
Bruno covered his nose, but he couldn't stop the bad smell in the room. As he passed the beds, the patients looked up at him for a moment, then went silent. Only the soft moans from their throats remained.
Pain and despair were the main music of the room.
Bolantie was lying in bed, eyes closed. As a 1-stage Warlock-Warrior, he had his own dignity. He didn't act like the other old people who begged to live.
He just wanted to die quickly.
Every second in this place was a torture for him.
"Bolantie?" A voice called out.
The old man opened his eyes. He saw a person in black standing by his bed. His face was hidden under a black hood, like a messenger from hell.
"Who are you?" Bolantie was surprised. Why would anyone come to see him?
"You can call me the Angel." Bruno said quietly. The name "Angel" was something he picked because he knew there were many religions in this world. He just used it as a cover.
He had actually wanted to call himself something like "God of the..." but then he thought the world was weird. If he used a full title, it might cause some problems. So he chose "Angel" instead.
"Angel?" Bolantie's eyes widened. "Are you from the God-King Cult?"
"Oh my god."
Bruno's eyes almost popped out from under his hood.
I'm not! Don't say that!
The God-King Cult was not an official religion, right? It was considered a cult.
Why would someone think he was from the God-King Cult just because he used the name "Angel"?
There were so many religions in the world. Many of them used the name "Angel" too.
Bruno's eyelid twitched slightly, and he gave a slight nod.
It's not like that anymore.
But this was also an opportunity.
"You know a lot about the God-King Cult?" He asked, trying to get more details.
"I've met it before, but not much. I only know it's mysterious, and everyone there speaks about the Angel."
Other religions didn't have angels? Bruno wanted to ask, but he didn't.
"Are you from the God-King Cult or the God-King Church?" Bolantie asked again.
"Damn."
This cult had different directions?
Bruno said seriously: "Why are you asking so much?"
"Right." Bolantie laughed at himself. "I don't know what the Angel Lord wants from me."
Bolantie didn't hesitate any longer. He whispered, "I want to make a deal with you."
"Heh." Bolantie let out a breath. "What do I have to trade?"
"A lot." Bruno's voice was like a whisper from the depths of the gods, cold and deep, pulling people into a trance. "Your identity, your memories, your time..."
Bolantie stared at Bruno in shock.
He only now realized that this "Angel" was glowing faintly, with a sense of birth and death, with the cycle of decay and renewal.
Dignified, supernatural, and holy.
The old man instinctively sat up straight, wanting to listen to the words of a god.
Bruno spoke: "You lived 84 years. Your time is up. Do you have any unfinished business?" His words had a faint sound of thunder, as if a god was speaking.
Bolantie fell into deep thought.
You're serious?
But he really did have something left to do.
Bruno continued: "You give me your meditation techniques, your years of breath control, your true name, your face, and your body. In return, I will help you finish your unfinished business. How does that sound?"
Bolantie listened, and felt a chill run down his spine, as if electricity was going through his skin and causing a storm in his heart.
Time, true name, face, body.
This really was everything you could trade.
He seemed to have grabbed a lifeline and reached out toward the black-cloaked figure, asking: "What if I want to live? Can I trade that?"
"No." Bruno said without hesitation.
Bolantie's eyes dimmed.
Bruno sighed in his heart. It was possible, but that meant trading his own life for the old man's. Why would he do that?
He wasn't a charity guy.
"Your fate has stopped. Your time is ending. The gates of hell are already open for you. You'll be gone in a few days. I can't save you." Bruno made up a reason on the spot.
Bolantie sighed. "So that's how it is."
Even though he didn't know what hell was, it sounded pretty cool.
He then asked, "Then can I make my ungrateful kids die with me?"
Bruno almost lost his composure.
What a good dad you are.
"Sure." He agreed.
Bolantie's eyes lit up. "I have a granddaughter. She works at the Grass-Snake Martial Arts Academy. If you can, can you make sure she lives safely for the rest of her life?"
"Safe for the rest of her life?" Bruno's face turned dark. You really dare to ask that?
"Your value isn't worth me making a lifetime promise." He said calmly.
That was true.
Bolantie didn't argue. He thought for a moment and changed his words. "Then can you make my granddaughter reach 1 stage and become a Warlock-Warrior?"
1 Stage?
Bruno said seriously, "You're just a dying 1-stage. You can't sell for 1-stage price."
"Okay," Bolantie stepped back again. "Can you help my granddaughter learn Meditation Technique? Her breath control is already Low Rank. If she learns Meditation Technique, she can become a Warlock-Warrior. Then she'll have a way to live in this world."
Meditation Technique?
That was easy.
Bruno's biggest strength right now was Meditation Technique. Just a little guidance for his granddaughter, and she could be in.
"Sure." The black-cloaked man agreed.
Bolantie's breathing got faster. This black-cloaked man was really the Angel.
He was so excited he almost sat up.
But Bruno just raised one hand. A scroll appeared out of nowhere.
This time, he didn't use a pen. He just thought, and words appeared on the scroll.
On the seller side, it said: [True Name], [Appearance], [Identity], and [Training Time].
On the buyer side, it said:
Within one month, the following must be done:
Kill Bolantie's direct children. Help Bolantie's granddaughter Agatha Dean learn Meditation Technique.
That was a big loss.
Bruno thought for a moment and asked, "What fighting techniques did you learn?"
Meditation Technique and breath control were the ways to train. But fighting techniques were the real skills used in battle. That took time to perfect.
"Tiger-Wolf Combat Style," Bolantie said proudly. "I never had a training method. I stayed at 1-stage my whole life. But I trained Tiger-Wolf Combat Style for 50 years. It's already perfect."
Bruno thought for a moment and added [Tiger-Wolf Combat Style Training Progress] to the scroll. Once the deal was done, he would immediately become a master of Tiger-Wolf Combat Style.
Everything was ready.
Bruno spread the scroll in front of the old man and asked, "Do you agree to the deal? Once it's done, you'll die right away. I'll help you finish your wish."
"Yes, yes," the old man nodded quickly.
Now, he was just a burden to his granddaughter.
In the next moment, a voice only the two of them could hear said: "The deal is done." The voice was like a god's whisper, echoing in their minds.
At the moment the god's words fell, the old man on the bed changed completely. His face became blurred, his body started to fade, and then he was gone completely, leaving no trace in the world.