American comic book: Transmigrated into Dior and adopted by the Wayne family

Chapter 100: The Battle Against the Angel of Death - The End (Seeking First Subscription)

Dio came ashore from the river, grabbed a sandwich from the fisherman, and called Alfred while eating.

"Alfred! Are you ready?!"

"Of course, I prepared everything yesterday according to your instructions."

Alfred's voice was reassuring, yet tinged with worry.

"The firepower is abundant, and we have everything we need. Please be careful, Master Dior."

"Don't worry, I don't do things I'm not sure I can do."

Dior hung up the phone, glanced back at the dock, and quickly left.

"Hey!! My sandwich!!!"

"Shut your mouth, Cabinet!"

Ten minutes later, Deathstroke cleanly and efficiently left the battlefield using a smoke grenade.

Those two magical longswords were indeed powerful; one awakened feelings of guilt, and the other awakened psychological trauma.

But Deathstroke's brain was 90% developed, and he was fully able to control his emotions.

When the time came, he left the dock without any hesitation.

"hateful!!!"

The Angel of Death, Azrael, punched a shipping container next to him, denting it. "Son of Gotham, I will find you!!!! Fuck!!!"

He glanced at the scratched armor, snorted, and left.

These days, the Saint Duma Order, as an external force, has had its intelligence network severely hampered by the local authorities. It took them four days to find their target, and just as they found it, they were blocked by a mercenary.

It was as if the heavens themselves were preventing them from finding Gotham's Son within four days!

"Damn bastard!"

A light drizzle began to fall in Gotham early in the morning.

Azrael walked through the alley, glanced up at the clouds, and clenched his fist.

This rain came just in time; he was almost able to catch a glimpse of the Son of Gotham!

"You're so lucky! But luck can't save you forever!!"

Today is the last day, and he's in a hurry.

The sacrifice of the Son of Gotham signifies the birth of a colleague.

Only by sacrificing him could the believers gain the approval of the two magical longswords.

Azrael firmly believed this, because that was how he had achieved it step by step.

Azrael strode forward, attempting to use his speed advantage to catch up with his target.

As they chased after him, they found a note pinned to the wall of the alley with a dagger.

The note was very eye-catching, made of waterproof paper, to ensure that people could see it as soon as they entered the alley.

Azrael ripped it off: "Eastern Warehouse 33? I've been waiting for you here?"

"trap?"

He crumpled the note into a ball, snorted coldly, and turned to go to warehouse number thirty-three.

Three minutes later, Dior emerged from the garbage heap at the corner of the alley and smiled smugly.

"That was close, I almost got caught."

Dior sniffed the stench on himself and looked disgusted.

Azrael's speed is too fast; the speed of a superhuman is beyond the reach of ordinary people.

Even though Deathstroke was delayed by ten minutes, he was almost caught up—luckily, he had a flash of inspiration.

Before Dio could catch his breath, he left another note and rushed to the designated location.

Soon, Azrael, covered in blood, returned to the alley and gritted his teeth as he looked at the new note on the wall.

The place he went to was the Penguin's drug manufacturing den, and as soon as he entered, six Thompson submachine guns were pointed at him.

Now that things have come to this, he finally understands that he's been tricked.

"As expected of the evil son of Gotham!!!"

Azrael picked up the note again, glanced at the address, and his eyes practically spitting fire: "Let's see how you dare to escape this time!!!"

The figure of the Angel of Death disappeared into the alley.

It was morning, but the sky in Gotham was as gloomy as if it were evening.

An abandoned, unfinished building stands at the end of the street, with the open space in front of it covered with broken bricks and weeds, a desolate scene.

Dior had changed his clothes: a yellow jacket, a blue-green hat, and stood quietly in place.

While waiting, he glanced at the system panel.

[The great villainous savior, the angel of death Azrael, has reached the peak of his hatred for you. Of course, you don't need to care; you're nothing but a mere ant.]

[Points +300]

Dio snorted and poured his accumulated 1000 points into the destructive power of the Golden Experience.

[Destructive power C→C+]

The numbers on the panel jumped.

The golden experience appeared, and Dio felt the surge of power within him, clenching his fists.

"Son of Gotham!!"

A roar came.

Dior looked toward the source of the sound!

Azrael emerged from the gray mist, his white robes and helmet, clad in the armor of sorrow, were covered in dried blood.

The eyes behind the mask were bloodshot—anxiety, anger, and the humiliation of being tricked.

Four days!

After four days of pursuit, he had been led by the nose by a child, and he had long since lost his patience!

"You will die!!! I swear in the name of Saint Duma!!"

Dio smiled dismissively, recalling a line from the title page of the duel guide:

Understanding your enemy's emotions is not about becoming them, but about making it impossible for them to ever be themselves again.

Batman's tricks are very effective.

The biggest weakness of this brainwashed and manipulated superhuman warrior is his mental state.

Anger is the best catalyst.

"I'm here, Azrael."

Dior opened his arms as if welcoming an old friend, but his eyes were full of mockery. "Are you alright?"

"Enjoy your last moments, son of Gotham."

Azrael stopped and drew two longswords, their blades revealing intricate magical runes.

"You have blasphemed the rituals of St. Dumas, mocked the messengers of God, and trampled on the dignity of faith."

"Today, your blood will wash away your sins, your heart will be offered on the altar, and your soul will wail in the flames forever."

"Ho? So much talk? Watch me take you down in one go."

Dior struck a strange yet beautiful pose, calmly extending one finger!

Seeing this, Azrael quickly stepped forward.

Click.

Suddenly, a section of the concrete ground beneath my feet sank in.

Azrael was stunned for a moment, and that moment put him in danger!

Two heavy machine guns emerged, spitting fire and raining down bullets.

Dio squinted, looking at the blurry figure through the smoke.

So what if you have two powerful longswords? You can't get close to me, so how much strength can you unleash?

As the smoke cleared, Azrael stood there, his armor bearing several new scratches.

"Have you had enough of your toys? These evil magical artifacts can't harm the Angel of Death!"

"Is that so? Then I'll send you to hell to meet your Saint Dumas."

Dio chuckled and pulled a pale blue grenade from his waist.

This is Victor Frye's masterpiece, the Freeze Grenade.

He pulled the safety ring and threw it out.

The grenade arced through the air and landed at Azrael's feet.

boom.

The white, icy air exploded instantly, sealing the Angel of Death inside a massive block of ice.

Dio didn't relax, because he knew that the grenade wouldn't hold off the monster for long.

really.

A few seconds later.

Cracks appeared on the surface of the ice.

Click!

Ice shards flew everywhere.

Azrael smashed the ice with a punch, stepped out, and was covered in ice shards.

"I bear the mission passed down through centuries of our order to eradicate evil. Do you think this kind of trick can kill me?"

"Ha, a brainwashed idiot."

Dior's smile vanished completely, replaced by pity: "Still trying to define who's evil?"

Rain soaked his hair, but Dio's eyes showed no sign of panic.

Azrael's pupils contracted slightly.

Because he saw what Dio was carrying on his shoulder.

It was a green, barrel-shaped object, thick at the front and with a simple launching device at the rear.

When was it taken out, just now when I was frozen?

"Oh no—!"

Before his regretful roar even landed, his muscles had already instinctively made a dodge motion.

But that struggle was too slow in the face of Dior's spider-sense and top-notch dynamic vision.

"Too weak! Azrael!!!"

"Wuda!!!"

The moment Azrael bent his knee, Dio had already pulled the trigger.

The RPG-7's tail spewed flames as its projectile slammed straight into the Angel of Death's chest.

boom!

A fireball erupted into the air.

"Let's see if you'll live or die!"

A wave of heat hit him, and Dior took a step back, grabbing his hat that was about to be blown off.

Azrael, his body charred, flew backward, crashing to the ground and rolling several times before coming to a stop.

The armor that provided super strength, super speed, and super endurance was blasted with a large hole and became completely ineffective.

Dio lowered the launcher and exhaled.

"The magical longsword and armor that gave me such a hard time a few days ago are no match for me now!"

"Let me guess, you're planning to play dead to lure me over, then suddenly attack, right?"

Dio, with an air of "I knew you all along," drew a throwing knife from his waist, raised it high, and shouted, "Muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda muda!"

"Wuda!!!"

Whoosh!!

With a soft thud, the throwing knife sank deep into Azrael's chest.

Within his blind spot, Azrael's little finger twitched slightly, and veins bulged on his forehead.

It's so ironic that I, the hunter, am now forced to rack my brains to keep my body still!

He forced himself to remain still, but then a burst of rousing music rang in his ears.

and many more?

What kind of music is this?

Is this an evil trick Dior used to deceive me?

snort!

It's no use!

Azrael remained motionless.

Dio was also observing Azrael's actions, mainly listening to his breathing.

"There's no breathing, and the body is completely still. Is he dead?"

But just in case...

Dior, with the golden Experience standing beside him and his body ablaze with golden flames, slowly stepped forward.

"Then what about the sound of a heartbeat?"

At a distance of approximately three meters, Dio, his face full of suspicion, lay down on the ground, trying to feel the other person's heartbeat.

There was no heartbeat.

"There's no heartbeat either. Is this guy finally dead?"

Azrael had just breathed a sigh of relief when a sinister voice reached his ears.

"Do you think I would say that?"

What?! Right next to my ear?! When?!

Azrael stared in horror, only to find that his consciousness had left his body.

Was he lying down to listen to his heartbeat to numb me?

So that the guardian spirit can get close to me?

"I am a Ripple Messenger, capable of sensing life force. Even if you have no breath or heartbeat, it cannot conceal the fact that you are alive!"

Dio, his body ablaze with golden flames, grabbed the edge of the Angel of Death's armor, screaming, "Wryyyyyyyy!!!!"

Die, Azrael!!!!

"No!!!"

He threw it high into the air!

The Golden Experience threw a punch!

"Wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood, wood.

"Aaaaaaah!"

Bang!

A mangled corpse crashed heavily into the garbage heap.

[Saint's Remains - Left Eye Information Updated]