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

boom.

Compared to the previous attacks, this one seemed rather underwhelming.

You could even call it gentle.

But Azrael sensed a threat, and his eyes beneath the mask were instantly consumed by panic.

not good.

I've been infected.

This guy has more than one "guardian spirit".

The fact that it's been hidden until now means it's definitely a trump card.

Damn!

Azrael's eyes widened, and for the first time, he felt a pang of panic.

The next second, panic turned into anger—anger at himself.

The mighty Angel of Death was actually fooled by such a despicable trick.

Damn it!!

"You bastard! What on earth did you do?!"

He wanted to raise his fist in retaliation.

You can clench your fist, raise your hand, and lift your arm—these three steps are completed in an instant.

Azrael was stunned.

Not right.

He tentatively took a step forward.

With just a light step, he appeared several meters away, even leaving a trail of afterimages.

Wearing this armor, even with the speed boost, I was still slower than the opponent's "Guardian Spirit".

But now, this heavy armor feels like an extension of my arm, and even the stiffness in my joints has disappeared.

This was a feeling he had never experienced before since putting on this armor.

"I just wanted to take a step forward... but why so fast?"

Azrael looked down at his hands, which were glowing with golden light, in disbelief.

But at that moment, a mysterious power burst forth from within him, as if something was burning in his blood vessels.

An unfamiliar word came to mind.

Life energy.

He was filled with life energy.

Could it be...? Could it be...?

Azrael raised his head, his expression gradually turning fanatical.

"Is this... the divine power that Saint Dumas bestows upon the humble believer?"

Moreover, this time, he was able to see the "guardian spirit" that had just attacked him, standing next to the blond boy.

Its golden, slender body is adorned with several purple scarabs.

sacred.

That's what anyone would think at first glance when looking at a "Guardian Spirit".

"That golden creature, is it your guardian spirit?"

Azrael became even more convinced that it was Saint Dumas who allowed this "blind man" to see the other's guardian spirit.

The golden fist, glowing with golden light, swung down again.

But this time, he easily dodged it.

What was originally a punch so fast it was just a blur now looked like a tortoise crawling.

"Saint Dumas...the great Saint Dumas!!!"

Azrael felt the surging power within him with a frenzied intensity, his expression contorted.

"God is on my side now! Evil Son of Gotham!"

He turned around arrogantly, looked at Dio who had no reaction, and threw a punch.

"Take this!"

But it wasn't the scene I imagined where I punched someone and shattered their teeth.

The punch went right through Dio's head.

Not only his fist, but his entire body passed through Dio's body.

Azrael staggered two steps, turned around, and his pupils shrank sharply, as if he had seen something impossible.

He actually saw himself—a version of himself, unconscious and kneeling on the ground.

"What's going on? Why am I kneeling over there? I... I shouldn't be..."

Azrael looked down at his hands, stunned.

He's not stupid.

Those who can become the Angel of Death are all the elite of humanity.

The power of sacrifice, the daily training, magical tools, and an unparalleled mind all shaped him.

awareness.

Azrael clenched his fist.

I am currently only in consciousness.

The other party used some means to blast his consciousness out of his body.

He gritted his teeth, desperately trying to get back into his body.

But it had no effect.

His mind has gone berserk!

Azrael sighed, deeply regretting his decision to use the "system".

"I actually naively thought it was Saint Dumas's blessing... I actually lost to a thirteen-year-old child."

"Fortunately, my armor is able to..."

"Well!!!"

"ah!!!"

An unbearable pain exploded from the depths of my body.

Azrael screamed and his consciousness knelt on the ground.

He not only amplified my consciousness, but also amplified my pain.

Azrael realized it, but it was too late.

By this time, Dior had used the ripples to relieve the pain in his abdomen and stood up by supporting himself on the ground.

Golden lightning flashed at his fingertips as he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. His voice was soft, yet it reached Azrael's ears steadily.

"Everyone has a limit to the pain they can endure."

"The destructive power of the Gold Experience is its weakness, but if you take countless punches like that, you will go into shock due to excessive pain and die from the agony."

"You might think you have an indestructible suit of armor, but you don't know that my ripples can conduct within metal."

Dio raised his head, his golden hair covering half his face, and the dark golden eye that was visible showed no pity.

"Muda."

The golden fists, accompanied by surging ripples, vanished into afterimages.

"Wood big wood big wood big wood big wood big wood big wood big wood big—"

Every punch landed on Azrael.

The ripples penetrated the metal armor, tearing directly at the flesh inside.

Although the damage wasn't high, it was extremely painful.

These pain sensations were like water from a turned-on tap, surging into every nerve of Azrael.

He tried to scream and run away, but it was no use.

"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!"

Azrael's consciousness began to shatter, with countless cracks spreading from his chest to his limbs.

"I...I am...the Angel of Death...how could I...die..."

"Wuda!!!"

The final punch landed.

"ah!!!!"

Azrael screamed as his consciousness exploded and vanished into the rain.

[Great villainous savior, you easily defeated those overconfident ants, points +300]

"Huff, huff, huff."

Dio stood there, pale-faced, his chest heaving violently.

"Is it easy?"

He didn't feel relaxed; instead, his legs felt very weak.

Azrael's punch just now must have broken his ribs.

After constantly using the Stand, his mental and physical strength were exhausted, and he could barely maintain the Ripple.

The cost of constantly infusing Azrael with life force was far greater than anticipated.

Fortunately, I won.

"Ha...ha, I actually won."

Dio twitched his lips, clutched his stomach, and staggered toward the alley entrance.

With each step I took, a dull ache in my abdomen and chest would push upwards.

My trembling left hand reached into my coat pocket and touched the edge of my phone.

Fortunately, it wasn't broken.

Dio's vision went black, but his vague spider-sense told him that someone was approaching at the alley entrance.

They are not enemies.

Were they attracted by the sounds of fighting?

But he no longer had the strength to tell who it was.

Dior murmured:

"I need to call Alfred."

The alleyway entrance is just ahead.

The dim yellow streetlights are already visible!

Dio stepped into a puddle, but he didn't care and took another step forward.

My fingers trembled as I began to dial the number.

next second.

Dio's vision went black, and then there was a thud.

The phone slipped from my hand and fell onto the road.

He fell into a coma.

The rain poured down the back of my head and streamed down my blond hair, but I didn't feel a thing.

Just then, footsteps came from the alley entrance.

"hello?"

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

A timid voice came from the alley entrance.

A black-haired girl with a red gem embedded in her forehead peeked out and peered into the darkness.

Then she lowered her head.

The blond boy lay at my feet, his face pale, his brows furrowed, and his damp blond hair clung tightly to his forehead.

The black-haired girl quickly squatted down and reached out to check his breath.

still alive.

Thankfully, I'm still alive.

"Oh my God."

She gently lifted Dio's upper body and let his head rest on her shoulder.

With his other hand, he took out a tissue from his pocket and carefully wiped the dirty water off his cheek.

"The injury was too severe."

The girl frowned slightly, picked him up, and quickly walked out of the alley, disappearing into the rain.

A while later.

"Young Master Dior!"

Alfred charged in from the alleyway, gun in hand.

He glanced around the alley—it was empty, there was nothing there.